Chapter 23 #3
“An alchemical solution has been applied to the floorboards, while a different solution has been applied to the bottoms of the carts. Those solutions utilize naturally occurring minerals that have repellent properties in relation to each other. Those properties have been enhanced through the alchemical process, of course, so that they can hold the weight of the passengers. But they exist in nature.”
“Surely that isn’t purely a novelty?” Varrah said. “Nor is the elixir that makes that gentleman’s flesh impervious?”
“There are certainly larger-scale applications,” I allowed. “But they’re still in the developmental phase. These are all novelty versions of things the Alchemary is working on for other…reasons.” According to what Desmond had told me, anyway. “You’ll study the ‘levitation’ phenomenon next fall.”
Which I knew because I’d just begun re-creating the experiments I’d worked on during my own Proficiency classes, having finally remastered the Fundamentals level.
I shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe someday I’ll be able to ‘levitate’ all the way to Innswood, to visit my family!”
While Varrah watched children being tugged around on levitating wheelless carts, my gaze wandered, and I caught sight of Wilder behind one of the booths. As I watched, he handed what appeared to be several of his distinctive vials to a vendor, who gave him a handful of coins in return.
“I can’t wait for the fireworks,” Varrah declared, tugging me along the path again as she folded her empty wax paper packet and slid it into her pocket. “I’ve never seen—”
Her voice faded, and I followed her gaze toward the edge of quadrangle nearest the Refectory, where a new booth had been set up.
Or rather, a plain wooden table. Behind it stood Martyn and Varrah’s cousin, Erikka.
“Whatever are they doing?” Varrah frowned, and we watched from several yards away as my stepfather dug a scoop of small, powder-coated balls from a lined basket on the table and gave them to a student in a wax paper packet.
Varrah gasped. “Kokos!” She turned to me, eyes alight. “They’re selling kokos!”
“No…” I said as understanding dawned in my soul like the warmth of a candle’s flame. “They’re giving them away.”
We rushed toward the booth, where a small crowd had formed. Varrah joined in to help her cousin give away packets of the small balls of fried dough—they’d made two varieties—while I pulled Martyn aside for an explanation.
He grinned. “I figured Erikka might be willing to show me how to make your father’s elusive international treat, and that she might further like to introduce a taste of her culture to the Alchemary. On her young cousin’s behalf.”
“They’re called kokos,” Varrah explained from my left to a classmate whose eyes had nearly rolled back into her skull with her first bite. “This one is my favorite. It’s filled with pear jam.”
“This is the one your father described,” Martyn said, handing me a packet full of the little fried balls.
“Stuffed with cherry and a sweet cream made from goat’s milk, rolled in fine-ground sugar and…
” He shrugged. “Well, we didn’t have access to the specific spice, but Erikka insists that anise is very close. Try one!”
He practically shoved one of the little spheres into my mouth.
I bit into the pastry, and an explosion of sweet, tart, creamy, and bitter flavors burst over my tongue. The sugar had crystallized, and I found the texture quite pleasing.
“It’s delicious,” I agreed.
“Do you think your father will like it?”
“I think the poor man will grow round and jolly from your efforts!” I assured him.
Martyn beamed. “I hope they survive the three-day carriage ride. But if they don’t, I now know how to make more!”
“How did you do this?” I asked, plucking another kokos from the packet.
He gave me another humble shrug. “We begged some space and supplies of the Refectory staff and promised to share the recipe. A very pleasant woman in a brown apron was willing to oblige, since we promised to clean up after ourselves.” He smiled. “She got the first taste.”
The provincial donuts were a hit, and I was thrilled to see no fewer than three of Varrah’s classmates gathered around her, asking for details on variations.
Martyn and I retreated to watch Varrah and Erikka enjoying their moment. “You’re a very sweet old man,” I said as I wound my arm through his.
“I am two years younger than your father, I’ll remind you,” he said with a laugh.
“A fact you never allow him to—”
A cry from the crowd spun me around, cutting me off in mid-sentence, but it wasn’t coming from the kokos booth.
“Something’s wrong with her!” an unfamiliar voice shouted, and I followed the sound to see a student I recognized from the Proficiency cohort trembling in a near panic next to a woman who could only be his mother.
She stood, eerily still on one of the winding cobblestone pathways, staring into the distance as if she couldn’t see her son, though his face hovered mere inches from hers. “She won’t move! She will not speak!”
And as the setting sun shone on the poor woman’s face— literally as I watched—her skin began to sparkle with an odd metallic tint. Not gold or copper, but…
I pressed my way through the crowd until I could almost see her clearly, just as two soldiers posted at the Alchemary arrived and blocked my view.
Just as the Bluehelm, and Desmond, and a couple of his researcher colleagues—including the woman with the severe blond bun—appeared at the front of the crowd and began to whisper frantically to one another.
Cressa stood at the Bluehelm’s elbow, scribbling furiously on her wax tablet.
When some movement parted the crowd, I could see the woman again. …
Bronze. That was the hue of the poor woman’s flesh. Not the naturally occurring bronze that some skin has, but a true bronze. A metallic tone.
I could not hear what the researchers were saying, but one word buzzed up from the crowd at large, as the soldiers lifted the woman bodily and carried her toward the infirmary.
Aurum.