Give the Dark My Love(15)

“You’re from the north, right?” Salis asked. When I nodded, she smiled. “Your accent gives you away. Well, you’re welcome to join us. First meeting’s tomorrow at six chimes. We’re studying Wellebourne now.”

My eyes went involuntarily to the library door and, beyond that, the ruined statue of Bennum Wellebourne in the courtyard.

“We like to focus on relevant history,” Salis continued.

I wasn’t sure how relevant Wellebourne would be; his rebellion was almost two centuries old. But he would certainly be a more exciting subject than whatever Professor Newmas had planned. Wellebourne was reviled—and with good cause—but his use of dark, forbidden alchemy in his battles would make him an infinitely more interesting subject.



* * *



? ? ?

The library closed at seven chimes—lucky for me, as I’d forgotten about my nightly meeting with my master. The bell behind the massive clock in the administration building started tolling minutes after the librarian kicked me out of the stacks. I took off at a run and threw myself into Master Ostrum’s office just as the last bell silenced.

“Nedra,” Master Ostrum said by way of greeting, motioning toward an empty chair across from his desk. Beside it, Greggori had already taken a seat.

“Where were you?” Greggori asked under his breath as Master Ostrum turned to close the small door behind his desk. I craned forward, trying to see beyond our master. It wasn’t a closet, as I’d assumed before—it seemed to be some sort of laboratory.

When Master Ostrum noticed me watching him, he turned the lock on the door with an audible click.

“Greggori was about to tell me of the lectures he sat through today,” Master Ostrum said. “We will conduct our interview first, so that you can know what to expect.” He turned to Greggori. “What have you learned today?”

Greggori squared his shoulders, looking directly at Master Ostrum even though the professor kept his attention on the paper where he was, presumably, assessing Greggori. Greggori rattled off the facts and figures he’d learned in history, linking it to some of the things our first lecturer taught during humanities. He finished his monologue by reciting a sonnet about love and time.

With every word, I felt my heart rate climb. This was so beyond what I was used to in the village school.

Master Ostrum turned to me. “And you, Nedra? What did you learn today?”

My mouth was too dry. I could feel Greggori’s eyes on me, waiting. “I—” I started. I dropped my voice. “Can I give my report alone?” I asked. If I had to prove how much a fool I was, it would be better if I didn’t have an audience.

Greggori shifted to pick up his bag, but Master Ostrum stopped him with a look. “No,” he said simply. “Give your report, Brysstain.”

I took a deep breath. I described the humanities and history lecture, but I had nothing really to add beyond what Greggori had already said. I hesitated.

“That’s all?” Master Ostrum said. His tone was neutral, but I could tell he was disappointed in me. “You went to two lectures and then simply quit?”

“No!” I said, straightening my shoulders. “I—went to the library.”

“The library,” he repeated, his voice flat.

I nodded. “I wanted to . . .” I kept my focus on my master and tried to block out Greggori’s presence from my mind. “I was aware that I was behind the other students. I wanted to try to catch up.”

Master Ostrum leaned back in his chair. “And what did you learn?”

I stared at my hands, twisting in my lap. “I’m not here for poetry,” I said in a small voice.

“What?” Master Ostrum asked.

My eyes flicked to Greggori, then to the master. “I’m not here for poetry,” I said, louder. “I took the list of all the lecture topics you gave us this morning, and looked up a bit of each. And—” I swallowed down the lump in my throat. “And I didn’t see the point,” I mumbled. Greggori sucked in a breath at my audacity.

“You didn’t see the point.” Master Ostrum stated the words bluntly.

I shook my head, my gaze dropping again. “No, sir.”

“So that’s what you did in the library?” he asked. “Used books to determine the curriculum at Yūgen isn’t good enough for you?”

“No,” I said again, careful to keep my tone even. “I came here to study medicinal alchemy. So that’s what I did.”

“Really?” Master Ostrum drew the word out, his doubt dripping off of each syllable like honey.

“Yes,” I insisted. “Specifically the Wasting Death. Even though yesterday you said that the Wasting Death only infected people who were unhygienic, you’re wrong.”

Unhygienic. The word tasted sour in my mouth. I hadn’t realized how much it had bothered me until now, but I didn’t regret speaking. Master Ostrum had been wrong.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Greggori’s mouth drop open. I scrambled to make my words politer, more acceptable. “You don’t know what it’s like to be in a northern village. We may be poor, but we’re clean,” I said. This wasn’t enough to sway him, I could tell. I added quickly, “And I found records of similar diseases in other nations, from the more remote areas of the Empire.”