The Flaw in the Stone

by Cynthea Masson

  “Literal bees may not be able to be transported inconspicuously, but figurative bees could be,” explained Genevre. “We can transfer bees from Lapidarian manuscripts without producing obvious lacunae. We can alchemically enliven them, encourage them to migrate to their queen.”

  “What queen?” asked Ilex.

  “We’ll produce one,” said Genevre. “We’ll inscribe an emblem of a queen bee in a manuscript of our own creation. The Lapidarian ink required to illuminate only one bee would be minimal. We would alchemically enhance the queen — through blood alchemy — to attract bees from other Lapidarian manuscripts to her. They would fly — so to speak — from various original manuscripts to the new one. We could then use the accumulated ink from those bees to make an infusion of Quintessence.”

  “Such an act, if even possible, is tantamount to erasure. And the bees in the apiaries would likewise be affected,” added Saule. “They too would begin to disappear.”

  “The Council apiaries house tens of thouands of bees — twenty thousand in the lavender fields alone. We would require a few thousand at most,” said Genevre.

  Encouraged by Genevre’s point, Melia asked about the practicalities. What materials would be required? What level of alchemical skill? How long could they carry out such a deception?

  “How can such a complex form of blood alchemy erasure be accomplished without the assistance of the Rebel Branch?” interrupted Saule.

  “It can’t,” said Genevre. “I would require not only a supply of Dragonsblood ink but also the assistance of a rebel skilled in the most intricate of erasure procedures.”

  “You are not suggesting we ask Dracaen? We cannot risk—”

  “No. I’m suggesting we ask someone I trust implicitly,” said Genevre. “Someone who will simultaneously trust what I reveal yet not dare suspect that I have anything to hide. If we align ourselves to him now — even if only partially — rest assured, he will help us when needed in the future.”

  “Of whom do you speak?” asked Saule.

  “Azoth Fraxinus.”

  Flaw Dimension — Summer 1940

  Genevre sat at the wooden table, four scrolls opened, weighted, and positioned for maximum visibility. She worked by candlelight, assuming the light of the Lapidarian wax would provide her with a better visibility than luminescence lanterns. The hours of the night passed quickly, and soon the first rays of sun broke through the windows illuminating the gold and cinnabar inscription on the upper portion of the scroll.

  “Here,” said Fraxinus. He pointed to a single elemental symbol. “Put a drop here.”

  Genevre moved the fragment of the Dragonblood Stone to a position above a small glass plate. With a ruby blade, she expertly scraped miniscule fibres of dust from the stone to the page. Fraxinus removed a tiny vial from beneath his robes and allowed a drop of the dissolution liquor to mix with the Dragonblood dust. Genevre, with the most delicate brush she could find, immersed the tip into the resulting ink and painted crimson dots onto the wings of the queen bee.

  “Scribe Ruis has assigned me to work with him in the North Library next week. I can transport the manuscript then without drawing suspicion. I have determined its most effective placement would be in the ninth division of the fourth floor. Worker bees should begin to emigrate from the nearby manuscripts shortly thereafter.”

  “Yes, but do not expect swift results. Weeks must pass before you will have collected enough bees to provide Ilex and Melia any relief whatsoever.”

  “Let us hope, meanwhile, that no one from the Council notices the missing bees.”

  “Do not fret, my dear. Decades will pass before enough bees have vanished for anyone to take notice. And even then, a coincidence of timing would be required. Someone would need to see a bee disappearing — witness the erasure as it happens — before suspicions are stirred. Meanwhile, bee by bee, Ilex and Melia can stabilize their conjunction through the Quintessence of Lapidarian bees that you provide for them.”

  “Thank you, Fraxinus. We are all grateful for your assistance.”

  “Assisting your parents is the least I can do. Your plan is sound and virtually undetectable.”

  Genevre smiled, but anxiety nonetheless mounted. “If anyone notices this manuscript and attributes it to me, my days as an outside world scribe will be numbered.”

  “What care have you of numbers,” responded Fraxinus, “when the Dragonblood Stone can offer you absolute zero?”

  Genevre smiled.

  “The future is ours, Genevre. We need merely wait for its unfolding.”

  “And once fully revealed, will you expect me to refer to you as High Azoth Fraxinus?”

  “Only in front of the children.”

  VIII

  Qingdao — 2008

  Ilex was shaking. Melia could feel his vibrations within her. Jinjing watched them calmly from the sunlit bench by the window. Saule stared at the document, clearly speechless.

  “Dracaen’s intentions are clear,” said Ilex. “In light of this evidence, we can no longer claim ignorance. As we suspected years ago, he indeed aims to populate the dimensions with alchemical children.”

  “Yet he has failed, time and again,” added Melia.

  “How many attempts since he tried with me?” Jinjing asked Saule, as she moved towards the table.

  “Fifty-four.”

  Hearing Saule utter the number aloud, Melia felt numb. Jinjing braced herself against a chair.

  “Fifty-four pairs barely formed,” clarified Saule. “Another twenty-six pairs born and buried before the three nines. Eighty sets of alchemical twins conceived and terminated. Eighty. Dracaen has tried to duplicate the success he shared once with Genevre eighty times over the last seven decades — five in the decade following his attempts with Jinjing, another five during the 1940s, and seventy within the past five years. His once well-intentioned pursuit has become his obsession.”

  “Seventy in five years? Why? Something must have shifted,” suggested Melia.

  “Perhaps. But regardless of his rationale, he refuses to see reason. He refuses to accept that he cannot succeed; he sees only that he has failed and must try again.”

  “To what end?” demanded Ilex. “What suffering has he inflicted in the process? Not only on the children who were born and died, but on the chemical spouses.”

  “Who were they?” asked Jinjing. “Who were the spouses?”

  “A chemical wedding is a bond of opposites,” said Saule. “So Dracaen’s spouses would all have been outside world scribes — potential scribes. Presumably, he lured them with promises of alchemical knowledge and later by the idea of being the co-creator of a new breed of powerful alchemists. With each failure, he simply began anew.”

  “And then what? What became of these spouses afterward?” asked Ilex.

  “We can only guess — perhaps they were returned to the outside world having been told their alchemical skills had not proven sufficient.”

  “We must stop him!” said Jinjing.

  Melia felt Ilex reach out to Jinjing, taking her hand.

  When Genevre had first told her about Kalina, Melia had vehemently rejected both her and the child. She could not comprehend how Genevre could condone constructing a being in an alchemical vessel. But the Vulknut Eclipse had changed everything. How could she and Ilex not have accepted a means for returning the Flaw to the Stone — even if that means were an alchemical child? Thereafter, she had begun to believe that mutual conjunction between rebel and alchemist could indeed bring an end to the conflict that had begun with the Crystalline Wars. Melia could not have known then that Genevre had a plan of her own, a plan to ensure that Kalina had an ally — a brother to complete the alchemical pair. She loved Payam more than she had loved anyone in her life, including Ilex. She could not condemn Genevre for creating him. The lure of the alchemical child was too powerful even for those with th
e best intentions. But the havoc wreaked of late by Dracaen was untenable, his obsession too entrenched, his thirst for power unlimited.

  Melia leapt up, startling Ilex. “He knows!” she said. “Dracaen must have learned of the link between alchemical children and the transmutation of time.”

  Saule and Jinjing turned to her, desperation evident.

  “Dracaen has no intention of creating an army of beings whose power would ultimately supplant his own. He wants the power of the alchemical child for himself. He wants the ability to move through time alongside an alchemical child. He wants the opportunity to transform all three dimensions according to his personal vision.”

  “What of Kalina?” asked Saule.

  “Perhaps he understands the role of the immature child, the role of the Prima Materia. And besides, Kalina has another role to play in Dracaen’s plan: to conjoin with Sadira. Dracaen needs someone else, someone new, someone not fully matured nor yet assigned a role.”

  “Then let us give him one,” said Jinjing.

  “Give him one? We cannot—”

  “But we can,” insisted Jinjing. “If we introduce him to Payam, Dracaen will end his unconscionable pursuits. He will believe his problem is solved if we convince him that Payam has not yet fully matured. He’s already accepted Kalina’s conjunction with Sadira as part of his plan to perpetuate the bloodline. What if Genevre can likewise convince him that he should be the one to conjoin with her other alchemical child, that conjoining with Payam will provide him with unimaginable powers? As Rebel High Azoth, surely he would not only welcome the conjunction but do whatever needs to be done to ensure its success.”

  “And what of Payam?” asked Ilex.

  “As you yourself witnessed,” Saule responded, “Payam has transmutation abilities exceeding those of any known alchemist. His powers will continue to mature. Thanks to you and Melia, his ethics are beyond reproach. Mutually conjoined, Payam will be well positioned to temper the High Azoth.”

  Ilex and Melia walked to the window. They peered out onto the street where Payam had once stepped through time. They shook their head in disbelief. Their future now lay in the hands of the child Genevre had alchemically created, the boy Ilex and Melia had raised as their own, the only alchemist throughout the dimensions with the potential to defeat Dracaen.

  Council Dimension — 2008

  Assuring that the Council Readers would find Kalina’s name in the Lapidarian manuscripts was relatively straightforward given that the Rebel Branch Scribes had been working on the manuscript manipulation for years. Once all was prepared and confirmed, Saule went to Obeche. Feigning confusion, she asked for his assistance with the interpretation of an unusual passage in Enfant d’or 7875. Obeche, as Saule had expected, interpreted the passage as describing not only an impending conjunction but also an inauguration of a new Initiate. Such a textual pairing — conjunction and initiation — was a rare and precious find. Obeche proudly took the manuscript to the Azoths who, in turn, set the Readers onto the investigation immediately. Within three months, two Lapidarian Scribes had conjoined with one another, and Kalina had become Council’s most recent and most promising Junior Initiate. Thereafter the Rebel Branch Scribes set about manipulating manuscripts to ensure Council Readers, within the decade, would discover evidence positing Kalina for conjunction with Sadira. Meanwhile, once ensconced in Council dimension, Kalina found means to provide Ilex, Melia, and Genevre — who now resided in the outside world — access to relevant manuscripts and transcripts. Together they worked with Saule on textual and iconographic manipulation, inscribing the Initiate most likely to be confirmed after Kalina’s conjunction.

  All appeared to be going as planned until the night Ravenea sought Saule out in her chambers to inform her of a finding in Arbre de cuivre 2089.

  “I did not want you to learn of this potentially upsetting news from anyone other than me. I’m so sorry, my dear, but it appears you are marked for conjunction. I have not been so torn about a conjunction since that of Ilex and Melia.”

  Saule smiled. She had no doubt that Dracaen would provide her with Sephrim to ensure her victory. “Your sweetness is touching, Ravenea. But conjunction is a sacrament. We both knew this day would come.”

  “No, Saule, you do not understand. I did indeed know this day would come. It’s the pairing itself that concerns me.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Saule.

  Ravenea handed her a piece of parchment inscribed with a single sentence that Saule presumed she had copied from Arbre de cuivre 2089. Reading the words, Saule could not breathe. A chill coursed through her. This result could not be, yet the evidence had been placed in her hands: Le saule se conjoindre avec l’arbre de lotus.

  Flaw Dimension — 2008

  Seated at the main table, arms on its surface, Saule placed her head in her hands. Azoth Fraxinus peered at the document. Dracaen paced from one side of the small room to the other. Hands clasped, Kalina stood beside Larix.

  “Are you certain? Absolutely certain? Not even a shred of doubt remains?” asked Dracaen.

  “No. Yes. No doubt. Yes, I am certain,” said Saule.

  “Which manuscript?”

  “Arbre de cuivre 2089.”

  “Folio?”

  “Fifteen verso.”

  “The inscription?”

  “Le saule se conjoindre avec l’arbre de lotus.”

  “Saule will conjoin with Sadira,” Kalina uttered quietly.

  “I know what it means, Kalina!” bellowed Dracaen.

  “No, Dracaen. You do not know what it means,” insisted Fraxinus calmly. “These words literally say only that the willow will conjoin with the lotus. None of us knows for certain to which alchemist each tree name refers. One line in one manuscript housed in the Paris protectorate does not equate evidence. Dozens of lines, dozens of cross-references must be affiliated.”

  “Azoth Fraxinus is correct,” agreed Larix. “The one line could quite reasonably refer to a different willow and a different lotus — Reader Vurban and Magistrate Hasu perhaps. Or even Senior Initiate Kamala. Conjunction of an Initiate is rare but not impossible.” His voice faltered, his final word barely audible. He was clearly attempting to reassure everyone, especially Dracaen, but his own uncertainty was tangible despite the logic of his words.

  No one spoke. Each awaited another. Saule watched Kalina, longing to comfort her. With the revelation of a single sentence, Kalina’s entire life purpose had been suddenly upended. Surely Dracaen must have known that even the most highly skilled scribes in Flaw dimension could not control the Lapis itself or the diligent work of Council Scribes and Readers. He must have suspected that a manuscript inscription that defied his plan would one day surface, despite Rebel Branch efforts. Dracaen would need to change his plan. Revisions would need to be made of various Lapidarian inscriptions. Time could not be wasted.

  But he stood defiant and resolute, not about to back down at this crucial point, only a few years away from the prediction that Sadira would conjoin with Kalina. In the outside world, Dracaen might recognize himself as the proud patriarch of this makeshift family. Within dimensional space, he stood as their chosen leader. Saule had indeed chosen him years ago. She had once believed his motives were good, had believed that ultimately Dracaen wanted to offer free choice to all and would accept it as such, even if it eventually meant his own demise. But he had become so fixated on the bloodline and his plan for Kalina’s mutual conjunction, so insistent that it played out precisely as he envisioned, that he had come to frighten her on occasion. Today was one such occasion. He seemed enraged at her news of the manuscript inscription. But if she had taken Genevre’s advice and waited to reveal her discovery until additional evidence surfaced, the repercussions could have been even more dire than they seemed in this moment. For now, Saule needed to persuade him that they could still work together towards his goal, that Kalina and Sadira’s mu
tual conjunction would still take precedence.

  “In all likelihood, Fraxinus and Larix are correct,” said Kalina, finally breaking the silence. “The line refers to different alchemists. And we need not concern ourselves further. We simply need to search for other evidence.”

  “We do not have time to search for other evidence. Saule is named specifically,” replied Dracaen, his frustration far from abating. “And with regard to the lotus tree, we cannot take the risk. If Council Readers find evidence that corresponds with the line in Arbre de cuivre 2089, convincing them otherwise will become even more difficult. No. We will not wait. We must redouble our efforts at scribal revisions immediately. Saule, you must work to align your conjunction with someone else. What were the other lotus names? Hasu and who?”

  “Kamala. But we must consider Saule too,” said Kalina. “If the manuscripts are to be revised, then Saule must also be removed from the inscriptions of conjunction.”

  “Absolutely not!” scolded Dracaen. “Conjunctive partners cannot be chosen simply on the basis of which alchemists we prefer remain in dimensional space!”

  “So, you are choosing to revise one and not the other!” Kalina had moved directly beside Dracaen, hands raised above her shoulders in frustration.

  “Sadira is essential to the plan! Saule is not!”

  Saule flinched.

  “Saule has been essential to the plan from Genevre’s conception onward! Where would your precious bloodline be without her? Where would I be without her?” countered Kalina.

  “Yes, Saule has been critical to the plan,” said Dracaen. “But we cannot manipulate the manuscripts to change both names. We cannot prevent Saule from conjoining simply because you would prefer her to stay! Given that the Council Elders have already found the inscription in Arbre de cuivre, erasing even the one name and inscribing an alternative in its place will be a feat beyond what we had anticipated.”