"I would ask the relationship you two share," Verna said, "but I feel that, in this case, perhaps ignorance is indeed bliss."
"There is nothing going on between us, Mother. We are friends. That is all."
"Milady," Chane said, "rest assured, for I have vetted this situation and found no—"
"Much as you vetted the situation with Master Ansanom? I think I shall have to consider twice the next time you give me your word on anything, Master Steward."
Her tone, both cold and dismissive at the same time, brooked no response from Chane. He merely nodded his head and withdrew, though Serena did notice a certain pleading look thrown her way as if to say, "Do nothing to raise her ire any further." Serena wasn't sure she was in an obliging mood right now.
"Now," Verna said, "there remains the decision as to what to do with you. It would seem you return to us with even fewer career options than when you left. As for marriage proposals..." She flashed Aaron a disapproving glance. "You've none to speak of, so that conversation is over before it's even started. Whatever do you plan to do with yourself, Serena?"
Serena had been asking herself the very same question for days now. What was she going to do? She was only an apprentice. Not quite an adept yet, her dream remained to someday become a magus. In order to do that, she needed to find herself another teacher. But not any old teacher. She needed to find a master sorcerer, a feat not so easily accomplished. Brighton, with all its prestige, high society, and populace, boasted exactly zero true masters. Not entirely by accident, for Brighton's rulers had never been friendly to sorcerers. That, however, didn't mean there weren't any in the city. Serena had heard of hoodoo women who lived in the Slums. Their particular type of sorcery was strange, mystical, and just different enough she wasn't sure she'd much to learn from them, though. Short of leaving Brighton, something she wasn't prepared to do right now, only one person in the city was knowledgeable enough to train her. He wasn't quite a full master, but close enough, and since she knew she'd more to learn from him, that was all that mattered. The problem was she didn't think he'd take her on again. Not after what had happened last time. Still, she wouldn't rule him out entirely just yet. Maybe he'd forgiven her the entire incident. Maybe he even missed her, and would welcome her presence back in his laboratory. Only one way to find out. Right then and there, she made up her mind. She knew no one was going to like her decision. "I'm going to ask Persimmius if he'll take me back as his apprentice," she said, bracing herself for the hell about to break loose. It came quicker than she expected.
"Out of the question!" Chane said.
Aghast, her father said, "How could you even...?"
"I will not allow it!"
The last, from her mother, was the only response which mattered.
Verna, with her mouth half-open in a snarl, fixed Serena with a stare which near rivaled the demon Krosus and those hellish eyes of his. "You know you are never to speak that man's name in my presence. You are not to speak his name in anyone's presence. For you to even jokingly suggest—"
"I am not joking, Mother."
Verna's lips tightened even as the fullness of her cheeks grew redder.
She probably expects me to wilt under her gaze, Serena thought. Instead, she met her mother's stare with one of her own. It was time her mother learned she was no longer the little girl who'd left Brighton those years ago. She was a young woman now, an accomplished apprentice, and capable of making her own decisions. If her mother didn't like those decisions, then she could... Then she could... Serena swallowed. The woman's stare was unrelenting, melting resolve and squashing courage. Somehow, despite Serena's best effort, its effect chiseled away at her until she felt compelled to cross her arms and turn away.
"You will not see that man," Verna said. "Do you understand me, Serena?"
Serena let out a deep breath, but said nothing.
"Do you?!"
The words sent a shock through everyone in the room, but most of all through Serena. This time, she answered.
"Yes, Mother." Somehow she managed to keep most of the contempt from her voice.
Awkward silence prevailed until Verna, calm now, said, "The past two years have not been easy on any of us, Serena. Only with much effort did I manage to stave off most of the controversy over the unpleasantness leading to your departure. But the Walkerton family is once again poised for greatness. Your father has worked hard to grow our businesses while I have done much to improve relations with the other families. It has been a slow road at times, but we have continued to go down it. We've made progress. Don't you see, Serena? If anyone found out you were once again studying under the man who very nearly burned the entire city down, I fear the scandal—"
"What?! Persimmius didn't—"
"Yes," Verna said, still calm. "Yes he did, Serena. He set fire to our beautiful city. No one knows what crazy ambition drove him. People know only that you, my daughter, were not a part of it. You were an innocent bystander. In fact, you were the one who stopped him. If not for you, he may very well have succeeded."
"But...that's not true!"
"Of course it's true, Serena. Persimm—That man was never a pyromancer, but a pyromaniac. He was driven from the city, last I heard. Served him right, after what he'd done."
"But he didn't do anything. I was the one who—"
"No! No, Serena. I know it was a traumatic experience. Two years have passed. Enough time to have jumbled your memories. But you mustn't think for one minute you were responsible for any of it. Your former master took the blame, and rightly so." Verna let out a deep breath and even smiled. "Now, Arlen, perhaps we should pay our respects to the earl one last time and then retire for the evening. It's been a long day. Serena, return to us at the first available opportunity. Everything will be ready and waiting for you."
She said nothing else as she left the room. Arlen made a more proper farewell to his daughter and then to Aaron, who'd held his ground quietly throughout the entire exchange, before he also left. Chane remained behind.
"Now, Serena..." the steward started to say.
"Tell me what happened, Chane," Serena said, struggling to contain her anger. She was angry, too. She'd been sent away before she could speak with her former master and, later, every written inquiry of hers had been met with silence. Even Chane, who'd come to visit her at Wildemoore, had told her nothing. That, however, was about to change. "Tell me what Mother did after I left."
Chane let out a deep breath. "You're not going to like it."
Serena crossed her arms and waited.
"I'll spare you the long version and get right to it. Your mother used her influence and her particular charm to bend and twist the truth until, as she indicated, you were absolved of all wrongdoing. Since only one other person was involved, that left Persimmius to shoulder all of the blame. He contested your mother's version of the story, of course, but she had ample affidavits and even a statement signed by you, which squarely pointed the finger his way."
"I never signed any statement."
"No, you didn't. Yet, your mother presented it two days after you'd been sent away. She claimed you'd dictated it to a scribe before you'd left, but that she'd delayed its release because she waited for the wizard to do the right thing and come forward on his own."
"I can't believe..." Serena paced past Aaron and back again. "It all makes perfect sense now. Why she sent me away so quickly and why no one would tell me what happened to Persimmius. I wasn't even allowed to leave the house those last couple of days. I didn't know why back then. But it was because Mother didn't want me telling anyone what really happened."
"Perhaps what really happened is no longer important. It's been two years, Serena. The city has been rebuilt. Well, except for... People have moved on."
"What about Persimmius? Did he move on?" She crossed her arms again. "What happened to him after I left? Was he driven from the city as Mother said?"
Chane took another deep breath. This time he made a show of inspecting t
he chamber as if looking for some way out of this discussion. He must have realized there was none as his gaze settled back on Serena.
"Your mother likes to think so. But, no, he is still here in Brighton. When your mother's version of the story came out, people turned against the wizard. What with the fire and Persimmius already having a reputation as a mad inventor of sorts, it was easy for people to lay blame at his feet and difficult for him to contest it. The magistrate seized his assets as compensation for the damage he'd caused. His business dried up, as no one wanted to associate with him, let alone hire him. Eventually, he was driven from New Brighton."
Serena needed to sit down. She took the closest chair. "What did you mean when you said everything has been rebuilt 'except for'? Except for what?"
"Something I'd rather not tell you about."
"You know I'll just find out on my own if you don't."
"Yes, I suppose you would." Chane rubbed at his forehead. "Very well. All parts of the city affected by the fire were restored except for the location of Persimmius's laboratory. That area—the entire block, actually—has not been rebuilt in any shape or form. Not for lack of want or trying, but because whatever happened there two years ago remains."
"What do you mean, Chane? I don't—"
"The fire still burns there, Serena."
"How is that possible?" Aaron asked.
Serena ignored him. This wasn't some scientific mystery for him to solve. Still, it was a good question. "Tell us what you mean, Chane."
"The block was decimated, of course. All of the structures, including Persimmius's laboratory, burned to the ground. It became a wasteland. At the block's center, though, at the very place where the sorcerer's laboratory once stood, a flame burns. It's easier to see at night, but even by day, at the right angle, one can see it readily enough. No one can extinguish it or even get close enough to study it because the closer one gets, the hotter it feels. The earl's scientists tried to get instruments close enough to the flame to study it, but each time the instruments either melted or burst into flames. Lord Nicholas even brought in sorcerers from Absalon. Specialists, I heard. I assume they made as little progress as the scientists, for the flame is still there."
"I have to see it," Serena said.
"No, you do not. In fact, it would be best if you didn't go anywhere near it."
"It's too late for what's best, Chane. What's best would not have involved disgracing Persimmius. I cannot believe Mother did that to him. Using my name to do it, too. I have to go see him. At the very least, I have to tell him I had nothing to do with him taking the blame."
"That's something else you should stay away from, Serena. I know you had nothing to do with his banishment, but he doesn't. No good can come from you going to see him."
"What other choice do I have? I have to set things right. Persimmius didn't start that fire. I did." She turned to Aaron. "It's what people have been calling the Burning. Officially, it's the Inferno of 537. The Inferno is also what Persimmius and I called the amulet. Someone, a sorcerer, created it, but we've no idea who. It was found inside the city when engineers were doing excavation work. Persimmius had already been studying it when I began my apprenticeship. He was always so hesitant to invoke it. He wouldn't let me anywhere near it at first. Eventually, he relented and we performed some basic, controlled experiments. Over time, I found invoking it easier and easier."
"But you couldn't control it," Aaron said. He'd already connected the dots.
Serena looked away from him. "No, I couldn't control it. We kept practicing. We were progressing so well I thought we were ready for the next step. Persimmius didn't agree. I went ahead anyway, without his knowledge or consent. That's what started the fire. I burned down his laboratory. I remember that much. The rest of it...it's still fuzzy, even now."
"Persimmius brought you to the house," Chane said. "You were unconscious. He was angry. But, also, he was concerned. He didn't stay long. I never saw him again. As for you, you slept for a day. By the time you woke, it had already been decided to send you to Wildemoore. You left the very next day."
"I remember." Serena stood. "Chane..." She needed to know only one more thing. "Chane, how many people did I kill?"
"Serena, that is not—"
"Important? Relevant? How many?"
Still, Chane wouldn't say.
Serena blinked away the moisture forming in her eyes. His silence told her enough. Still, she needed to know. In a near whisper, she asked one more time. "How many?"
Chane sighed. "The final count? Twenty-three."
Serena was seated again before she realized it.
Twenty-three dead. Burned alive. Because of her. She buried her face in her hands. Despite her best effort, tears escaped from between her fingers. Feeling Chane's hand on her shoulder, Serena stood on unsteady legs just long enough to fall into his embrace. She tried to keep her sobbing quiet, but failed utterly. Some moments later, she pulled away, accepting the kerchief Chane offered her.
"I know there isn't anything I can do to stop you from going to see Persimmius," Chane said. "But please be careful, Serena. Your mother was right about at least one thing. We've all been through a lot. Persimmius too. He may not be very happy to see you."
Serena nodded. "Thank you, Chane. I'll be careful. I promise."
When Chane had left, Serena turned to face Aaron. Still wiping at her eyes, she said, "I'll understand if you want to stay in the palace or find somewhere else to stay once our detention is lifted. I don't think associating with me is going to buy you any favors."
Aaron shrugged. "I'll stay. I mean, I'll stay with you. I'd like to... I mean, if you're going to go see it, anyway, I'd like to see the Inferno. I know we can't get close, but, even at a distance, I could probably gather some data, maybe help shed some light on why it's still active."
"Is that the only reason?"
"Of course not! You said you'd show me around the city, which you can't do unless we stick together. Also..."
Serena waited, but before Aaron had a chance to go on, a page entered the room.
"Sir, miss," he said. "I have been instructed to escort you to the Pellington Room. Lord Phillip awaits your arrival." He gestured with a sweep of his hand. "Shall we go?"
Welcoming the distraction, Serena walked so fast from the Sanguine Chamber the page had to run to get ahead of her. Once he had, he restored them to a slower, more dignified pace, which allowed Serena's mind to wonder in far too much detail about the twenty-three people she'd killed. A few moments of that and she had to use Chane's kerchief again to dab at her eyes. She was only a little surprised when Aaron took her hand in his.
"I think if we were meant to be separated," Aaron said, as they walked, "we wouldn't have come this far together."
Serena looked sidelong at him. "You quoted that, didn't you?"
"Not at all." He grinned. "I just made it up. It's very touching, don't you think?"
Serena lifted her chin and looked away from him. "Hardly."
But she squeezed his hand tighter and, when she leaned closer, he leaned in too.
* * *
Field Marshal Durant Chandler studied the earl from across the receiving room. He paid particular attention to the earl’s decision to stand in front of his throne rather than sit, and the manner in which he reached out, touching shoulders and shaking hands with each person who approached to share their grief with him. No barrier separated the young earl from his people. He was one of them. A grieving son on one hand, but also, just like them, lamenting the loss they all shared in as citizens. Durant found it an interesting display, and a telling one.
As Lord Malcolm's representative, Durant was here to express condolences for all the people of Agratis as well as to reiterate the barony’s loyalty to the crown. Also, though, Durant had come to gauge the fortitude of the new earl and thereby ascertain the possibility of conquest. Durant found the dichotomy of his mission distasteful. He was a soldier, not a spy. Still, he'd see the will of his
lord done. The sooner, the better, as far as Durant was concerned. The field marshal suspected he'd been sent here as a mere formality. Regardless of the content of the report he delivered, Lord Malcolm meant to seize control of the earldom. He'd wanted it for a long enough time, and now, with his brother out of the way, there was no one left to contest his claim. Except the legitimate heir to the throne, of course.
The line of people come to pay their respects to the new earl lessened enough for Phillip to get away for a short break. The people waiting stayed in line, while those who’d already had their turn milled about or sat in chairs at the room’s edges. Durant followed Phillip’s movement, not surprised when the earl headed straight for him.
"Field Marshal Chandler," Lord Phillip said as he approached.
Durant bent at the waist. "Milord, what can I do for you?"
"I wanted to thank you once more, Durant, for taking the place of honor in today's march about the city. As you know, my father never appointed a field marshal of his own, but I know he would have appreciated your filling that role today."
"I found the role easy to slip into," Durant said, smiling. Then, more seriously, "The honor was mine, Phillip. Your father was a good friend and a better earl. We will all miss him."
"Even my uncle?"
"Especially your uncle, though I doubt he'll ever admit as much. I'm not sure whose name he'll curse now that his brother is gone, but I'm sure he'll find someone."
"I hope it is not you."
Durant rolled his eyes. "One never knows."
Phillip sighed. "It would have been good if he had come."
Durant nodded. "I tried to convince him to. Easier to try moving a mountain than to get him to change his mind once he's made it up."
Phillip smiled briefly. "Yes, that seems a trait my father shared as well. Which, of course, is why you and I are standing here talking and not myself and my uncle."
A small group passed nearby. The gentlemen amongst them bowed and the ladies curtsied. Then they moved on, leaving their earl and the field marshal to continue with their conversation. Except they did not. They adjusted their stances so they looked out over the somber group, but neither seemed in a hurry to pick up where they'd left off. Durant said nothing on purpose. He wanted the earl to pick their next topic. Would he cut to the chase or engage in more small talk, hoping by doing so the real issue would go away on its own? Durant preferred the former. Get it out in the open and be done with it. He was gratified to find Lord Phillip of a similar mind.
The Nullification Engine (The Alchemancer: Book Two) Page 10