The Flaw in the Stone

by Cynthea Masson

  He sat silently for a moment. “I will not forget, Cedar. I will not forget what we have shared.”

  “Nor will I,” confessed Cedar. “How could I? How could we?”

  “‘For we on honey-dew hath fed, and drunk the milk of paradise.’” And he cried.

  “I remember my first class in Council dimension,” said Sadira to Cedar, smiling.

  They were seated beside each other on a bench at a mahogany wood table in Cedar’s office. They had been restoring and revising an outside world manuscript that Ravenea had brought to Sadira’s attention as a possible candidate for use in the Initiate classroom. The consultation had been going well all morning. But once the conversation had turned to more personal matters, it was difficult to navigate a path back to the mundanity of work — especially when neither of them appeared to want to work.

  “As do I,” replied Cedar.

  “You looked quite magisterial — intimidating even — at the front of the room with your dark garnet robes and bright green eyes.”

  “That is the last thing I would want to do — intimidate the Initiates.”

  Sadira laughed. “Of course not.” She paused. “So you actually remember me from my first day in the classroom?”

  “Yes, I do indeed remember you. Shy and reserved and pale.”

  “Pale?”

  “So fair — your hair and skin — compared with the other Initiates. I remember that aspect in particular. The room was full. I had been assigned to give a joint Initiate lecture on Council history and erasure. I was nervous despite my decades — centuries, in fact — of experience in the classroom.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the concept of erasure is often met with negative reactions, especially by those learning of it for the first time — by Initiates fearing the possibility of it for themselves. I stood there, at the front of the room, looking over the Initiates as they settled into their seats. And I remember distinctly that your presence comforted me. Of the sixteen Initiates seated before me, you were the only one with golden hair. She glows, I thought to myself. Hair colour generally is of little consequence to me, but on this occasion, your difference stood out. And when I thought of you as glowing, I smiled, and my nervousness evaporated slightly. Then the class continued. Eventually, as the months progressed, you were just another Initiate who pleased or infuriated me along with the others during any given day.”

  “Yes. I can understand that now — the infuriating part. Initiates can indeed be infuriating.” Sadira nodded and smiled before continuing. “I’m glad that I stood out to you, that you really do remember.”

  “At times during other joint Initiate sessions, I thought you were merely playing the role of the diligent student to attract attention from Saule.”

  “Perhaps,” laughed Sadira. “How else could I garner the attention of a Magistrate?”

  “She may have noticed you because of your antics. But she fell in love with you because of your intelligence and kindness.”

  “Thank you, Cedar. I hope I still exhibit those traits. I often feel lost without her.”

  “She is here,” replied Cedar, tapping her pendant against her chest.

  “Do you think so? Do you think she truly is still within you? Can you feel her?”

  “No, not directly. That is, I am not consciously aware of her presence. But she must be here, even if only as lingering Quintessence.”

  “Sometimes I think I can feel her Quintessence when I am near you,” Sadira admitted. “But perhaps these feelings are merely wishful thinking.”

  “Perhaps.”

  What else could Cedar say to her now? She wanted to ask more about her relationship with Saule, but as much as she felt elated simply being in Sadira’s presence, she also felt a pang of guilt for her own victory in the conjunction.

  “Do you ever sense it even subtly — Saule’s Quintessence?” asked Sadira. She seemed to be pressing the point, unwilling to accept that Cedar could not sense Saule. What could she do then but offer kindness to Sadira — a slight skewing of the truth to ease her anguish.

  “I’m not certain since I am not as intimately familiar with it as you are.”

  They both sat silently for a few moments.

  “May I see for myself?” asked Sadira. She nodded towards Cedar’s pendant, then momentarily looked at Cedar herself before lowering her gaze to await the response.

  Cedar had to give Sadira credit for her boldness — a Magistrate asking to touch a Novillian Scribe’s pendant was a breach of protocol, to say the least.

  “Yes,” she responded, pulling her pendant on its silver cord away from herself and handing it to Sadira.

  At first, Sadira merely held the pendant in her hand, caressing its gemstone with her thumb. She then moved it to her forehead for several seconds before cupping it in both hands and holding her hands to her lips.

  “May I kiss it?” she asked.

  Cedar could barely respond. “Yes,” she managed, attempting to steady her breath. But that goal became impossible when Sadira did kiss her pendant. Initially, she gently pressed the gemstone to her lips, simply holding it there for a few moments. Then she kissed it softly, lingering as if in slow motion on the placement of the kiss. Cedar’s reaction — one soft but audible gasp in particular — must have given Sadira courage because she then opened her mouth slightly and ran the silver edge of the pendant across her bottom lip, then down her chin and neck and across the top of her breasts. Cedar could not recall having ever felt anything so sensual in her life — not in over three hundred years, not with any of her lovers, not with anyone until now.

  “Shall I stop?” asked Sadira.

  Cedar shook her head.

  Sadira then moved Cedar’s pendant from where it had come to rest on her left breast to her own pendant, placing the edge of one against the cleft of the other.

  “I can’t feel it,” Sadira said.

  Cedar did not understand. How could Sadira not feel what Cedar could feel so intensely?

  “I cannot feel Saule’s Quintessence,” clarified Sadira. “But I can sense yours.”

  Cedar reached out to Sadira’s hand, which still clasped both pendants together, softly directing the hand out of the way so the she could reach for Sadira’s pendant. She pulled the pendant towards her by its silver cord, bringing it immediately to her lips. Sadira moved closer to her in that moment, resting her forehead against Cedar’s. Then Sadira’s lips brushed against her cheek until they found Cedar’s mouth. Cedar dropped the pendant and kissed Sadira directly. She could taste Sadira’s Quintessence on her lips — so much stronger than through the pendant. And she knew for certain in that moment that even if this attraction had begun with Saule, with some minute trace of Saule’s Quintessence, it was now Cedar’s alone. She, Cedar, had fallen in love with Sadira not because of the physical conjunction with Saule, but because of growing respect for her through years of working together, because of genuine sympathy with her plight during Sadira’s mourning of Saule, because of the hours they had sat at this bench exchanging ideas as they restored the icons and revised the text of the manuscript. Here in this moment, Cedar felt nothing other than love and desire and not even a sliver of guilt. She was certain that all was exactly as it was meant to be even if what was happening now could not have been foreseen all those years earlier when the pale, introverted young woman had taken her place among those seated in front of her awaiting her words.

  Council Dimension — 2013

  On occasion over the decades, Kalina had come to question her role in the plan — both in the ultimate plan of Dracaen and in the insurgent plan of Genevre. Prior to today, she had understood such doubt as both inevitable and temporary. After all, her specific role had changed multiple times along with the plans, along with new knowledge, along with the revelation of hidden truths, along with unanticipated errors in judgment or inscription that
led to actions of necessity. So many years had passed, so many manuscript revisions, so many adjustments when painstaking alterations went unnoticed by Readers or were misinterpreted by Elders. Under such ever-shifting circumstances amidst opposing forces, how could Kalina not on occasion question her role — question whether said role was chosen or imposed? How could such uncertainty not, as it did today, occasionally overwhelm her? Despite everything that the rebels, Council allies, and insurgents had done over the years to ensure her conjunction with Sadira, Kalina now stood unceremoniously on the precipice of an abyss. Her official conjunction had been announced in Council dimension with little warning and seemingly beyond her control: the Elders of the Alchemists’ Council had determined Kalina was to conjoin with Magistrate Tesu.

  Something had gone wrong. Someone had inadvertently or purposefully thrown a wrench into the works or, at the very least, spilled some Lapidarian ink onto a rebel manuscript. Thus, once again, all the well-laid plans of both rebels and insurgents required adjustment. Kalina felt trapped in the middle. She currently sat in a chamber in Flaw dimension listening to the debates swirling around her. The voices of Dracaen and Genevre were so loud at times that Kalina physically covered her ears. Did anyone care to ask her opinion? Did anyone care that she feared being conjoined with Tesu against her will?

  “Obviously, we will not let that happen,” said Dracaen when Kalina finally and stridently vocalized her fear. “Rebel Scribes will simply adjust the manuscripts again. The Council will be convinced the Readers and Elders made a mistake in interpretation when they matched you with Tesu. In time, all will be sorted. You will be matched with Sadira.”

  “Who is left to convince them?” Kalina asked.

  “What do you mean?” asked Dracaen.

  “Who is left to convince the Readers and Elders to reconsider their interpretation?”

  “Cedar,” suggested Genevre. “Cedar remains an ally. Perhaps she—”

  “Cedar? Cedar’s the one who first noticed my potential pairing with Tesu in Philosophia Sacra 3490! Cedar’s the one who brought the pairing to the attention of the Elders! Have you heard nothing I said? We need an alternate plan, not additional manuscript revisions. Clearly your methods to ensure this conjunction have failed — time and again! Has it occurred to you that someone might be working against us — someone whom we’ve not yet even considered? Or has it occurred to you that you might be wrong? That you may have misinterpreted the manuscripts?”

  “Calm down, Kalina,” said Dracaen firmly. “You are clearly too close to this matter to engage in a rational discussion about it. For your own good, please leave us and return to Council dimension. I promise you, we will resolve this matter with your best interest in mind.”

  “Yes. I concur. Reason must prevail,” said Genevre.

  Calm down? Reason must prevail? I am the only one being reasonable! she wanted to scream. Kalina had not been this angry with Dracaen since the aftermath of her braiding ceremony with Genevre. And she had never been this angry with Genevre. She had never longed so much for Saule. Saule would have been able to solve the dilemma. If only Saule had maintained some influence within Cedar after their conjunction.

  And with that thought, something occurred to her. Varied elements of her past came to her consciousness at once: the braiding, the bloodline, blood alchemy, Saule, Ilex and Melia, Cedar, Sadira, and Arjan. She was an alchemical child who could not be completely erased thanks to the braiding and who held the potential to manipulate time through blood alchemy. She stood up and left the room, moving quickly to the portal. Most likely, the others would think she had left the meeting disgruntled, had gone somewhere to sulk. But she knew the truth. She knew her truth. Both Dracaen and Genevre would now have no choice but to follow her will, her plan.

  Once back in Council dimension, Kalina moved swiftly through the corridors of the main Council building to Cedar’s office. She knocked loudly but then entered uninvited. Cedar appeared shocked. Kalina walked to the other side of the desk at which Cedar sat working. She crossed her wrists in front of her chest.

  “I am the blood of the Dragon!” she chanted.

  “I am the Flaw in the Stone!” replied Cedar, quietly but without hesitation.

  Together in reciting the rebel oath in Council dimension, they had taken a risk beyond measure. But no one came rushing into the room. No one hauled either of them away to Azothian chambers. No one had heard them. But they had heard one another.

  “The Rebel Branch requires your assistance. I require your assistance.”

  “Another scribal revision?”

  “No. Not another revision. An erasure,” replied Kalina. “But its instigation cannot appear to have come from you.”

  “Creative ingenuity is my forte,” replied Cedar. “Who is to be erased?”

  “Me.”

  Council Dimension — 2014

  “Victory!” cried Dracaen.

  Dracaen’s cry simultaneously announced his triumph and brought an end to the Fourth Rebellion.

  Little does he know, Kalina thought to herself, wrists crossed in front of her chest. Little do any of them know, she imagined Sadira thinking. The others — rebels and alchemists alike — all stood witness to an illusion: a fantasy world, plotted point by point by insurgent scribes; a palimpsest, obscuring the truth from inattentive Readers. Having been successfully erased from Council dimension, Kalina had been freed from manuscript inscriptions concerning her conjunction. She and Sadira now stood beside Arjan and Dracaen — the four finally existing as two mutually conjoined pairs. Ilex and Melia were no longer singular in their success. Kalina scanned the gathering crowd searching for one face, the final linchpin in Genevre’s plan: Cedar. She appeared then, sombre despite her rebel sympathies. Kalina understood that Cedar had desired only a permanent increase in the Flaw, not an outright takeover by the rebels. Thus Genevre had relegated Cedar to the shadows, allowing her only glimpses of light to spur her onward. Kalina need provide only one more glimmer to incite Cedar to rebellious action.

  Moonlight illuminating their mutually conjoined face, Kalina whispered aloud to Sadira: “Now!” In that instant, Sadira took control of their body and caught Cedar’s eye, then Kalina immediately followed suit. Sadira, Kalina, Sadira, Kalina — Cedar shook her head. She had seen what Kalina had meant her to see: a continual fluctuation between rebel and alchemist.

  “Arjan!” cried Jaden.

  Kalina then realized Arjan had also engaged his fluctuation with Dracaen. Clearly Jaden had witnessed the shift — she struggled to pull herself from Cedar’s grasp and reach Arjan.

  “He is gone,” said a rebel to Jaden. “If Council dimension survives the elemental changes, you can mourn him in your precious Amber Garden.”

  “Arjan is not gone,” replied Jaden. “You are blinded by your allegiance.”

  “And you by yours,” he retorted.

  “Arjan!” Jaden cried, still struggling with Cedar. She then turned sharply towards Kalina. “Sadira!” she gasped.

  Realizing that Jaden, like Cedar, could see the fluctuation of both conjoined pairs, Kalina watched them even more closely. Upon crying “Sadira,” Jaden halted her struggle against Cedar. Kalina intuited that Cedar explained to Jaden that they had conjoined.

  “Our mission is accomplished,” called Dracaen to the rebels. “We have conjoined — rebel and alchemist, Rebel Branch and Alchemists’ Council. Though the Final Ascension of Azoth Magen Ailanthus has decreased the Flaw in the Stone within Council dimension, our conjunctions will ensure its continued prominence. I will return to the Flaw dimension victorious. Kalina will remain here. Thus a conduit between our dimensions will remain permanently accessible.”

  “The Council will never accept Kalina. She will be removed upon discovery. The conduit will be closed once again,” shouted a rebel.

  “No one on the Alchemists’ Council will know she is Kalina,” Dra
caen explained. “They will see only Sadira. Only a chosen few will recognize the one and the other.”

  Rebel applause and laughter erupted. Seeing only Kalina, they too were limited in their vision, but they understood the ploy.

  Cedar locked eyes with Sadira. Kalina bristled with anticipation.

  “Come with me, Jaden,” Cedar called.

  Kalina smiled as she watched them run.

  Qingdao — 2014

  Genevre stood beside Ilex and Melia, who were seated on a bench by the window. The transmutation of time they enacted so many years ago had indeed opened a portal on the day Obeche and Tera brought Arjan and Jaden to work in the Qingdao protectorate. Thereafter, each step in Genevre’s plan had progressed with only minor glitches. In response, she had easily made adjustments, found and took detours. Now, at the height of the Fourth Rebellion, Genevre waited for the beginning of the end. Kalina was to report back as soon as possible after the conjunctions. Of course, Genevre realized an appropriate moment for departure from the fray might not occur until several days afterward. Thus she waited anxiously with Ilex and Melia, attempting but failing at small talk as the hours passed slowly each day.

  “We should have thought of a more effective means of relaying the news,” said Genevre. “The conjunctions may have failed completely, and we’ll be proven the fools who nonetheless sat and awaited hopefully.”

  Neither Ilex nor Melia spoke. At first, Genevre attributed their silence to the frustration that had begun to set in hours earlier. But then she noticed that they were shivering.

  “Are you cold?” she asked, though this prospect seemed unlikely.

  Ilex and Melia pushed themselves up from the bench and stood facing Genevre.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “We feared this would occur,” said Melia.

  “What?”

  “The bees have been released,” said Ilex.

  “What bees?”