“I understood as much. But look closer.” Nisai pushes his crutches aside and hoists himself so that he’s sitting on the bench next to the book, legs dangling. It makes him slightly taller than me. I wonder if that was on purpose, some sort of throwback to court politics where he thought he deserved the higher ground.
Irritation pricks my temper. “You know I can’t read every word yet.”
“No, examine the page. Closely. Try to see past the letters.”
I scowl at him, half ready to demand he just tell me what’s on his mind. That I’m not in the mood for games. Especially not over a matter like this. But a tickle of curiosity has me now, and I turn my attention back to the open page. There’s the ink of the Magister’s notes. Some hand-drawn diagrams. Near the corner, there’s a small hole in the parchment that’s been carefully stitched together with neat thread.
Nisai points. “Look, see here?”
I squint at the page. Behind the inked words, there’s a pattern of tiny marks, no bigger than a pinhead. “The dots?”
“Those are the hair follicles from the animal whose skin this was made from. Anything else?”
I squint. There is something. It’s faded, like embroidered cloth left too long in the sun. “Are those … letters?”
“I knew you’d see it.” He gives a satisfied nod, then looks to Barden. “Would you pass me that candle?”
Barden complies without hesitation.
The Prince lifts the page and holds the flame at a safe distance directly behind it. The faded writing becomes slightly easier to see. Faint. Almost the same colour as the parchment itself. It’s hard for me to make out, but it looks like a similar pattern to the actual notes.
“There are various documents within the Imperial Library where the original ink has been scraped away, or various reagents have been applied to cleanse it. Parchment isn’t cheap, nor is book-binding.”
Reagent. I’ve heard that word somewhere else. Luz. When she received the tiny scrolls carried by bird. The scent on the message indicated which reagent she should use to reveal the true message beneath the surface writing.
“So, these letters came before the dark ones?”
“Indeed. This book appears to have always been used for the same purpose. Laboratory notes. Except the ones behind these? They’re different. They indicate the formula was successful. Rakel, they speak of a cure.”
I exhale, letting the breath puff out my cheeks as it leaves. “It must be a mistake.”
“Perhaps. Or perhaps there is more to it than that? Is there anything you’ve heard while working with the others? What about your mother, has she spoke of anything like this? It’s important. It isn’t just for the sake of our father’s as individuals. It’s also the Emperor’s life at stake.”
I lean back, gripping the bench. “Mistakes happen all the time. You think you’ve created something and then it doesn’t stick. Doesn’t stay in the form you want. At worst, it’s devastating. At best, it’s embarrassing. I’ve already made that mistake myself since we’ve been here. It’s no wonder the Magister scrubbed it from the notes.”
If I’m honest, I might have done the same in her place. Nobody likes to be wrong. And in her position, she wouldn’t want to lose the confidence of those around her over a mistake like that.
“Rakel,” Barden begins, using that tone he does when he thinks I haven’t been listening. “If there’s any sliver of doubt in your mind…”
Part of me wants to argue. But if the Prince truly believes it, if he truly thinks there might be a way to cure his father, then I have to know. Because that also means there could be a way to cure my father.
“When?” I ask.
“This afternoon,” Nisai says. “We would have come to you straight away, but I wanted to check and recheck. I wanted to be sure.”
“No, when was this earlier version written?”
“If we go by the date, around seventeen turns ago.”
Seventeen turns. Not long after the Magister must have first arrived here. Or … not long before she left Aphorai City.
I gesture towards the notebook. “Can I take this?”
Nisai doesn’t protest.
“I’ll see you both later.”
“Where are you going?”
“Where do you think?”
The Prince pinches the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. “Tread carefully, Rakel. It may be best we keep this to ourselves until we can figure out what it means.”
In the sixth hell I’ll keep it to myself. Enough secrets. If there’s anything in this, I want to know. And now. I blow out the flame beneath the flask I was heating when they arrived, tuck the leather-bound book under my arm and move towards the door.
“Rakel?” Nisai calls. “Rakel!”
Then another voice. Barden’s. “Let her go.”
Seems he’s learned his lesson.
I slam my fist on the door to the Magister’s quarters.
After what seems for ever but is probably a matter of moments, she opens it, one of the Sanctuary’s green robes pulled hastily around her. “Did I oversleep?”
I don’t reply, just shoulder my way into the room and drop the notebook on the bed. “Tell me about this.”
She opens the cover, takes in the first few pages of contents. “If you want to discuss these experiments, best we do it in the lab. Give me a few moments to dress.”
Oh no, I’m not falling for that. If there’s anything in this, I’m not giving her time to think up an excuse. “Judging from its contents, I think you’d rather discuss this in private.”
She frowns and scoops up the notebook. Crossing to the window, she perches on the viewing seat. It commands a view of the entire inner circle of the Sanctuary, the gardens glowing in the greenish light I’ve still not quite grown accustomed to. She pats the space beside her.
“I’ll stand.”
With a shrug, she opens the book.
“I’ve marked the spot.”
“How many times have I requested you not fold the corners of…” She goes quiet as her eyes trace the page.
“Well?”
Her hand goes to her mouth.
So it is something of significance.
“Don’t even think about lying to me. Because I’ll test it. Don’t think I won’t. I’ll go down to the patient’s sector and wrap myself in used bandages and give myself the scents-be-damned Rot if that’s what I need to do.”
“Let me explain.”
Her voice is quiet but with those words, I know. The realization knocks the wind out of me. It’s suddenly close in here, like the air has been sucked from the room.
“You already had it,” I manage. “You already had it and you didn’t tell me. You didn’t tell Father. You could have cured him! How long did you know? Could you have saved his leg?”
She surges to her feet. “This isn’t about your father!”
“Then what is it about? Why am I wasting time trying to find what has already been found?”
“The balance has been tipped! Until we work out a way to cure the Affliction with less dahkai, we cannot cure everyone. And we must cure everyone or the cycle will just repeat itself. We’ll be trying to put out an inferno with a cup of water. I’m trying to keep you safe, don’t you see?”
I shake my head. “But Nisai’s father. The Emperor. We could potentially stop a war with this.”
“And then what, my wise daughter? The Emperor is Zostar’s puppet. He has been for turns.”
“How can you know that?”
“Who do you think counselled Kaddash against appointing another Scent Keeper in the capital?”
Everything I know about court politics has been gained since I got caught up in all of this, but even I can see she’s got a point.
“If we release a cure made with such an expensive and rare resource as dahkai, only the enfranchised will ever be able to access it. The nobility. There will be no trickle-down to the poor. We must make it accessible to all fro
m the start if we’re going to stop the disease. And that means we must be able to fabricate enough of it. I found a cure, yes. But it used too much dahkai. We need a better formula for this to work. The Order voted long ago, the cure would only be released when there was enough for all.”
I snatch up the notebook. “You might be able to turn your back on Father, but I cannot. I’m taking this. I’m curing him.”
“They won’t let you leave with that book any more than they’ll let you leave with the dahkai you’d need.”
“They?”
“The Order.”
The bitterness in my mouth is hard to swallow. “And those poor people you’re testing on?”
“They would have no better prospects anywhere else.”
There’s a sudden, cold directness to her voice and expression. Something that reminds me of Sephine. Something I learned would be futile to rail against.
“I understand,” I say. Though understand doesn’t mean I have to like one whiff of it. Or agree. “I’ll show myself out.”
What in the sixth hell is—
The bell at my door jangles again, my sleep-addled brain jangling with it.
I never meant to doze off, but before I even open my eyes, I can tell by the lack of clary sage infusing the air in my room that my candle has long gone out. When I do open them, it’s to pitch black. Must be somewhere between moons-set and sun-up.
I peel my cheek from the parchment and gently straighten my neck. The muscles cramp and I try to stretch them, realizing I must have fallen asleep at my desk. Before me sits the notebook with the Magister’s cure. An actual cure for the Rot. Known for all this time.
Ugh. There goes the bell again. Someone’s really putting it through its paces.
Yawning, I shamble to the door.
There’s no one there.
I stick my head out into the hall. Two chambers along, Kip argues with the practical woman from the kitchen my first night here – Payuz, the Administrator’s assistant – as to whether the Prince can be woken. Barden emerges from the next door, blinking like a canyon owl.
Payuz has the decency to look apologetic. “The Magister has requested your presence in the main chamber.”
I knuckle the sleep from an eye and call to her: “The Magister couldn’t wait until a more human hour?”
“There is to be a Conclave.”
“A which cave?”
“A Conclave. An official administrative meeting of all ordained members of the Order, only ever assembled to discuss and vote on matters of substantive doctrine.”
Administrative meeting? Substantive doctrine? I wave my hand and turn back towards my bed. “I’m not an ordained member of the Order. My vote’s for more sleep.” And time to figure out what to do about this situation, or at very least get a chance to speak with Nisai about it. I shouldn’t have kept anything from him from the start.
“The Magister asked me to inform you a message has arrived. It’s from Sandbloom. It shall form the basis of the discussion.”
Now I’m fully awake.
Apparently Kip is convinced Nisai needs to know, too, as she opens the door to the Prince’s chambers and disappears inside.
I duck back into my room and shove on my boots. Closing the door behind me, I pace the hall, wishing I could rake my hair into a braid – it’s long enough now to smooth down with water or balm, but I know after half a night’s sleep at my desk, it will be sticking out every which way.
When Nisai emerges, he’s plucking at his robe, clearly irritated. “I’m the First Prince. I can’t go to a formal meeting like this,” he huffs.
“Like what?” I ask.
“Rumpled! Mussed! Dishevelled. I haven’t been sent clean and pressed attire this moon. Now I’ve had to don this robe … twice. I can still … smell myself on it.” He huffs a lock of thick, dark hair from his eyes.
I look to Kip.
She folds her arms across her chest. “I’m a guard, not a laundress.”
Nisai gapes at her.
“Impersonating a river cod isn’t going to change that, my Prince.”
I stifle a snort. There are very few ways to get up Nisai’s nose. Seems expecting him to do his own chores is one of them. Another time, I might have joined Kip in teasing him about it. Right now, there’s more important scents in the air.
Payuz politely clears her throat.
We all fall in behind the older woman, even the Prince, as she leads the way to the main chamber.
I wish I could tell Nisai about the conversation I had with the Magister about the cure, but I have no idea who this Payuz is, and who else might overhear. They won’t let you leave with it, the Magister had said. I decide to hold my tongue. See what unfolds.
When we finally emerge into the chamber, the sight stops me in my tracks. The ceiling gleams with that glasslike blue-black stone, the constellations of the star wheel studded with silver just like the Library of the Lost’s main chamber. Below, the floor has been carved into level upon level of terraces until, at the very bottom, there’s a floor and a round table of the same blue-black stone with a huge firepit in the centre. When we were on the road, Ash had described the Council of Five chambers, and how similar the round meeting table there was to the Library’s. Guess there was some kind of historical fashion for this kind of stuff.
The terraces are already scattered with green-robed residents of the Sanctuary. I wonder how many are left to join us. Gathered here like this, their number is far fewer than I expected. The place is barely half full.
Payuz leads us to a mid-level terrace. Kip takes up station on the row behind Nisai. Barden and I sit either side. Once settled, Barden pulls a stretch of fabric from his kit bag. A needle and thread look tiny in his hands as he repairs what looks like a frayed seam in a Sanctuary robe. I smirk despite myself. Kip may refuse to be Nisai’s laundress, but Barden’s happy enough as his makeshift tailor. I shouldn’t be surprised, Barden’s always done anything to get ahead. If he ever had a fragrance named after him it’d be called Amber Ambition.
The Magister appears, along with the other so-called office bearers of the Order. My stomach flip-flops at the sight of her in her formal role. This is what she spent my lifetime working her way towards. It hurts, but, deep down, there’s a spark of admiration. She set out to do something. And that is what she did.
Unlike my own churning emotions, the Magister’s features could be carved from stone with all she gives away. What it must be like to be so … controlled.
Like Ash, comes my first thought.
Until he wasn’t, follows the traitorous but true second.
When the Magister reaches the table, she holds her arms wide. “My thanks and the thanks of my fellow office bearers to the Conclave for assembling so promptly. Trust that I would not have disturbed you at such an hour were it not warranted. This night, we have received information that could alter the course of all our futures. I ask you to make a decision that could reverberate through the turns, after even our long lives have come to an end.”
The room is silent, though several members exchange glances.
“I ask you to listen to all of the evidence presented,” the Magister continues, “and equally to heed the Divine Primordial’s voice in your heart. At the conclusion, we shall take a vote. It will be anonymous, so you might have your say without fear of reproach.”
A murmur of approval ripples through the crowd.
“Without prevarication then, let us now turn to the content of Sandbloom’s report from the imperial capital.”
The Order member behind me sucks in a breath. Others furrow their brows or shift uncomfortably.
“What stink’s got up their noses?” I whisper to Nisai.
He leans close. “My father refused to appoint another Scent Keeper after the last went to the sky. I expect it had … knock-on effects.”
“The report,” the Magister continues, “contains three matters of great import to relay. Firstly, the Emperor is dead.”
A murmur ripples through the assembled Order members. It’s hard to tell whether they’re pleased or annoyed. Perhaps some of each.
Nisai’s still rigid, but his face has gone the kind of blank that only a potent mix of shock and sorrow brings. Just because the Rot was killing his father for turns, doesn’t mean he was ready for it. Time and again I’ve imagined the same thing happening to Father, and yet I know I still wouldn’t be ready. I hesitate for a moment, then gently, briefly lay my fingers on Nisai’s forearm.
The Magister waits until the murmuring in the terraces has died down. “Second, the usurper Regent has broken the Founding Accord and deposed the Council of Five. While the southern province representatives remain, the Aphorain and Losian Councillors and trade ambassadors have departed the capital, and the unity of the Empire is now gravely at risk.”
I exchange a look with Kip. The Losian is stone-faced, but the tightened cords in her neck betray her agitation.
“Third, civil war is not the greatest threat to maintaining balance across the Empire and beyond. Sandbloom has reason to believe the Brotherhood of the Blazing Sun have made progress towards unlocking the secrets of the Children of Doskai. And what’s more, a fully matured individual is now roaming free.”
Silence falls, so sudden and heavy you could hear a petal drop.
It makes my heart sound like thunder in my ears.
“My colleagues, this could be the first herald of the next Shadow Wars.”
I leap to my feet. “What’s his name?”
Several irritated faces turn my way. Guess you’re not supposed to interrupt the almighty Magister. I don’t care.
She looks apologetically at Nisai. “The report speaks of the former Prince’s Shield.”
I stagger back, my legs colliding with the terrace so that I thump on to the stone rather than sit. It’s as if the room has tilted. What was level is now askew.
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