Sam #2
Ari looks around frantically, wondering if someone else will come through the double doors. He crouches down against the railings, straining to hear more. But Zan’s wails are turning distant enough that they’re becoming difficult to catch.
And then, all of a sudden, they cut off.
The study falls back into an eerie silence.
Ari stays by the railings and trembles. His shallow breaths sound loud in the new quiet of the space.
What did he just witness? What could Zan possibly have done?
Surely he couldn’t be the only one who heard the commotion—for a while he waits, listening for some security guard to come in, shining a flashlight up at the stacks, asking aloud if everyone is all right.
But no one comes.
The minutes drag on. Ari starts to wonder if he should get up, if he should leave.
Mr. Rudra must not have known that he was up here, spying on the entire affair.
And suddenly he realizes that the man might be angry if Ari witnessed something he shouldn’t have, that he might turn the same wrath on Ari.
But he remains frozen in place. If he risks moving now, and Mr. Rudra emerges from the hall, he’ll see Ari.
So Ari stays where he is, until his legs start to cramp.
Finally, Mr. Rudra steps back through the black door and shuts it behind him, securing it with its lock.
As he goes, he brushes the wall again with his hand.
Ari glances over to see the wall that the man had transmuted earlier, sees it ripple now and shift back into wood and glass, the double doors returning to their original form as if they had never been erased at all.
Ari doesn’t dare make a sound. But as Mr. Rudra reaches the double doors, the man lifts his head and stares up at exactly where Ari is hiding.
Ari bites the inside of his lip so hard that he draws blood. A metallic tang fills his mouth. Still, he doesn’t move.
Mr. Rudra stares for a long moment, then looks casually away and pushes the double doors open. He disappears without a second glance, and at last, Ari is alone.
The next afternoon, Zan isn’t in their class. When Dominique asks about his absence, Isla just shakes her head.
“Zan won’t be joining us anymore,” she says.
There’s a brief silence. Dominique glances at Ari, then back down at her notebook.
“Why not?” Ari dares to ask.
Isla shrugs. “Some just aren’t cut out to be alchemists,” she says.
She doesn’t say more. Ari’s toes curl in his shoes. He searches Isla’s gaze for clues as to what had happened, but she just flips to a new section of their book and nods at Dominique.
“Now,” she says, “can anyone tell me the difference in geometry between lithium and sodium?”
Dominique answers, and the session settles into a state of normalcy. But Ari’s eyes continue to wander in the direction of the black door. He imagines Zan at the end of that corridor, in the lab room, standing in the center of the space, staring quietly at nothing.
After their session and study hours end, and Dominique has gone home with the setting sun, Ari catches Isla as she packs up her bag. He takes her by the wrist, tugging her gently to a narrow space between two stacks.
“Isla,” he says, dropping his voice, “tell me what happened to Zan. Please.”
She frowns at him. “I’ve already told you what you need to know.”
He shakes his head. “Look, I was here late last night. I was studying upstairs, and—” He pauses, wondering if it’s wise to tell her what he witnessed.
“I saw Mr. Rudra dragging Zan into the lab. He was sobbing. I’ve never seen anyone as scared as that.
He kept saying ‘Please,’ that he didn’t mean it. ”
Isla looks away without answering, her jaw tight.
“You know I won’t say a word,” he whispers.
She hesitates a moment longer. Finally, she looks back at him and sighs with her lips pressed together. “Zan was caught out at a party two nights ago,” she replies. “He was talking to a crewman from Grand Central.”
Ari’s words catch in his throat. “What was he doing?” he asks.
“Idle gossip,” she answers. “He was drunk. But he shared that he was a Lumines apprentice, along with some of what he’s recently learned.”
Ari swallows. “What happened to him?” he whispers.
Isla meets his gaze again. “Listen to me, Ari,” she says in a quiet voice.
“The rivalry between syndicates is not some kind of friendly game, and we take the leak of secrets very seriously. Grand Central is our enemy. When transgressions involve them, there will be no mercy from us. So let this be a lesson to you.”
When Ari doesn’t know what to say in response, Isla turns away and grabs her bag. She slings it over her shoulder. “Work hard and be diligent,” she says to him over her shoulder. “And watch your tongue in this city.”
Then she’s gone, and Ari is the only one left in the library.
Ari looks to the black door at the back of the rotunda.
Again, he tries to picture Zan still in there, imagines him standing there in the darkness, white-faced, blank-eyed.
He pictures his body lying limp in a chair, staring up at the ceiling, or his body sprawled across the floor, skin transmuted into the marble.
A shudder travels through his body, as if the ghosts that must haunt this study have just passed through him.
The idea that Mr. Rudra would just return him to Surat should he fail his training, that the worst that can happen would be for his family’s payments to be withheld—what a foolish, na?ve thought.
There is no alternative to becoming an alchemist. There is no walking out of here without earning a place in Lumines. And there is no guarantee that he won’t make a mistake like Zan did.
If he steps out of line, he won’t just end his apprenticeship. He will pay for it with his life.