The Alchemists' Council, page 8
Occasionally, over the years, Sadira had questioned her devotion to Cedar — especially last year before Cedar had once again swayed her back into trust and alliance. Recently, Sadira found such moments of hesitation were rare and fleeting. Nonetheless, she had had such a moment just a few hours ago; thus she languished now in a once-familiar state of apprehension over her decision to trust Cedar, to trust that she would be victorious in her own conjunction with Amur. She knew she need only see Cedar again for an instant to realize their alliance was both potent and necessary. Without Cedar’s influence, Sadira would have remained in a state of lonely desperation, mired in the restless discomfort that had plagued her for the months preceding and following the conjunction of Cedar and Saule.
Beforehand, Sadira had desperately feared losing Saule; in the aftermath, Sadira agonized over her loss. Gradually, with gentle persistence in the years following the conjunction, Cedar had managed to secure not only Sadira’s trust but also her love. Indeed, Sadira had become so emotionally connected and comfortable with Cedar that it had been Sadira herself who had made the first gesture towards their physical intimacy. With the exception of her occasional bouts of jealousy over Ruis, Sadira had never doubted that Cedar genuinely loved her or that her long-term plans took Sadira’s best interests into account. Thus it was not her relationship with Cedar that Sadira questioned of late, but her future role within the Alchemists’ Council — questions she had not asked since her early years as an Initiate.
Unlike Arjan, Sadira initially had fought against Council indoctrination. In her first months in Council dimension, she had routinely sought escape. She all but devoured everything she could find on dimensional space, including ancient designs, sketched into vellum, for the Council buildings and grounds. She had convinced herself that the tunnels under the Council grounds led to the outside — that she need only find the proper route through the labyrinthine paths. Even the eldest of the Elder Council would require a conventional means of escape in times of crisis. What of the rebellions? What of necessary retreat from threat? What of the historical rebel breaches into Council dimension? But no matter what path Sadira took, no matter how many hours she spent in the tunnels, she inevitably ended up in the same place. She would emerge, tired and frustrated, into the Scriptorium so late into the night that on occasion dawn was mere minutes away. Yet despite numerous nighttime adventures, she had never been caught. Even amidst the predawn haze of that day she had met Cedar unexpectedly in the main courtyard, she had managed a credible excuse for her presence. I am contemplating the light through the trees, she had said. Cedar had smiled and touched Sadira’s shoulder before wandering away towards the western archway. She thought now of those tunnels. Perhaps they would prove useful to her yet.
She paced the room to no avail. Her restlessness — her clichéd pit-of-the-stomach nervousness — could not be quelled by conventional coping mechanisms. So Sadira reached for a leather-bound book, third from the left on the lowest shelf of her bookcase. From its hollowed-out core, she extracted a small red vial. And from this, she removed one tiny essence-laden tablet that she placed under her tongue. The effects were instantaneous. Both she and her pendant responded in tandem — softly ascending in vibration to match the room, the air, the light, the objects, the fabrics. She moved to her bed, where she lay down and laughed quietly. Though she continued to question the ethics of ingesting Sephrim, she nonetheless enjoyed the immediacy of its pleasure-inducing side effects. All would be well again long before Cedar arrived.
Immediately after her successes at the meeting, Cedar had returned to her office to consult a few files. A few hours later, she made her way carefully down the steep staircase to the lower-level archives. The antechamber was dimly lit — most of the light emanated from the dozen or so archival rooms currently occupied by Readers. She noticed Linden working in one of the rooms but did not stop to talk with him. She was too concerned about her own progress with the manuscripts and her impending trip outside Council dimension to spend time with a Junior Magistrate, especially one who would regale her with his suspicions about rebel activity. She needed to find Amur, to ensure he would continue to support her decisions and be where she needed him to be.
She found him in the penultimate room on the left of the antechamber. From the doorway, she watched him momentarily. He sat at a desk under a reading lamp, peering at a section of a manuscript through a magnifying glass. At the next table, Obeche casually flipped through a magazine — one of many spread across his desk.
“Obeche! In light of recent events, I hardly think it prudent to waste time.”
Amur looked up at Cedar and gestured towards Obeche. “He disagrees.”
“Do not fret, Cedar,” said Obeche. “Contrary to your assumption, I am not wasting time. I am doing my part to aid the cause by skimming these outside world magazines for an article I recall.”
“Why?”
“I thought it might help.”
Cedar sighed in frustration. “Again . . . why?”
“It outlines the history of the honeybee in North America.”
“Fine. You read magazines. Amur and I will attend to Council business.”
“As above, so below,” Obeche quoted.
Cedar shook her head and reached for a box of archival material she had placed on the reserve shelf. She began to spread it out on the room’s central table. Further discussion with Obeche would do little more than vex her.
“I suspect the process is reversing,” said Obeche.
“What process?” asked Amur.
“What if the bees of the outside world — or, more accurately, the disappearing bees of the outside world — are negatively affecting the bees of the manuscripts?”
“It doesn’t work that way,” said Amur.
“So we have always assumed,” replied Obeche.
“So we have always known,” said Cedar. “For legions of generations, the Scribes—”
“Cedar, I am over four hundred years old. I know the power and abilities of the Scribes. And I know the power of manuscripts. As you know, I have been advocating for years that we release additional Lapidarian bees into the outside world to help repair environmental damage. Now bees have begun to disappear from Lapidarian manuscripts. None of us knows whether the disappearance is an isolated incident or the start of an epidemic. I do not use that word lightly. You know perfectly well the disaster that could occur if the manuscript lacunae affect the apiary, if negative space negatively affects the actual Lapidarian bees. The manuscript manipulation may well be merely a malicious prank by a juvenile rebel. But I have an alternative theory.”
“Yes?” responded both Amur and Cedar.
“I suspect an elemental breach in the structure — another flaw in the Stone, if you will.”
“A flaw in the Stone . . .” echoed Amur.
“Figuratively speaking. Not the literal Flaw in the Lapis, nor its effect on Final Ascension. I refer to a fissure, a tear in dimensional coherence that would allow the outside world — or someone within the outside world — to affect anything within Council dimension or its protectorates, including Lapidarian manuscripts.”
“Has this ever happened?” Cedar asked.
“No, not to my knowledge. But as our interminable debates on the problem indicate, the balance of the outside world is faltering. Repercussions are inevitable. To put it bluntly, in recent years, the outside world has changed drastically. We cannot ignore the possibility of an interdimensional event we have not previously encountered. Thus, I have concluded that we might find a place to begin the next stage of our investigation where we least expect it — or, where you least expect it.”
“If your theory is valid — and I am not suggesting it is — wouldn’t a book or two on the subject of bees of the outside world prove more helpful than an article in a magazine?”
“Good point, Cedar. In fact, I had just been thinking that on your trip to the outside world with your chosen few, you could do some research and find me a book or two.”
“Find them yourself!”
“Delegate the task! You have requested the assistance of the Junior Initiates. Once they have attained their pendants, set them up in a coffee shop with a computer. You have heard of the Internet?”
Cedar glared at Obeche.
“Perhaps, Cedar, your time would be better spent preparing the Initiates for their upcoming tasks rather than rummaging through archival material looking for the proverbial needle.”
“What do you think, Amur?”
“He has a point,” Amur admitted.
Cedar gathered the items she had placed on the table, returned them to the box, and returned the box to the shelf.
“May your work here be productive, Amur. See you tomorrow.”
“Yes, see you then.”
“Good day, Obeche.”
“Always a pleasure, Cedar.”
Cedar walked calmly out of the room, retracing her steps until she reached the main courtyard and could veer determinedly yet casually towards residence chambers. All will be well, she reminded herself. All will be well.
Moments later, she stood in Sadira’s room contemplating which details to reveal.
“I was unable to discuss the conjunction with Amur. Obeche was with him working on his new theory.”
“He has a theory?”
“He suspects that outside world events have caused a fissure in dimensional structure and, consequently, the manuscripts are being affected.”
“Has he any proof?”
“Not yet.”
“Has he told the Azoths?”
“He surely will. And if even one of them gives credence to it, if an investigation were to begin, your conjunction may be delayed for months — years even.”
Sadira sat on her bed, allowing her silk shawl to slip slightly away from her shoulders. She motioned for Cedar to join her.
“Nothing you can do about it now. So, you might as well keep me warm instead. You would be much more effective than this shawl.”
“Obeche has advised me to meet with the Junior Initiates,” Cedar replied.
“And whether or not to follow his advice is up to you.”
Cedar smiled. She moved to Sadira’s side and ran a hand over her hair. As Cedar leaned towards her, Sadira took Cedar’s pendant in her hand and held it against her lips. The sensation of Sadira’s breath against the pendant weakened Cedar’s resolve beyond what she could have anticipated. A flash of emerald-coloured silk fell quietly to the floor.
The following week, as Jaden walked towards the North Library in hopes of finding additional information on erasure, she noticed Laurel and Sadira sitting near the fountain in the main courtyard. Laurel was laughing and applauding. Cercis stood against the wall across from them; he was speaking excitedly to Arjan through a corridor window.
“Jaden!” Arjan called. He waved, and everyone turned to look at her. Arjan disappeared from the window, presumably to make his way outside. Cercis took a seat beside Laurel, and Jaden stood nearby, directly in front of Sadira.
“Guess what?” Laurel asked Jaden.
“What?”
“We’re going to lunch outside Council dimension.”
“We who?” Jaden asked.
“All of us — the Junior Initiates — with Cedar.”
“Where?” asked Jaden.
“Really now, Jaden,” said Cercis, “does it matter? It’s a day of freedom.”
Arjan arrived and stood beside Jaden. “From what I understand,” he said, “we are en route to Santa Fe.”
“Why?”
“It’s an Initiate test,” said Sadira. “If you pass, you will progress to the next stage of the venture.”
“What venture?”
“Jaden! Enough questions already!” demanded Laurel. “Sadira said that Cedar will explain everything later.”
Sadira stood up, put her hand briefly on Jaden’s left shoulder, and said, “You will meet Cedar in the portal chamber in one hour. Since our journey will take us to North America, we will use the Salix portal rather than the Quercus. Bring layers. You’ll be in Santa Fe from mid-morning to early evening, and the temperature is likely to drop. I’ll see you all when you return.” She headed across the courtyard towards the Magistrate offices.
Jaden stood silently for a moment and then risked another question.
“Did Sadira say what type of test?”
“No,” responded Arjan.
Laurel rolled her eyes. “What difference does it make, Jaden? They are always testing us! Every step we take within Council dimension is potentially a test! The point is, test or not, we’re getting out for several hours to a place we’ve never seen.”
“I have seen it,” said Arjan.
“What’s it like?”
“Clay coloured,” Arjan began, and then continued as if reciting a poem, “dry and beautiful in the evening light, landscapes lined with juniper and cottonwood, strands of bright red chili peppers hanging from wooden beams.”
Laurel applauded and laughed. “Sounds beautiful! Lucky us! I’ll see you later — I’m going to get ready.” She jumped up and moved in the direction of the residence building. Cercis followed her.
“And what about you?” Arjan said to Jaden. “Have you been to Santa Fe?”
“No. And I think this is strange. Initiates rarely have outings — let alone an outing with a test. What if we fail?”
“What if we pass?” Arjan mused.
Jaden sighed. She had assumed being summoned to Cedar’s office for questioning had been trying enough. Now she faced a test in a place she had never seen.
“Why Santa Fe?” she asked. “Do you think we will learn the basics of reshelving manuscripts in the protectorate library?”
“Given the protectorate, we can presume Santa Fe has various historical connections to the Council. Perhaps we are indeed headed to the library — but for a lesson on Lapidarian ink recognition in Santa Fe manuscripts rather than a lesson on shelving techniques,” laughed Arjan. “That would be my guess.” He took a few steps away and then turned back to say, “If we are put in teams for this test, I want to be with you.”
Jaden smiled. “Should I be honoured?”
She watched him until he disappeared through the western archway. Then she sat by the fountain for a few minutes wondering why she felt so nervous about this turn of events. Isn’t this what she had wanted — a chance to remember the one erased? Had Cedar, inadvertently, just handed Jaden the very thing for which she hoped? She should be happy. What’s the worst that could happen? But on her walk back to her chambers to prepare for the journey, she imagined several worst-case scenarios — her own erasure among them. Have faith, she recalled Arjan telling her. Have faith.
Jaden stood near the corner of the Old Santa Fe Trail and East Water Street, watching the various passersby in hopes of seeing one of the other Junior Initiates. With no other alchemist assisting that day, Cedar had to transport each Initiate separately through the portal on the power of her pendant. Jaden had been told to wait at this spot for the others to arrive. But she had been waiting for twenty minutes, walking slowly back and forth in front of a small courtyard near the Loretto Chapel. In doing so, she reached the conclusion that Cedar should have asked her to wait somewhere with more shade and a place to sit down. By the half-hour point, Jaden began to worry about what she would do if Cedar never returned. Here she was, abandoned on a street corner in a foreign city, without the ability to return to Council dimension. She did not have a pendant of her own. What would she do? She realized that she could return home to Vancouver. Would anyone remember her? Did they believe she had died? It then occurred to her that she had no money or passport. Her fear grew as the minutes passed. Finally, Cedar and Arjan appeared beside her.
“What happened?” Jaden demanded. “You said you’d be only a few minutes!”
“I was delayed by an impromptu meeting with Obeche,” Cedar said. “All is well now. I’ll bring Laurel next.”
“Wait!” said Jaden. “I don’t want to stay here on the street. I want to sit down somewhere.”
Cedar paused. “Fine. Go into La Fonda and wait in the coffee shop.” She pointed towards the hotel. “We will eat in the restaurant later as a group.” She disappeared immediately thereafter.
“Where did . . . Don’t people notice?” asked Jaden, looking around anxiously.
“Apparently not,” Arjan replied in his calm voice. “Come. I will buy us coffee.”
“You have money?”
“Of course. I never commence a journey without money.”
“You have a secret stash of American money?”
“Yes,” he replied and began to cross the street. “Come this way,” he said. Jaden decided not to question him further. Instead, she silently followed him along the side of the hotel and through an entrance.
They found themselves a table in the small Parisian-themed café and placed an order for coffee and croissants. Arjan’s silver chain stood out against his bright red scarf draped around his neck and over his shoulders. Once again Jaden contemplated how different he was from the other Initiates. Yet because of this difference, she trusted him.
