CHAPTER 43 Wren
CHAPTER 43
Wren
‘The master poisoner is a shadow, moving unseen and unheard, leaving only death in their wake’
– The Poisoner’s Handbook
T HE H IGH C HANCELLOR had not been overstating Drevenor’s increased security measures. More guards had been stationed beneath the wrought iron entrance and along the fence line, with several more posted throughout the main building itself. Their presence left a blemish on an otherwise crisp and beautiful day.
That afternoon, Wren sat at a workbench with Dessa and Zavier at her sides, their parchment, ink and quills already laid out. The foundry was the closest thing to an actual classroom she’d been to in the academy. So far it had been eerie forests full of deadly flora, an infirmary, a dungeon and a gymnasium, but here...This reminded Wren of Thezmarr, of the good old days where she, Sam and Ida had worked side by side at Farissa’s instruction, often hindered by Thea’s attempts to help.
The vast chamber was bathed in the glow of countless torches hanging from the vaulted ceiling, illuminating the banners draped down the stone walls, depicting alchemical symbols and blueprints for various inventions. Their entire cohort was seated at the rows of polished wooden benches, watching the front of the room, tense with anticipation.
They didn’t have to wait long. Master Nyella Mercer swept into the chamber, her violet dress billowing after her, her robes belted over the top. Her curly grey hair was cropped short, and large gold earrings swung from her lobes.
‘Novices,’ she began, her voice projecting to the far reaches of the room. ‘The realm of alchemical design is where many of our other core disciplines converge. It is within these walls that we will take lifelore, medicine and warfare to new heights. Here, we will thread them through our inventions and innovations. Design is where we delve deep into the creativity and precision of the alchemical arts...’
Wren sat up a little straighter. Her first few lessons at Drevenor had shown her as much. Given her most recent vocation, she had assumed that her affinity would lie with warfare, but the truth was that she had passion and experience within each of the four pillars. And design...She had come to love design a lifetime ago, back at Thezmarr. The Ladies’ Luncheon teapot had been one of her first creations, and during the war she had also invented a range of exploding alchemical weapons – devices that blew up upon impact, showering the enemy with sun orchid essence, a bloom that was toxic to wraiths and reapers and all manner of darkness. And of course, there were the manacles that had been used against her in this very kingdom.
Wren shook the thought from her head as Master Alchemist Nyella continued with her introduction. ‘As you settle in here, you will learn that there are many overlaps in our arts. As our High Chancellor warned you during your welcome, secrecy is paramount, and it is particularly crucial to the study of design, for in the wrong hands, brilliant work can have devastating consequences.
‘Design at Drevenor involves a delicate dance between discretion and recognition. You may discover that some creations born here are meant to remain hidden, safeguarded by ancient laws, while others may find their way to the marketplaces of the midrealms and beyond, where collectors and scholars seek the extraordinary. For the extraordinary is what we do here, novices. I will settle for nothing less.’
The room buzzed with excitement and curiosity as Master Nyella motioned to something draped in silken fabric on the bench before her.
‘Today, we focus on a single magical artefact, imbued with ancient alchemy. You have already witnessed its power...’
Wren’s blood ran cold as she recalled the horrific scene in the Evermere Forest where the former student had been stripped of his memories. She felt queasy, and beside her, Dessa had turned pale.
Master Nyella gestured to the concealed object. ‘Well, gather around – you can’t very well see from your seats.’
Wren followed Dessa and Zavier to the front, where their teacher pulled the fabric away from the artefact with a flourish.
‘A memory weave,’ she declared.
Wren stared. Again, she noted how it looked like a small tapestry, its threads shimmering.
‘A memory weave is spun from the essence of lost thoughts, or thoughts forcefully taken from a person,’ Master Nyella explained.
A young woman Wren knew as Blythe finished pinning her hair atop her head in an unruly knot, its gold-and-bronze shade quite similar to Wren’s own. ‘How is that possible? Only the rulers of the midrealms possess magic, and—’
The Master of Design held up her hand. ‘Blythe is right, of course. But what she fails to grasp is the power of alchemy when combined with other magical objects. A memory weave does not hail from the midrealms. It was a gift sent to us from faraway lands long before the war, and we have studied its properties.’
‘How does it work?’ someone else called out.
Wren’s palms grew clammy. She hoped Master Nyella wouldn’t interpret that as a request to see another demonstration.
‘Should we wish it to store your memories, you would be required to take a tonic that softens the recesses of your mind. Under the influence of this concoction, you would enter a state of paralysis, and a Master Alchemist would be able to select which memories to retract. They need to be bound to something, hence the threads you see in the artefact here.’
‘All of those contain someone’s memories?’ Dessa asked in an awed voice.
‘Many people’s memories, in fact,’ Master Nyella told them. ‘This object has been in the academy’s possession since long before I was a student here.’
Slowly, Wren put her hand up. ‘Did the current masters vote to keep this artefact active when reopening the academy after the war? Has it always been used as a punishment?’
‘It is not punishment for punishment’s sake, Elwren,’ Master Nyella replied, ‘but for the protection of this institution, and thus, the midrealms themselves. The knowledge that flows through these halls can be deadly in the wrong hands. It must be guarded at all costs.’
‘And what does the broader world make of such a device?’ Wren pressed.
‘The only knowledge of this artefact is within these walls. And so it must remain.’
Wren forced herself to swallow her objections. The pledge of secrecy she’d made in the Evermere Forest came back to her:
I will delve into the dark abyss of knowledge and guard the secrets entrusted to me.
With my body as a shield, my mind as a blade, I will not hesitate to sacrifice.
‘You are to sketch the design of this artefact, both what you see and what you suspect might contribute to its workings.’
Wren was equal parts fascinated and horrified by the object, and judging by the expressions of her peers, she wasn’t the only one. No doubt Bertram’s screams were still echoing in all their minds.
They spent the next few hours sketching and researching the design elements for the strange device. Wren knew there was little chance her work even came close to understanding the intricate workings of the magical object. And for the first time, she wasn’t sure she wanted to understand.
When the lesson was over, Dessa turned to her with a look of dire desperation. ‘I don’t know about you, but I could really use some fun...’
Wren huffed a tired laugh and surprised herself with her answer. ‘What did you have in mind?’