The Lady Alchemist Page 12

  The next morning, and every morning after that, Sepha trained with Destry before the sun came up. After training, Sepha joined the Military Alchemists in their morning evolution. It irritated everyone but Destry, but no one stopped her. Ruhen trained with her most mornings, which was a terrible, wonderful distraction. He was huge and graceful and strong, and Sepha had to force herself not to watch him—she was prone to tripping over herself when she did. Which would’ve been mortifying, except Ruhen seemed similarly clumsy when he looked too much at her.

  Sepha’s days quickly fell into a routine: training, morning evolution, then breakfast; library by herself, usually, although sometimes she was joined by Destry or—gods help her—Henric; sparring, once the library set her head to spinning; dinner, then bed; repeat.

  To her dismay, she was forced to spend most of her time studying basic alchemy. People interrupted her in the library so constantly that she was terrified of being caught with anything condemning. She squeezed her human transmutation studies in where she could, but everything had, so far, been useless. The scant mentions she’d managed to find labeled human transmutation as taboo, or barbaric, or not to be attempted under any circumstances. She couldn’t even find books on human anatomy in the library—they simply weren’t there. It was maddening.

  Driven nearly to distraction, she’d spent an entire day researching how homunculi were made, hoping to apply what she learned to human transmutation. It was a complete waste of time. The process was disgusting and couldn’t be altered to suit her needs. She couldn’t look Fio in the eye for days after she learned where he’d come from.

  Ruhen fell in neatly with the other Court Alchemist candidates and spent most of his time with them, studying for weekly exams. The tether was as ever-present as the Institute’s high, suffocating walls. What was worse, Sepha and Ruhen both experienced terrible headaches whenever they went too long without seeing each other. It had taken them a few days to work out a schedule that was tolerable for both of them, but they found they could get through their days well enough if they sat beside each other at mealtimes.

  The more gossipy alchemists considered them quite the couple.

  But, for Sepha at least, there could be nothing less romantic than being shackled to Ruhen, knowing he was similarly shackled to her. If she’d liked him less, this unfortunate tethering would’ve felt like less of a loss; but he was wonderful, which made the whole thing that much worse.

  Every few days, Thuban, who was the head of the Court Alchemists’ Guild, came to the Institute to hand out contracted assignments to the Court Alchemists. There seemed to be more contracts than usual. When the alchemists returned from their assignments, the rumblings began.

  “Another derailment,” they’d say.

  “An explosion in the coal mines. Took out half the mountain. Never seen anything like it.”

  “People are saying we’ve angered the gods. They think the world’s ending.”

  “Another rebellion, do you think?”

  “No, it’s not like the last one. It’s something else.”

  Before Sepha knew it, two full weeks had slipped away. Fourteen days had passed since she’d made her deal with the homunculus, and she was nowhere near a solution. She tried not to worry, but even so, every day weighed on her. No alchemical challenge had ever stumped her for this long. And yet here she was, just as clueless as she’d been on day one.

  Failure, the snide voice whispered. Failure, failure.

  Sepha let out a loud huff and shut her book in disgust. She grimaced at Fio, who sat in the corner, and felt foolish when he didn’t respond. He wasn’t capable of commiserating. She kept forgetting.

  She leaned back in her chair and propped both feet on the table, practically daring a librarian to whisper-yell at her, and closed her eyes. It was a lazy spring day, one that felt almost like summer, and it was sacrilege to be inside. And yet inside, she was. Failing, she was.

  A now-familiar tug told Sepha that Ruhen was approaching. She didn’t bother to open her eyes as he entered her study room, closed the door, and sat beside her.

  “Hello, Ruhen,” she said. It was strange how quickly they’d both gotten used to the tether—or map, as Ruhen insisted on describing it. Strange how right the tether felt, when she ignored the fact that it came from her abominable contract.

  “Hey.” A pause. “Is something wrong?”

  Sepha smiled.

  “What?” he said.

  “I was just wondering if there’d ever be a day when you didn’t ask me that.”

  “Doesn’t seem like it,” he said, and they both laughed.

  Sepha let her feet thud to the floor and opened the offending textbook. “I feel like I’m wasting my time,” she said, rubbing the tension from her forehead. “After an hour of reading, this is all I’ve learned.” She handed Ruhen the book and motioned to the paragraph. She had it memorized by now.

  “Alchemy can be compared to a game of checkers. Each alchem is like a game piece, which can only be moved to an adjacent square on the board. Note that each piece can only access a limited number of squares, and, once a move is selected, the piece’s potential is exhausted. It is precisely thus with alchemy.

  “I mean, seriously!”

  “And?”

  “And it’s wrong!”

  “It really isn’t,” Ruhen said. He tossed the book onto the table. “Terrible explanation, but that’s essentially what every textbook says.”

  Sepha clicked her tongue. “Can you honestly tell me that’s how it feels when you perform an alchemical exchange? That you feel so—limited? One exchange at a time, and only a few exchanges to choose from, to begin with?”

  Ruhen lifted one shoulder. “I don’t know what you want me to tell you, Sepha. You already knew you were breaking the rules. These are the rules.”

  “How am I breaking the rules, then? And why me? Why don’t you try to break the rules? I’d bet you could do it if you tried.” Sepha swiveled to the side and propped her toes on Ruhen’s chair. Her knees brushed against his leg, and they both pretended to ignore the jolt of relief that rushed through them from the small touch. Another side effect of the contract’s magic. “I don’t have a lot of time to figure this out, Ruhen.”

  Ruhen tried and failed to hide his smile. Gods, his smile was gorgeous! “It’s only been two weeks. You’ve got fifty left. You’ll figure it out.”

  “But what if I don’t?” Sepha groaned.

  “You will.”

  “But I might not.”

  “Well, yes,” Ruhen said, “but on the other hand, you will.”

  Sepha twisted to sit forward in her seat. “What if this really is all the alchemy textbooks say? This same thing, over and over, with no indication that it’s possible to break the rules?”

  “Then you’ll have two options.”

  Sensing a joke but unable to guess the punchline, Sepha warily said, “What?”

  “Medical marvel or circus sideshow. Either way, you’ll stand to make a profit. For someone, at least.”

  Sepha pretended not to smile, and Ruhen pretended not to notice. “You’re forgetting that I don’t need to make a profit. Fabulously wealthy, remember?”

  “I haven’t forgotten. Why do you think I hang around you so much?”

  Their smiles faded. In a move that was both defensive and offensive, Sepha broke the silence first. “Have you seen anything suspicious? You know—magic? Regarding us?”

  Ruhen looked suddenly uncomfortable. “I honestly haven’t had time, what with studying for tests and practicing with the other candidates. I mean, since the whatever-it-is isn’t hurting us, I figured I should … Well, if I fail a test, I’m out. You know what I mean?”

  Sepha nodded, relieved. “You’re right. Focus on becoming a Court Alchemist. We’ll figure out this whatever-it-is when we can.”

  Ruhen looked relieved too. “You haven’t figured anything out yet, either?”

  �
��No,” she said. “I’m always here doing research, just like you.”

  She heard the whine in her voice too late to stop it. She cringed.

  “Yes,” Ruhen said, not seeming the least bit put off. “You are always here. Maybe you should take a break. We’re going to the proving grounds to duel in a little while. You should come.”

  Sepha knew that we were Ruhen and the other Court Alchemist candidates. They dueled in the proving grounds constantly, although Sepha wasn’t sure why they called it dueling. Two candidates did face off, true, but instead of fighting, they raced to produce a full assembly starting with only a blueprint, an alchem, and a stack of ingots.

  It was agonizing to watch because she knew she would win. Every time.

  “I can’t duel,” Sepha said miserably. Destry’s word was as good as law, and Sepha still wasn’t allowed to perform alchemical exchanges in public.

  “I won’t duel either,” Ruhen said. “We can just watch.”

  Sepha softened to the idea. It was clever of Ruhen to use her as an excuse to stay out of the duels; everyone knew he was shy about performing alchemy in front of a crowd. All of his confidence rested on his book knowledge, and he was terribly insecure about his practical alchemy. He was Sepha’s exact opposite in this regard.

  “Fresh air,” Ruhen said, sensing her weakness. “Sunlight. Things that aren’t books.”

  “All right,” Sepha laughed, throwing up both hands in surrender. “All right, I’ll go.”

  “Good.” The smile he gave her was perhaps more than friendly, and he could have no idea what a riot of feelings this awoke in her. Guilt, mostly, and regret, tinged with fear nearly amounting to panic. And of course, her own more-than-friendly feelings, which she was doing her very best not to acknowledge.

  Sepha rubbed her right hand. It had started to ache. In what was beginning to be a habit, she twisted her L ring around and around her finger. A distraction. A thing to fidget with when her mind was elsewhere.

  Ruhen took a quick, sharp breath, and said, “Listen. I know things are complicated between us, what with … whatever this is. But do you think it would be out of the question if we—”

  The pain in Sepha’s right hand increased. It reminded her of something awful. She struggled to focus on what Ruhen was saying.

  “—went out sometime? For a meal. Anywhere but the mess hall.”

  “Oh,” Sepha said, like a damn idiot. “I—”

  A white-hot pain seared through her hand, and comprehension crashed over her.

  The undead magician!

  Sepha leapt to her feet, said, “Washroom!” and ran out of the room, dragging Fio along with her.

  Following the pain in her right hand, Sepha sprinted to the back of the library, where a little-used door led to a small, generally abandoned outdoor studying space. She burst out of the library, pushed the door shut behind Fio—a quick thought confirmed Ruhen was still in their study room—and had time for one deep breath. Two.

  Then a hole opened in the air, and the magician hopped out. He was wearing expensive new clothes and looked extremely pleased with himself, which could only mean he’d been up to no good.

  “Hello,” he rasped.

  Beside Sepha, Fio went very still.

  “What are you doing here?” Sepha asked. Her voice was hoarse but strong.

  Inside the library, Ruhen was edging toward her, as if he wasn’t sure he ought to.

  If he saw the inexplicable magician, if he found out what she’d done, he would hate her. Definitely, definitely hate her.

  She had to finish this. Fast. Whatever this was.

  “Checking in,” the magician said.

  Sepha pursed her lips and shifted to stand in front of Fio, who was trembling. “I’m researching human transmutation day and night,” she said. It was a lie, but he couldn’t possibly know that. “I haven’t forgotten our bargain.”

  The magician grinned. “Good.”

  Ruhen was getting nearer. The tether was tightening by the second.

  “Did you enjoy attacking the train?” Sepha asked. “People died because of you.”

  “Which train?” the magician asked, leering. With an incoherent muttered word, he opened a hole in the air, and was gone.

  Which train?

  A whisper of fear echoed in Sepha’s mind. She was missing something. Something important.

  The door behind Sepha eased open. She whirled around to face Ruhen. For a blank moment, they only stared at each other.

  “This isn’t the washroom,” Ruhen said. There was a new and horrible expression on his face, one Sepha hadn’t seen before: hurt.

  But better hurt than hate.

  “Oh?” she said, running her eyes up and down the brick wall behind Ruhen as if only just realizing where she was. “Oh. You’re right.” She paused. “You said there would be dueling?”

  Ruhen was frowning. “I did.”

  “All right. Let’s go.”

  Sepha grabbed Fio’s hand and slipped past Ruhen into the library. She was already in the proving grounds before Ruhen started to follow.

  The proving grounds were packed with alchemists. The Court Alchemist candidates, looking bookish and uncomfortable in the sunlight, were huddled in one corner. The Military Alchemists took up the rest of the space, sparring in groups of two or more. The ground vibrated with alchemical pulses, and the air smelled like metal and sweat and dirt.

  Henric and the brutal golden-haired Military Alchemist had claimed the etched transformation alchem on the far side. The blond man was hurling knives over the alchem so that Henric could attempt to transform them mid-flight. He was woefully unsuccessful. The blond man’s homunculus scurried back and forth, bringing knives to his master just in time to run after the next ones. The poor thing looked exhausted.

  The candidates had already started their dueling. Sepha eased into the crowd, Fio at her heels and Ruhen on his way, and peered over the candidates’ shoulders. The two dueling candidates were each assembling a simple balance. Although there were fewer than a dozen parts, with several duplicates, it was finnicky work. If any part of it was too heavy or off-centered, the balance would be useless. It was a good choice for a duel.

  Not that Sepha wouldn’t win, if she were allowed to compete.

  With painstaking slowness, the candidate nearest Sepha riffled through her alchems. It took her an age to locate her separation alchem, an epoch longer to lay it flat, and at least a million years to select an ingot to place in the center. With a single pulse, she separated the ingot in two.

  Then more riffling through the alchems.

  And Sepha could have produced a hundred identical balances by now.

  Sepha threw a look over her shoulder at Ruhen, afraid to see his expression but unable to keep from looking. He was standing a little way off, frowning into the crowd of candidates without seeming to see them. The afternoon sun shone directly onto his face, lightening his thunderhead eyes to a cool, steely gray.

  When at last he looked at Sepha, there was a new comprehension in his eyes.

  Surrounded by alchemists, immersed in a riot of pulses, beneath the wind’s feeble caress and the full brightness of the sun, Sepha stared back. She knew, somehow, that all it would take was a tip of her chin, and Ruhen would come to her. Lean close, touch her maybe, and ask her what was wrong—really, what sort of trouble was she in? And if she told him the truth, he might understand. Maybe even offer to help.

  But only maybe.

  Sepha shuttered her face and turned her back on Ruhen.

  She stayed in the proving grounds for the rest of the day. Ruhen didn’t stay long, didn’t say goodbye when he left. Which was fine.

  When the candidates finished their duels, Sepha sent Fio away, took a spot against the wall, and watched the Military Alchemists spar. Destry called Sepha out, and she joined in with the Military Alchemists. Surprisingly, her lessons with Destry had been thorough enough that she could
hold her own. She didn’t win any matches, but she didn’t embarrass herself, either.

  Henric asked to spar with her, and she said yes. His long, curly hair was pulled into a tail at the base of his head. Sweat dripped from his forehead and down his neck. He’d cast off his Military Alchemist jacket sometime before, and his white shirt was nearly transparent with sweat. They sparred fist to fist for one round, two, three. Then, at Henric’s suggestion, they moved to wooden staves. Sepha was less comfortable with those, but the rhythm was soothing, the staff’s weight a good distraction.

  Which train? the magician had said.

  And the library had nothing helpful, nothing at all, for human transmutation.

  And Ruhen—

  She wasn’t thinking about Ruhen.

  It was sometime around her sixth match with Henric that she made a mistake. They were moving in a cool rhythm, swinging, blocking, ducking, lunging—and then she lost focus. Misjudged.

  The blow took her across the ribs, throwing her to the ground and knocking the air from her lungs. She lay there for a few breathless moments and watched, detached, as the Military Alchemists huddled around her.

  Which train?

  Destry appeared and hauled Sepha to her feet. It hurt to breathe. She told Destry so. Destry snapped at Henric, who said something defensive and vaguely apologetic, and then she led Sepha into the clinic.

  Sepha was passed from one person to another, and soon she found herself sitting on a cot in a white, partitioned room. A woman came in and felt her ribs. Sepha hissed.

  “Only bruised,” the woman said. “Rest until you catch your breath. Take it easy for a few days. You can leave whenever you’re ready.”

  The woman left.

  Sepha’s eyes fell upon something on the desk in the corner.

  That, she thought, is important.

  She slid off the cot, took the item from the desk, and walked straight out of the clinic. She walked and walked until, ribs aching, lungs burning, she shut the door of her room behind her.

  Then, and only then, did she take the time to decrypt the full title of the book in her hands.