Give the Dark My Love(13)

Master Ostrum held the rock up for the class to see. “Silver is for transformations,” he said, dropping the granite lump into the large silver crucible. He held his palms around the vessel and spoke the runes for transformation. Symbols engraved into the metal illuminated.

Master Ostrum reached inside the crucible, groping around for a bit before pulling out out a large gray rat. We had all known what was coming; Master Ostrum’s demonstration was infamous on campus. But still—to see a rock turned into a rat—the entire class craned forward to watch the delicate, almost transparent whiskers twitching as the rat’s little pink nose sniffed the air curiously.

“And finally, gold.” As Master Ostrum dropped the rat into the golden crucible, it hissed in protest, then squeaked and scratched at the sides.

I recalled my theoretical alchemical textbooks from our previous semester. Silver crucibles could temporarily transform any object into another object, but if the exchange wasn’t equal—like, say, that of a rock into a living creature—then the transformation wasn’t “true.” Master Ostrum’s rat would turn back to stone soon enough.

“Can I have a volunteer?” Master Ostrum wore a smirk on his face—a clue to every single student to keep their hands firmly on their desks or in their laps. We knew better than to knock at a demon’s door.

But the new girl didn’t.

She lifted her hand. Several of the students behind her snickered, and Tomus bit back a laugh. I wanted to reach over and pull her arm back down, but I knew I couldn’t, and besides, Master Ostrum had already seen her.

He motioned for her to join him at the front of the class, and she made her way to the podium. “This,” he said, turning her around by the shoulders so she was facing the class, “is Nedra Brysstain. Nedra is a new student at Yūgen, here on a scholarship.” The room erupted in whispers, but they were short-lived as Master Ostrum cocked his head and raised his eyebrow. His eyes rested on me. “Greggori Astor, she’ll be sharing your evening session time slot.”

He waited for me to protest. Tomus turned to me, his eyes bulging. He wanted me to refuse—to make a scene. As one of Yūgen’s top students, it was well within my rights to demand the time owed me by my master.

I didn’t look at Master Ostrum, though. My eyes were on the girl. Nedra. She was like a jeweled dagger—beautiful but perfectly poised to cut. I couldn’t help but notice the determined and defiant look in her eyes. She was clearly from a country village in the north—a scholarship girl in unfashionable clothes, probably handmade. Her sun-kissed skin spoke of laboring outdoors, and I could see an outline of muscle beneath her sleeves that supported that theory. But the way her chin was set, her back straight—she looked ready to take on the entire world by any means necessary.

“Yes, sir,” I told Master Ostrum.

Tomus made a noise deep in his throat, disdain meant only for me.

“So, where were we?” Master Ostrum indicated the third crucible. “Gold is for transferal, and it’s primarily used for medical purposes. It can transfer pain or even healing properties from one body to another. My dear?” He motioned for Nedra to give him her hand. She did.

And he sliced her palm open with a knife.

Nedra hissed in pain and slapped her other hand over the wound as blood leaked between her fingers.

I leaned forward, feeling rage on her behalf, even though I had suspected what was coming. The students behind me muttered in anticipation. They didn’t care about Nedra; they were just excited to witness medicinal alchemy at work. I couldn’t take my eyes off Nedra, though. After her one shocked outburst, her lips had clamped shut, and she didn’t say another word. Her eyes, however, contained all of the fury she didn’t dare speak.

“Here, my dear,” Master Ostrum said, his tone light. He pried Nedra’s fingers away and covered the cut with his own hand, keeping one palm on the gold crucible with the rat inside it. He muttered another incantation, and again the runes lit up on the golden vessel. Inside, the rat feverishly scratched the metal, trying to escape as Nedra’s pain slid from her cut into its body. The rat’s squeaking intensified, getting desperate and higher pitched.

And then, a clatter—the sound of stone hitting metal. Master Ostrum sighed, picking up the crucible and turning it upside down. The rock—now rat-shaped—fell onto the desk. “Using a silver crucible to transform an inanimate object into a living one never lasts,” he said sadly. “The pain was too great for the creature. But you feel fine, yes, dear?” he asked Nedra.

Nedra held her hand out in front of her, staring at the long cut. “I feel fine,” she repeated, a hint of wonder in her voice. But when she squeezed her hand into a fist, blood still leaked from between her fingers. “But I’m not healed,” she added.

“Let that be your first lesson,” Master Ostrum said. “Pain can transfer, but not the wound.”





SEVEN


    Nedra



No one gave a damn that I was on the floor and bleeding.

I ripped a page from my notebook and clenched it, hoping the porous paper would at least help stanch the cut on my palm. I used my fist to hold my notebook down on the floor and bent over it, determined to continue taking notes.

Master Ostrum carried on with his lecture, concluding with a summary of available lectures for the day and their locations.