The Lady Alchemist Page 8

  Sepha leveled a look at him. “I’ll tell you one of mine if you tell me one of yours.”

  He held her gaze, assessing. “Military Alchemists,” he said at last.

  Sepha suppressed a smile, and he grinned and looked away. “Not fair,” she said. Everyone was afraid of Military Alchemists.

  “A deal’s a deal,” he said, and her contract thumped once beside her heart.

  Sepha took a steadying breath. Ignored the echoing voice that whispered, What if, just for a second, I forget that I’m not supposed to fly?

  “Heights,” she said, and left it at that.

  Ruhen nodded but frowned at the same time, as if this piece of information didn’t fit with what he thought he knew about her.

  After a moment of silence, he asked, “So, what’s the plan?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You spend all year doing research. You figure out why you’re so good at alchemy. The Magistrate renews your status as Lady Alchemist. Aren’t you still stuck?” When Sepha looked confusedly at him, Ruhen added, “I didn’t think you wanted to be a Court Alchemist.”

  Sepha narrowed her eyes and rested her elbows against the rail. “You never asked,” she said, and he laughed. The wind carried the sound away, muffling it. “I’ve always wanted to be a Court Alchemist. I just thought I couldn’t, because I can’t draw alchems. I’m still not one now, but I suppose Lady Alchemist is as close as I’ll ever get.”

  “Oh. Well, everything worked out, then.”

  “It did.” Which was only partly a lie. Once she’d satisfied her debts to the magician and the Magistrate, everything would have worked out perfectly. “And what about you? What’s your plan?”

  Ruhen twisted his mouth to one side and rested his elbows on the rail, matching her stance. His arm was so close to hers that she could feel the warmth of him through her sleeve. “I want to make something of myself,” he said. “We’ve moved around a lot, me and my brothers. They were content to waste away wherever we lived, doing barely enough to get by. That’s not enough for me.”

  “Hence studying to become a Court Alchemist,” Sepha said, and he nodded.

  The train pulled them past a few abandoned, half-toppled buildings, then through the outskirts of a proper town. Most of the windows were dark. One building, tall and domed and made of marble, stood taller than the rest. Its main entrance, visible from the railway, was an arch, framed by the statues of a man and a woman. The couple’s palms met at the keystone.

  A shrine to Lael and Amin—it must be!

  Sepha stared at the shrine, trying to memorize it. Three Mills, old as it was, was too new to have a shrine to Lael and Amin. She’d never seen one before and had until now been forced to subsist on stories.

  Ruhen followed her gaze. “Are you a Dànist?” he asked, sounding surprised.

  The Dànists were a small but vocal sect of Tirenians who still worshipped Lael and Amin. A millennium ago, everyone had worshipped the pair—sometimes called the Great Alchemists—as gods. But now, most people had resorted to a cold apathy. There was the here and now, which was for the living, and there was the After, which was for the dead. Two planes of existence, each as real and undeniable as the other. Since there weren’t any entities who could change that fact, there was no point in worshipping anyone.

  “No,” Sepha said, smiling. “I just love their story, that’s all. The alchemy they did.”

  Ruhen raised an eyebrow. “That’s the part of their story you like best?”

  Sepha nodded. “Why?”

  “I don’t know,” Ruhen said, sounding as if he did know. “I mean, their alchemy—banishing evil magicians and evil magical creatures from Tirenia—it was amazing. But I thought everyone’s favorite part of the story was how, you know, they were … I don’t know. A pair.”

  A slow smile spread across Sepha’s face. “You like the true love part the best?”

  “I didn’t say that! Don’t make fun of me!” Ruhen cried, and they both burst into smothered laughter. “I can like whichever part of the story I choose.”

  “But you chose the only fictional part to be your favorite!”

  “Oh, Sepha, no. Tell me you aren’t that cold-hearted!” Ruhen stared down at her, dismayed. “You really don’t believe the true love part?”

  Sepha’s smile faded. The truth was that, although Sepha had been young when Mother died, she’d been old enough to notice the wrongness between her and Father. The way Mother was a prize to Father and not a person. The complete and utter lack of love, from which Sepha had somehow sprung.

  Forget two people fated by the cosmos itself to meet each other, fall in love, and save the world. Ordinary love was so impossible to Sepha that true love was, by extension, a fantasy.

  To her dismay, she realized that, maybe, that did make her cold-hearted.

  “I don’t think I do,” Sepha said. Ruhen gave her a look that made her feel as if she was being assessed, and she looked away. “Adding unnecessary parts to the story only takes away from what amazing alchemists they were.”

  “Maybe so,” Ruhen said, sounding as if he disagreed.

  Sepha hazarded a glance and found him staring back at her. For a moment, they studied each other, with the wind tugging at their clothes and the tracks blurring beneath them. That look, the one she was almost definitely imagining, crept back into Ruhen’s eyes.

  Which made Sepha’s cheeks flush with pleasure.

  Which made her contract thrum in response.

  Godsdamnit!

  Sepha looked away and pretended to be fascinated by the buildings beside the tracks. Forced herself to think of bricks and mortar and wooden beams until her interfering contract went still.

  Although he couldn’t know why she was uncomfortable, Ruhen seemed to sense her mood. He let the conversation die, let the clack of the train’s wheels take over the night, let the world become sound and sight and the push of the chaotic wind. After a long time, he said, “The sky looks bigger here.”

  “Lots of stars,” Sepha agreed.

  “Millions.”

  This time, it wasn’t what he’d said but what he’d left unsaid that set her contract to thrumming, and Sepha knew without a doubt that she was in trouble.

  The next morning, Sepha awoke to a pocked and scarred desert outside the railcar. The land looked utterly destroyed: deep crevices alternating with sharp, cresting hills, as if the ground had been rocked by opposing explosions. It was dry, and lifeless, and silent.

  They had reached the swath of devastation that marred Tirenia’s middle. The ruined land was older than history books, and Sepha had always wondered what disaster could’ve been so catastrophic as to cause such permanent destruction.

  As the morning went on and the train traced a winding path through the devastation, Ruhen’s eyes grew dim, and his skin glowed with a sheen of sweat. Every few moments, he gulped or dipped his head, as if he was trying very hard not to vomit.

  “What’s wrong?” Sepha asked.

  When he didn’t answer, Destry looked up. She eyed Ruhen for a few moments, then Sepha saw some sort of understanding spark in her eyes. Ruhen seemed to see it too and held eye contact with Destry before dipping his head again. Sepha glanced from Destry to Ruhen, sure that she was missing something.

  “He has motion sickness,” Destry said, and Ruhen, with his eyes closed, nodded.

  “Oh,” Sepha said. She had heard of motion sickness, but since she’d never been on a train before, she’d never seen it in real life. Somehow, it had never seemed as serious as all this. She chewed on her lip. “Is there anything we can do?”

  “We’re almost through the desert,” Destry said, and Ruhen glanced at her again. “We’ll cross a river and get into a forest soon enough.” She looked at Sepha and said, “It helps if there’s something to look at, if you have motion sickness.”

  “Oh,” Sepha repeated, feeling stupid. “Good. Hang on then, Ruhen.”


  He nodded, his forehead resting against his hands.

  As Destry had promised, the train rolled out of the swath of ruined land and into a forest, and Ruhen recovered slowly.

  After the forest came hilly farmland, with small towns scattered at intervals beside the tracks. Nestled among and between the towns were more stone ruins, the remnants of ancient Dànist shrines for the Great Alchemists.

  That afternoon, at long last, they arrived.

  The Institute of Alchemical Discipline sat on the edge of a high cliff overlooking the Anguan Sea. Surrounded by a high stone wall, the sprawling, irregular complex looked like a fortress, huge and impenetrable. The sun’s reflection winked at them from the few windows that peeked over the walls. A gigantic pair of gunmetal-gray doors, each inscribed with the letters IAD, divided the wall in two.

  Sepha fought hard to keep her jaw from dropping. The Institute. She was really here—she would really be here, for as long as she could manage it. She could hardly believe it!

  As they toiled up the stone-slab stairway that led from the train station to the Institute—Sepha’s homunculus had insinuated himself into the position of dragging her knapsack up the hill behind him—a man-sized entrance opened in one of the enormous IAD doors. A tall, lanky man, maybe a bit younger than Destry, stepped out.

  He lifted one arm in a dispassionate greeting. His Guild ring flashed in the waning sunlight. He was tall and narrow, but he looked well-built and strong. His Military Alchemist jacket was dreadfully wrinkled.

  Destry’s smile seemed forced. “Henric!” she called, waving back.

  When they got to the top of the stairs, Destry said, “Meet my little brother, Henric. Henric, this is Sepha Filens, the Lady Alchemist I wired about, the one who has made fools of us all! And Ruhen Salmarre,” she added after a half-beat of silence.

  Henric, whose eyes were a clear green, smiled at Sepha. Though his skin was just as pale, he seemed darker than Destry, with long brown hair that curled into unruly ringlets and a few days’ worth of facial hair. There were dark circles around his eyes, as if he never got quite enough sleep.

  When Henric looked at Ruhen, his smile wilted. His eyes flicked from Ruhen’s right hand (on which there was not a Guild ring) to his plain black jacket (which was not a Military Alchemist jacket) and then back to Sepha, his lips curled in satisfaction.

  A ghost of a smile appeared on Ruhen’s lips, and he shook his head, seeming halfway between amusement and annoyance.

  “Well, come in, then,” Henric said. “Destry sent off a telegraph from Three Mills, so we’ve got everything prepared, exactly as she commanded.” As he spoke, Henric ushered them inside the door. His voice was colored with faint irritation.

  “This is the courtyard,” he said as they emerged into a wide space paved with cobblestones patterned in concentric circles. “We mainly use it for the morning evolutions. Well, only the Military Alchemists. I’m sure Destry’s bored you to tears talking about how no one will bet against her in sparring matches anymore.”

  “She has a bit, yes,” said Ruhen.

  “What?” Henric asked, sending an annoyed glance toward Ruhen.

  “It was a joke, Henric,” Destry said wearily. “Look, will you show them around? I need to go report in. We had a run-in with a magician on the way here.”

  Henric looked at her in surprise but said, after a pronounced silence, “Sure. Fine.”

  They clasped forearms in a quick farewell. Destry looked at Sepha, said, “I’ll see you at breakfast,” and sped away.

  Henric’s gaze passed over Ruhen as if he wasn’t there and fixed on Sepha. “Well,” he said, “what would you like to see?”

  “Probably all of it,” Ruhen said. His tone was friendly, but it seemed to rankle Henric all the same.

  “Yes,” Sepha said, before Henric could say whatever he’d opened his mouth to say. “Show us everything, please. I’d love to learn more about … well, all of it.”

  Henric sighed. “Well, it’s not so complicated,” he said. “The Institute is split between Military Alchemists and Court Alchemists. The Military Alchemists use their talents to secure Tirenia against criminal magicians and the odd rebel uprising, while the Court Alchemists devote their lives to more academic pursuits. Most alchemists are one or the other.”

  “Most?” Sepha asked.

  “Everyone but me and Destry,” he said, standing a bit straighter than before. “We’re the only ones who are both Military and Court. But that’s neither here nor there,” he added, waving his hand as if erasing what he’d just said. “Now, all Court Alchemists are paid a stipend by the government, as well as room and board. In return, we’re required to either perform enough commissioned alchemical work to earn back our stipend plus interest, or to produce research that benefits Tirenia in some way. If we choose to research, as Destry and I have, we use the resources at the library.” He gestured to a large, square building. “Or, if not the library, we make use of the laboratories and stock rooms.” He pointed unhelpfully downward. Smiling sharply at Sepha’s confused expression, he explained, “The laboratories and stock rooms are underground. Tunnels. Also underground are the barracks where the homunculi sleep,” Henric added, with a significant look at Sepha’s homunculus, who gave the barest nod of understanding.

  “What are you and Destry researching?” Sepha asked, after a hiccup of silence.

  “I’m looking into the possibility of transforming projectiles while they’re in motion,” Henric said, “and Destry is trying to link satellite alchems to a controlling alchem so it’s possible to perform multiple exchanges at once. Even she can only use two alchems at once, and most people can’t even do that.”

  Sepha’s mouth dropped open. “But that … those … either of them … would change everything!”

  Henric shrugged. “Yes, well, we haven’t figured any of it out yet, so don’t be too impressed.”

  “We won’t,” Ruhen said.

  Henric cut Ruhen another annoyed look. He angled his body away from him, making it clear that he was talking to Sepha, and Sepha only. With a wave of his hand, Henric gestured toward a wide, low building directly across from the IAD doors. “That’s the mess hall where we eat all of our meals, and behind that is the combat proving grounds.”

  He pivoted, clearly eager to finish his duties as tour guide as quickly as possible. “That,” he said, pointing to a formidably large building that hugged the outer wall closest to the sea, “is the clinic. Best doctors around. And this monstrosity over here,” Henric went on, before Sepha had the chance to ask why the Institute needed the best doctors around, “is the Tenement, but we call it the Ten. Everyone at the Institute lives there. No one has to share a room, but the rooms are tiny. And,” he paused impressively, “all of our buildings, including the underground levels, are wired for electricity.”

  “Oh,” Sepha said. Most of Three Mills had been wired for electricity for years. Did Henric think she’d traveled here from the past, as well as from the mountains? “That’s … amazing.”

  “Not really,” Ruhen said.

  This time, Henric ignored them both.

  He led them across the courtyard, into the Ten’s lobby and up a long spiral staircase. They didn’t stop until they reached the very top floor.

  “You’ve got room Twelve-Nine,” he said to Sepha, pointing down the hall. “Destry is in room Ten-Two if you need her, and I’m in Four-Eleven if you need me,” he added glibly, giving her an aggressively roguish wink.

  He turned to leave, but then Sepha noticed his omission. “Wait!” she said. “What about Ruhen?”

  Henric paused. “Oh, him. I had forgotten. What are you here for?”

  “I’m a Court Alchemist candidate,” Ruhen said. His hands were in his pockets, but Sepha suspected they were balled into fists.

  “A Court Alchemist candidate?” Henric said, raising his eyebrows. Looking pointedly at Ruhen’s shoulders and arms, Henric said, “You seem m
ore suited to brute force than intellectual studies.”

  “He’s here to be a Court Alchemist,” Sepha said, glaring at him. “Destry knows. Ask her if you don’t believe it.”

  Henric sucked his teeth and stared at Ruhen as if he hoped Ruhen might decide that he didn’t need a place to stay, after all.

  “All of the Court Alchemist candidates are on the lowest floors.” He said this as if it meant something. “I think there’s an empty space for Ruhen on the first floor. Twelve-Nine, Sepha. Don’t forget.”

  Sepha met Ruhen’s eyes behind Henric’s back and pulled a grimace. Ruhen smiled and rolled his eyes, and turned to follow Henric.

  As the two men silently descended the spiral staircase, Sepha went to her room.

  Well, it certainly is small, she thought when she opened the door. It was much smaller than her room back home, and that had hardly been grandiose. But the large triptych window that dominated the far wall more than made up for the room’s size. To the right, over the walls that guarded the Institute, she could see the fractal cliff line as it zig-zagged toward Balarat; to the left, she saw the Anguan Sea.

  It was more water than she’d ever seen. Smooth and silky in some places, with choppy areas surrounding the smoothness like tall grass beside a road, the water stretched endlessly out and away. Tiny waves closer to the cliffs crashed down in regular succession, showing off their foamy white scarves as they fell. If she held her breath, she could hear them roar.

  Tirenia was a huge, lonely island, smack in the middle of the purportedly impassable Anguan Sea. Now that she was seeing it for the first time, Sepha smiled at the thought of the sea being some obstacle to overcome. From here, the sea looked like an invitation, its smooth surface beckoning, Come sail away on me.

  A loud thunk startled Sepha. She whirled away from the window, heart galloping, but it was only her homunculus. He was standing beside her knapsack, still wearing his—begrudging, it seemed to Sepha—tiny smile.

  “Um,” she said uncertainly, “will you be able to find your barracks?”