Lilith sighed. “I know I said the same thing when you first approached me, but I have spent much thought upon it since. I decided that I am no safer keeping myself out of things than I would be if I helped you, now that a madwoman runs about the Academy drunk on magestones. At least if my kin should turn on me and kill me, they will do it quicker than the Mystics meant to.”
“That is a grim thought,” said Ebon. “Though no doubt it is true. How soon will word reach you, once you begin asking questions?”
“I cannot say. I have never done this before. But there is much tumult among my kin just now. You may have heard that some of us were under suspicion for collaborating with the Shades during the attack.” She grew grim at that and waited for a long stretch of silence. “It has been all we can do to stave off the High King’s justice, and one branch of the family has been cut from the tree. If someone has resumed collaboration with Isra, it can be assumed that they mean also to work with the Shades again, or mayhap with Dulmun. There will be many others who wish to stop such foolishness and punish those responsible. I think answers will come swift.”
She stood from her armchair. The rest of them hastened to follow. Theren spoke quickly, holding forth a hand to keep Lilith from leaving. “You could study here, if you wish,” she said. “I am not one for reading, myself, but this place is well suited for it. At least Ebon and Kalem lose themselves among pages here for hours on end, so it must be good.”
Lilith gave her a little smile that quickly died. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “But I will work elsewhere. Mayhap … mayhap I will join you all here, one day. I think I might enjoy that.” She gave them all a nod and a glance, lingering longest on Theren, and then left.
A long uncomfortable while passed before Lilith came to them again. Ebon spent his days studying hard and his evenings keeping Astrea company. After their argument in Perrin’s class, she did not wish to walk with him at first. But he apologized so earnestly that at last she agreed to speak with him in the common room, and then the next day she walked with him upon the grounds the way she used to. And for his part, Ebon did not try to speak with her when she did not wish it. He spent his time with her in silence, answering every time she asked a question, and occasionally telling her of inconsequential nothings. If she ever wished to speak of Isra again, he would be ready, and in the meantime, he would be her friend.
His latest spell gave him an entirely new difficulty. For the first day he spent all his time in class holding the flower, running his fingers along it, trying to see it in his mind’s eye. When his magic flowed through him, he could peer into its substance, but he could not understand it. Its parts were many, and wild, and danced all about each other in an endless buzz of activity. Whenever he tried to change them, he could only manage stone. And if he threw the rose down, frustrated, Perrin would appear at his elbow and lecture him.
“You should not become discouraged so easily,” she told him. “No type of substance is more complicated than living matter. Even the most powerful alchemists do not truly understand it, for our bodies, and the bodies of all living things, are made of more things than even the wildest rock laced with crystal and gold. You have already mastered wood—that is somewhere in between something alive and something made of stone. It is like our bones. Plants are the next step—they are soft and malleable, like flesh and skin. It will take you time to master them.”
That did not seem entirely right to Ebon. He knew he could transmute living flesh down to stone—he had done it when he killed Cyrus, though he still shuddered every time he thought of that day. But turning it to ice was another matter. He could not envision ice in the first place, and so he could not make the switch.
To his surprise, after three days it was Astrea who came to his rescue. When Perrin was across the room teaching a lesson to another student, Astrea gave a quick glance over her shoulder and then leaned close to Ebon. “You should learn to master water before you try to turn the flower.”
Ebon blinked. “I do not know what that means.”
Astrea’s mouth twisted. “Here.” She took the little wooden box Ebon had been using to practice shifting stone. Then she dipped her finger into the stone, which shifted around her fingertip like water—and then, suddenly, it was water. Ebon gaped.
“How did you …?”
“I have been practicing outside of class,” she said quickly, and then pushed the box into his hands. “Try to turn the water to ice. It may be difficult at first, but you will begin to learn the ways of water, the parts that make it up. They are far simpler than the parts of the flower. We learned this in our first-year class: it is easier to turn a complex substance into a simple one than the reverse. Learn to turn water to ice, and then you will more easily be able to turn the flower into ice as well.”
Though he hardly understood her words, he practiced day in and day out, though he had to hide the little box of water. Perrin caught him with it once and pulled it from his hands, insisting that the right way to learn was to work on the flower itself, and that water to ice was far too complicated. Thereafter he practiced on the box beneath the table, or with cups outside his normal study hours. The ice did not come easily, as Astrea had hinted it might not, but he did feel as though he had begun to understand the liquid.
When at last Lilith came to them, they were in the library. Ebon had given up on the tome he was reading—a mammoth book of Idris’s early days before it joined the nine kingdoms, and written so dryly that Ebon thought he might fall asleep—and was now resting by playing with the firestriker Halab had given him. Over and over he pinched the crossbars of the ankh, sending little showers of sparks onto his outstretched fingers and making himself wince. Kalem kept giving him nervous looks, clearly frightened that Ebon would light the whole place on fire.
When they saw Lilith, they stood at once. She gave them all a nod—and then she froze for a moment, staring in surprise. Ebon followed her gaze. The chair Theren had brought for her had remained, for they had not bothered to move it away. Lilith went to it and gingerly took her seat, still smiling as though secretly pleased. Ebon caught a matching smile playing at Theren’s lips.
“Good day,” said Ebon. “Do you have news?”
“I might,” said Lilith. “I wish to take you all with me this evening to see someone.”
Ebon tensed. “Do you mean someone in your family?”
“I do. But you need not fear. She is Farah, a cousin of mine, and she is only a bookkeeper, not a warrior.”
Kalem’s brows furrowed. “A bookkeeper? I think I should rather meet a warrior, for they might know something more useful than one locked in a library all day.”
“Not those sorts of books,” said Ebon. “She means an accountant. Someone who tracks the flow of coin and goods.”
“Still, what good will that do us?” said Kalem.
Theren, too, looked mystified, but Ebon and Lilith gave an exasperated sigh in unison. That made them both start, and they looked at each other uncomfortably for a moment before Lilith finally explained.
“We are not foolish enough to keep track of our magestone dealings in public record. But that does not mean we keep no record at all. That would be madness. Farah is well-placed in the family’s dealings, and manages the hidden accounts that we show to no one. She would know if someone has been moving magestones.”
“And she wishes to see us?” said Ebon. “Why? How can we trust her?”
“She did not ask to see you, specifically, of course,” said Lilith. “But when she heard that I had been poking about after records of magestones, she came to me. I told her my purpose—without revealing too much—and she said she wished to meet those I was working with.”
“You did not answer my second question.”
Lilith frowned. “I was getting to it. I admit that it is a risk. Farah is my kin, but we have never been especially close. I know, though, that she is an honest sort. I have heard some whispers in the past that she disapproves of our operations outsi
de of the King’s law.”
“But why must we go?” said Kalem. “Why can you not meet with her yourself?”
Theren’s glare deepened, and she spoke up quickly. “Because Lilith wanted nothing to do with this in the first place, Kalem. She went searching on our behalf, and now returns with just the sort of thing we hoped she would discover. This is the least we can do, if we hope to catch Isra.”
Ebon nodded. “She is right, Kalem. Besides, it is not Lilith who saw Isra. We know more about the girl’s dealings. Mayhap our knowledge, combined with the knowledge of this Farah, will be enough to track her down.”
Lilith smiled at him in gratitude. “That was precisely my thought. And if it calms your fears, Kalem, know that I will be there with you. If there is any danger, it will be mine as well.”
Kalem frowned into his lap, but he remained silent. Ebon looked to Lilith again. “Very well. When can we see her?”
“Tonight,” said Lilith. “In fact, we must. She was adamant. Plans too long in the making are more apt to be discovered, and she would rather not be found colluding with Academy students on the subject of magestones. We will go in disguise as well.”
That made Ebon afraid for reasons he could not quite identify, and he looked to Theren. “Tonight? That does not give us much time to prepare.”
Theren smiled. “Lilith can help us with that. She and I are old hands at this sort of thing.”
Just then the Academy’s bell rang, signaling the end of the day’s studies. “And there is our signal,” said Lilith. “What say you? Will you come with me?”
Kalem still looked doubtful, but Ebon squared his shoulders. “We will. Lead on.”
They rose and made their way to the library stairs, and then down to the ground floor. As they made for the hallways, they all nodded cordially at Instructor Jia, who gave them a wan smile. She had returned only that day after being tended to by healers. Isra had not had her long under the mindwyrd, and so the aftereffects had been mild. Dasko would be a far longer time in healing, or so it was said.
Lilith took them out upon the streets of the city, and then to an inn a little ways away. It was a small place, tucked down a side street Ebon had often passed but never noticed, and no sign hung over the door. The common room seemed little used, and the innkeeper gave Lilith barely a glance as the group entered, passed through, and ascended the stairs. Kalem looked all about them with curiosity, and Ebon knew he was doing the same. Theren, however, acted as though nothing were out of the ordinary. Clearly she had been here before.
“What is this place?” said Ebon.
Lilith stopped before a door and produced a key from her sleeve to open it. “Why, this is my room.”
“Your room?” said Ebon. “Why do you pay for a room here when you live in the Academy?”
Her eyes widened, and she glanced at Theren, who shrugged. “I keep it under rent for just such a purpose as this. Do you not have a room for yourself?”
Ebon flushed, for though he had never thought of such a thing, now it seemed plainly obvious that he should have. “I do not.”
Lilith shook her head and led them inside. The room contained nothing remarkable—only a low, wide bed and some other plain furniture. She went to an armoire and threw it open. Within, Ebon saw many dresses and other suits of clothes of every color and make.
“Take what you will,” said Lilith. “None have seen use in some time, but they are all laundered.”
“I am afraid I am a little too small,” said Kalem.
“True, but there is not much we can do about that,” said Lilith. “I shall give you the shortest pants I have, and you can tuck them into those high boots you wear.”
Theren, meanwhile, went to the rack and shucked off her Academy robes at once. Kalem and Lilith both went beet-red and turned away.
“Theren!” said Kalem.
“Your embarrassment is no concern of mine,” said Theren. “And Lilith, you need not act as though this is anything new to you.”
“Oh, just get it over with,” said Lilith.
Ebon could not help but smirk at Kalem, and even at Lilith. “I may not be a commoner, exactly, but the two of you are too easily flustered, I think. They are only underclothes.” He joined Theren in disrobing and looked over the clothes hanging before them. Several thin wooden rods ran from one side of the cabinet to the other, and on these had been hung a variety of outfits. He chose a pair of pants of dark, muted blue, and a light grey tunic under a vest of black. Theren took a dress of yellow that reminded him of his family’s colors, much to his surprise.
“Could you …?” she muttered, turning. Ebon reached for the strings that tied it at her neck, but they were intricately laced at the back, and his fingers fumbled over them.
“Oh, let me,” said Lilith. Theren hesitated only a moment before turning to let her take them. Ebon saw how Lilith’s cheeks darkened still further, and she kept her eyes fixed rigidly on the strings. He could not help a secret grin.
“Mayhap … I think I shall wait outside,” said Kalem, who sounded ready to die from embarrassment.
“Come off it,” said Ebon. “Live like the rest of us, royal son, and get yourself dressed. We do not have all night.”
His face was a portrait in discomfort, but Kalem did it—though he made sure to select his entire outfit before he disrobed, and did it as quickly as possible. Lilith acted much the same, and if anything, she seemed more uncomfortable than the boy was. Theren and Ebon stood back, looking at each other with raised eyebrows and little shakes of the head. But while Ebon kept his eyes studiously averted, respecting the others’ discomfort, he noticed Theren’s eyes continued to wander, and she swallowed hard and often.
ONCE THE BUSINESS WAS DONE, Lilith rushed them out of the room. Their Academy robes they left strewn on the bed. “They will not be disturbed, and we will return for them,” said Lilith.
They went out upon the streets. Lilith had given them all cloaks of brown—plain, but lined with fur. They drew their hoods up around their faces, and now Ebon noticed that they no longer drew the half-curious looks that Academy students did when walking about. At last he thought he saw the reason for the deception.
“No one remarks upon us,” he said.
“And why should they?” said Lilith. “We could be anyone—merchants, cobblers, even beggars.”
Theren snorted. “You are blinded by your own coin purse if you think any beggar wears clothes this fine,” she said. “But they draw the eye less readily, mayhap, than the Academy’s black.”
Lilith took them north and west and made no attempt to set their trail to winding—she was not, it seemed, afraid of being followed. Ebon began to get a familiar sense, as though he had been in this part of the city before but could not place it. Then it came to him: they were very near to the inn where he had once met an agent of his family’s and delivered the uniform of a palace guard. For a heart-stopping moment, he was afraid that they made for the same inn. But then he spotted the street where it lay, and Lilith passed it by. He let out a sigh of relief.
Theren glanced at him. “What is it?”
He shook his head. “Nothing.”
At last Lilith stopped them before the black-painted door of a tavern. Here she paused for a moment, looking in every direction from beneath her hood.
“We will enter and move straight to the back,” she said. “There is a private room there where Farah is waiting. Do not glance up or meet the eye of anyone else. The fewer who remark upon our arrival, the better.”
Ebon heard the sounds of conversation and laughter from within. “It sounds a fair crowd inside. I doubt we need worry of drawing much attention.”
“Let us hope you are right,” said Lilith, and she pushed the door open.
They all studied their feet as they pressed into the bustling interior. Lilith led the way between the tables, and Ebon was only partially aware of the patrons they passed. Indeed, his guess seemed to be right—as far as he could tell, no one gav
e them so much as a first glance. Soon they had passed through the crowd and into a short hallway ending in a door. Lilith opened it without knocking and drew them all inside.
At last Ebon looked up and threw back his hood. He found himself in a small room, with every wall showing its bare wood and exposed beams above that looked to form the underside of the building’s second floor. They gave the ceiling a little extra height, so that it felt less cramped than it should have considering its small size. Lanterns burned in the corners, filling the place with a warm light. There was also a window in the back wall, and though the curtains were drawn across it, he could feel a slight breeze that told him it was cracked open.
In the middle of the room was a table, and at the table was a woman. She looked similar enough to Lilith—not only the same rich, dark skin, but the pronounced cheekbones and the haughty, discerning brow. But she showed more fat than Lilith, and also she filled out her rich green dress more. She seemed less severe, and more motherly, though that was belied by the sharp glint in her eyes as she took them all in.
“Good eve, I suppose. Sit. Or do not, for it is no matter to me. There is wine.”
Ebon bowed. “Well met, Lady—”
“No, no, no,” said the woman, clucking her tongue. “You know my name, knew it before you came here. I know yours as well—especially yours.” She gave Theren a sharp nod. “So we need not introduce ourselves, for who knows what ears may be lurking? And who knows how little time we have? Sit and take wine if you will, but let us get on with this as quickly as we may.”
Kalem gave Ebon a wary look. Ebon shrugged and dragged out a chair to sit across the table from Farah. Kalem sat beside him and Theren to his left, while Lilith took the chair on Theren’s other side. Farah leaned forwards and opened her mouth to speak—but paused as Theren reached for the bottle of wine. Theren noticed, and poured the wine far more slowly than she might have. It made Lilith smirk into her cup, while Farah’s lips pursed in annoyance. When her cup was full to the brim, Theren turned.
The Academy Journals Volume One: A Book of Underrealm (The Underrealm Volumes 3) Page 63