The Flaw in the Stone

by Cynthea Masson

  The wait became more agonizing with each passing second. Had Ruis not assured her the time between the Azoth Magen’s ascension and their own would be minimal? Yet the interval had already moved beyond seconds into minutes. After ten minutes, Cedar could no longer hold her station; she lowered herself into a seated position, releasing the Ab Uno gesture to steady herself with her hands. Others soon did the same. Another ten minutes having passed, and Ailanthus, steadied by Kezia, stood and walked slowly towards the Lapis. Obeche followed, gesturing to Ruis to join them. Kezia turned. Stepping forward, apparently about to offer an explanation, she was stopped in her tracks. In the immediate aftermath, Cedar could not comprehend what had happened. She merely saw Kezia fall — not to her knees, as she and Ailanthus had done earlier, but straight forward, her head striking the hard floor with a thud. And then Cedar saw them: strangers.

  “I am the Blood of the Dragon!” called one.

  “I live as the Flaw in the Stone!” called the other.

  Man and woman, standing atop the Lapis in an act of sacrilege so astounding that for several seconds no alchemist moved.

  “Rebels!” cried Ailanthus finally breaking the silence. He lunged towards the man, but he was thrown back with such a force that Cedar feared he would be the third Azothian casualty of the day. Kai rushed towards him, helping him to his feet. Ruis and Obeche charged towards the couple atop the Lapis, only to meet with the same barrier as had Ailanthus. Nearby Elders prevented them from falling to the ground.

  Cedar could not fathom how the rebels had breached Council dimension. Had they used the Lapis itself as a portal? Had the absence of the Flaw ironically left it vulnerable to intrusion by those remaining in Flaw dimension? Had the Elders been aware of this potential outcome? Surely not.

  “Who are you?” asked Obeche.

  Though no written protocols existed for such an event, Cedar felt certain that Azoth Ailanthus should have been the one to address the rebels. Obeche had overstepped. The bemused expressions on the rebels’ faces indicated that they too had not expected Obeche to play Council emissary. Ailanthus moved forward, taking a position beside Obeche.

  “Step down, Dracaen!” bellowed Ailanthus.

  Dracaen. High Azoth of the Rebel Branch. Cedar knew his name, but she had never seen him before now.

  “We are not here to step down, Ailanthus. We are here to restore the Flaw in the Stone.”

  Audible shock rippled through the Council.

  “You are too late,” replied Ailanthus. “With his sacrifice, Azoth Magen Quercus sealed the Stone into a state of Lapidarian perfection.”

  “And with her sacrifice,” Dracaen said, pointing to Kezia, where she lay on the ground, “perfection has been thwarted. A shadow once again makes its way across the chamber.”

  “How dare you compare her murder to Quercus’s sacramental death,” said Ruis.

  “How dare you be so naïve,” responded Dracaen.

  He turned to the woman beside him, who then knelt on the Lapis.

  “I am the Blood of the Dragon,” she said, crossing her wrists.

  “You will live as the Flaw in the Stone,” replied Dracaen.

  The woman uncrossed her wrists, moving her fists to her sides. Dracaen, suddenly wielding a dagger from beneath his robes, plunged the weapon into the woman’s exposed chest. Unlike Ailanthus, she did not turn to dust. She turned to blood.

  And the blood poured over the Lapis.

  And the Flaw bled into the Stone.

  The words came unbidden to her memory. Cedar had read them, time and again, in the ancient accounts of the First Rebellion. This woman, this rebel whom Cedar did not know, had died not for herself alone, not for the promise of everlasting life, not for eternal perfection in the One, but for the very ideal that had brought her to her death. She had enacted her free will; she had made a choice — and now choice was, once again, the fate of all.

  V

  Qingdao — Fall 1914

  Jinjing longed to return to Council dimension, to be once again Keeper of the Book in the North Library. In the aftermath of the Third Rebellion, her previously intermittent duties in the Qingdao protectorate had been transformed to permanent until further notice. The Council could not simply abandon all protectorate libraries to the ravages of outside world politics. Someone had to remain posted as caretaker of the manuscripts. So Jinjing’s sense of duty led her to agree to the post, and her esteem for the manuscripts led her to remain in Qingdao even as activity in the harbour increased, even as ultimatums were issued, even as war escalated, even as the enemy approached from the north, even as the steamers were sunk, even as the bombs began to drop. Even as she began to blame Council for the misery that surrounded her.

  So here she waited, alone and frightened, listening to the torrential rains, recognizing that when the clouds eventually cleared from the sky, they would most likely form on the ground once again: clouds of water replaced by clouds of smoke from the bursts of enemy shells, flashes of lightning replaced by explosions from guns. A loud knock at the door startled her.

  “How have you fared since your return from Sundsvall?” Obeche asked, once Jinjing had ushered him and Cedar into the small protectorate kitchen.

  “Considering the circumstances, relatively fine,” Jinjing responded indifferently. She refused to give Obeche any reason to suspect she was happy to see him. “How is everything with the two of you and within Council dimension?”

  Obeche and Cedar glanced at each other, neither answering Jinjing’s question. Eventually Cedar gestured for Obeche to answer.

  “Some progress has been achieved,” said Obeche.

  “Progress?” replied Jinjing. “Am I correct in assuming you made your way here on foot from a temporary portal?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Is this progress?” Jinjing raised her arms and gestured widely as if to encompass not just the room but the districts beyond the protectorate. “Qingdao is under siege. And the relentless rains have created additional misery! Walking even a short distance for supplies leaves my clothes soaked through.” She held up a jacket she had earlier draped over a drying rack. “These mud stains are permanent. Clearly, the Council has abandoned both their duty to maintain elemental balance and their concern for us mere mortals of the outside world.”

  “I am sorry your current experience in Qingdao is so unfortunate. But we have most certainly not abandoned our duty!” replied Obeche, with a clear edge of anger.

  How had she ever loved this man? Where was the sweetness he had used so long ago to woo her?

  “War in the outside world is not unusual,” said Cedar, evidently attempting to calm the approaching storm. “The Council is in the process of repairing the damage that began with the five and five; eventually we will succeed, as we always have. The circumstances are simply . . . complicated this time around. But balance will prevail.”

  “Is this process of repair working?”

  “At the moment, no. But ultimately, yes,” replied Obeche.

  “Is that a riddle you expect me to solve?”

  “This attitude is unbecoming, Jinjing. I assumed you would welcome our visit after so many weeks in isolation. And I could use a cup of tea after that horrendous walk in the rain through Qingdao.”

  “My months in isolation during the horrendous events of Qingdao have allowed me time to contemplate. And I certainly would not have anticipated a visit from you and Cedar at what appears to be the height of the siege. Forgive me if I appear somewhat out of sorts,” she responded, her attempt to mitigate sarcasm not quite successful. “And you have visited often enough in years gone by to know where the tea is kept.”

  Jinjing recalled briefly the long hours she and Obeche had spent sipping tea, scrutinizing meticulously illuminated manuscripts, revelling in the intensity of the colours or beauty of the designs, sitting side by side in the protector
ate library as if they were both Council Readers tasked with interpreting ancient scribal prophesies. Of course, she was not a Reader, as was abundantly clear of late.

  “I empathize with your concerns, Jinjing,” offered Cedar. “Certainly the implications of current events are far-reaching and disturbing.”

  “How then are these events progress?”

  “The Elders have been working incessantly on reducing the Flaw in the Stone,” said Obeche. “Doing so should decrease Rebel influence and, thereby, aid the Council in returning balance to the outside world.”

  Jinjing did not respond. She wanted to dub Obeche’s obsession with the Flaw in the Stone as the Flaw in the Plan, but she knew enough about him to know that a critique of the Council’s methods at this point would only fuel a debate that she was in no mood to have. He had a penchant for argument, and she was too tired to do so with any logic or tenacity.

  “As I suggested earlier,” continued Obeche, filling the void left in Jinjing’s silence, “ultimately, we will be successful. Everyone has heeded the rallying call to decrease the Flaw as a means of insuring Council withholds power from the Rebel Branch, despite their victory during the Third Rebellion. The Elders maintain hope that their progress will lead to renewed success of the ancient prophesies — for another complete erasure of the Flaw followed by rituals that will lead to ultimate Final Ascension. The disturbances in the outside world may well be mere signs that we are approaching salvation.”

  “Salvation? Elimination of the Flaw is the primary reason for the current unbalanced state of the world,” Jinjing said. She resented the way Council clung selfishly to a prehistoric mythology whose probable outcome would be annihilation not just of the few but of the multitudes.

  “I, on the other hand,” admitted Cedar, “have my concerns with the ancient prophecies. But Obeche believes my viewpoint to be selfish.”

  “What concerns?” asked Jinjing. Intrigued, she turned away from Obeche.

  “Please do not mistake this opinion as blasphemy. But I believe Council needs to focus on repairing the world before perfecting the Stone. Another attempt at removing the Flaw could have serious repercussions the Council has not anticipated despite the current fallout. Ancient prophecies from millennia ago are difficult even for Elders to interpret.”

  Jinjing posed her next question to Cedar as nonchalantly as possible. “Do you not believe Final Ascension will transport us all to yet another dimension, one of even more splendour than Council dimension itself, one that facilitates conjunction as One?”

  “As I said, I believe Council should focus on repairing the world.”

  “Cedar has temporarily lost her faith thanks to the recent Rebel victory,” Obeche interjected. “A predicament both inappropriate and unbecoming for a Lapidarian Scribe of the Alchemists’ Council.”

  “Faith has nothing to do with the matter when lives are at stake, Obeche. I have had those same doubts,” admitted Jinjing, her effort to remain casual abandoned. She needed Cedar to understand that she could be her ally. “Presumably several Council members harbour such post-rebellion concerns. Frankly, Obeche, I am surprised you don’t. A wrong move — one that perpetuates rather than eliminates this war — could cost millions of lives.”

  As if on cue, the sound of an explosion relatively nearby punctuated the discussion, rendering Obeche temporarily mute. Jinjing saw his annoyance immediately change to concern. Cedar moved towards a window to investigate, but Jinjing placed a hand on her shoulder before Cedar could peek behind the tapestry. She had hung tapestries over all the windows to prevent the light of even one Lapidarian candle being spotted by outside world soldiers or other passersby.

  “Perhaps this visit was unwise,” managed Obeche.

  “I fail to understand your reason for venturing here,” said Jinjing. “News that the Council is continuing its attempt to reduce the Flaw could have been sent by messenger.”

  “The Elders require you to work with a Council Scribe to help locate potential outside world scribes. As you know, locating outside world candidates with precision during war measures requires the work to take place in an outside world protectorate.”

  “So you chose the Qingdao protectorate during a siege?”

  “We did not choose the Qingdao protectorate. We chose you. And you happen to reside in the Qingdao protectorate,” explained Obeche.

  “And to be frank,” continued Cedar, “Qingdao may be under siege, but it’s also well removed from the escalating tribulations in Europe. The Elders outright refused to send me to Vienna despite my willingness to return to the source and investigate.”

  “The source — what source?” asked Jinjing.

  “Apparently the conflict started at the beginning of the five and five with a disruption in balance near Vienna — possibly within the Vienna protectorate itself, though tracking the precise location will be impossible until at least a few Scribes and Readers are permitted to visit the city in person.”

  “For now,” said Obeche, “you and Cedar are to work together with the material the Elders and Readers have gathered thus far. Your goal is to locate at least two — preferably three — outside world scribes who, in turn, will assist with the mundane scribal tasks as the Council Scribes work on more pressing matters in their efforts to decrease the Flaw.”

  “Are Cedar and I solely responsible for locating these coveted outside world scribes?”

  “No. We have chosen four protectorates and four Keepers of the Book to pair with four Lapidarian Scribes,” explained Obeche.

  “Am I to understand that you yourself will be returning to Council dimension?”

  “Yes. My skills will prove more useful there. My duty was merely to ensure Cedar arrived here safely.”

  “I had suggested two Scribes be sent to each protectorate,” said Cedar. “Doing so seemed the most reasonable under the circumstances. However, my dissenting voice was barely heard.”

  “I welcome your dissenting voice,” responded Jinjing.

  Obeche shook his head. “Do not let Cedar’s more radical opinions sway you from your duties, Jinjing. Your pristine work and unwavering commitment to the Council has always been for me your most admirable characteristic.”

  “As you know, Obeche, I have never faltered in my responsibilities. My sense of duty is the reason I currently reside in Qingdao. Though I value the opinion of all Council members, I wouldn’t allow anyone, Cedar included, to change my mind on convictions I’ve reached and continue to hold of my own accord.”

  “That reassurance is indeed welcomed,” replied Obeche, with a formality that emphasized his role as her superior rather than her beloved.

  This exchange with Obeche inexorably altered Jinjing’s opinion of him. The swiftness of this transition in her thinking surprised her. But by the time Obeche departed, Jinjing had become steadfast in her opinion on the siege, the war, and the role of the Flaw in both. Obeche had managed to accomplish the opposite of his apparent intention. Where he had attempted to persuade her that Council worked to the benefit of all, he had instead managed to confirm her suspicions about the mounting chaos of the outside world: all was to blame on the Alchemists’ Council.

  She needed a means to ascertain the details of Cedar’s convictions. So far she had only a glimmer of hope that Cedar represented an ally. Jinjing knew she would have to endeavour to discover the truth of the matter; after all, though Cedar was not currently an Elder, she would surely become one, and Jinjing suspected she would need a friend in upper echelons as the years progressed — if the years progressed. If the renewed attempt at eliminating the Flaw failed, and if repairing the world succeeded, Cedar could become a Novillian Scribe in the next rotation, a likely prospect if, as Jinjing now predicted, the current Council hoisted itself with its own petard.

  Cedar examined the fragments of handwriting from the pages Jinjing had spread across the table. Though she had al
ways admired the Keeper of the Book, resentment lingered over her own unorthodox posting in Qingdao. Would not her talents as a Lapidarian Scribe be better employed in the Scriptorium? Surely a Reader or even a Senior Magistrate could take her place. Yet here she sat in the outside world with Jinjing searching for the proverbial needle among a jumble of miscellaneous haystacks. When first informed by Ravenea that she had been chosen for the task by Elder Council, Cedar had requested the rationale. You are trustworthy, Cedar. Your status as Lapidarian Scribe affords you some privileges. Consider the duty an honour. This particular duty meant leaving Ruis for the duration. This duty meant aging for the duration. This duty meant spending countless hours shifting through sheets of parchment and paper by Lapidarian candlelight looking for signs of alchemical talent among would-be alchemists. She wearied.

  “Do not fret, Cedar,” said Jinjing, apparently intuiting Cedar’s dissatisfaction. “Your time away from Council dimension will be short relative to your eternal life. Readers have already worked for months to match tree names and geographical locations to potential outside world scribes. All we have to do is examine the inscriptions and determine to whom we should offer Council training.”

  “I have no intention of making an official complaint. But neither do I plan to thank the Elders for this assignment.”

  “Your dedication to mundane but necessary tasks will undoubtedly encourage the Azoths to look upon you more favourably at the next rotation.”