“Gibea sketched all his own journals,” I said. “This is his original, so it makes sense that he did his own scrollwork too, right?” Sim nodded and brushed his hair back from his eyes. “What do you see there?” I slowly pointed from one piece of scrollwork to another. “Do you see it?”
Sim shook his head.
I pointed again, more precisely. “There,” I said, “and there in the corner.”
His eyes widened. “Letters! I . . . v . . .” he paused to puzzle them out,“Ivare enim euge. That’s what you were rambling about.” He pushed the book away. “So what’s the point, aside from the fact that he was nearly illiterate in Temic?”
“It’s not Temic.” I pointed out. “It’s Tema. An archaic usage.”
“What is it even supposed to say?” He looked up from his book, his brow creasing. “Toward great good?”
I shook my head. “For greater good,” I corrected. “Sound familiar?”
“I don’t know how long she’ll be there,” one of the loud pair continued. “If you miss her you’ll regret it.”
“I told you, I can’t tonight. Maybe on Felling. I’ll be free on Felling.”
“You should go before then,” I told him. “The Twopenny’s crowded Felling night.”
They gave me irritated looks. “Mind your own business, slipstick,” the taller one said.
That got my back up even more. “I’m sorry, weren’t you talking to me?”
“Did it look like I was talking to you?” he said scathingly.
“It sounded like it,” I said. “If I can hear you three tables away you must want me to be part of your conversation.” I cleared my throat. “The only alternative is that you’re too thick to keep your voice down in the Tomes.”
His face flushed red and he probably would have replied, but his friend said something in his ear and they both gathered their books and left. There was a quiet scattering of applause as the door closed behind them. I gave my audience a smile and a wave.
“The scrivs would have taken care of that,” Sim reproached softly as we leaned back over the table to talk.
“The scrivs weren’t taking care of it,” I pointed out. “Besides, it’s quiet again, and that’s what matters. Now, what does ‘for greater good’ remind you of?”
“The Amyr, of course,” he said. “It’s always the Amyr with you lately. What’s your point?”
“The point,” I whispered excitedly, “is that Gibea was a secret member of the order Amyr.”
Sim gave me a skeptical look. “That’s a bit of a stretch, but I suppose it fits. That was about fifty years before they were denounced by the church. They were pretty corrupt by then.”
I wanted to point out that Gibea wasn’t necessarily corrupt. He was pursuing the Amyr’s purpose, the greater good. While his experiments had been horrifying, his work advanced medicine in ways it was almost impossible to comprehend. His work had probably saved ten times that many lives in the hundreds of years since.
However, I doubted Sim would appreciate my point. “Corrupt or not, he was a secret member of the Amyr. Why else would he hide their credo in the front cover of his journal?”
Simmon shrugged. “Fine, he was one of the Amyr. What does that have to do with the price of butter?”
I threw up my hands in frustration and struggled to keep my voice low. “That means the order had secret members before the church denounced them! That means when the pontifex disbanded them, the Amyr had hidden allies. Allies that could keep them safe. That means the Amyr could still exist today, in secret, pursuing their work in subtle ways.”
I noticed a change in Simmon’s face. At first I thought he was about to agree with me. Then I felt a prickle on the back of my neck and realized the truth. “Hello Master Lorren,” I greeted him respectfully without turning around.
“Speaking with students at other tables is not permitted,” he said from behind me. “You are suspended for five days.”
I nodded and the two of us came to our feet and gathered up our things. Expressionless, Master Lorren reached out a long hand toward me.
I handed Gibea’s journal over without comment and a minute later we were blinking in the chill winter sunlight outside the Archive’s doors. I pulled my cloak around me and stomped the snow off my feet.
“Suspended,” Simmon said. “That was clever.”
I shrugged, more embarrassed than I cared to admit. I hoped one of the other students would explain I was actually trying to keep things quiet, rather than the other way around. “I was just trying to do the right thing.”
Simmon laughed as we began to walk slowly in the direction of Anker’s. He kicked playfully at a small drift of snow. “The world needs people like you,” Simmon said in the tone of voice that let me know he was turning philosophical. “You get things done. Not always the best way, or the most sensible way, but it gets done nonetheless. You’re a rare creature.”
“How do you mean?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.
Sim shrugged. “Like today. Something bothers you, someone offends you, and suddenly you’re off.” He made a quick motion with a flat hand. “You know exactly what to do. You never hesitate, you just see and react.” He was thoughtful for a moment. “I imagine that’s the way the Amyr used to be. Small wonder folk were frightened of them.”
“I’m not always so terribly sure of myself,” I admitted.
Simmon smiled. “I find that strangely reassuring.”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Penance
SINCE STUDYING WASN’T AN option and winter was covering everything in drifts of blowing snow, I decided this was the perfect time to catch up on a few things I’d been letting fall by the wayside.
I tried to pay Auri a visit, but ice covered the rooftops and the courtyard where we usually met was full of drifted snow. I was glad I didn’t see any footprints, as I didn’t think Auri owned shoes, let alone a coat or hat. I would have gone searching for her in the Underthing, but the iron grate in the courtyard was locked and iced over.
I worked a few double shifts in the Medica and played an extra night at Anker’s as an apology for the evening when I’d had to leave early. I worked long hours in the Fishery, calculating, running tests, and casting alloys for my project. I also made a point of catching up on a month of lost sleep.
But there is only so much sleeping one person can do, and by the fourth day of my suspension, I’d run out of excuses. As much as I didn’t want to, I needed to talk to Devi.
By the time I made up my mind to go, the weather had warmed just enough so that the falling snow had turned to sheets of freezing sleet.
It was a miserable walk to Imre. I didn’t have hat or gloves, and the wind-driven sleet soaked my cloak within five minutes. In ten minutes I was wet through to the skin and wishing I’d waited or spent the money on a carriage. The sleet had melted the snow on the road, and the damp slush was inches thick.
I stopped by the Eolian to warm myself a bit before heading to Devi’s. But the building was locked and lightless for the first time I’d ever seen. Small wonder. What noble would come out in this weather? What musician would expose their instrument to the freezing damp?
So I slogged my way through the deserted streets, eventually coming to the alley behind the butcher’s shop. It was the first time I could remember the stairway not smelling of rancid fat.
I knocked on Devi’s door, alarmed by how numb my hand was. I could barely feel my knuckles hitting the door. I waited for a long moment, then knocked again, worried that she might not be in, and I’d come all this way for nothing.
The door opened just a little. Warm lamplight and a single icy blue eye peered out through the crack. Then the door opened wide.
“Tehlu’s tits and teeth,” Devi said. “What are you doing out in this?”
“I thought—”
“No you didn’t,” she said disparagingly. “Get in here.”
I stepped inside, dripping, the hood of my cloak plastered to my head. She
closed the door behind me, then locked and bolted it. Looking around I noticed she’d added a second bookshelf, though it was still mostly bare. I shifted my weight and a great mass of damp slush dislodged itself from my cloak and splattered wetly onto the floor.
Devi gave me a long, dispassionate looking over. I could see a fire crackling in the grate on the other side of the room near her desk, but she made no indication that I should come any farther into the room. So I remained where I was, dripping and shivering.
“You never do things the easy way, do you?” she said.
“There’s an easy way?” I asked.
She didn’t laugh. “If you think showing up here half-frozen and looking like a kicked dog is going to improve my disposition toward you, you’re terribly . . .” She trailed off and looked at me thoughtfully for another long moment. “I’ll be damned,” she said, sounding surprised. “I actually do like seeing you like this. It’s lifting my spirits to an almost irritating degree.”
“It wasn’t really my intention,” I said. “But I’ll take it. Would it help if I caught a terrible cold?”
Devi considered it. “It might,” she admitted. “Penance does involve a certain amount of suffering.”
I nodded, not having to work to look miserable. I dug into my purse with clumsy fingers and brought out a small bronze coin I’d won off Sim playing low-stakes breath several nights ago.
Devi took it. “A penance piece,” she said, unimpressed. “Is this supposed to be symbolic?”
I shrugged, causing more slush to spatter to the floor. “Somewhat,” I said. “I thought of going to a moneychanger and settling my entire debt with you in penance coin.”
“What stopped you?” she asked.
“I realized it would just irritate you,” I said. “And I wasn’t looking forward to paying the moneychanger’s fee.” I fought the urge to looking longingly at the fireplace. “I’ve spent a lot of time trying to think of some gesture that might make a suitable apology to you.”
“You decided it would be best to walk here during the worst weather of the year?”
“I decided it would be best if we talked,” I said. “The weather was just a happy accident.”
Devi scowled and turned toward the fireplace. “Come in then.” She walked over to a chest of drawers near her bed and brought out a thick blue cotton robe. She handed it to me and motioned to a closed door. “Go change out of your wet clothes. Wring them out in the basin or they’ll take forever to dry.”
I did as she said, then brought the clothes out and hung them on the pegs in front of the fire. It felt wonderful to stand so close to the fireplace. In the light of the fire I could see that the skin under my fingernails was actually a little blue.
As much as I wanted to linger and warm myself, I joined Devi at her desk. I noticed that the top of it had been sanded down and revarnished, though it still bore a coal-black ring where the poor-boy had charred the wood.
I felt rather vulnerable sitting there wearing nothing but the robe she’d given me, but there was nothing to be done about it. “After our previous . . . meeting.” I fought to avoid looking at the charred ring on her desk. “You informed me that the full amount of my loan would be due at the end of the term. Are you willing to renegotiate that?”
“Unlikely,” Devi said crisply. “But rest assured that if you are unable to settle accounts in coin, I’m still in the market for certain pieces of information.” She gave a sharp, hungry smile.
I nodded, she still wanted access to the Archives. “I was hoping you might be willing to reconsider, as you now know the whole story,” I said. “Someone was performing malfeasance against me. I needed to know that my blood was safe.”
I gave her a questioning look. Devi shrugged without taking her elbows off the desk, her expression one of vast indifference.
“What’s more,” I said, meeting her eye. “It is entirely possible that my irrational behavior might have been partially due to the lingering effect of an alchemical poison I was subjected to earlier this term.”
Devi’s expression went stiff. “What?”
She hadn’t known then. That was something of a relief. “Ambrose arranged to have me dosed with the plum bob about an hour before my admissions interview,” I said. “And you sold him the formula.”
“You have a lot of gall!” Devi’s pixie face was outraged and indignant, but it wasn’t convincing. She was off balance and trying too hard.
“What I have,” I said calmly, “is the lingering taste of plum and nutmeg in my mouth, and the occasional irrational desire to choke people for doing nothing more offensive than jostling me on the street.”
Her false outrage fell away. “You can’t prove anything,” she said.
“I don’t need to prove anything,” I said. “I have no desire to see you in trouble with the masters or up against the iron law.” I looked at her. “I just thought you might be interested in the fact that I was poisoned.”
Devi sat very still. She fought to maintain her composure, but guilt was creeping onto her expression. “Was it bad?”
“It was,” I said quietly.
Devi looked away and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I didn’t know it was for Ambrose,” she said. “Some rich tosh came around. Made a stunningly good offer. . . .”
She looked back at me. Now that the chilly anger had left her, she looked surprisingly small. “I’d never do business with Ambrose,” she said. “And I didn’t know it was for you. I swear.”
“You knew it was for someone,” I said.
There was a long moment of silence broken only by the occasional crackling of the fire.
“Here’s how I see it,” I said. “Recently, we’ve both done something rather foolish. Something we regret.” I pulled the robe more closely around my shoulders. “And while these two things certainly don’t cancel each other out, it does seem to me that they establish some sort of equilibrium.” I held out my hands like they were the balancing plates on a scale.
Devi gave me a small, embarrassed smile. “Perhaps I was hasty in demanding full repayment.”
I returned the smile and felt myself relax. “How would you feel about sticking to the original terms of our loan?”
“That seems fair.” Devi held out her hand over the desk and I shook it. The last of the tension in the room evaporated and I felt a long-standing piece of worry unknot itself in my chest.
“Your hand is freezing,” Devi said. “Let’s go sit by the fire.”
We relocated ourselves and sat quietly for several minutes.
“Gods below,” Devi said with an explosive sigh. “I was so angry with you.” She shook her head. “I don’t know if I’ve ever been that angry with anyone in my whole life.”
I nodded. “I didn’t really believe you’d stoop to malfeasance,” I said. “I was so sure it couldn’t be you. But everyone kept talking about how dangerous you were. Telling stories. Then when you wouldn’t let me see my blood . . .” I trailed off, shrugging.
“Are you really still getting after-echoes from the plum bob?” she asked.
“Little flashes,” I said. “And I seem to be losing my temper more easily. But that might just be the stress. Simmon says I probably have unbound principles in my system. Whatever that means.”
Devi scowled. “I’m working with less than ideal equipment here,” she said, gesturing to a closed door. “And I am sorry. But the fellow offered me a full set of the Vautium Tegnostae.” She waved to the bookshelves. “Normally I’d never make something like that, but unexpurgated copies are just impossible to find.”
I turned to look at her, surprised. “You made it for him?”
“It’s better than handing over the formula,” Devi said defensively.
Part of me felt like I should be angry, but the majority of me was simply happy that I was warm and dry, with no threat of death hanging over me. I shrugged it off. “Simmon says you can’t factor worth half a damn,” I said conversationally.
&n
bsp; Devi looked down at her hands. “I’m not proud of selling it,” she admitted. Then after a moment, she looked up again, grinning. “But the Tegnostae has gorgeous illustrations.”
I laughed. “Show me.”
Hours later my clothes were dry and the sleet had changed to a gentle snow. Stonebridge would be a solid sheet of ice, but other than that, the walk home would be much more pleasant.
When I emerged from the washroom I saw Devi was sitting back at her desk. I made my way over and handed her the robe. “I won’t impugn your honor by asking why you own a robe much longer and broader in the shoulder than anything a delicate young lady of your size could ever wear.”
Devi snorted indelicately and rolled her eyes.
I sat down and tugged on my boots. They were delightfully warm from sitting near the fire. Then I brought out my purse and lay three heavy silver talents on the desk, pushing them toward her. Devi looked at them curiously.
“I’ve recently come into a little money,” I said. “Not enough to settle my whole debt. But I can pay this term’s interest early.” I waved a hand at the coins. “A gesture of good faith.”
Devi smiled and pushed the coins back across the table. “You’ve still got two span before the end of the term,” she said. “Like I said, let’s stick to our original deal. I’d feel bad about taking your money early.”
Though I’d offered Devi the money as an honest peace offering, I was glad to keep my three talents for now. There is a vast difference between having some coin and no coin. There is a feeling of helplessness that comes from having an empty purse.
It’s like seed grain. At the end of a long winter, if you have some grain left, you can use it for seed. You have control over your life. You can use that grain and make plans for the future. But if you have no grain for seed in the spring, you are helpless. No amount of hard work or good intention will make crops grow if you don’t have the seed to start with.
So I bought clothes: three shirts, a new pair of pants, and thick woolen socks. I bought a hat and gloves and scarf to keep away the winter’s chill. For Auri I bought a pouch of sea salt, a sack of dried peas, two jars of peach preserves, and a pair of warm slippers. I bought a set of lute strings, ink, and a half-dozen sheets of paper.
The Wise Man's Fear Page 39
