The Alchemist's Touch (7 page)

He swallowed. There was a bench on the side of the room. He carefully laid his new student robes upon it and turned to Mellie, waiting expectantly.

“Be quick!” she snapped. “I haven’t got all day to deal with new arrivals, you know.”

Ebon thought to himself that he did
not
know, since he had no idea what Mellie actually did. But out loud he said, “Are you going to leave?”

“Humph!” she said, placing her hands to her hips. “Do you fear an old lady leering? I will not leave the room only to have you take an hour to bathe yourself.”

“You expect me to disrobe before you?” Ebon felt color in his cheeks, and found himself growing irritated.

“Merchant children,” Mellie muttered, rolling her eyes. “You are a student here, and no lordling while within these walls, Drayden. If I turn my back, will that preserve enough modesty for your skin to find the tub?”

“Yes,” he said, relieved.

Mellie turned, and he quickly shed his clothes, fearful she would turn if he took too long. As soon as he splashed, she came and lifted his golden clothing.

“Wait! Where are you taking those?”

“To be burned, of course. No one told you? The clothes you bring are destroyed. While you study here at the Academy, you will wear only your student robes.”

“I did
not
know, and you cannot burn those! They are expensive.”

She appraised his clothing with narrowed eyes. “I have burned far better.” Then she vanished through the door.

He quickly bathed while Mellie was gone, and then jumped from the tub to throw on his robes. He had just covered himself again by the time she appeared, and seeing him dressed, she seized his wrist and drew him from the room. Now they ran back down the main staircase into the great hall, and then around to the right side, where Ebon entered the hallway opposite the one Cyrus had taken him down the day before. He remembered the Dean saying these were where the instructors had their chambers. Mellie stopped at the first door on the right and threw it open.

“New student!” she shrieked, before scampering back towards the front hall.

Beyond the door was a study. But this was no elaborate room filled with gilded ornaments like the Dean’s office. It was warmly lit by candles placed in the corners. A soft green carpet covered the floor. Bookshelves lined all three walls, other than the one with the door, and they were covered with books in barracks-neat rows. A modest desk stood proud in the room’s middle, a single leather tome to one side, and a stack of parchments in the center beside a pot of ink with a quill stuck in.

A woman of middle years sat at the desk. Her hair was once flame-red, like a dancer from Dulmun Ebon had once seen, now flecked with many strands of grey. Her eyes were pale blue, and fixed on Ebon’s face with calm assessment. He noted that she wore dark grey robes, like the Dean, but hers had none of Cyrus’ gold brocade.

“Well, come in,” said the woman. “And shut the door behind you, if you would be so kind.”

Ebon stepped in, chiding himself for feeling so timid, and closed the door with a soft
click.

The woman sat back in her chair, sinking into its soft, stuffed leather. She studied him a moment more before gesturing with an open hand to one of the two wooden chairs opposite her. “Sit.”

He did as requested, looking with interest about the room. He knew she was an instructor, but he felt none of the discomfort he had in Cyrus’ office. This place seemed warm, and gentle, if not entirely comfortable. She let him look about for a moment, her fingers steepled before her chin. He turned at last to look back at her, but she said no word, merely kept looking him over.

She must recognize me for a Drayden,
he thought, heart sinking in his breast. Surely that explained her reluctance to speak. Ebon knew how his family was regarded across the nine lands. Would that legacy follow him even here? Deep in his heart, he had hoped to escape it at last, but that seemed unlikely now.

The woman spoke, but said nothing of his family. “How many years have you seen, child? Fourteen? Fifteen?”

Ebon breathed a sigh of relief. But that question presented another problem, and he answered reluctantly. “Sixteen.”

An eyebrow raised. “Indeed? Well, no doubt you think that is a terrible burden to bear. Do not worry yourself overmuch. I had seen fourteen when I came here. Perhaps not so grievous a situation as yours, but an annoyance all the same. You will find it difficult at first, but not forever.”

“I am relieved to hear that.”

“And your branch?”

Ebon blinked. “I am sorry, I do not understand.”

“Of magic. What is your gift?”

“Oh!” said Ebon, clearing his throat. “I am an alchemist.”

Her brows rose again, and this time they stayed there. “Indeed? I daresay we could use more of them.”

His brow furrowed. “I am sorry?”

“Never mind. It is of little consequence. You should know, though, that your branch’s proper name is transmutation, and you would do well to start using that name immediately. The same goes for the other four branches. We do not speak with a commoner’s casual indifference in these halls.”

He nodded thoughtfully, finding himself growing curious about her. “And you? What branch are you gifted with?”

She smiled. Then her shape changed before him, and Ebon nearly jumped out of his chair. First her eyes glowed, and then her hair grew grey and stringy as she shrank in her seat. In a moment Mellie sat before him, still regarding him from behind steepled fingers.

Frantically he looked over his shoulder, to the door where Mellie had left him. But the old woman laughed, and swiftly changed back. “I am not Mellie, boy. That was to answer your question.”

At last he understood. “You are a weremage.”

“A therianthrope, but yes. Very good. And I have forgotten my manners entirely, or you have. Either way, my name is Jia.”

He noted carefully that she did not give a family name. Mayhap she was a bastard, but perhaps that was custom here. He hoped so. “I am named Ebon.”

“Ebon. A strong name. Well, Ebon, let us show you to your quarters.”

He scooped his robes back up from where he had thrown them in the other chair, and Jia stood to lead him from the room. Ebon remembered that the dormitories were on the second floor, and he expected her to bring him back out to the main hall to climb the wide main staircase. But Jia led him farther into the citadel instead, where he soon saw another staircase leading up. This one was a spiral, and very narrow, so he could easily touch both sides with his arms stretched out. Jia led him up, passing one landing but stopping at the second. They emerged into the hallway to find a door facing them on the other side. Jia led him within.

They entered a room with many chairs and couches set in small circles all about its edge, with a large open space in the center. Ebon scarcely had time to study it before Jia took him to a door at the back. Through that door was a long, low room with many beds, along with several cabinets and chests of drawers. She led him past these to a bed almost at the back, and waved a hand at the cabinet standing beside it.

“Here you may store your spare robes. This bed is yours now.”

Ebon looked around the room at all the other beds, wondering how many were occupied. “Is this where all the alchemists sleep?”

“No alchemists sleep here at all.”

His cheeks burned. “I am sorry. Is this where all the transmuters sleep?”

She smirked. “A quick student, then. The answer is no. The branches study together, but here in the dormitories you are arranged with the other students according to your ages.”

That was a relief. Ebon had no wish to spend his days sleeping in a room full of children. But Jia must have seen the pleasure on his face as something else, for she fixed him with a stern glare.

“Do not look so excited. You should know that it is strictly forbidden for students to philander upon Academy grounds. This is a place of learning.” Ebon’s face grew beet red as he realized what she thought she had seen in his mind, but Jia pressed on before he could speak. “There are many places upon the Seat where you and the others may see to your needs. This is not one of them. Instructors walk the halls at night and inspect the dormitories often. Keep yourself restrained while you are here, and if you require silphium, you will see to procuring it yourself. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” he said, voice strangled with embarrassment. “I assure you, I understand completely.”

Jia lifted her chin, eyes softening slightly. “Good. Know also that fighting is forbidden, magical or otherwise. That rule extends beyond the Academy’s walls—take some private duel beyond the walls, and we shall hear about it. Rest assured, you will be expelled. Now that you know where you will be sleeping, allow me to show you where you will study.”

She led him downstairs again, and this time took him to the entrance hall. They went down the hallway on the left and came to a door that Ebon thought was familiar. Sure enough, when she opened it he recognized the room where the instructor Credell had taught beginning alchemy. But the room was empty, and neither Credell nor his students were anywhere to be seen.

“This is your classroom,” said Jia. “Your instructor is a man named Credell. His students are dismissed, but they will soon return. In the beginning, your days of learning will be divided into two periods of three hours—one before the midday meal, and the other after. This is where you will study your first period.”

Ebon remembered with some despair the classroom full of young children, but nodded at Jia’s words. “And my second period?”

“That is general study, and it takes place in the library. There, I shall be your instructor. Come, and I shall show you.”

She led him away, and Ebon thrilled at the thought that she would be teaching him. He had not liked the look of Credell, nor the way he seemed to flinch away from any word above a whisper. Though Jia was a weremage, perhaps she could help him fill in the gaps in his alchemy, for he strongly suspected Credell would not.

The gaps in my transmutation,
I mean,
he thought to himself, and smiled.

Jia turned this way and that, until soon Ebon was utterly lost again within the halls. When she saw him looking around, desperate for a landmark, she said, “You will often get lost in your first days, and I doubt I could do much to prevent that. Therefore I shall not waste time teaching you where to find your classrooms, but rather how to recognize them. You can ask your fellow students if you have trouble locating yourself.”

“Thank you,” Ebon mumbled, and abandoned trying to find any sort of marker.

“There are some things you may try to keep in mind,” Jia continued. “For example, the beginner’s classes are located near the front of the citadel, while advanced classes are towards the rear. Therefore you will move ever deeper as your learning advances—except for your general studies, which are always in the library, and therefore never leave the citadel’s rear.”
 

“All right,” he mumbled.

Jia pursed her lips, looking as though she was barring a smile. “Perhaps that is not as helpful to a student nearly arrived as I think. But here we are now!”

They had reached double doors of white wood, the same kind that Cyrus had led them through to the training grounds. But as Jia opened them, Ebon saw they were still within the Academy’s walls—and yet, as with the training grounds, he froze to gaze in wonder.

Never had Ebon beheld a sight like the Academy’s library, nor imagined that so many books existed in all the world. He stepped just over the threshold to look up, for he could immediately see that there was a second floor—yet, looking up, he noticed that there were in fact four, each reached by a narrow wooden staircase with no railing. Far, far above, the library’s roof ended in a great yellow dome, worked of some substance like glass and casting a golden glow upon the place. The glow was strengthened by glass lanterns set in many fixtures on the walls—no open flames were permitted, Ebon guessed, for the safety of the books.

And books there were; he thought that there must be tens of thousands. The bottom floor where he stood had many tables laid out, and at each one sat one or more students with volumes laid open before them. He could see more tables set against the railings above, with more students reading additional tomes. And yet the shelves seemed full to bursting with still more, and Ebon could not spy a single empty space.

“Where…” he stopped, trying to gather his thoughts. “Where did they all come from?”

“All across the nine lands, and throughout the long centuries of history,” said Jia, and he heard the reverence in her voice.
 

“What knowledge do they hold?”

“All of it, I should not be surprised to learn. But you could spend five lifetimes and not read them all, and only if you spent all your time here, where you could never put such knowledge to use. I must admit to some small pleasure at the wonder in your eyes. Are you fond of reading?”

Ebon shook his head slowly. “Not before. But this…how could anyone see this place and not be struck by wonder? The Dean took me through the Academy yesterday, but he never showed me this. If he had, I would have called this the Academy’s greatest wonder.”

Jia’s lips drew into a thin line. “That does not greatly surprise me. Cyrus is not the most avid reader, and was not even as a student himself.”

“You were here when he was a student?” Ebon blinked. “How can that be? You cannot have seen enough years.”

It looked as though she was trying hard to stifle a smile. “You will find that flattery has little effect on me, Ebon.”

“I did not…I meant only that…”

She patted him on the arm. “Pay it no heed. Come. That is all you need to see today, and we should return you to your dormitory. You can return tomorrow, when your first day at the Academy truly begins.”

Jia brought Ebon back through the halls to another spiral staircase leading up. This time he recognized the staircase, and thought he might even be able to find it again, if pressed. That boded well. Once they reached the third floor, she brought him to his dormitory and stopped before his bed.