There were so many other things that he could be doing. So many other things that he should be doing. Sam didn’t have to sit in the garden, feeling sorry for himself. He had books he could read. He could sneak through the Study Hall, and he could get into the library after they finished their work for the evening and find more books to work through. None of that was closed off to him.
He took another look around the garden, his gaze lingering on the alchemy, and wondered if he would have the potential to create any alchemy like that. The techniques were tied to the arcane arts, but not all of alchemy was. It seemed to him that there would have to be some uses of alchemy that didn’t require the arcane arts, some uses that he might be able to learn. It was something he would have to ask Chasten about. He had to hope that he would share with Sam, but it might involve telling Chasten the truth about himself and about his own potential, or lack thereof.
Once back inside the Academy, Sam made his way up the stairs.
The sound of voices in the great hall caught Sam’s attention, and he was tempted to go and spend some time there, visit with James, some of the other students, but what would the point in that be? He didn’t really know anyone there. James would be the only one he would want to have any time visiting with. Anyone else would take one look at him and dismiss him. Barlands boy. That was the nickname that had stuck. All because of Gresham.
Sam had found it easier to avoid Gresham and avoid all of the names he would be called.
When he had access to the alchemy tower, that had been easier. Now that he no longer did, it had increasingly become difficult for him to know where to go and what he could do. Where could he practice?
He wandered from the great hall, down toward the library, still under reconstruction and rebuilding. The sound of voices inside carried out to him of the librarians working to organize the shelves, the books, and everything inside so that they could reopen.
That was the hardest loss for him. Not having the library, the comfort of it—the solitude, if he was honest with himself—had been harder than anything else. That was what he wanted more than the great hall, friendship, or even more than to fully understand the vrandal and the almanac.
That wasn’t entirely true. He did want to understand the almanac but had found that it was difficult for him to do so.
He lingered in the entrance to the library, staring inside, watching the activity there. As he did, he heard voices, and he listened. He didn’t recognize the voices. Many of the librarians who had served for many years had been a part of the initial attack on the Academy and had been replaced with others. Since Ferand and Ben had attacked, proving how many people had betrayed the Academy, others had returned. Sam didn’t know what Havash had done to clear them, checking to ensure that they were not involved in the attack, but suspected that the Grandam had gone to great pains to ensure the safety of the Academy.
“I’ve been watching you.”
Sam spun, worried about who was there. It was Chasten. He was dressed in his plain gray instructor robe, his deep gray hair hanging to his shoulders, and pale blue eyes glittering. He had a hint of a smile on his face.
“I’ve just been wandering,” Sam said.
“I can see that,” Chasten said. “Wandering more than I would’ve expected somebody of your age to do. I thought you and Ms. Stone have been studying together.”
“We had been. We are,” he corrected. “It’s just that she is preoccupied with some of her studies, and seeing as how I am a first-year student, I don’t have the same type of study that she does.”
Chasten watched him for a few moments, quiet. “Would you rather advance to more difficult classes?”
Sam had given that some thought. “I don’t know that it would be a good fit. I don’t have much potential with the arcane arts.”
Chasten glanced toward the library, and he motioned for Sam to follow. “You know, when the library was destroyed, we called together many librarians from all over to return to the Academy to help rebuild it.”
“And Havash is sure they will be…” He wasn’t sure how to finish.
Chasten glanced over, and he nodded. “Most of them are men and women that Havash knew personally. Either from his time as Grandam or from when he left the Academy.”
“What was Havash doing after he left the Academy?”
They had stopped just inside the entrance to the library, and there were still shelves tipped over, stacks of books piled in massive towers, and desks that had once been perfectly arranged around the inside of the library all pushed to one side. Sam’s gaze drifted from that chaos back to the restricted section, a place that he still hadn’t been able to access ever since coming to the Academy. He had to find answers there. There had to be something more on alchemy that would help him understand the almanac, but he hadn’t managed to get inside. Somehow, Havash, or perhaps some other instructor, had sealed it off, making it so that Sam couldn’t pierce that defense.
“I suspect you will need to ask Havash if you want the full story, but he claims he went on a journey of enlightenment.” Chasten chuckled and shook his head. “I can’t say that I know what that means for him, but knowing him, I suspect he was looking for answers.”
“About the Nighlan,” Sam said softly.
“There had always been rumors of the Nighlan,” Chasten said. “Even when I was a student here, there were rumblings of power accumulating to the west. As a student, you don’t hear much more than rumors. And the stories that come out are often worse than reality.”
“I don’t know how much worse those stories could have been,” Sam said.
Chasten smiled tightly. “At that time, the stories were not quite as bad as reality now. But once I left the Academy, established myself within the city, and gained a certain reputation, I was brought in on some of the conversations.” He smiled again. “The council seem to think that I had more expertise than those within the Academy and more expertise than the alchemists that served here.” Chasten turned toward the restricted section, and his gaze lingered on the door for a moment. “I can understand why it’s hard for those who serve in the city to not really understand the workings of the Academy or alchemy. In fact, I stick my business on that.” He looked over to Sam. “It’s not that I don’t have talent,” he said. “I think had I stayed within the Academy, perhaps I might have learned the truth, but most who served here when I was here had been here for decades. At the time, I was arrogant and thought that I needed to push myself.”
Sam frowned as he looked over to Chasten. “Why are you telling me this?”
“I’m telling you this because time away from the Academy, and my return, opened my eyes to certain truths. When I left, I thought myself a skilled alchemist.”
“Your success in the city would suggest that is true.”
Chasten nodded. “I did have success, yes. Considerable success. I became wealthy beyond what I had ever imagined. But there was a greater truth that I slowly came to learn.”
“About alchemy?”
Chasten nodded. “When I was here, in the alchemy tower, I was privy to some of the great works of alchemy. I saw how they performed specific tasks and the types of items they created. When I left, I tried to replicate much of that, and it took time and creativity, but nothing that I did rivaled what I had seen when I was here. Do you know why?”
“You didn’t have the almanac.”
Chasten sniffed. “I thought that might be what it was. That the alchemists within the Academy were holding out on us other alchemists, trying to keep their own secrets, keeping power to themselves, but it took returning for me to come to terms with something else.”
“And what is that?” Sam looked around, and he found the stack of books that caught his eye. They had been shifted off to the side, separated from the others.
He was drawn to it, wanting to take a look, mostly so that he could sort through whether there were any of them that he might want to drag away and bring to his room.
“You, Sam.”
Sam pulled his gaze away, looking over to Chasten. “What did I do?”
“It’s not so much what you did as it is what you are. And about what you might be able to do.” He walked Sam over to the restricted section. “You know that I was not able to open this?”
“You didn’t have the Randall.”
“I’m not exactly sure that is the key, at least, not anymore. At one point, I thought perhaps the key was the key,” he said, smiling at the turn of phrase. “But once you found it and demonstrated what you could do, I couldn’t help but feel as if perhaps that wasn’t it. It took the second attack, though, for me to be certain. It was during that attack that I started to realize that perhaps there is something within you that is different.”
Sam remembered what Chasten had said to him about the power potential. He hadn’t been able to find anything and had started to question whether there really was anything within him that was all that different. Maybe there wasn’t. Maybe the only thing within him was a faint connection to the arcane arts, enough that he could use the vrandal and not anything more. Tara certainly believed that he could use the arcane arts because he could use the vrandal and that in doing so, he would be able to call upon far more power than otherwise. He didn’t know if that was true or not.
“And I’m sure if there is anything in me, it is not significant.”
“I can’t answer that, either. But what I can say is that you have made me question those alchemists who had come before me, and what they were able to do, and whether they had a different power than I understood.” He turned to Sam. His gaze drifted to the vrandal on Sam’s hand. “And I think you needed to find that vrandal. You needed to find the almanac. With the alchemists within the Academy destroyed, we needed somebody who could pick up that mantle and be ready for whatever was needed.”
“You’re saying that I’m supposed to be an alchemist.”
“I’m saying that you may have that potential.” He nodded to the library before turning to Sam. “Which brings me to my other reason for finding you.” He motioned for Sam to follow him and guided him out, and from there, down the stairs. As soon as they stopped at the bottom of the stairs, he started walking Sam toward the kitchen.
Not the kitchen but toward the alchemy tower.
“Chasten?”
Chasten paused. “I know that you have wanted access to the alchemy tower. You and Ms. Stone. I can’t speak to her, as she will have to make her own application, but seeing as how I have assumed supervision of this tower, I am granting you access.”
“Granting it?”
Chasten nodded. “You will find your robe in the tower. I have informed the others that you have my permission.”
Sam could only imagine how that would go over. They would not take kindly to his sudden incursion on their space.
“I’m only a first-year student.”
“By tenure, but not by qualifications.” Chasten turned to Sam. “You have proven yourself and your worth to the Academy, and you have proven your mind to me. And you have proven your value to alchemy.” He glanced at the vrandal. “I can’t say that you will find your time in the tower easy, especially as you will be the lowest level student there, but I can reassure you that within the alchemy tower, things have always been a little different. It’s not so much seniority that matters as it is ability, capability, and knowledge.”
As it should have been everywhere, Sam didn’t say, but his mind was taken elsewhere.
Chasten was telling him that he could access the alchemy tower.
Access to it had been what he had feared since the tower had reopened. He was a first-year student, and first-year students simply were not granted access to the alchemy tower.
“Does Havash know?”
Chasten shot him a hard look. “Do you think I must have permission from Havash?”
“Well, he is the Grandam.”
“That is true, but he does not oversee all aspects of the Academy. The alchemy tower has long had its own supervision. Much like it will now. Go and claim your robe. And be ready for the challenge that faces you.”
Sam stood in the doorway and stared straight ahead of him.
He glanced back to see Chasten walking away from him.
He couldn’t help but question his motives. Was it only because of Sam’s potential, or was there another reason altogether? Was Chasten trying to gain access to the almanac?
If that were the case, there were easier ways of going about it.
This felt like a reward.
Only he knew that it wasn’t strictly a reward. There were going to be difficulties. Not only with Tracen, but with others in the tolath tower who would question why he was permitted access to the alchemy tower.
He pushed those thoughts out of his mind and started down the stairs.
Chapter Seven
Sam leaned back in the chair, staring at the almanac. The vrandal glowed softly, giving him enough light to make out the words, but it did more than just that. The vrandal’s power helped translate the combination of letters into a language he could read.
Sam remained convinced that there was a pattern to the symbols in the almanac. It was a matter of trying to uncover that pattern. He and Tara had been gathering as many books on alchemy as they could, books that had the alchemical symbols etched either on their covers or buried within the pages inside. As he had found various connected symbols, Sam started looking for patterns. It was a puzzle. He felt confident that he could piece it together and come up with the answer about the writing in the almanac, but so far, he had not managed to do so.
It frustrated him, though he suspected that others had tried before him and likely failed the same as he had. He wasn’t unique in that regard. Why should he succeed? Sam might have a clever mind, but was he smarter than all who had come before him?
No. That was arrogant to think that way.
He had a clever mind and the vrandal, though. That combination should permit him a way of finding information that he had not yet uncovered.
“What do you think would happen…”
He looked up, remembering that Tara wasn’t there and that there were two other alchemy students in the common room, though neither of them sat near him. They didn’t much care for Sam. The feeling went both ways, though.
He had been using his time in the alchemy tower to work through the almanac. He had shielded it from them and found that it was surprisingly easy to stay hidden because nobody wanted to come over and see what he was reading. They simply pretended he wasn’t even there.
Maybe to them, he wasn’t.
He clutched his hand around the vrandal. He had been working with it. There had to be answers within the vrandal and within the almanac, but Sam hadn’t yet found them. He wondered if he could even find them, with others around him. He hated trying to hide what he was doing, but unless he had some way of using the arcane arts…
But maybe he did.
He hadn’t attempted to use the vrandal to create lines of angulation, but why wouldn’t it work?
He had seen a burst of power coming from it and had felt the way that the vrandal had surged with energy, so it seemed reasonable to believe that if he were to figure out some way to control it, maybe he could even use the vrandal to help him perform some of these patterns.
It would be complex. He would need practice. He would need to learn control. All of those things Sam was willing to do. If it meant that he would somehow be able to use that, to figure out some way of mastering the vrandal, and perhaps even mastering some part of the arcane arts, and he would do it.
He tried to trigger the vrandal, but he did it quietly, wanting to avoid the attention of Sharetha and Macor who were in the room with him.
As he continued to work through it, he wasn’t sure that he could stay here. As much as he wanted to be in the alchemy tower, he also needed to try to work through the almanac and to have an opportunity to practice.
It wasn’t going to hap
pen here, though.
He got to his feet, glancing briefly to the other two alchemy students, before heading up the stairs.
At the top, he paused. Where could he go?
One place came to mind.
He stepped into the kitchen, nodded to Okun, and then into the closet that led into the Study Hall.
He stood for a moment, feeling the hall. The soft breath of the tunnels brushed against his cheek. Sam always made sure he could feel that breath blowing gently. If it wasn’t, then he knew he’d have to be more concerned that others were also in the halls. He didn’t detect a sense of power here either.
Sam moved forward. Now that he’d taken to using these halls as his primary means of maneuvering, it wasn’t difficult for him to find where he needed to go. He wound between various sections of the Academy, heading up stairs and down slopes and through side halls, then stopped before the long tunnel leading forward.
From here, he could feel the power he hadn’t felt in other parts of the tunnels. There was a hint of the pressure of magic, along with a faint green light. Faint, and nothing more. He stared, looking to see whether there would be an edge of white light within it—which would suggest it came from someone with arcane magic—but he didn’t see any.
He moved forward and reached what he knew to be a barrier, though it was one he couldn’t see. Now that he was aware of its presence in the Study Hall, it was easier for Sam to approach it.
As he pushed the vrandal up against that barrier, he felt his hand slide, and the barrier bulged so that he could move forward. Then he was inside the hidden section.
The door in front of him was familiar. It was where Bethal had come through, where she had attempted to release power. It was where Sam questioned whether there was a kind of power he needed to understand.
Alchemist Illusion (The Alchemist Book 3) Page 7
