Chapter Thirty-Seven Nore
Thirty-Seven
Nore
Nore ignored the feeling of the ancestors watching her as she strode toward the glittering lights and soft music emanating from the main house. Her stomach sloshed. She was close. If her plans proceeded as she hoped, she would have that Scroll tonight. She watched the time.
While back in her cottage, Nore had researched what the Immortality Scroll supposedly looked like. She pored over volumes of legend and lore, some by Caera Ambrose, the inaugural Headmistress of House of Ambrose, who discovered the Scroll. Caera had published the most information on the topic. But Nore also read writings from several other Ambrosers, some who doubted the Scroll existed at all. Many thought it was a myth, believing that, if such a thing did exist, it would be extraordinarily difficult to achieve. Jealousy often bred doubt. That didn’t worry her.
But there was one question in all her research that made her heart tremor.
Caera Ambrose discovered the secret to immortality and inked its instructions on the legendary Scroll. Their House held this secret for centuries, and yet there was not record of a single Headmistress ever trying to use it. It probably required the rarest elixirs, and strongest strains of magic. But literally no one had tried. When Mildred Ambrose died during childbirth, leaving no one to take over in her absence, her husband let the House pass on, out of their immediate family, instead. And during the early years of their House, when Caera’s great-grandchildren fought to the blood over an assumed illegitimate daughter, they allowed the leadership to pass to the next generation instead of resurrecting the woman. Or at least trying to.
The cost of using such magic must be high .
Nore swallowed. Darragh hadn’t expressed any reservations about what the Scroll’s magic would cost her. She just wanted the Scroll, and Nore was going to give it to her.
Tonight.
She checked the time again as she entered the large ballroom. The tables were adorned with royal-blue linens and copper-colored plates. Surprisingly, there was a single white flower at the center of each table. Onstage an Audior quartet played. Classical notes streamed from the magic at their fingertips like a symphony. Nore moved through the crowd and squeezed the crushed nixelweed petals in her pocket. Nixelweed was used by Retentors to expel digested magic by inducing a rapid succession of sneezes. It basically upset people’s seasonal allergies. But, for her purposes tonight, a little sneezing was all she needed.
Ellery was talking with Mr. Hargrove surrounded by an audience, all with cigars in hand, each wearing their own rendition of the drab gray suit. Nore spotted her mother, deep in conversation as well, with a familiar woman in a gray laced corset and a single pearl resting on the metal diadem arced above her head. Mrs. Hargrove caught her staring and waved her over. Nore’s throat went dry. Showtime. Please let this work.
“Mrs. Hargrove, a pleasure to see you again. Mother.” Nore curtsied, careful to hold her head painfully still so that her curled hair didn’t show her earrings. But her mother’s gaze was fixed on her ears.
“Nore,” Mrs. Hargrove greeted her warmly. “You look quite nice.” Her mother had sent over a simple gown made of rough linen fabric. A burlap ribbon lined its capped sleeves and another tied around her waist. She was fluffing her locks when her mother reached for her hair and pulled it behind her shoulder. Mrs. Hargrove’s eyes widened.
“You really have no respect,” her mother spit. “Here of all places.”
Isla snatched Nore’s hook earrings out of her ears before she could move. She clenched her fists. Yagrin gave her those! Mrs. Hargrove watched them while fiddling with the hem of her sleeve. Keeping up appearances was the opposite of what their House stood for. Public shame was welcomed.
Nore held her composure despite the biting pain in her earlobes. She was getting in that vault tonight. Nothing would ruin her plan. She pulled her fist out of her pocket, careful to keep her fingers tightly together. Nore waited until they began to chat again, as if she weren’t there. She brought her hand to her mouth and opened it ever so slightly. She blew a sharp burst of air through her fist. The petal dust trickled through the air, so fine it was hardly noticeable in the dim room. She held her breath. Her mother’s and Mrs. Hargrove’s noses wriggled.
“Oh, goodness. I— Achoo! ” Her mother’s sneeze flew out of her nose and into her gloved hands before she could open her purse for a handkerchief. Mrs. Hargrove sneezed as well, but Nore watched as her mother’s eyes squinted and watered. Her mother sneezed violently into her hands twice more before frantically apologizing.
Nore opened her hand. “Your gloves,” she said, offering to take both of theirs. She couldn’t be too considerate or Mother would suspect her. “I’ll get a fresh pair for both of you.”
“Such a mannerable young lady, Isla,” Mrs. Hargrove said, handing Nore her gloves. “You must be so proud.”
Her mother eyed Nore strangely.
“Any excuse to get out of here,” Nore said, low enough that only her mother would hear. Her mother snatched off her gloves and handed them to her. “Be quick. I’ve worked in the labs this afternoon for hours; my hands should not be exposed.”
Nore excused herself and carefully folded her mother’s gloves to preserve the palm, where her mother had made the most mess. She scanned for Ellery. He was occupied. But she darted over and pinched his arm gently.
“Talkative tonight, aren’t you?”
“No time to breathe.”
“You don’t have to go through with this.”
“I’m doing this. You’re the heir. I have to get power where I can.” He looked away.
She sighed, unsure how to take that, but remembered she had a timeline to keep. “Well, I pray to the Sovereign she is at least tolerable.” She pulled him aside. “I have what I need,” she whispered, dangling the folded gloves.
His nose scrunched in confusion.
“I’ve made a minor adjustment to the schedule for the evening,” their mother said. The audience began to whistle and applaud, their eyes moving to Ellery. Rumors spread fast. “My dear son has an announcement.”
The color drained from Ellery’s face. He tugged at his coat, pressed his shoulders back, and plastered on a smile before striding up to their mother. Nore fumed and found the door. She wasn’t watching this.
“Elena, where are you, darling?” Her brother’s voice boomed over the microphone. “Would you join me up here?” The crowd swooned as Nore exited the ballroom.
The hall of Discovery was empty. The long corridor that bridged the specialty labs and session wings was usually teeming with débutants, even despite the off Season. At Dlaminaugh, students were welcome to stay and study year-round. But tonight everyone was at the ball. The glass boxes in the corridor showcased relics with detailed inscriptions, each tied to some lesson or moral quandary that was discovered or studied by a débutante of their House. Nore waited, watching her wristwatch. And after what felt like forever, Darragh Marionne finally came around the corner.
“I’d worried you didn’t get my message.”
“Well, do you have it?” Darragh folded her arms, and Nore noticed the gray hair on her head had gone almost all white. She wore a dark traveling shawl over a long dress. “Your letter made it sound like you have it.”
Nore’s heart ticked faster. As if Darragh could read the panic on her face, she dangled a copy of Debs Daily. “I assume you saw this? If I die without that Scroll in my possession, the world will know your secret. The brotherhood will kill you for that poison in your veins even if it hasn’t matured.” Her chin rose. “You save both of us, or neither.”
“I will keep up my end of the bargain.” Nore pointed to the wall between two glass display cases. “That’s the family vault. I’m getting it now. We’re getting it now.”
She gestured for her to go on.
“Stay close.”
Nore ran her gloved hands along the seams of the walls, applying pressure to the spot where the wall seemed to dip, bowing in ever so slightly. She laid her gloved palm on that spot, and the surface heated, feeling hot even through the satin. She pushed against the wall. And its hardness softened.
She leaned with all her strength, and a seam in the wall split, opening to a hidden metal box of a room. She grabbed Darragh by the wrist and they hurried inside. The poorly lit vault, with its piles of chests and bins, was covered in dust. Urns, ornate vases, sculptures, and paintings were stacked, in no precise order, on shelves and on the floor. Nore scanned the vault. There was so much to take in: trinkets, jars, elixir vials. She didn’t see anything that looked like parchment.
When her eyes landed on a raised marble pedestal with a glass box on top, she gasped.
Inside was a thumping red organ. A heart.
She stumbled backward and bumped into Darragh, who was searching the room even more feverishly than she was.
“I don’t see it anywhere,” Nore said. But Darragh’s stare, too, landed on the beating heart. A storm of questions raged in Nore’s head. Beside the glass case was some kind of journal. She grabbed it and flipped open its cover, when her mother’s voice sent an icy chill into her bones.
“Don’t touch that!”
It was the first time Nore had felt her toushana flicker in a long time. As panic tried to take over, her mind sharpened like a laser. She slipped the journal into her pocket as her mother rushed past her, putting herself between them and the glass box. “Get out of here, right now .” Her mother was talking but Nore hardly heard her. The organ beating behind her…
“Mother—is that yours?”
Isla’s throat bobbed and Nore had her answer.
“ What did you do?”
“Shh.” She gazed around. “The ancestors.”
“What does this mean? Are you…dead?” She couldn’t believe her ears.
“I’m very much alive. But as long as I’m Headmistress, the ancestors require it.” She picked up the glass box and held it tightly to her body.
“ The Immortality Scroll ,” Darragh said.
Her mother looked at Darragh, bewildered, then at her.
“I’m looking for the Scroll, Mother.”
“There are records of people trying, for generations, to find where Caera Ambrose hid it.” Her mother’s voice cracked and it unsettled Nore. She’d never seen her this way. “You’ll never find it. “
“She’s lying,” Darragh said.
“I am not . Do you think if I had that Scroll, my heart would be in this box ?”
Nore wasn’t sure what that meant, but it didn’t sound good at all. Darragh stared daggers at Nore and she thought her heart would beat out of her chest.
“Nore, we had a deal,” Darragh said.
“What are you even doing here?” Isla asked. “The Dragunhead intends to have your head.”
“He can intend all he likes,” Darragh retorted. “When I found Nore hiding in the middle of nowhere, she was bruised and bloody. Draguns had ravaged wherever she was staying and were trying to find her. She saw me and all she could manage was a feeble ‘ Please help. ’?” Darragh straightened her collar. “Had you seen the value of protecting your family first, at any cost, as I advised, your daughter wouldn’t have run to me for help.”
Her mother snarled. “ Help? What help could you possibly give her? You’re a dead woman.”
“And yet the glory of this House is going to preserve my legacy.”
“Enough of this!” Isla raised her arm in the air, and only then did Nore realize she was wearing a purple Cultivator ring. Her mother twisted her wrist and balled her fist, then opened her palm. The air in her hand rippled, magic streaming from it. Her mother reached to touch the nearest wall. The room rumbled, the wall fracturing beneath her Shifter magic. Debris rained from overhead. Nore shoved Darragh aside before dashing out of the vault. When they spilled into the Hall of Discovery, the walls of the vault closed up with her mother still inside, holding the glass box and sobbing. She still had so many questions. But they had to wait until she found that Scroll.
Celebratory cheers rang in the distance; her brother’s party was still underway. Nore almost headed in that direction but a sour smell stilled her in her tracks. She peered down the hall and glimpsed dark shadows rising. The ancestors were inside the house. Her heart knocked into her ribs. She and Darragh ran, away from the ballroom. The shadows followed closely behind them. But when they reached the grass, then the expanse of lawn, and finally Nore’s porch, the ancestors fell back.
“Those spirits want you, child,” Darragh said. But Nore wasn’t listening. She was flipping furiously through the journal she had pocketed. Its pages were filled with crossed-out latitude and longitude coordinates, inked in various colors and various handwritings, all on paper that—if its yellowing was any indication—was very old. Beside each scratched-out coordinate were notes.
43.6971° N, 114.3517° W Ear ringing. Lots of blood. Didn’t make it far. (aud)
43.6807° N, 114.3637° W Got close. Skin started peeling away from bones. (anat)
Air changed quick. Got harder to breathe. Couldn’t shift it back. (shif)
From what Nore recalled of her House history and estate geography sessions, these coordinates all appeared to be within Ambrose territory. One coordinate was circled many times, in every color of ink. She pointed it out to Darragh, whose jaw clenched. Nore couldn’t read the woman’s expression, as she was too steeped in her own shock. But she could feel Darragh’s anger. The circled location had dozens of notes about the magical injuries people had suffered.
Nore flipped through the pages again, paying close attention to the annotations on the side. Aud for Audior. Anat for Anatomer. Each was a different type of magic, followed by symptoms or reactions. There are records of people trying to find where Caera Ambrose hid it for generations, her mother had said.
“Every single person who tried this had some kind of magic,” she told Darragh. Magic which seemed to backfire. Audiors transfigured sound, but their ears started ringing. A few Anatomers, who could transfigure bodily anatomy, had their skin start to peel away. Nore’s mind raced. She could do this. Because she didn’t have magic.
“I can figure this out. I can find the Scroll. The Dragunhead comes for you in five days. Give me three.”
“You’re the presumed heir. Getting away from here is that important to you?” Darragh asked.
“More than anything.” A thought struck Nore. “Are the rumors about your granddaughter true?” she asked.
“You wouldn’t ask if you didn’t already know.”
“Why not offer her the freedom you’re offering me?”
Darragh’s jaw ticked. “I offered her freedom of another kind. Our agreement comes with a steep price.”
“That you didn’t want her to pay…” The wind picked up outside. “You should get out of here, quickly. The ancestors are wary of outsiders.” She was growing certain they were wary of her , too. “So, we have a deal still?” she pressed.
Darragh tsk ed, refusing to take her hand. “I do hope your mother will be alright.”
Nore didn’t know what to say. She’d never seen her mother so shaken. “I am not thinking about her right now. I don’t fit her mold. I was never good enough for her.” The admission left Nore’s lips before she could stop it. She didn’t care what her mother thought. She didn’t want her mother’s approval. She didn’t care why her heart was in that box.
“The more I’ve seen in my life, the more I’ve realized that it’s the world that isn’t good enough for people like us. People who don’t fit the mold, as you say.” Darragh moved a rogue hair out of Nore’s face. “Some lose sight of that and destroy the things that matter most.”
Nore considered her earnest expression. In one evening, the woman had gone from the object of her blackmail to a partner in crime.
“Are you the villain everyone says you are?”
“You are always someone’s villain, Nore.” Darragh buttoned her traveling shawl. “I’ll give you until tomorrow. If you have nothing to show by then, I will go to my contact at Debs Daily with everything that’s happened here tonight. I have to protect my interests, and heat on Ambrose takes the heat off Marionne. I’m sure you understand.”
“You’ll have the Scroll by then.”