The Alchemists' Council, page 23
Though a few Elders protested quietly among themselves, Council members of the lower orders readily accepted the Azothian decision to proceed with the conjunction of Sadira and Amur. While Ailanthus continued his regeneration in the catacomb alembic, Azoth Ravenea, in full regalia, presided at the Sealing of Concurrence. Thus, as proclaimed to all within Council Chambers only a day after Ailanthus’s proclamation, Sadira and Amur were sealed — bound by Council law — to observe the sacramental Ritual of Conjunction under the full moon on the Feast of Vitriol.
Following the recitation of the sealing section of the Law Codes of Conjunction, Sadira and Amur clasped hands and stood before the Council, heads bowed as Council etiquette dictates. Various Council members alternately nodded and murmured. Ruis stepped forward, held his pendant against his forehead, and bowed first to Sadira and then to Amur. Each of the Elders followed suit. Ravenea then gestured in sequence to the Readers, the Senior Magistrates, the Junior Magistrates, the Senior Initiates, and the Junior Initiates. Each Order, en masse, progressed to the Council Chambers platform, positioned their hands in the second position of Ab Uno, and bowed towards the conjunctive pair as a sign of respect, regardless of any individual member’s disapproval. When the Junior Initiates finally approached, Sadira locked eyes with Jaden, silently pleading for a sign that all had gone as planned. Jaden nodded and smiled fleetingly. Arjan himself, markedly absent from the Initiates, was still healing within the alembic. All will be well; all will be well, Sadira thought to herself.
As the Sealing of Concurrence neared completion, Sadira clutched her own pendant, holding it to her lips with her free hand, swaying back and forth as if immersed in a prayer of the outside world. She had feared this moment — the truth of it, the instant at which potential became certainty. Despite all the Sephrim she had ingested, despite all the placation and words of comfort offered by Cedar through the months of planning, despite the certainty and necessity of her more recent decision to modify the plan, despite the confidence offered her by the Lapis and by the Dragonblood Stone, despite her affirmation that all would be well, Sadira had hoped the Sealing of Concurrence would never be made. She thought back to the years before Cedar and Saule’s conjunction, to her own uncomplicated and duty-bound days as Junior Magistrate. She had once hoped to spend her eternal life with Saule and then, much later, with Cedar. Now she hoped merely to survive long enough to fulfill her chosen destiny.
Amur appeared both proud and at ease. For him, conjunction fulfilled a sacrament for which he was willing to offer his life — for the good of the Council and the good of the world.
“Long live the Quintessence!” he called through Council Chambers.
“Long live the Alchemists’ Council,” replied his audience.
Sadira understood that Amur thrived on the ceremony and attention, even if he were to be the centre of attention only until the end of the conjunction itself. Standing in the shadow of his radiance, Sadira looked at Amur, and he looked back at her, seemingly confident in the role he would play. She turned then to make eye contact with Cedar, who similarly nodded at her with confidence. They were both so naïve. Neither could see the ways in which she was about to betray them both.
As the golden leaves of the Alchemical Tree glistened and the crystalline channel waters trickled softly beneath the stone footbridges, Jaden stood silently in the Grand Courtyard watching the Procession of the Orders. As with the catacombs, she had stood in this courtyard on only one former occasion as part of a history lesson on the Council buildings and grounds. At that time, she had been utterly astounded by the beauty and glory of the monumental Tree. Now, her body plagued by anxiety for both the Council and the rebels, her mind besieged with concern for both Sadira and Arjan — whose four-day absence became more difficult for her to bear with each passing moment — she almost cried when she caught sight of the primordial Tree resplendent in the evening light.
During the history lesson, Jaden had learned that the Grand Courtyard is used only for sacred processions before ritual meals and that the Feast of Vitriol occurs only once every three years. But Linden had neglected to mention that, as part of the ritual, the Elders recount the affirmations of the Tabula Smaragdina and reaffirm the conjunction of opposites throughout the dimensions — a protocol that requires over twenty minutes. As above, so below, they chanted, shaking palm branches in each of the four directions as they moved slowly through the courtyard. Jaden stood to the side with Cercis and Laurel, bowing repeatedly as the Elders symbolically cleared the path for their fellow alchemists of the lower orders to traverse the hallowed ground, cross the sacred threshold into the foyer, and enter Madrona Hall.
The foyer walls were hung with 12th Council tapestries, intricately woven by ancient Azadirian artisans of the finest wools, depicting verdant landscapes from Council dimension and the outer world. As Jaden moved slowly forward, waiting in the foyer as each Order was invited into the hall, a tapestry covering the entirety of the northern wall claimed her focus. The forest it depicted seemed so real that Jaden felt certain she could walk from the foyer directly into its emerald terrain. She was intrigued by one particular arbutus tree, whose clay-coloured bark curled back and peeled away to reveal a bright green underlay along the trunk. The detail was exquisite. The tapestry colours were so vivid that Jaden wondered whether, as with her shawl, Lapidarian inks had been used to dye the wools. She was so mesmerized by the images, so lulled into an unanticipated but welcomed calm, that she did not realize the Junior Initiates had been summoned until Laurel pushed her gently forward.
Jaden was awestruck when she caught sight of the majesty within Madrona Hall. One would think the entire accumulated wealth of the alchemists comprised the table settings. Ruby crystal goblets, silver flatware with handles of pearl, fine china plates inlaid with gold and lapis, sapphire silk tablecloths embroidered with copper threads. Even after having lived for over a year in the opulent Council dimension, even after donning her luxurious black velvet dress robes, Jaden felt remarkably out of place as a guest at the Feast of Vitriol. In this moment, Jaden did not debate whether she owed allegiance to the Council or to the Rebel Branch, but whether she had been misread as a potential Initiate. Perhaps, instead of here, she should be attending a university class in Vancouver; perhaps Cedar was never meant to have crossed her path. Yet, with eager pleasure, she took her seat beside her fellow Initiates, anticipating the glorious meal.
Azoth Magen Ailanthus stood at the head table and raised his arms to ask for silence, clearly invigorated by his time in the catacomb alembic. “We are gathered,” he announced, “for the Feast of Vitriol. Please stand for the recitation.”
The entire Council stood. Instead of facing the Azoth Magen, everyone turned to face the east window, through which the golden leaves of the Alchemical Tree were visible.
“Visita Interiora Terrae Rectificando Invenies Occultum Lapidem!” recited Ailanthus.
“Visita Interiora Terrae Rectificando Invenies Occultum Lapidem!” replied the Council.
The recitation was made four times, once in each direction — ending in the north, thus facing the dais on which the Azoths stood.
“From its nadir to its zenith, we have traversed the dimensions of Earth,” intoned Ruis.
“Through our continual journey, we have sustained the Lapis,” responded Ravenea.
“Via Quintessence, we preserve all that was, all that is, and all that will be,” sang the entire Council, including the Azoths. “The death of one prolongs the life of many.”
Jaden had read of this ritual, but the description on the page could not reproduce the astonishing intensity generated by the resonance of the voices. In this moment, fortified by her successful journey to and from the catacombs, and moved by the reverberation of words, Jaden believed — truly and utterly believed — that the Council mission was to protect the world, that those who sought to deny free will to the populace must be a meagre few voices on the fringe. In this moment, Jaden understood that she must work to secure the Alchemists’ Council and, thus, to secure the world. Of course, securing the Council did not necessarily mean preserving this Council; instead, it would mean continually working to retain or, if necessary, to reclaim the integrity of the Council for eternity. From this day forth, by whatever means necessary, Jaden resolved she would work to uphold this truth. And she understood that to do so would require the assistance of the Rebel Branch and their allies — of Dracaen and Kalina, of Sadira and Arjan.
Thus when the meal was served, when dish after dish of delicacies beyond what she could ever have imagined, were brought to the table, Jaden savoured each sight, each aroma, each texture, each taste, and even each sound — Byzantine silver spoons clinking against Imari porcelain bowls, Spanish amontillado flowing into Viennese crystal glasses, Laurel and Cercis laughing, Ritha’s knife dropping onto the cool stone floor.
During dessert, musicians arrived. They entertained the Council until late into the night. Jaden watched Sadira masterfully participating in a group dance of the sort Jaden had seen only in outside world films set in the distant past. If not for the Wardens visibly and strategically posted around the perimeter of the hall, Jaden and her fellow Initiates may have forgotten the imposition of war measures. But when the candles in the massive chandeliers finally began to burn out and the musicians began playing their final song, the Junior Initiates were approached by two hefty Wardens and escorted from Madrona Hall across the courtyard, over the grounds, and through the forest to the cliff face, where they waited to witness the Sacrament of Conjunction.
Sadira felt the smooth grain of the cliff face against her fingertips. She had already turned away from Rowan Kai and the others. The full moon’s light was too intense. Sadira had realized she could no longer face the half-shadowed expressions of the Elders. In particular, she could not bear, or perhaps did not dare, to watch Cedar. Sadira would want to see in Cedar a sign of longing, of reassurance, of gentleness, or perhaps of preemptive forgiveness for her betrayal. Finding no such sign would not be tolerable. Thus she averted from Cedar not just her eyes but herself. Herself — regardless of outcome, the self she had known for so many years — would be irrevocably changed mere minutes from now. She pressed her palms against the cold, damp rock.
Moments later, Sadira understood from the shifting intonation of the Elders’ chanting that Amur was approaching. She strained even then for release, but she could not move. The alchemical changes had already begun. Despite all the reassurances she had been given, she was suddenly terrified. I am Sadira. I am Sadira. I am Sadira, she repeatedly thought. Though her body was paralyzed, though her voice had been silenced, she could still hear herself repeating her name. Then she felt him — Amur — sudden in his invasion. Then deadened, pinned between Amur and the cliff face, she struggled to maintain her being and to move herself outside this dimension.
As Jaden watched the ritual, she was saddened. She could not respond like the others. They appeared content, even joyous, in their participation of the sacrament. But Jaden felt the chill of loss coursing through her. Only one would survive. Of the two, she would mourn the loss of Amur, but she would be distraught over the loss of Sadira.
For the first several seconds, both Sadira and Amur cried out in pain. Jaden understood that conjunction took place at the elemental level. But from her perspective — from the perspective of one who watched the event from the sidelines with human senses alone — all Jaden witnessed was the gradual transition from flesh to fire. The two bodies appeared to burn white hot, separate at first but finally melded together as one, a glowing blue ember against the cliff face within the landscape’s natural alembic structure. Though a human form was still vaguely discernible, Jaden could see no distinguishing features of either Sadira or Amur. She half-expected the victorious one to emerge from the process a charred skeleton, one that would have to be healed through alchemical transmutation in a catacomb alembic. If this occurred, she would amend all her textbooks with marginal glosses depicting the reality of conjunction to counteract the Council’s official description of the splendour and sacrament.
Feeling the need to brace herself, Jaden pressed her back against the trunk of a tree. If only the tree were a portal. Gone were the beauty and effulgence of Madrona Hall within the harsh, hard shadows of the cliff face. Cercis suddenly stood directly in front of her, the anticipation of the conjunction’s near completion having urged him forward. Her hypocrisy abruptly evident, Jaden pushed him gently but firmly out of her line of vision: if she had to remain in Council dimension, she wanted to be a full witness to the event.
Jaden could hear the alchemically induced calls of crows and toads, their calls reverberating through the forest. Azoth Magen Ailanthus drew forth the Sword of the Elixir. He stood, sword aloft, reciting another passage of the sacrament. Finally, he plunged the sword into the blue glow of the ember. A final blast of light burst forth, seconds later revealing not a charred skeleton but a resplendent human form, whole but not yet distinct in its detailed features: the Rebis.
Sadira no longer existed against the cliff face. Instead, she existed within the cliff face, as if she herself had turned to stone. Here she rested for what felt like several seconds, though she knew that time was being alchemically distorted through the course of the ritual. She felt cool and free of pain. Then the earth moved. The earth moved and moved and moved — not as it had during the elemental disturbance, but with a vibration so intense she feared being torn apart molecule by molecule. Then she stood, shaken free and released from the earth, feet again on solid and unmoving ground, moist air brushing her skin, her eyes straining to focus. A figure in full robes was approaching her.
Seconds later, the man stood directly before Sadira. His eyes were bright green; his robes sapphire blue. In his right hand, he held a cup full of dark red liquid.
“I am Dracaen, High Azoth of the Rebel Branch of the Alchemists’ Council. I have carried my Dragonblood pendant four hundred and forty-four years. I restored the Flaw in the Lapis on the third night of the Third Rebellion of the 17th Council.”
“I am Sadira, Senior Magistrate of the Alchemists’ Council. I have carried my pendant one hundred and eighty-eight years. On this the final day of the Splendor Solis of the 18th Council, I am to conjoin with Amur.”
“And what is your current mission?” asked Dracaen.
“The restoration of Kalina.”
From her position standing among her fellow Scribes, Cedar had a clear view of both Sadira and Amur throughout the Sacrament of Conjunction. But Sadira had avoided her attempts at eye contact, and Amur was no longer of interest to her. So Cedar retreated into her thoughts, hopefully anticipating the soon-to-be-realized outcome. She had waited years for this moment, for Sadira’s assured triumph and thus for the permanency of an ally who would help her maintain the integrity of the Council in its relation to the outside world for hundreds of years to come. For too long, Ruis had held supremacy, disseminating his intention to eliminate the Flaw in the Stone. With the encouragement he had continually received from Obeche, his pride had turned to arrogance. For years, she could do nothing outwardly but to obey his every whim.
Finally, all would transform. With the Flaw fortuitously enhanced and with Sadira about to be victorious, Cedar would be well positioned to discourage Ruis from his incessant pursuit regarding the Flaw. He too would come to appreciate the necessity of maintaining free will within Council dimension. She need harbour no guilt over her actions, over procuring the Sephrim, over covertly plotting against the stated intentions of an Azoth. Her own intention was nothing but admirable, even if self-serving. Yes, she would gain the permanency of a lover she adored. But she would also, with Sadira’s assistance, continue to ensure individual intention within Council dimension and thus choose to maintain the balance of the outside world. What right had Ruis to rescind the free will symbolically immortalized through their mythological texts, albeit misunderstood as divinely sanctioned? What right had Ruis to return the figurative apple to the literal Tree?
Sadira knew her mission. She had known it for weeks. She had prepared for this mission — for her entry into the Flaw in the Stone. But now that the moment had arrived, now that she stood before Dracaen, uttering her lines for real rather than as part of yet another elaborate rehearsal, she trembled.
“Your eyes are green like the trunk of an arbutus tree,” she said to Dracaen. These were the words that would allow Dracaen to recognize her as Sadira alone, as Sadira just prior to conjunction with Amur, as the knowledgeable and talented Senior Magistrate who had successfully traversed a dimensional breach and invoked a temporal shift at the cliff face during the Sacrament of Conjunction, as the alchemist who had volunteered to sacrifice herself to the Rebel Branch to support free will both for the Alchemists’ Council and the people of the outside world.
Sadira took the cup of Dragon’s Blood from Dracaen and drank with the vigour of somone quenching a desert thirst. She knew such rapid intake of the Dragonblood infusion would prepare her best for her role in the conjunction.
“Where is she?” asked Sadira, wiping a ruby-red drop from her lips.
“I am here.”
Sadira turned and bowed.
“Kalina,” Sadira said. “An honour to meet you again.”
“An honour to meet you again, Sadira.”
“I have ingested both Sephrim and Dragon’s Blood. I have prepared both mind and body. I have opened myself to our union.”
“Your sacrifice will be eternally engraved in stone — both Flaw and Lapis.”
“Enough,” said Dracaen. “The temporal shift is limited. We must begin.”
