The Alchemists' Council, page 6
“No, I don’t,” Jaden admitted. “But I still think about them occasionally.”
“If erasure is your preference, I can arrange it for you.” Cedar’s tone was calm and her pace steady as she walked back to the other side of her desk. “Alternatively, you can accept your place on the Council and remain alive and well for centuries, potentially for an eternity, through ascension and conjunction. Outside Council dimension, you must face your mortality. The choice is yours to make.”
Jaden said nothing. Finally, instead of choosing, she challenged Cedar. “Why has the Council not initiated everyone? Why is every man, woman, and child not on your Tree, not privileged to Eternal Life?”
“We are the elite, Jaden. We are the Alchemists’ Council. And our responsibility to the world is unfathomable to the uninitiated.”
“Expand the Tree. Save the world.”
“The Council is all the Tree can sustain. One hundred and one is constant. That is all. When one is erased, we add another by necessity. But the Tree is best renewed through alchemical conjunction or by the Final Ascension of the Azoth Magen, not by erasure. When two alchemists conjoin, we sustain the Tree with one new life, a new Initiate. The enhanced Quintessence of our conjoined pendants infuses the Council with power, coursing through the Tree to and from the Lapis like Elixir itself. A space is created both physically and alchemically for an Initiate, whose longing for Quintessence is satisfied by the abundance created through conjunction.”
Jaden sensed a trace of regret in Cedar’s tone.
“You’re conjoined,” Jaden said. “Who were you before?”
“I have always been Cedar in Council dimension. I conjoined with Saule.”
“So why aren’t you Saule or Cedar-Saule or whatever?”
“I remain, now and eternally, Cedar.”
“Do you look like Saule?”
“My skin is a slightly darker complexion and my eyes are a slightly brighter shade of blue than before the conjunction, but overall I appear as I have always appeared.”
“Why?”
“My essence was stronger than Saule’s. The conjunction is alchemical. During the ritual of conjunction, each essence struggles for dominance. My essence was stronger. Saule’s essence was dissolved in the process.”
“But the Rebis . . . Linden taught us . . . I don’t understand. You’re supposed to be conjoined together as one.”
“We are conjoined as one — alchemically. The Rebis — every hermaphroditic image in the manuscripts — is merely a figurative representation of an alchemical process. In conjunction, the stronger essence dissolves the weaker essence and, in the process, becomes even stronger. To put it in terms of a simple analogy, if you were to eat an apple, you would, on some level, conjoin with that apple; but when the process ends, you would remain you, and the apple would have dissolved.”
“Saule wasn’t an apple. She was a human being!”
“Conjunction is a sacrament. Do not forget that, Jaden.”
“One person dies. It’s barbaric. Why haven’t I learned this before today?”
Cedar stood and walked to the other side of the room to close the door, not replying to Jaden’s outburst until she was seated again.
“You were not ready to hear this before today. What you learned before today is what you need to remember now: Conjunction is the Path to Azoth; the Eternity of the Lapis; the Sacrifice of the Alchemist; the Endurance of the Earth.”
“You’re reciting the Law Codes, Cedar — word for word — to justify murder!”
“The Law Codes are sacred. Conjunction is a sacrament. The Words are Eternal.”
“Stop! Stop quoting! It’s all just words. You murdered Saule to gain eternal youth. How can you live with yourself?”
Cedar reached for her pendant, ran her thumb over the stone, and took a breath.
“I could have been the one dissolved, Jaden. I was willing to take that risk, to make that sacrifice for the sake of the Council and, through the Council, for the sake of the world. Conjunction is a necessity to sustain Lapidarian essence within Council dimension and, through the Council, to maintain the elemental balance of the outside world. The Alchemists’ Council strives for Eternal Life through Final Ascension and thrives on the Return of Azothian Quintessence to the Lapis. The cost of maintaining life is life itself. One body eternally lives; another eternally dies. This is the quality and the quantity — the Conjunctio Oppositorum. When an alchemist fulfills the Sacrament of Conjunction, that alchemist offers death in order to save life. As above, so below.”
“Then the alchemists are playing God.”
“We are not divine — not in Council dimension, certainly. We are on the path to divine conjunction through Azothian Final Ascension. The alchemical sacrament of conjunction is a step along that path.”
“So how do you choose? Whom do you choose? Why Saule?”
“On the recommendation of the Readers, Elders choose conjunctive partners whose essences mirror one another. Each alchemist has a unique elemental essence — an alchemical fingerprint, so to speak — that matures in proximity to the Lapis. Through a single drop of blood or strand of hair, each alchemist’s essence is mapped; then, based on the map, the Elders match essence types — think of the process like matching blood types, only on the level of essential particles and with infinitely more varieties. Once a match is confirmed, the pairing is then officially sealed by a Rowan. I was paired for conjunction with Saule only because her essence mirrored my own — a conjunction of opposites, as the hermaphroditic image suggests.”
“And what about her soul? Was her soul destroyed?”
“We are not in the business of creating or destroying souls, Jaden. We’re in the business of extending lives. In conjunction, one life is offered and another life is saved. That is all.”
“It’s an act of manipulation. It’s evil and imposed!”
“You must be careful, Jaden, to whom you utter such heresy.”
“Is that a threat? I don’t care! Erase me! I don’t want to be part of this.”
Cedar stood once again beside Jaden, this time running a hand over the length of her hair. Jaden did not flinch at the touch.
“It is not a threat, Jaden. Why would I threaten one of my own? And why would I betray Saule of my own accord?”
“Betray her? How would erasing me betray Saule?”
Cedar threw back her head, releasing something between a sigh and a laugh.
“She was your saviour.”
“What do you mean?”
“Saule conjoined with me so that you could live and renew the Council. Her death gave you the potential for eternal life as the new Initiate. If Saule had been victorious, you would have died on the day Saule and I conjoined.”
Jaden sat transfixed as she thought through the implications of this alchemical logic. Finally, she asked, “If Saule had lived and you had dissolved and I had died, who would have become the new Initiate?”
“Her name was Taimi. In the weeks leading to conjunction, the Readers determine two potential Initiates as foretold in the manuscripts. In the weeks or, on occasion, months following the conjunction, the surviving Initiate is confirmed by the Readers and sealed by the Rowans.”
“Both Saule and Taimi died?”
“Yes, Jaden, both Saule and Taimi died. Saule died in the sacrament of conjunction, and Taimi died of natural causes when you were chosen as the Initiate. If she had been granted an extended life as an alchemist, you would have been the one to die.”
“I didn’t ask for this! I didn’t know!”
“Now you do, and now you have a choice. If you choose to leave us, if you choose to be erased from the Council, you will betray us all, and the deaths of Saule and Taimi will have been in vain. Once erased and returned to the outside world, you will live out your natural life — granted only a temporary reprieve from death, which in your case will be rather swift given you have not yet received Elixir. Within Council dimension, on the day you receive Elixir, you will be granted Eternal Life until the day of your own conjunction. So choose carefully, Jaden, and watch your step. And don’t spill ink on the manuscripts.”
“It . . . it was an accident.” Jaden lowered her head and gripped the wooden arms of the chair even tighter. “I’m sorry. I made a mistake.”
“No one is perfect, Jaden. We all make mistakes. Let’s just hope you’re not mine.”
ii
current day
Jaden had promised Cercis and Arjan that she would meet them in the Initiate common room and report on every detail of her meeting with Cedar. But as she headed across the courtyard and towards the residence, Jaden realized she could not possibly express to either Cercis or Arjan her current furor. Her life and her place on the Council were the result of two deaths. Taimi had died in her stead, and Saule had purposely sacrificed herself. How could she live with this knowledge? How had she lived here for over a year ignorant of what conjunction truly meant? How could she have been so naïve?
She stopped midway across the courtyard. Laurel would probably be with Cercis and Arjan. Jaden could not face them — not without a story sufficiently different from the actual meeting with Cedar. She moved to the eastern corner of the courtyard and sat on a small stone bench under a willow tree, thankful for the strands of leafy branches that formed a curtain between her and the rest of the Council dimension.
If only she could speak with Arjan alone. She could tell him the truth. She felt certain that he would understand, that he would be concerned not only for Saule and Taimi but for the people who had been sacrificed for his place on the Council. She imagined his reaction — sympathy and outrage — at learning the truth. She realized she did not know who had been sacrificed for Arjan. Or for Cercis. Or for Laurel. Perhaps she should have paid more attention in Council history classes. Cercis and Laurel had arrived several years before Jaden, so she understood why she did not know who had conjoined prior to her own arrival. But she was dismayed — disgraced even — that she could not remember which alchemists had most recently conjoined and, of the two, who had consumed whom. Had this matter come up during one of the many Council meetings when she’d been daydreaming?
She moved quickly from the bench, across the courtyard, and through the north corridor to the staircase of the lower-level archives. She slowed her pace on the staircase, its stone steps slick and steep. Most of the rooms were empty, but she noticed Obeche alone in Archival Room 4 comparing images in two manuscripts.
“Excuse me, Scribe Obeche?”
“Yes, Jaden.”
“Could you tell me where the Council minutes are filed?”
“From which century?”
Though she was not certain whether he was joking, Jaden replied, “This one, sir.”
“Archival Room 8,” he said. She had just turned to leave when Obeche added, “Is there something particular you need to know? I am reputed as an archival mastermind.”
For a moment, Jaden wondered if she should keep her queries about conjunction to herself. But Obeche raised an eyebrow and gave her a look that she could not ignore. Not telling him could make her request for archival material look suspicious — and the last thing she needed was a return trip to Cedar’s office. “I was just wondering which two Council members were the most recent to conjoin.” She paused. “Homework. For history.”
Obeche looked towards the ceiling as if pondering the issue. Surely an archival mastermind — indeed any member of the Elder Council — should know such details without a second thought. Perhaps Obeche’s prolonged pause was for dramatic effect.
“That would be,” he said and then paused again. “Let’s see . . . Cedar and Saule, I believe.”
“No, after them. Before Arjan.”
“Arjan?”
“The new Initiate.”
“Oh, yes . . . Arjan. How could I forget?”
“Forget, sir?”
“I have been informed of his arrival, of course.” He paused, as if considering what to say next. “However, Jaden, no one conjoined prior to Arjan’s arrival. The most recent Council seat — that is, Arjan’s place on the Council — was created by erasure, not conjunction.”
“Erasure?”
“Yes. The Elders decided to erase a certain, shall we say, wayward member of the Council. However, as I’m sure you are already aware, such decisions are not made during regular Council meetings.”
Jaden did not respond. She was not by any means aware of the decision-making process, but she did not want to appear completely ignorant of lessons that had undoubtedly been covered by one tutor or another.
Obeche continued, “Therefore, such decisions are not recorded in the general minutes. Searching through the records of Archival Room 8 would have been a waste of your time. It is your good fortune that you came to me instead.”
“But I didn’t. I mean, I did, but . . . but I didn’t ask about erasure. Why did you tell me? I mean, why did you have to tell me? Why don’t I already know about the erasure? Was I here or did it occur before my arrival?”
“When did you arrive?” This too, Jaden surmised, was yet another moment of Elder posturing.
“Last April.”
“Last April. So, fourteen months ago. Then, yes, you were here. It occurred only — let’s see now — just about a year ago. For some of us, the event was memorable indeed, given its rarity. However, erasure affects not only the person erased but all non-Elders within Council dimension.”
“Yes, Cedar explained this to me — the branches.”
“Yes, erasure does affect the entire branch, if a branch exists. But it also affects Council memory. If you knew the person whom we, as Elders, chose to erase, you would not remember him — or her as the case may be. And, therefore, you would not remember the erasure.”
“But you remember.”
“Yes. All the Elders remember, of necessity.”
“But who was he?”
“Or she,” he said. He paused again and sighed before explaining. “That information is Elder knowledge only. You will be informed only if circumstances necessitate such a transfer of knowledge.”
“But what if I knew him or her? What if we were friends?”
“What if you were? It matters little now. It would be in your best interest as a Council member to disassociate. Erasure is for the safety of the entire Council, including you.”
Jaden refrained from asking, According to whom? Instead, after taking a few seconds to think about the implications of Obeche’s revelation, she asked, “Would the person remember me?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“Unfortunately?”
“Elders have control over alchemical memory only through Lapidarian proximity. Once the pendant is confiscated and the alchemist — the former alchemist — is removed from the dimension, he or she retains all memories of time spent with the Council. However, one who has been erased, one whose pendant has been confiscated, no longer has access to Council dimension or the power of the Lapis. His or her memories — along with the knowledge that immortality will never again be within reach — are haunting, like nightmares. This is sufficient punishment, would you not say?”
Jaden remained silent, wondering whether Obeche’s question was rhetorical.
“Nonetheless,” he continued, with a tone that Jaden read as regretful, “total erasure of such knowledge would be in the Council’s best interest if it were possible.”
“But — what if we were friends?” she asked again.
“Elder decisions are always for the best. I know this knowledge is difficult for Initiates to understand at first. The Alchemists’ Council, including you, has the duty to maintain the elemental balance of the world. We cannot fulfill that duty if we are misaligned within Council dimension itself. We work for the higher good. You may have lost a friend, but you have saved the world for now and — provided our continuation — for eternity.”
“Provided our continuation?”
“If the Rebel Branch were ever fully to succeed in their mission, the entire Council — as we currently know it — would be destroyed.”
“Is that possible?”
“Theoretically, yes. On a practical level, no. The Rebel Branch has been trying to infiltrate and dismantle the Council for generations with little success.”
“With their wayward behaviour?”
Obeche laughed. “Precisely.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“It appears to be your time to know.”
Zelkova entered the room with a message for Obeche. As Zelkova related the details involving a meeting called by Azoth Ravenea, Jaden bowed her head to Obeche as a sign of gratitude for his time and swiftly departed.
Though she had often felt overwhelmed during her year with the Council, the knowledge Jaden had gained on this day was proving particularly difficult to bear. Everything she had learned in her classes, everything she had observed at meetings, everything she had experienced in Council dimension, seemed a mere façade hiding the truth. She walked away in fear — not of her own erasure, but of the erasure of others. How many wayward alchemists would she know over the years? How many would she forget? Whom had she already forgotten?
Within half an hour of her meeting with Jaden, Cedar received word that Azoth Ravenea required the immediate presence of all Novillian Scribes, two Lapidarian Scribes, and two Readers in the North Library. Though she had left her office immediately, Cedar was the last to arrive. She took a seat amidst the other Novillian Scribes — Amur, Tera, and Obeche — who had opted for the long plush sofa under the great stained glass window of the east wall. The Lapidarian Scribes — Katsura and Ela — were seated to Cedar’s left on a smaller sofa. The Readers — Olivia and Wu Tong — sat across from Cedar on wooden chairs retrieved from one of the nearby reading tables. Ravenea, in extraordinarily bright golden robes, stood near the main entrance, as if waiting for someone — perhaps Ruis. Finally, apparently satisfied that no one else was approaching, she took a seat in the large burgundy wingback chair to the right of the long sofa.
