Chapter 11 The Wyrd
I had been sleeping dreadfully ever since my nightmares started, but last night was especially difficult with Sequoia’s haunting melody stuck in my head.
I hoped that the time I spent cultivating our friendship would prove fruitful in unearthing more about her and Aspen’s involvement with Julian.
Reading for her was just the window into her subconscious I needed to propel my case forward.
But first, I had to survive tonight’s Circle—and deliver a proposal of my own. It was my chance to prove that I belonged here, to play the role of scholar convincingly enough to earn not just their attention, but their respect. Perhaps even their trust.
Failure, though? I couldn’t afford to dwell on that. In a place like this, failure wasn’t just embarrassing. It was dangerous.
I hurried downstairs for a quick breakfast before heading to the library.
I was the first in the dining room and grateful for it.
I stuffed my satchel with several tasteless biscuits and poured myself a cup of black coffee (no more tea full of mystery herbs).
I left the dining room just as Aspen came in, a yawning Sequoia on his arm.
Had they spent the night together after I left Sequoia’s room? I took a long gulp of the bitter coffee.
“Good morning, Dahlia. You look . . . different.” The taller tree hummed, raising an eyebrow. He looked handsome as always, his hair neatly brushed to one side of his face, and his eyes twinkling with a morning alertness I envied.
I glanced down at the clothes Sequoia had dressed me in.
The skirt cinched too tightly at the waist, the fabric clinging in ways I wasn’t accustomed to.
I didn’t appreciate the way it traced the curve of my hips—I also didn’t appreciate Aspen’s gaze on me, lingering far too long as I slipped past them both.
“Thanks,” I called from behind, not letting him see my face flush with embarrassment.
“You won’t stay for breakfast?” Sequoia said over her shoulder. Her eyes glinted slightly, as if she had been crying. Why was she so attached to him if he caused her such distress?
“No, too much work.” I waved my hand and left without another word.
*
I spent the next few hours in the library, stacking tomes onto the little section of desk I had claimed for myself.
I had never seen so many books on a single esoteric topic.
I was lucky to find one or two in my mother’s collection, or even in the Greenwich archives, but here in the Foresyth library, I found three books on cartomancy, two on the Qabalah, and five books on Hermetic Tarot. Gabriel would have a picnic here.
My mind drifted to thoughts of him and how we’d spend hours reading outside and acting out the stories.
We hadn’t yet discovered the archives and spent those languid summers in his father’s orchard, reading about sailors and pirates traversing rocky waters.
We mounted apple trees, our ship’s posts, and set to sail the waves of apple blossoms as our rolling seas.
As children, the candor of our desires had come far more readily, unburdened by the complexities of adulthood.
I sighed, missing Gabriel suddenly. Sure, he wasn’t as charming or enigmatic as the students here with morbid fascinations and curious practices, but he was still my oldest friend.
I touched my chest, remembering the unposted letters I still had in the breast pocket of my blazer.
I resolved to hand them to Richard on my way out of the library.
As I stacked my books on my worktable, I sighed, knowing I couldn’t possibly finish reading all of these by tonight. By the time it was noon and time to report to my mentorship meeting with the Meister, I had scarcely gone through two books.
I carefully wrote down the title on the check-out board and slipped out of the library before heading to the Meister’s office across the hall.
I found Richard in the hall and handed him my letters, one for Gabriel and one for my mother and Angelise, including most of my stipend to cover the costs of caretaking for the bookstore.
“I’ll have these posted right away, Ms. Blackburne.” Richard nodded, taking the stack from my hands.
I thanked him and made my way to the Meister’s office. The strap of my satchel dug into my shoulders from the weight of the books, and I adjusted them.
“Ms. Blackburne, good to see you again. I see you’ve been taking advantage of Foresyth’s collections,” The Meister said, looking up from a stack of papers on his desk.
“Indeed, an impressive inventory. One to rival my bookstore,” I said, taking a seat across from him. As I sat down, the pen I had tucked into my breast pocket slipped out. I dove for it, but before it could land, the pen disappeared.
I looked up to see the Meister holding it with the barrel outstretched towards me. He extended his hand, and I took it from him, my eyes searching him. How did he do that? He must be incredibly fast. What other talents must he be holding back from me?
“Take as much advantage of it as you’d like. Foresyth is here for the students as much as the students are here for Foresyth.” The Meister thrummed his fingers along the desk as he found his own seat again.
“It’s curious—this place is unlike any in the world.
It has a life of its own. You can feel it if you spend enough time alone here—the slight pulse of the House.
” The Meister laid his hand flat down on the table.
“The intensity of the students’ output is directly linked to the life force of the House. ”
“That’s beautifully poetic,” I said, tucking the pen back into my pocket.
The Meister gave me a soft smile, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Shall we discuss your next assignment?”
“Oh, well, I’ve just begun—”
“Nonsense. Each student here has multiple research projects at a time. You should be no different.”
I crossed my legs and leaned back. This wasn’t going to be a quick meeting. “Very well, what research do you have in mind?”
“I want to continue where Julian left off. He and I were collaborating on a topic that intersected my specialty in prognostication and his in iconography. I’m hoping you can pick up the pieces.
It might even help you with the case,” the Meister said, pulling a black sachet out of his drawer and shaking it. The runes inside made a rattling noise.
“You recognized the runes on my cane, yes? Do you know where they come from?”
“They’re based in Norse mythology. Northern Germanic tribes would use them to advise on the future,” I said. Could Julian’s research on runes be connected to the lion-serpent symbol?
“Ah, not just any future. Into the Wyrd. The tapestry of the world and how the threads connect us on a cosmic level. Where pulling one thread over here unravels another over there.” He made a motion of pulling on a thread with his fingers. “That’s what the runes tell us.”
He emptied the contents of the sachet onto the table in front of us.
Bone pellets with carvings came tumbling out.
“And who writes the runes, you may ask? The maidens in Urd’s Well, underneath the sacred Yggdrasil tree.
The first maidens spun the Fates of every being and carved the runes into the tree. ”
“The Norns—I’ve read about them. They are the ones who not only see the future but determine it.”
“Precisely, my child. They weave the fabric of cosmic destiny together through their unimaginable powers. Several scholars believe that the runes were first found carved into the Yggdrasil tree. Look here,” the Meister said, leaning over the bones.
“Uruz, the wild ox, is here in the center. It represents untamed potential.”
“This is very fascinating and similar to Tarot in some ways, but what exactly is the research question here?” I stifled my instinct to roll my eyes. Not only was he adding to my workload, but now he was wasting my time with this lecture on basic runes.
The Meister pursed his lips, raking the runes back into their sachet.
“I want you to figure out why they were carved into Yggdrasil. Many scholars have argued over this topic, but there is no consensus. Using the vast resources of our library, I would like you to do a meta-analysis of the scholarly work and come up with the answer. Why did the Norns leave behind a way to peer into their tapestry? And more importantly, is there a way to tap into the powers of the Norns themselves? Through the runes or otherwise.”
“You mean influence the future yourself, not just see it?” I sat up taller.
“Don’t look so surprised. We influence the future all the time. You walking into this very room set off a chain of future events. For better or for worse. If we could find a way to tap into the Norns, we could see exactly what it takes to get to where we are going, just more efficiently.”
“This kind of meta-analysis could take months. And many of the books are written in old Norse . . .”
“Well, then you better get started, Ms. Blackburne. Feel free to collaborate with the other students on this topic, but I want you as lead author on the publication. I’m expecting an outline of the paper by this Friday.”
“But Meister, don’t you think—”
“That’ll be all, Ms. Blackburne. Unless you want me to end your research assistantship? And the checks that come with it?”
“No, sir,” I said, fully knowing that catching up on any sleep this week would be impossible given the increasing load of expectations. And there was still the case of Julian left to investigate.
“Very well. Then you’re dismissed to go and continue your studies. And here, keep this.” He tossed the sachet of runes to me. “This might help.” I pocketed the sachet and stood.
“Oh, I’m sorry. There is one more thing. I did have Richard bring down Julian’s personal effects. If you would like to take a look . . . for your other research project.” He motioned to the grand piano in the corner of the room where a carton box sat atop the bench. My heart skipped a beat.
Finally, evidence to look through. Having so many distractions would make it difficult to make progress on the case, but at least I had evidence.
“Yes, indeed. Thank you.” I cut across the room and peered into the box. There were journals stacked to the brim, along with several checked-out books on esoteric symbology and iconography. I’d have my work cut out for me, indeed. I picked up the box and started for the door.
My heart sank when the door cracked open, and in stepped Aspen. I should have arranged another time to come for Julian’s things.
“You’ve run over fifteen minutes,” Aspen said, his hands casually in his pockets. A devilish smirk ticked the corner of his lips.
“New research project,” I said, slipping past him as quickly as I could.
“What do you have there?” Aspen asked, turning back away from the Meister’s office and into the hallway where I stood.
“Research materials. I’m doing a meta-analysis.” Both statements were factual, though they were disconnected truths.
“That’s what the library is for.” He furrowed his brows together, then took a step forward, letting the door go.
“From the Meister’s private collection,” I said and turned away. If he got a step closer, he might recognize Julian’s journals. “You don’t want to be late to your meeting,” I shot back at him, disappearing around the corner and to the staircase.
The last thing I heard was the office door closing. I breathed a sigh of relief and scurried to my room as quickly as the weight of books on me would allow.