*
The dull beat of waves vied with the trill of grasshoppers in the darkness. Moths fluttered on soft wings through the warm air. Jemeryl and Vine walked away from the hospital side by side, comparing notes on the day’s gossip—who had said what about whom, and why. It could be fun. Vine had been right about the incestuous nature of life in the school.
Jemeryl halted where the path to the dispensary split off. “I’m going to put in a bit more work on tidying.”
“Didn’t you hear Jan say he’s perfected his recipe for mulled wine? Aren’t you coming to help test it?”
“It’s a shame to miss the wine, but I really want to push on.”
“You know, no matter how much enthusiasm you show, it’s going to be a while before you’ll be a candidate for the post of Bramell’s favourite junior.”
“It’s not to impress Bramell.”
“Then why are you so keen?”
“I’m hoping another hour will see the thing finished.”
“It’s taken you long enough.”
“Best part of a month.” The work had exceeded Jemeryl’s most pessimistic prediction.
“And you haven’t seen much of your young mercenary. She might have forgotten you...” Vine stopped. “Oh, of course! You’ve got a free afternoon tomorrow. That’s why you’re so keen to finish the job tonight. Well, I won’t keep you.”
Jemeryl let her grin confirm the speculation. She had gone a few yards when Vine hailed her again. “Oh, and Jem?”
“Yes?”
“If ever you want to do something like that again, let me know in advance. I could have sold tickets.”
Jemeryl walked on alone, smiling at the irony. Vine had been joking and clearly had no idea just how deliberate the whole scene had been. This was very comforting. If Vine did not suspect that she had ulterior motives, it was a safe bet no one else did either. However, Vine had been quite right about her reason for wanting to finish the job that night. Jemeryl was missing Tevi with a painful intensity. She did not think she could bear another day without seeing her. It was not just about making love. She wanted to see Tevi’s face, hold her hand, hear her voice—although making love as well would be pretty good.
Jemeryl’s polite call announcing her arrival was met with silence. Luckily, Orrago was not in the dispensary. The work would go quicker without interruptions. In the light of a conjured globe, Jemeryl looked around, feeling considerable satisfaction. The packing cases were gone. Jars stood in orderly rows, arranged alphabetically by section, each clearly marked with a new label. Neat bunches of herbs hung from racks. The surfaces were clear. Of the previous disorder, only a pile of wooden boxes remained, balanced on the top of one tall cupboard.
Jemeryl flipped open the pages of the inventory. In the course of tidying and organising, she had performed a full audit. A significant quantity of the nectar was outstanding. But it’s too soon to be certain. Jemeryl cast a critical eye at the last few boxes. There could be several gallons of the stuff up there.
The first box dislodged itself from its perch and floated across to Jemeryl. Dust arose in a cloud when she lifted the top off. Inside was a jumble of half-empty bags and grimy bottles. Grimacing slightly, Jemeryl pulled out the first of the contents and set to work.
*
Time passed quickly. Each box was emptied in turn. Anything rendered useless by age was discarded and the rest was added to the appropriate stock. Jemeryl tried to contain her growing excitement at the absence of the nectar. Not until the final item was checked could she be sure.
At last, only one large bottle remained. A film of dirt and fluff coated the outside. Its contents were translucent yellow. Jemeryl lifted it up, squinting to read the faded label. Faintly legible were the words “garlic oil.” She grinned. Her nose could have told her as much.
She wrote a new label, wiped the bottle, and placed it in the correct spot on the shelves. Then Jemeryl made one last circuit of the dispensary, looking under benches and behind doors, and checking that no drawer had been overlooked. Now she was certain. The inventory was complete.
Jemeryl leaned against a counter, triumphant. During the past two years, someone had pilfered over half the school’s supply of the nectar. Her hunch was confirmed. The renegade sorcerer was in Ekranos and working on the forbidden spell. And as a final bonus, she would be free to meet with Tevi tomorrow afternoon. Surely, the dispensary was now tidy enough to meet the terms of Bramell’s sentence. Or was it?
Rubbish littered the floor: leaves and scraps of paper, even a half-chewed worm, undoubtedly a contribution from Frog. It might be as well to put the finishing touch on the job. She did not want to give Bramell an excuse to confine her within school grounds for a day longer.
Jemeryl found a broom. The task of sweeping was half complete when the door opened and Orrago hobbled in. The elderly sorcerer looked about at the neatly stacked shelves with a delighted but vacant smile.
“You’ve done a good job, Iralin. Or is it Jelimar?”
“It’s Jemeryl, ma’am.”
“Oh, yes, yes, of course.” Orrago dug Frog out of her pocket and deposited him on a bench. The toad’s bulging eyes blinked wetly in the mage light. “Anyway, as I was saying, you’ve done well. It was kind of you to volunteer. I needed a little help.”
Honesty forced Jemeryl to admit, “Er...I didn’t quite volunteer.” She was uncertain how fully the reason for her working in the dispensary had been explained. Not that Orrago would remember anyway.
“Oh, dear. Who was it, then?”
“Who was what, ma’am?”
“The one who said...who was...oh, you know.” Orrago shook her head and wandered off to her chair. “They can tell me in the morning. You can carry on.”
Jemeryl returned to sweeping. She worked her way around the room until she reached a small bookcase. It stood an inch or two clear of the wall, which had allowed a good assortment of litter to slip down the back and form a thick wedge at the bottom. Jemeryl grabbed one end of the bookcase and pulled hard, hoping to swing it out enough to get the broom in. Even as she did so, it occurred to her that removing the rubbish by telekinesis might be easier, especially since the bookcase was heavier than expected and only shuddered forward a few inches. The feet screeched on the floorboards but not loudly enough to mask the sound of something dropping.
A second, stronger tug shifted the bookcase farther from the wall. Jemeryl peered over the top. Lying on the floor amid the general debris was a handwritten pamphlet. Jemeryl retrieved it and walked over to examine her find in the light of the globe. Neatly printed on the cover were the words “The prevention of cancerous growths and associated tumours, by Lorimal of the Coven.”
“What is it?” Orrago asked from her chair.
“It’s a manuscript.” Jemeryl had forgotten that Moragar claimed the pamphlet was lost in the dispensary.
“Oh, that’s good.”
“It’s the one that’s went missing some time ago.” Jemeryl walked over to the ancient sorcerer and held out the pamphlet. “Do you remember this, ma’am?”
“What is it?”
“A manuscript.”
“Yes. Can you give it to Druse for me?”
Jemeryl abandoned the pointless questions and returned to the bookcase. A horizontal strut ran across its back about eighteen inches below the top. A disturbance in the dust midway along marked the spot where the pamphlet had lodged. There was also a slip of paper trapped between the strut and the backboard by a corner, crumpled where the pamphlet had pressed down on it. Jemeryl plucked the paper free and smoothed it flat. It was a receipt from a supplier in town.
The date caught her attention immediately—just under four years old. According to Moragar, it was six years since Lorimal’s thesis had been lost. Anyone might have assumed that the manuscript had slipped down behind the bookcase and lain undisturbed for all that time were it not for the receipt. The manuscript had been on top of it and therefore must have been put behind the bookca
se some years after Moragar had dowsed it to the dispensary.
Jemeryl studied the marks in the dust more carefully. It looked as if the manuscript had been taken and replaced several times. Presumably, on one occasion, the receipt had been accidentally pushed down as well and become trapped.
Jemeryl completed sweeping, then bid Orrago good night and walked back to her room, holding the manuscript firmly. Cleaning the dispensary had been a long job, but it had furnished the wanted evidence. The traitor was in Ekranos, and she had found the stolen manuscript. All in all, it had been most worthwhile.
*
The distance was lost to a shimmering haze. The sun blazed down on the school without a wisp of cloud to weaken its force. On the upper balcony, the door to the study shared by Jemeryl and Vine was wedged open for the breeze. Light bounced off the floorboards and gleamed yellow on the ceiling.
Jemeryl sat hunched over her desk, rocked forward on the chair’s front legs. She was alone, making use of the break before the midday meal. In front of her, the two copies of Lorimal’s report lay open at the beginning. Once again, she thumbed her way through the pages, trying to spot differences between the original and later transcript.
Lorimal’s manuscript was scribbled in a childlike, block-letter hand. The lines rose and fell across the page. The paper was yellowing, worn from handling, with occasional dog-eared corners. By comparison, the transcript was neatly set on crisp white pages, in the classic unvarying letters of magical graphology. That was the only difference: Not a single letter was missing from the copy.
Jemeryl frowned in confusion. She had been sure she would find notes in the margin or a missing appendix. Else why bother to steal the original?
She reached the final page. In the transcribed book, the next chapter moved on to an associated report by another sorcerer. The remaining few pages in the original were blank except for a collection of circular stains. Every test Jemeryl could think of showed the paper to be free of concealed writing. The only thing she could learn from the pages was that Lorimal had used the rear of her manuscript as a table mat.
She leaned back, glaring at the ceiling and wondering if she was missing the obvious. Perhaps a different viewpoint was needed. Jemeryl’s expression softened. In a few hours, she was meeting Tevi. Talking it over with someone else might help. Jemeryl’s gaze drifted back to the sprawled handwritten lines. She imagined a young woman much like herself who had written the words, and then the old woman who had died on Storenseg and the life in between.
Her musings were interrupted by the sound of rapid footsteps coming to a halt outside. Jemeryl swivelled, hooking an arm over the back of her chair. A young apprentice rested a hand on either side of the door frame and leaned into the room.
“Bramell wants to see you in his office immediately.” The boy gave the message with a breezy lilt to his voice. “And he says to bring the book you found in the dispensary with you.”
“What did...”
The messenger was not available for further questioning. Already, his footsteps were fading. Jemeryl grabbed the book and followed. Surely Bramell was not planning fresh ways to keep her and Tevi apart, but whatever the problem, things would not be improved by making him wait. Yet despite the need for haste, she hesitated at the door to his office, daunted by memories of her last visit. Through the solid wood came the rise and fall of voices, although too muffled for her to distinguish words.
Her cautious knock was answered by Bramell’s autocratic tones. Jemeryl pushed the door open. The principal sat behind his desk, a flush of anger darkening his features. Moragar was also present, standing by the window with arms crossed and a stubborn frown. A disagreement was obviously in progress. Jemeryl’s entrance put a halt to it. Bramell looked at her as if she were something unsavoury that had just crawled into his office.
“You wanted to see me, sir?”
“Moragar informs me you’re in possession of a book that was improperly removed from the library. Is this true?”
“Not by me, sir. I found it in the dispensary while cleaning.”
“Why didn’t you return it immediately?”
“I only found it last night, sir.”
“You should have informed me at once”—Moragar joined the attack—“rather than leaving me to find out at second hand.”
“I’m sorry, sir. I hadn’t realised you’d be concerned.”
“It’s my job to be concerned over books that belong in the library.”
Jemeryl bowed her head while directing silent curses at her study partner. She had no need to guess who the second hand belonged to. Why couldn’t Vine mind her own business for once?
Bramell spoke again. “This book can be left here with me.”
“Er...I had intended to borrow it formally next time I went to the library, sir.”
“I’ve been told that you already have a perfectly adequate copy.”
“It’s nice to have the original.”
Bramell’s eyes bored into Jemeryl. “I don’t understand why you want the book at all. Surely it falls outside the scope of your work at the hospital.”
“It’s just something that caught my attention, sir.”
“It would be better if you focused on things that are relevant to your studies.” There was a long, painful silence. “It might also be better if we made more effective use of your talents. Medicine is not your strength. I’ll arrange for you to transfer to Levannue’s section. She needs assistance with work on charms. Return anything you have out at the moment. You can start by leaving the manuscript with me.”
“Yes, sir.” Jemeryl put the pamphlet on the table and stood with her eyes fixed on the floor.
“Report to Levannue first thing tomorrow.” Bramell leaned back, steepling his fingers. “That is all. You may go.”
Jemeryl stormed back to her study, furious to have lost the manuscript. She threw herself down in her chair and glared through the window. She was certain she had just had an important clue snatched from her. If only she could have identified it.
*
“It’s so frustrating. I had the manuscript in my hands, and I lost it.”
Tevi rolled onto her side. Jemeryl was lying on her back with her hands behind her head, staring at the ceiling. Soft, early evening sunlight streamed in through the open widow of their room. They had spent the past few hours alternating between making love, talking, and dozing. This was obviously going to be a time for talking.
“There was nothing you could have done,” Tevi said reasonably.
“I know. Bramell made certain of that.”
Tevi snuggled closer in the bed and wrapped an arm around her waist. “Come on, Jem. Cheer up. Think of what you’ve achieved. We know the traitor is here.”
“True.” Jemeryl did not sound mollified.
Tevi rubbed the side of Jemeryl’s breast with her thumb, in a gesture intended to be comforting rather than arousing. For a moment, her thoughts diverted, struck by a recognition of how much her attitudes had changed since leaving the islands. There, to have another women as a lover would have been so very dangerous. Any liaison would need to be confined to furtive minutes, a secret severed from any other daily activity. Here, Jemeryl and she could lie together naked and talk as casually as if they were dressed and seated in the bar. Being lovers was integrated into the pattern of her life in a way that would be inconceivable on Storenseg.
Her mind returned to the manuscript. “Could you tell anything from Bramell’s attitude?”
“Such as?”
“If he’s the culprit, he’d be very sensitive about Lorimal. Did he give anything away?”
Jemeryl pondered the question. “I think it points to him being innocent. Otherwise, he’d have been keener to know why I was interested in Lorimal’s work. All he did was divert me away from it. To be fair, it’s what he’s supposed to do. But it’s going to make things harder. Bramell will be making sure I stay clear of Lorimal.”
“You said he was overzealous.”
“That’s Bramell for you. It’s what the man does best.”
“How about Moragar?”
“I was too angry to pay much attention to him. But...” Jemeryl paused.
“Yes?”
“I think he and Bramell were arguing when I arrived.”
“Over the manuscript?”
“That’s the most likely topic. I know Bramell has kept hold of it. Perhaps Moragar wanted the original back.” Jemeryl looked thoughtful. “Now that I think about it, he got very heated once before when talking about it. If he went as far as arguing with Bramell, he must be very keen to get his hands on Lorimal’s handiwork.”
“But that’s only guesswork?”
“Yes. And the thing is, I’d have thought Moragar and Bramell were the two people least likely to have hidden the manuscript in the dispensary to start with. Moragar can do whatever he likes with the books in the library, and Bramell has access to much better hiding places.”
“It might depend on the reason why the book was put there.”
“It can’t have been simply to keep it from others; else why not destroy it completely?”
A light breeze gusted in through the window. Evening was drawing close and the air was noticeably cooler on Tevi’s skin. She reached down and pulled up a light sheet to cover them. When Tevi lay back down, Jemeryl twisted to burrow into the circle of her arms, although the matter of the manuscript still clearly preoccupied her thoughts.
“From the receipt, we know the book was removed and replaced behind the shelves at least once. I’d guess someone hid it so they could consult it whenever they liked without drawing attention by continually borrowing it from the library. The book was out of sight but would have been easy to reach, even without telekinesis.”
The Traitor and the Chalice Page 13