Chapter 14
Fourteen
As I pass the tapestry that shows Signy facing the emperor’s army, I can’t help shooting her exalted figure a wistful glance. Conquering grave wrongs must be a damned sight easier when you’ve got the full host of godlen gazing down on you with their blessings.
Of course, I’m not sure we’d want to alert our divine overseers to the trouble we’re facing right now. Who’s to say they’d help us in our quest rather than decide the scourge sorcerers have already gone too far and it’s time to rain down godly retribution?
As I reach for the sconce, I drop my voice to a murmur. “Are you sure he’ll be down there now? And he won’t mind me showing up an hour early?”
Julita laughs. Alek would live his whole life in the archives if he could get away with it. I often arrived early to get a more detailed account of the latest discoveries he unearthed.
That answer doesn’t exactly answer my second question, because I’m not Julita. But maybe she can’t conceive of the encounter going differently than it would have for her.
The shadowy passage opens, and I step into it and down the stairs.
The questions I have for Alek aren’t ones I want to ask in front of the other men, especially under Stavros’s suspicious gaze.
When I mentioned to Julita that there was something I’d like to discuss with him before bringing it to the main group, she encouraged me to arrive at the next meeting of our little cabal before it officially started.
The masked scholar has acted awfully wary of me himself, as much as he might want to preserve Julita’s presence. But he’s clearly the one to ask about archaic knowledge that wouldn’t have come up in Stavros’s military training or the gossip of patrons and classmates.
If the scholar can point me to the information I need, it’ll be worth any awkwardness that comes from imposing on him.
It’ll be easier if I know more about him—to avoid sticking my foot in my mouth.
As I descend through the darkness, I pitch my voice even lower. “What’s the story with his mask? Why does he wear it?”
Julita makes a pensive sound. I’ve never seen him without it.
It’s not the sort of thing it’s polite to pry about, but I gather that he’s hiding some sort of ugliness about his face—a deformity or a scar or the like.
She lets out another light laugh. So obsessed with facts and knowledge and yet so concerned about appearances too.
My skin itches at the slight mocking edge to her tone. If Alek is hiding some unfortunate feature, I can’t help thinking it’s at least as much about his fellow students’ concerns about appearances as about his own.
Having experienced the attitudes around here, I can’t say I’d blame him for wanting whatever kind of shield he can get against their judgments.
I can’t ask anything else, because with my next step, I slip from the magical passage into the room. My formal slippers rasp against the stone floor, and Alek startles where he was bowed over a thick book at the desk.
When he sees it’s me, his stance goes even more stiff. He swipes at his thick black hair and pins me with the piercing gaze that’s turned totally cold again. “What are you doing down here? We’re not due to meet for another hour.”
I splay my hands in an apologetic gesture. “I know. I’m sorry to interrupt. I had a possibility I wanted to pursue before I’m sure it’s worth bringing up with everyone, something I thought might have come up in your research. Julita said you’re often down here ahead of time.”
The set of Alek’s mouth softens at the mention of Julita. His bright brown eyes flick downward and then back up to meet mine again with a different sort of intensity. “Is she… okay? I mean, as much as a person could be, when…”
He makes a vague gesture to encompass the ridiculous situation she and I have found ourselves in.
Even though I don’t really know this man, even though he probably considers me as much of a street rat as Stavros does, the question brings a lump into my throat.
He might be a haughty noble like the rest of them, but he’s still human.
And I know what it’s like to lose someone you care about.
“She seems to be doing all right, considering,” I say lightly. “She definitely has plenty to contribute. What do you think, Julita? How are you holding up?”
Well, I’d obviously prefer not being dead, but you do keep things interesting. I’d rather be stuck with you than some vapid priss like Anya.
My lips quirk into a crooked smile. “She finds me an entertaining host.”
Alek blinks and then gives himself a bit of a shake as if gathering his thoughts. “It wouldn’t do for her to be bored, I suppose. What’s the possibility you wanted to look into?”
I have to tread carefully here, making sure that my reasoning sounds logical even though it’s not the real reason I’m asking.
“I was wondering about methods of magical suppression. If there are any records or stories of procedures or materials that might dampen unearthly power. Maybe there’s some way we could make it more difficult for the sorcerers to carry out their evil intent while we’re working on proving who they are. ”
Alek rubs his bronze-brown jaw, his gaze going distant. “Magical suppression. With the riven sorcerers, the authorities rely on general sedatives to ensure they can’t work their powers, but we can hardly have the entire college in a stupor.”
I manage to stop my smile from tightening. “Obviously. I was hoping there might be a subtler method we could try.”
Or at least, that I could try, to get a better grip on the power writhing inside me. After yesterday’s fit of agony over a simple glare, tamping it down feels significantly more urgent than ever before.
The authorities haven’t found any method that would remove the threat of a riven sorcerer’s power completely while leaving them reasonably conscious, but I’ll settle for taking the edge off if I can get that much.
“There is something that might be relevant, though I can’t remember how much detail the records include…” Alek moves toward the door set between two of the many shelves and then hesitates. His body tenses for a moment before he glances my way.
“You may as well come too. We’ll be looking for books on pre-empire history, but the organization down here isn’t ideal.”
I follow him through the door into another archive room, this one at least three times as large as the one we left.
Bookcases and open shelving units stretch out in every direction, stacked with leather- and canvas-bound volumes, sheafs of unbound paper, and wax-sealed scrolls.
Even the settee squatting amid the maze has several books scattered across its faded cushions.
My jaw goes a bit slack, taking it all in. The tang of ancient ink and paper floods my lungs, almost as comforting as stable scents.
I suppress the urge to embrace one of the rows of books and gulp the smell down even more fully. “Wow. And this is what the scholar division doesn’t think is important enough to keep in the main library?”
Alek watches my reaction with an expression that might be bemused, though it’s hard to tell with so much of his face hidden behind the mask.
“We’ve accumulated a lot of texts over the centuries.
Some of the collection is prioritized based on our current academic focus.
When it comes to historical events, the royal family prefers that students concentrate on the period starting with the overthrowing of the empire. ”
I restrain a snort. “Let us not dwell on our failures, only our victories. Somehow I’m not surprised.”
I take a few steps along one of the shelves, trailing my fingers over the spines of the books. Only a light sprinkling of dust scatters their covers, suggesting that this room is accessed fairly often—or the scholarship division makes a point of regularly cleaning their archives.
Alek strides on ahead of me, scanning the books with a stricter air.
“I checked every account I can find of the gifts of the current students—and staff. There are several Jurnus dedicats in the leadership division and a couple in companionship with weather-associated magic, but mostly along the lines of summoning rain or ensuring a sunny day rather than anything to do with wind.”
I frown. “I suppose we should look into their recent activities anyway.”
He nods. “I’ve already begun. So far it appears most if not all of them were on the campus at the time of Julita’s murder, but I’ll ask Benedikt and Casimir to see what they can find out about those who didn’t have classes.”
He’s certainly thorough in his work—I’ll give him that.
I glance back at the shelf, and my hand stalls on a line of familiar embossed type. I yank out the slim volume. “The first book of Gisela Luvinya’s Traveling Diaries. I’ve never been able to find it.”
Alek’s tone turns skeptical. “How do you even know about it, then?”
“Oh, I found the second buried in the stash where I ended up staying… before I became a fake noble. She’s constantly referencing previous adventures but only in the vaguest terms that just make you want the damn book more.”
Alek shrugs. “I suppose you could borrow it. I doubt it’d be missed any time soon.”
“Really?” I press the book to my chest instinctively, as if afraid he’ll change his mind and wrench it away. Which is silly, because we both have more important things to worry about than fifty-year-old travelogues.
A hint of a smile touches Alek’s stern face. “It might as well be appreciated by someone.”
He pauses. “How is it you learned to read well at all? I was under the impression letters weren’t widely taught in the outer wards, beyond the basics.”
My delight at finding the book fades. The less I talk about where I came from, the better for both of us.
“My parents were readers,” I say briskly. “They saw that we—that I could follow in their footsteps.”
Until they no longer wanted me to. But by then I had enough to continue my education on my own.