The girls behind her giggled at the question. Sally Hochgeist, Wilma Eitelkeit, and Gerty Faultier, the Head Girls of Sauerdamp Hall had marked Gansel as an outsider and ‘the Assembly’s charity girl’ on her first day.
Gansel felt the back of her neck grow hot with embarrassment. It was those three that had soured her expectations the most. She was now regretting coming to this school. It really was no different than living in the alleys of the Merchant’s Quarter, but instead of having rich boys’ underwear thrown at her, it was a rich girl’s insults.
Professor Schnitzer twittered like a bird who had been fed choice seed. “A good question Miss Alterblum! The Art of Necrosophy is the culmination of all the biological and mathematical sciences! It combines observation, logic, alchemy, and vivisection into one majestic pursuit of the very heart of truth itself! I remember the time that the Old Duke required my services in determining the cause of a wasting disease that was plaguing the swine of Liebert. It was thirty-three years ago…”
The class groaned as he reminisced about his time as the Court Necrosopher. Gansel felt something hit the back of her head and stick in her hair. She turned around and saw Gerty squinting dirty eyes at her. Feeling in her hair, she pulled out a small paper dart that had been scribbled on with a pencil.
Gansel unfolded it, SHUT UP, THRIFT FLEA. The back of her neck went hot again. She balled up the note and shoved it in her pocket. She heard the rich girls snicker and squirmed in her second-hand school uniform. Faded and thin from too many washings, it was her only set and all her mother could afford on such short notice as they’d had.
She hated how shabby she looked. ‘Why couldn’t mama have found just one more client and bought her a good set? It’s not every day a girl gets handpicked to attend the Academy,’ Gansel thought for the hundredth time
Mary Klatsch, the one girl who didn’t mind being her lab partner, leaned over to share the latest school gossip, “Hey Ganny, did you hear about Wilma? She’s done with her finishing classes and will be joining the Faith and Beauty Society at the end of the term! Isn’t that exciting?!”
She stared at Mary as she went on about cotillions and being presented at Court. What was wrong with these girls? Why didn’t they take school seriously? Most of them acted as though the entire purpose of being there was getting married off to some Assembly nobleman’s son.
“I guess you don’t need to escape if you’re already at the top!” Gansel huffed as she gave up pretending to be interested in Mary’s gushings. Straightening up, she rubbed her neck, trying to wipe away the lingering embarrassment. She wasn’t going to let them get to her! She knew that, like the rich kids on her street, she didn’t matter to them and they only paid attention to her when they were bored. Fine, let them get married off and be dutiful wives! She’d move up to take their place as an elite. Nothing could stop her from leaving Port Myskatol then!
For the rest of the day, she felt driven. During temple prayers, all she could think about was wondering what Professor Schnitzer had in store for them. During dinner, she imagined herself in the laboratory cataloging and preserving whatever new samples the Professor had brought in for the class.
But during chore time reality settled in again. Down on her hands and knees, scrubbing the bathroom floor, Gansel remembered that tomorrow was Contemporary Steam Mechanics and she had yet to even make an attempt at organizing her notes! Despair filled her heart. How was she going to get out of Port Myskatol when she couldn’t even get through school? Maybe scrubbing was all she would ever be capable of doing?
Then, as if to punctuate her self-doubt, the Head Girls Sally, Wilma, and Gertie passed by the bathroom heading back to their homes for the night. She heard them snickering at her as she knelt in the middle of the bathroom, gray water soaking her ugly uniform.
It was so unfair that they got to leave whenever they wanted. What she wouldn’t give to just go home and have her mama tell her everything would be all right. She shot a glare back at them, bitter to the core. “What are you staring at?”
All three stopped their whispered mockery and Wilma stepped into the bathroom. “What did you say, thrift flea?"
She kicked the brush out of Gansel’s hand and looked down her nose at her. "I’ll tell you what I’m staring at. A thrift flea that thinks she can jump up to the level of a real girl.”
Gansel stayed kneeling, but shook her wet hands in the air, flinging droplets of dirty, soapy water onto Wilma’s skirt and tights before pushing a stray bit of her red hair from her damp brow. “It doesn’t look so high up. Besides, fleas can jump pretty far.”
Wilma’s face went red as she hop skipped backward staring down at her spotted uniform. Gertie’s eyes went to slits as she stepped around her friend and over to Gansel’s scrub bucket. “I’m not surprised you know so much about the nasty pests!”
Placing the tip of her boot on the edge of the bucket, she kicked it over, fetid water spilling out all over the floor and splashing up in Gansel’s face.
“You’ll never belong here, thrift flea! Just drop out and go home!” Sally snapped.
The three of them turned on their heels as one and marched back out into the hall and out to the front entrance where their family’s carriages waited to ferry them home.
Hot tears streamed down Gansel’s face as soon as they were out of sight, burning streaks of embarrassment down her flushed cheeks. She began mopping up the gray water that spread across the floor. She just wanted to get this chore finished so she could go to bed, to sleep.
What she really wanted was to curl up in bed and sleep all day with no need to get up and go to class or face anyone. If she dropped out it could be in that cramped bed she shared with her mother. She missed her so much, maybe that would be better than all of this. She could go back, help Mama out with the laundry again, stick to learning elixirs and tonics.
No! She must not give in to thoughts like that! She had to stay positive. Missing Mama didn’t mean she wanted to be like her. She had to keep trying! But what was she going to do about her grades?
This was awful, she felt like she was suffocating with all these unsolvable issues tangled up in her mind. Something needed to give, to unravel and untie itself, but she didn’t know where to find the loose thread.
Later that week, she ran straight across the Quad in the rain without even attempting to avoid the puddles. She had skipped lunch back in the dormitory to attempt some extra review on Assembly Approved Alchemy, but Matron Schraube had stopped her in the hall.
After being reprimanded for thirty minutes over her lack of a belt, she had missed her chance to study and was late to the laboratory. She turned the corner that led to the Viva Sectorium and skidded to a halt on the gritty, wet cobblestones. A long black wagon bearing the Assembly seal stood outside the class hall. Sitting up in the driver’s seat were two guards wearing the same strange masks she had seen the Assemblymen wear that day she searched through the merchant’s quarter for bodies.
She hadn’t paid much attention to it that day, her mind was addled by the presence of the dead elf. The Primus had said its scent hid it from human sight. Were the masks meant to protect their wearers from whatever that elf corpse’s scent did? Looking at the guard concealed behind the leather and glass bound to his face, she understood what the Professor had been trying to teach them during his first lecture only a few weeks ago.
That day, he had referred to a natural alchemical secretion that certain creatures exuded. He had stood before the class, opening various jars containing samples from his collection and allowing them to vent out into the classroom. Most of the students immediately brought up handkerchiefs to cover their noses, coughing underneath and shaking their heads as if to clear a stray thought. To Gansel, the smells weren’t any worse than the odors wafting among the frog and fishmongers.
“Most animal secretions are used for simple communication. For instance, the territorial musk sprayed by felines or vulpines.” the Professor lectured as he puffed on his blackweed pipe. “
But these scents differ in the fact that they are far more complex in odor and meaning.”
Gansel had raised her hand as the Professor opened up the last of the jars, causing a few of the girls to stagger from the room, retching. “Meaning, Professor? How can an odor have meaning?”
“Excellent question Miss Alterblum!” he exclaimed as he gestured to the open jars. “These pheromone samples were taken from various creatures around the world. Each one has been encoded by the creatures they were taken from to send special directions to those of their own kind.”
He pointed to a clear, yellow substance, “Ichor of the Kypseli insect warrior to weaken foes in ritual combat!”
Next, he indicated the jar with a light brown liquid, “Castoreum of Cobold to guide their skulks through dangerous territory!”
The last jar contained a light green syrup, “Bufagious Goblin saliva that incapacitates all prey!”
Mary coughed next to her, “Darkness, that does make my eyes water so!”
Gansel heard someone crying in the back. It was the Hochgeist girl kneeling on the floor. Wilma stood over her, panicking. “What’s wrong Sally? Professor, something wrong with her!”
Sally looked up at her friend, “Wilma? Is that you? What did you do to your hair? Why did you put so many eyes in it? You’ll never get into the Society like that!”
Professor Schnitzer responded as he opened the large louvered windows above them, allowing fresh air to circulate, “Oh, dear. Well, yes, this does occasionally happen. Maybe one in a hundred has an intense negative reaction to the scents. She’ll be right in the Spirit soon enough!”
That was when another girl began to cluck like a hen. The Professor decided to hold the rest of the lecture outside as the classroom aired out.
Gansel wondered what the Assembly had to do with today’s lesson. She wondered, for a moment, if she needed to worry about their presence, but shook off the concern. She had to get inside, lab had already begun!
She tried to sneak into the classroom, but her wet boots squelched and squeaked over the marble floor. Everyone turned their heads as she entered the room.
“Miss Alterblum, late,” announced the Professor. “Take your place.”
Her neck grew hot and her shoes squeaked across the room to her table, her stomach quivering from embarrassment.
Mary whispered to her as she flopped her satchel on the table, “It’s about time you showed up! What kept you?”
Gansel looked over to her and then around the room. “Sour Schraube stopped me about not having a belt, I can’t stand that witch.”
Her voice trailed off as she looked up at the head of the hall. Standing at the front of the room, next to their teacher dressed in his dark Assembly robes, was Primus Sharpe! He stood behind the head table observing the room silently. A large, long bag of oiled leather was laid on top of the table. Gansel squeaked in fear, what was he doing here? Had he heard about her poor progress and was here to check up on her? Blessed Spirit, he must be!
Mary leaned over. “I know! Isn’t he gorgeous? I’ve never seen an Assemblyman look so handsome in those ghastly robes!”
Gansel looked away from Sharpe, not wanting to make eye contact, embarrassed at what he might see. Looking around the room at her classmates, every girl was staring at the Primus with looks of euphoric thrill. What was wrong with them? Sure, he was a pleasant surprise after having to look at their teachers all the time. The Professor was nice enough but grandfatherly. Not like the Primus. Who was much younger, taller, with that full head of wavy dark hair. She sighed.
Gansel felt something in her mind bend then snap back into place. What just happened? Vertigo washed over her and she held onto the edge of the table, shuddering as a chill ran up her spine. This was creepy. Something odd was going on.
The professor addressed the half-swooning students, pleased that for once they were all seemingly attendant, “Primus Sharpe has taken time away from his duties at the Temple to share with us a unique sample of alchemical secretion that the Assembly has acquired!”
He looked towards the Primus and smiled. “Now, despite my inquiries, he has refused to tell me exactly what sort of specimen he obtained. So, ladies, please provide him with your undivided attention. Your Holiness?”
Sharpe thanked the professor and turned to engage the class, Gansel saw several of the other girls straighten up and put their shoulders back as he moved out from behind the table to pace before them, his gaze drifting around the room. She, instead, slouched, trying to disappear into herself. Maybe she could avoid his attention for the next two hours? It didn’t seem likely. Her eyes fell on the big leather bag and her curiosity got the better of her anxiety. What was in there?
“The Assembly has always taken a keen interest in your academy and has sought to grow the young women of Eldervost to not only be strong in the Pure Human Spirit but to reflect that purity in piety and strength.”
As he spoke, he turned back to open a small satchel sitting on the table next to the larger bag. He pulled out a set of leather gauntlets, long enough to cover his forearms and one of the odd masks that she had seen the other Assemblymen wearing outside.
Pulling the long gloves on, he continued, “A strength not only exhibited in faith, but in intellect, in creativity, and in courage. The courage to do what must be done to secure Eldervost’s place in the world. To ensure that the purity of our nation will spread across the face of Jerdon as we scourge all subhuman filth from our sight. To do this, we must learn about our enemies. Their weaknesses and their strengths. We must learn what makes their very bodies move and perish…”
He donned the leather mask with its round, glass eyes and long, beak-like nose, and turned to open the larger bag on the table, revealing its contents. Everyone in the class gasped. A few of the girls squealed in disgust. Even the professor was caught by surprise.
Everyone reacted audibly, except for Gansel. All she felt was dread. It was another elf, much like the one she had found in the alley months ago. Except this time, instead of a mass of sagging flesh half frozen in the snow, it was a dried up husk. Some of its hair, brittle as old hay, broke off when the bag was pushed aside and drifted from the table to settle on the floor. She could smell the body from where she stood behind her table across the hall. It reminded her of the dry herbs her mother hung over the kitchen stove to dry. It was a dusty scent, like old leaves in autumn.
She could feel its presence, even in its desiccated state. There was a tingling in her nose and the back of her head felt like ice was melting down her scalp. For an instant, her head buzzed and a wave of dizziness washed over her. She could feel the world drop out underneath her.
Voices whispered all around her. Young girls, whispering. Worried.
Fulang, we can’t wait any longer!
The Intermediate isn’t coming!
Yes, sister, the servants have likely returned and incapacitated it.
There’s only one way to escape then.
Saorsa?
You don’t mean?
Yes, we must bind with the Vortice.
But as quick as the voices came into her mind, they receded. Who were they? Those were the same girls from before in the vision in the alleyway! She shook the stupor away and focused on the here and now. What was the Primus doing? Why had he brought the corpse here?
Looking around her, she saw her classmates swaying and dropping at their work tables, glassy-eyed with vacant expressions on their faces. The professor had slumped against the wall and then dropped to the floor. She looked at the Primus, why was he doing this to them?
One by one, everybody but she and the Primus collapsed to the ground. Panic grew inside her and she could feel her heart pounding in her head.
Sharpe looked around, admiring his work. Then his gaze snapped to her through the round eyes of the mask and he spoke in a muffled voice, “Far more effective than I thought it would turn out.”
She backed away from her table towards the classroom door “But. But
, why?” She couldn’t speak more than a few words, she was terrified. None of this made any sense.
He approached her retreat, his long legs closing the distance. “Don’t worry about them Miss Alterblum, they’ll be fine!”
Did he think she was that stupid? She scowled at him, “If that’s true, then take off your mask!”
“Ah so you’ve worked out its purpose, well done and no thank you! I’m still quite susceptible to Van'log pheromones. So, I’ll remain protected if it’s all the same.”
“Why are you doing this? Why are you here?” she demanded.
“Excellent question, young lady!” he motioned with a gloved hand at all her classmates on the floor. “You see, the Maiden’s League Academy for Young Ladies does more than raise girls into women fit for the Faith and Beauty Society, destined to wed the wealthy young men of Eldervost and bear their whelps in the gilded streets of Hochgarden.”
She could feel him smirk at her from behind his mask. “Clearly, that purpose doesn’t quite suit you, does it?”
Her eyes burned at him and she crossed her arms.
“No, sometimes the Academy also works with the Assembly, providing us with emissaries, envoys, and internuncios when needed.”
Gansel’s back hit the wall and Sharpe stepped close to her. “But, that’s not you either. What the Assembly needs now is more than mere consorts and provocateurs.”
He bent over to look her in the eyes. “What we need now is someone with such a gift as yours. Someone who can see past our elven enemies’ defenses and get to know the very heart of them. At least that is something at which I know you won't fail.”
She cringed and looked around him, staring at the still forms on the ground. “But what about them? What’s going to happen to the Professor? To Mary?”
He turned and pointed at the closest girl. “To them? We’re not going to do a thing to them, we’re just going to leave them here for a while with the Van'log. They need more exposure to the pheromone’s effects.”
He turned back to her and reached out a hand to grip her shoulder. “But you shouldn’t worry about that anymore, come with us now.”
The Necrosopher’s Apprentice Page 15