by Beth Revis
Until now, I realized. “That’s why you’re studying medical alchemy. Because of the Wasting Death.”
“Of course,” she said, passion rising in her voice. “We have to figure out a way to stop it.” Suddenly, she tilted her head and met my eyes. “Were you waiting for me?”
I smiled. “I figured you hadn’t eaten yet,” I said. “I thought we might get some dinner.”
Nedra looked at me gratefully. “I haven’t.” She cast her eyes toward the cafeteria across the quad.
“It’s closed,” I said. “But we can go into the city.” I steered us gently toward the gatehouse on the other side of the quad.
“Isn’t there a curfew?” Nedra asked.
I jingled my coin purse. “Not a problem.” When we reached the guard, I slipped him a silver, and he assured us he’d await our return. I took Nedra to a small pub a few blocks harbor-side of the school. It was located in an old building, the wooden floors covered with rugs to hide the knocked-out knots in the planks. Booths were narrow and built into the walls, something that at least allowed privacy if not comfort.
Nedra’s eyes skimmed over the menu. “I can’t,” she started, one leg already sliding out of the booth.
“Please, get something. I’m paying.”
Nedra hesitated for a moment, but her hunger seemed to win out. When the pubmate approached, she ordered soup. I added a loaf of bread for us to share, two pints, and a sandwich, telling the pubmate to put it all on my father’s account.
“That was kind of you,” Nedra said. “Not just the meal, but waiting for me as well. Thank you.” She smiled, and it lit up her whole body. She was the kind of girl who did everything by full measure. I’d seen that in the way she’d taken notes in the lecture, her single-minded focus on her studies. But now, with her smile, I could tell she treated joy the same way. What she felt, she felt with all her heart; what she did, she did with all her focus. She was true. And that made her beautiful.
The pubmate placed a loaf of warm brown bread and a small dish of whipped honey butter on the table. Nedra eagerly grabbed the piece I offered her. “I will never forget cafeteria hours again,” she swore.
I laughed. “It must not be easy, coming to a school like Yūgen. Almost everyone’s a legacy student.”
Nedra fingered a little arrow that had been carved onto the worn wooden table. “Why are you being so nice to me?” she asked, so abruptly that it caught me off guard.
I pulled off another hunk of bread and smeared it with honey butter. “Do I need a reason?”
“It’s just—you’re friends with Tomus, right? He wasn’t exactly welcoming.” She didn’t say anything else. She didn’t have to.
“Tomus wants nothing more than to be his father,” I explained. “And I want nothing less than to be mine.”
Nedra’s eyes shot to mine. “That doesn’t really answer my question.”
I put my bread down. “We’re something like fourth cousins. I’ve known him forever. You have to understand, he’s just very . . .” I searched for the right words but couldn’t find them. “He’s not a bad sort, once you get to know him.”
“You shouldn’t have to know someone in order to be decent to them.”
“It’s not that,” I protested. The pubmate arrived with the rest of our food.
Nedra lifted her spoon to the soup. “I hope Tomus deserves your loyalty,” she said. “But I somehow doubt it.”
I leaned back in my seat. I’d grown up with Tomus. We likely wouldn’t be friends forever, but it was fine for now. “I guess sometimes it’s just easier to keep things the way they are.”
“I think that depends on what your now looks like.”
I wanted to ask her what that meant. What were her friends like in her village? Her family? Even among a group of farmers, there must be something political in the way they lived.
Before I could speak, Nedra changed the subject. “What about you?” she asked. “Why do you want to study medicinal alchemy, Greggori?” I grinned again at the way she said my name, slowly, as if tasting the three syllables.
We slipped into an easy conversation. I had never felt so familiar with someone in such a short time before. There were no awkward pauses, no careful weighing of words. I knew instinctively that when Nedra asked a question, it was because she cared for my answer. And when she listened, it wasn’t to try to find ways to twist my words against me later. Maybe she was right about Tomus, and familiarity wasn’t enough to make him worth the bother.
As the pubmate cleared our dishes, I said, “Let’s go somewhere.”
“We should get back.” Nedra’s voice trailed off, and I could tell she wanted the evening to end no more than I did.
“Or we could take a shortcut through the Gardens.”
“But the school is only a few blocks away,” she said. “And the Gardens are . . .”
“In the exact opposite direction, yes,” I answered. “I’m very bad at shortcuts.”
Nedra grinned at me. “Lead the way.”
* * *
• • •
The Imperial Gardens were the only public space in Northface Harbor. They took up six city blocks, all sloping, grassy lawns, with a pond in the center. Cobblestone streets—as old as the city itself—lined the perimeter, with graveled, meandering paths scattered throughout the grounds. The main entrance was located at the northern side of the Gardens and was framed by a giant stone archway, on top of which stood a life-size statue of the Emperor. Whenever a new Emperor rose to power, statues were created en masse and sent to all of the colonies.
Nedra and I used the east entrance—there was little fanfare at that gate, just an iron archway with the date of the Gardens’ creation curling over the top.
“I’ve heard about this place,” Nedra said, strolling beside me. “It’s smaller than I imagined, not quite the escape from the city I thought it would be.”
We reached a high point in the path, and Nedra paused, looking out over the city. In the distance, the bay glittered with lights from boats docked at the harbor, and just beyond them, the quarantine hospital’s clockface glowed like a second moon.
Nedra pointed north, to the governor’s palace. “All that house for one person?” she asked.
I laughed. “It’s not just a house. It’s the political center of Lunar Island, where laws are made and court is held. There is, of course, a wing for the governor to live in, and there’s also a tower for the Emperor when he’s on the island.” I pointed to a flag mounted atop a large turret. “That means he’s in residence now,” I said, “which is actually kind of surprising. I would have thought he’d leave right after the governor’s inauguration.”
Nedra’s eyes glittered as she stared at the shining building. The glass windows were cut to reflect light, giving the castle a soft, ethereal glow.
“My nanny used to tell me stories about that place,” I said, leaning in closer. “It’s haunted.”
“Is that so, Grey?” Nedra arched an eyebrow at me.
My lips burst into a spontaneous grin, and it wasn’t until Nedra noticed that she realized she’d shortened my name.
“Sorry, Greggori,” she amended quickly. Her cheeks blushed furiously.
“No, I like it. You can call me Grey.” I could tell it embarrassed her, so I dropped my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s haunted,” I said. “The castle.”
“Oh, obviously,” Nedra said, arching an eyebrow at me.
I nodded with authority. “Mm,” I said. “Well, Bennum Wellebourne was the first resident.”
“Really?” The playfulness in her voice was gone.
“Yeah. The old part, where the Emperor is now.” I pointed again. “Wellebourne built that for himself when he played at being king. After the battle, Emperor Aurellious turned his home into a prison. He was there for months before his execution.”
“No wonder people think it’s haunted,” Nedra said. I followed her gaze to the Emperor’s tower, imagining what it must have been like for Bennum Wellebourne to rot away in the dank cell. He had once been the greatest hero of our colony, helping those around him survive the first year Lunar Island was settled. He’d been elected the first governor; he had been the most revered man on all of Lunar Island.
But that, of course, was before the rebellion. Before Bennum Wellebourne raised the dead and turned the corpses into an army—one that he used to attack his own people.
Nedra shivered, but she refused my coat when I offered it to her. As we continued up the path, changing our conversation to more pleasant topics, I kept looking back to the castle, its windows like eyes watching our every move.
NINE
Nedra
Master ostrum’s private laboratory smelled of earth and rats.
I had wondered what the door behind his desk hid, but when Master Ostrum showed me the small room, I had not been expecting a full lab carved directly into the earth, the walls exposing natural rock. If not for the raised hardwood floor and the shelving units displaying medical equipment, it would have felt like entering a cave.
I had to step up to get into the laboratory, making the roof feel even lower. I jumped at a scratching noise nearby, turning to find cages holding half a dozen rats.
Master Ostrum gestured to a chair, and I sat down, unable to rip my gaze away from the jar in the center of the table between us.
“Is that an—” I started.
“An eye, yes.” When I didn’t answer, he added, “It’s not that unusual for a medical alchemist to study specimens.”
“Human,” I said.
It hadn’t been a question, but Master Ostrum answered me regardless. “Yes.”
“Infected.”
He didn’t answer me this time. I reached for the jar, picking it up and holding it to the dim light of the oil lamp overhead. The eye inside bobbed and floated in the preservation fluid. The liquid was pale yellowish-green, casting the red-veined eye in a sickly hue, but there was an acid-green film over the colored iris that I knew wasn’t a side effect of the preservation fluid. I turned the jar in my hand, coaxing the eye around. The film wrapped around the entire ball, adding delicate green tentacles that mingled with the extruding veins dangling at the end.
“You have experience with this disease,” Master Ostrum said.
“Yes.” I set the jar on the table, watching as the eyeball bobbed in the preservation fluid.
“I wish I’d had you in my class last year,” Master Ostrum said with surprising fervor.
“I did apply,” I pointed out.
Master Ostrum stared at me; the eyeball stared at me. I shifted uncomfortably.
“You were right,” he said finally.
I waited for an explanation.
“I called the Wasting Death ‘unhygienic,’ and you were right to tell me I was wrong.” Master Ostrum leaned back in his chair. “That’s the narrative of the news sheets. People in Northface Harbor don’t like to look at a truth that makes them uncomfortable. Saying that only the poor and dirty get sick makes them feel safe.” He straightened up again. “But you can’t pretend a thing is true just because you want to feel safe. I let myself forget what I know because a lack of hygiene in the sick is an easy answer.” He shook his head. “Doesn’t make it right.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond to this; it felt odd for someone of Master Ostrum’s experience and demeanor to apologize to me.
“And my experience with the Wasting Death has been limited to the docks. The disease is contained in the city within the factories, but it’s spreading.”
“It’s a plague,” I said in a small voice. It had become almost a fact of life in the north; everyone knew someone who’d been infected.
Master Ostrum reached into a basket at his feet and pulled out a small stack of news sheets. He tossed them on the table, the flimsy paper fluttering around the jarred eyeball.
Master Ostrum had underlined or circled a handful of passages.
MYSTERIOUS ILLNESS DELAYS SHIPMENT OF CLOTH, one article proclaimed. Another said, FACTORY HOUSING DESTROYED AND REPLACED AFTER INFESTATION AND ILLNESS.
“What is this?” I asked.
“The earliest clues I’ve found.”
I noticed the dates of the articles—all from three months ago, at the height of the governor’s race. One of the headlines read EMPEROR AUGUSTE ARRIVES IN NORTHFACE HARBOR—WILL HE OVERTHROW THE COUNCIL’S VOTE? An illness affecting the poor was minor news compared to the election.
“I’ve been trying to pinpoint the original cases of the illness,” Master Ostrum continued. “I hoped it would give me a clue as to how it spreads or what causes it.”
“The first time I heard of it was Burial Day, last fall,” I said. That had been almost a year ago. “My father told me about a sickness in a village near Hart, where people’s hands and fingers turned black.”
Master Ostrum sucked in a breath. “I’ve been too myopic,” he muttered.
“It moves slowly.”
“It used to,” Master Ostrum said. “It’s spreading more quickly now. This isn’t public knowledge, but a few people on the governor’s council have been sent to the quarantine hospital. Rich, powerful men.”
“What can we do?” I asked.
The corners of Master Ostrum’s mouth tilted up into a smile, though he didn’t appear amused. “We? We can’t do anything until you’re better trained. I have been tasked by the governor herself to help find a cure. While I work, you work.”
He turned and grabbed an empty golden crucible from the shelf behind him, then plunked it on the table in front of me, the metal reverberating.
I stared at it, unsure of what to do.
Master Ostrum raised his eyebrow. “Your application stated that you knew the runes.”
I did. But I’d never actually used them.
“Start with the first form,” he said. I could hear the impatience in his voice. He was giving me a chance to prove myself, and I was failing. My mind raced to remember the basic forms of alchemy I’d read about in Papa’s books. I knew it all by heart; for years I practiced the forms using a chipped porcelain vase my mother sometimes used to hold wildflowers.
But I’d never actually practiced alchemy. I’d never had a real, working crucible, or . . .
I glanced behind me as the first form of alchemy slammed into my head. Shifting life forces. The rats in the cages that lined one wall of the laboratory stared at me with their beady black eyes.
“Don’t be timid, girl,” Master Ostrum growled.
I crossed the room to the cages. My hand shook as I opened a door, the rat inside hissing at me.
At least this was a smaller rat, bred for science, not one of the snarling, spitting things that lurked in barns, stealing grain from Jojo’s stall. I thought of the little kitten Ernesta had when we were younger, and the way a rat had attacked him so brutally his face never fully healed. Taking a deep breath, I threw my hand into the cage, grabbing the rat by its torso, yanking it out, and throwing it into the golden crucible before I could talk myself out of it.
Master Ostrum grunted his approval.
The first form of alchemy required that I connect with a living creature, the crucible acting as a tether. The textbooks I’d read suggested that new alchemists start with a frog or a worm, but Master Ostrum didn’t offer me anything but the rat. Most of the texts I read also warned that first efforts usually failed. I bit my lip. Master Ostrum didn’t seem the type to forgive failure.
I held the base of the crucible with both hands, whispering the runes I’d memorized from Papa’s books. They lit up with bright white light as they activated, and the rat inside the vessel squeaked in fear.
Master Ostrum leaned down, watching me.
&nb
sp; I closed my eyes. Through my connection with the golden crucible, I felt for the rat’s life. Alchemy might be a science, but it seemed like magic as I sensed the rat’s heartbeat through my own veins. I breathed out, and when I breathed in again, I pulled. The rat’s life flowed into me, and I felt sparking, crackling energy within my body, a jolt of power. I breathed out and pushed. The rat scampered at the base of the crucible, its claws tinny against the metal as it tried to escape.
I pulled again. The rat flopped down, passive, its energy filling me. It wasn’t dead, just empty, its black eyes dull and its body lax. I let its life force return, and the rat scrambled up, terror sparking its movements.
“You have a natural talent,” Master Ostrum said, a flare of new interest in his solemn eyes.
I suddenly felt exposed and vulnerable, like I was the rat in the crucible, trapped under the gaze of a predator. I nodded in acquiescence I didn’t quite feel.
“Progress to Form Two,” Master Ostrum commanded, turning back to his own experiments.
The dead eyeball that still floated in the jar on the table watched me as I silently reached for another rat.
TEN
Grey
It didn’t take long for the others to notice Nedra hadn’t attended any lectures since the first day of class. In only a few weeks, it became the biggest topic of speculation, whispers floating around her before Master Ostrum’s morning session began.
“What do you think our little gutter rat does all day?” Tomus drawled, loud enough for Nedra to hear. She kept her head down and flicked up the hood of her cloak. It was barely fall; I was surprised she was even wearing such a heavy garment.
