A Conspiracy of Alchemists: Book One in the Chronicles of Light and Shadow (16 page)

“I think I believe you.” She studied the undulating black surface next to the boat.

“You should smell it in the heat of summer. Now, there’s something that would make a stone troll move.”

She laughed despite herself.

As soon as they were in the middle of the canal, the gondolier burst into song. It was a sad aria about lost love and a lady who threw herself into the river Arno.

“The boats are all painted black, you know,” Marsh said, once the boatman’s aria had ended.

“Really?”

“They are—although there are many theories as to why. Some say it is out of respect for those who succumbed in the great plague. Others say it is in mourning for the fall of the Venetian state a few hundred years ago.”

The gondolier nodded in approval and launched into a lively tune, ducking his head as they passed under a stone bridge.

Elle rested her head on Marsh’s arm and watched the lime-stained bridge stones in the flickering lantern light make way for night and stars as the boatman’s song washed over her. Had things been different, this would have been the most perfect and romantic evening of her life. It was so easy to believe all the lies—so easy and so very dangerous. She pushed her thoughts aside. The clever thing to do was to play the game. Marsh was more likely to give away whatever he was hiding if he let his guard down, and so the best plan was to lay low and play her part, for now. She took another sobering breath of evening air. There would be ample time for battles later.

CHAPTER 26

Achoo!
Elle sneezed and the ladder under her wobbled. They were in the back archives of the Venetian library of St. Mark. The morning sun was streaming in dusty shafts through the high windows above them.

“Careful,” Marsh said. He reached out and grabbed hold of the rungs. Elle steadied herself against the polished beam of the dark-wood shelf and reached up again.

“I just about have it.” She balanced on her toes, but the volume was beyond her fingers. “Damnation,” she swore as she tilted back on the ladder, nearly tipping over.

“Here, allow me.” In two steps, Marsh climbed onto the ladder next to her. She felt the length of his big body stretch up against hers as he reached up past her to grip the book. They stood like that, coddled by vellum and wood panels, alone in a universe of books. Her body came alive with the electric sensation that coursed through her whenever he was near. Despite herself, she looked up at him and smiled. He looked like he was going to smile back at her, but then he looked away instead. Her heart contracted with disappointment when he cleared his throat, turned and stepped onto the ground.

Dust puffed up from under Elle’s boots as she landed on the floor next to him. She watched him lay the volume down on the table and take a seat. Gently he eased open the pages.

“So what exactly are we looking for?” She rested her chin in her hands.

“Any reference to places with mystical or magical properties where Alchemists might forge a carmot stone.” He spoke without looking up.

“That doesn’t exactly narrow it down, does it?” She turned to the shelves and scaled the ladder again. Dusty sunbeams from the high windows above bathed the room in soft light. The entire library was bedecked in rich frescoes held up by marble columns.

Elle dragged another volume down. She stepped off the ladder and opened it.
“The Pythia Scrolls,”
she read. She turned a page and peered at the text.

“Here follows the chronology of the first Pythia and those Pythias that followed …” She read the words slowly, translating from the page.

She has found it.
A small voice whispered in the back of her head. Elle closed the book and stepped back. She felt slightly dizzy for a moment.

Marsh looked up from the volume he was studying. “Go on,” he said. There was a strange intensity in his voice as he spoke.

“The translation of this text needs quite advanced Latin, so I might have it wrong.” She walked over to the table and laid the book down on the polished wood. They both studied the page in silence.

“Looks like vellum. It must be a medieval copy. Quite a magnificent document. Rare too, by the looks of it. Not many occult works were copied during those times. Fewer survived the purges. It’s a miracle any actually escaped the clutches of the inquisitions,” Marsh said.

Elle read further. She rested her chin on her hands as she translated.

“… and since the earliest days, the Earth goddess Gaia dwelled in the place they called Delphi … and so Gaia took as her guardian, sorry, a hero …” She stumbled over the words. “… the snake-god Python to be her lord and protector.” Elle sat back in her chair. “I thought that Delphi was supposed you have been built in honor of the Greek gods.”

“The Greeks came later. The mythologies were written down by those who had little knowledge of the world of Shadow before it was split from the Light after the Dark Ages, and so it can be a bit misleading. My Order teaches that it was in Delphi where the power of the Brotherhood was first discovered. The gift of healing. The power of the sun. The first Warlocks worshipped Apollo. But that was long after the first Pythia.”

Elle rolled her eyes. “You make it sound almost noble when you say it that way.” This conversation was becoming very odd indeed.

“The Oracles were the ones who showed us the way” He leaned forward, his eyes suddenly bright. “Don’t you understand? The Warlock Orders would not have risen to power had it not been for a woman named Pythia and all her daughters of the same name.”

She sighed. “These tales are all very charming, but they are not helping us find my father, now, are they?”

“Maybe they are.” He turned the pages of the book. “Look. Here.” He pointed at a row of illustrations. “The Oracles influenced almost every important event in the ancient world, until the Romans came.”

“And then they disappeared. Logic and reason triumphed. And thank you to the Romans, I say.”

“Not entirely. The Oracles may have left Delphi, but their gift lived on. When they scattered across the world, they spread the knowledge and our Order flourished.” He stared at her fiercely. “Elle, they endured.”

Elle closed the book with a thump. “Don’t start with all that preposterous Oracle nonsense again. My mother might have been taken in by these lies, but I am
not
Pythia or Cybele or the Oracle or whatever it is that you call these women.” She prodded the cover of the book with her finger. “For goodness’ sake, I can’t even predict what I’m going to have for breakfast, let alone prophesize to an army of sorcerers!”

Marsh looked at her intently. “Have you ever tried?”

“Tried what? Gaze into a crystal ball? Hold a séance? Don’t be ridiculous.”

He shook his head. “Those things are all parlor tricks. Have you ever tried to use your gift?”

“How many times do I need to say this? I. Don’t. Have. A. Gift.”

“I think you do.” She was making him angry, judging by the lines next to his mouth.

“Oh, please, Marsh. You might be taken in by these occult lies, but I have half a brain, and I know it’s all nonsense. And besides, how would you know if I had magical powers?”

“I met you in the dream plane, Elle. I was quite enlightened by what I experienced there. Surely you must remember the golden meadow where we met?”

She felt herself flush with embarrassment. “How dare you?” she snapped. “Even if what you are saying is true—and I’m not saying it is—how unbelievably caddish of you to mention it. If I recall, you invited yourself into my innermost thoughts without a care for what that might do to me and then abandoned me in the dark. I had to find my own way home. What a gentleman you are, Marsh.” It was not often that she allowed herself to lose her temper like that, but this thing had been brewing between them for a while.

It was his turn to blush. Color played across his cheekbones before he looked away. “You are quite right. It was impertinent of me to speak of it. But you are making it so very difficult for me to help you.” He ran his hands through his hair. “Elle, I don’t know what else to say to convince you. You have the gift. You are capable of so much more than you allow yourself to believe. I just wish you would stop being so stubborn and listen to me!”

“I think our work is done here.” She closed the book with a thump. “Sitting in a dusty library is not going to help find my father.” She picked up a few volumes from the table and shoved them back onto the shelf.

“You know,
you
could try to find your father, if only you tried,” he said.

Her hands stilled. “And how would I do that?”

Marsh sat forward with his head held between his hands. “I know of a place close by where we could try to invoke your gift.” He spoke softly.

She sighed. It was the kind of sigh that made her whole body heave. “Marsh, leave it off. It won’t work. And besides, why can’t you do a spell like the Alchemists did?” She put her hands on her hips. “Surely you must know a seeing spell or something that would find him. You are a powerful Warlock after all.”

He ran his hand over his forehead. “I can’t.” His voice was barely audible.

She frowned. “Why on earth not?”

He looked away.

“But I saw you blast the pirates,” she said.

“There are reasons, I … I—” He closed his eyes. “Can I trust you to keep a secret?”

She nodded. “Yes, always.”

“You may never reveal this to another living soul. Our lives depend on it.”

“Marsh, I give you my word. Besides, who would I tell?” She sat down in the seat next to him.

“For many years now, the Council has forbidden Warlocks to use their power, except in the tiniest of amounts and only in emergencies.”

“Why would they do that?”

“Because our magic has all but run out.”

“What do you mean your magic has run out?” she said.

He sighed. “As everyone knows, the Romans were the first powerful empire to choose science and logic over magic. Until they rose to power, the worlds of Shadow and Light were one, and creatures of both sides lived in relative harmony. The Greek epics tell the tales of these things. But the Romans caused great suffering and the creatures of Shadow eventually rose up against them. The balance between Light and Shadow is like a set of scales. If one side grows heavier than the other, the balance is upset and the world is thrown into chaos. After Rome fell, the Shadow grew so large and powerful that it threatened to extinguish the Light. Terrible wars were fought. Blood flowed like rivers until the most powerful of the Shadow entities were vanquished and the balance was restored. In order to ensure that this balance was maintained, the first Council of Warlocks split the world into Light and Shadow. Those with no magic chose the Light while the others remained in Shadow. For centuries the division has maintained the balance. But now, as the world’s knowledge of science and biology grows, so the ancient ways disappear to make space for this growth. The divide prevents the world from tipping into chaos, but as the Light grows, so those of us who still belong to the Shadow lose our powers and slowly drift to our doom. If things carry on this way, we will eventually be swallowed up by the Light and there will be no more magic left in the world.”

“So it’s true, then? If I were to say that I don’t believe in fair—”

He held up his hand to silence her. “Yes. As soon as you say the words, one of the small people blinks out of existence and dies.”

She stared at him. “But the Council of Warlocks is one of the most powerful organizations in the world.”

“That may have been so in years gone by, but for a long time we have been maintaining appearances, all the while conserving what little power we have left. Without a proper Oracle to help us, our power will disappear altogether. When that happens, the divide between Light and Shadow will collapse. The peace and order we have maintained for so long will be no more. There is no telling if anyone would survive such a catastrophe.” His eyes grew cloudy.

“I don’t understand. There is so much spark out there. And the Alchemists seem to have enough magic, so why not use some of theirs?” she said.

Marsh shook his head. “As the Shadow retreats, we all fight for the same few pockets of magic that are left in this world. The Alchemists are deeply irresponsible in their use of this magic.” He clenched his jaw at the thought. “The only exception is Spark. The electromancers chose the path of Light when the world divided. Their magic is blended with scientific process though. It is no longer organic and so to use electromancer magic will surely kill us.”

“You must have used magic before. You are a Warlock,” she said.

“Perhaps in years gone by. But it has been years since I yielded any proper power.” He looked despondent as he spoke

“But there must be some way of stopping the world from plunging into chaos?”

“There is,” he said. “You.”

She blinked. “Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“But how?”

“An Oracle is the guide. She navigates the layers of the universe and with this knowledge comes the gift of channeling and foresight. If you would imagine the world as multiple layers, like the pages in a book—the Oracle is the binding that holds it all together. There can be many Cybeles. Each generation, a few of them will ascend to the second stage of Pythia. But there can be only one Oracle in existence at a time. And she is a creature of immense power and importance. This is what the first Pythia did for the Warlocks. And in return they swore to care for and protect her and her daughters in all time to come.”

“Hmm. All that still sounds rather dodgy to me,” Elle said. “Who is the Oracle at the moment?”

“The Oracle who ascended after your mother died twenty years ago was no true Pythia. She has done her best to maintain the balance, but her attempts have been barely effective.”

“And what sort of life would an Oracle have, once she becomes this person?”

“Oracles were revered and cherished by our Order. Temples and sanctuaries were built in their honor, for their safety and comfort.”

“But the Warlocks failed in their task. Delphi was abandoned and the women were killed or taken as slaves, scattered across the world. You said so yourself.”

“Yes. We lost Delphi, but we have always cared for women we find who have the gift. Your mother was very gifted, but unfortunately she was murdered by those who would see us obliterated.” Marsh took her hand before she could say anything. “Abercrombie and his Alchemists are but the tip of the dragon’s tail. The situation is far more complicated and perilous than you could ever imagine. We are hanging on by the thinnest of threads. You must take up your gift and use it. You must.”

“And what if I don’t?”

“If you ascend, you will be in control of your abilities. You will be able to control what happens. If you do not … well, there are many out there who would seek to get hold of an untrained Cybele before she has had the chance to complete the metamorphosis to Pythia. These are desperate times. The Council will not hesitate to do what is necessary to get what it wants.” He looked into her eyes, “Elle, convincing you to complete the metamorphosis on your own terms is the only way I know to keep you safe.”

A slow-ticking clock at the end of the room punctuated the silence that stretched between them like an ellipsis

“Marsh, you don’t honestly think that I am going to swallow all this wibble about magical women who rule the world? In fact, I seem to recall you being rather against the whole idea of women’s suffrage. So why should I believe you?”

“Elle, this is different. This runs so much deeper than a few well-meaning ladies waving placards. Surely you can sense within you something of the legacy the women in your bloodline have left from within?”