Chapter 18

“My plan to expand our borders has been a success. The second peak has been crested and proves to show vast potential for soil cultivation. Pine trees already thrive there. I believe it can be populated within the coming years.”

King Kelon, 5th king of Callanth, page 88 of the compendium.

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We don’t talk during the lunch rush. As soon as those first taps on the window sounded, we assumed our roles of Nex ladling while I served and left what happened in the storm within the boundaries of our own minds. But that doesn’t mean my hands don’t still shake every time I bring a bowl to the cutting table. Nex doesn’t comment on it. And I don’t bring up the dead stare he levels at the broth.

The sun travels across the sky and a cone of copper light limning the metal pots and pans in the kitchen announces the end of the lunch hour.

I can see the end of the line of customers, when I find it within myself to drag my attention away from our training. “Last night, when you asked how well I could lie, why did you ask?” My throat feels raw, but talking lifts some of the pressure in my head.

Nex shakes away his stupor, but doesn’t look at me. “Well, because we need information. Historical information. And while Sulien’s laboratory is stacked with it, I don’t think we’ll find anything remotely accurate.”

I grab another bowl from the window and return with it to the table. “Accurate?”

“Accurate. The histories in the laboratory tomes have been watered down, diluted over the years to make it easier to categorize and decipher. No point in pilfering through pages upon pages of old ramblings when the details have been rewritten. There’s only one book that has not been rewritten. Ever.”

I know the answer before he finishes ladling broth into the bowl. “The compendium.”

I quickly return the bowl and stalk back with a new empty one. “But if the laboratory tomes have been summarized, wouldn’t that still hold the information we need? It still holds the histories.”

“The general summaries. Not the details. The specifics. Which is what we need.” He ladles the broth, but I don’t grab the bowl. His implication hits me.

“You want to steal the compendium again?” I whisper firmly.

Nex finally looks at me, the dead blanket lifted from his eyes. “Stars, no, relax. I’m merely suggesting we read it and take notes.”

I grab the bowl, return it, then stomp back with two more. “You’re not supposed to take notes on anything from the compendium. All information on those pages is meant to remain in that room with the compendium,” I hiss, aware of the open window with five more eager customers waiting.

“Which is why I asked how well you’re able to lie.” The slightest glint returns to his eyes.

I practically run the bowls back to the window and return with another.

“You want us to study the compendium, write down what we find, and pawn it off as information we got from the laboratory tomes?”

Nex leans in, that infuriating smirk pulling a mischievous air between us. “Breaking a little rule could yield a great reward.”

I slow my pace when I bring the filled bowl to the window, chewing on his suggestion. By the time I reach the cutting table with another bowl, I’ve made up my mind. “No. We have the crack on the mountain to research.”

Nex leans in even closer, as if he expected my reply. “The sooner we find a plausible theory that satisfies Sulien’s requirements, the sooner you can start your own research.”

I snort at him. I’m already breaking too many rules. “Dangling temptation in front of me won’t change my mind.” It’s true, but he doesn’t need to know that I think about the prospect of officially starting my own research for the rest of the lunch rush. Even when I turn him down once more, effectively ending the discussion.

***

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If the condition of the laboratory is any reflection of the state of Sulien’s mind, then I’m concerned. Beside the three dry sandwiches I noted yesterday, sits three more now, equally dry, only a couple of bites missing. Crumbled balls of paper pepper the floor in addition to the tomes unceremoniously dismissed on tables and floor alike. The air thick and stale like the door hasn’t been opened all day. Hunched over another map, I can see how Sulien’s beard is no longer neatly kept and gathered in metal ringlets. It stands out in tufts like he’s been tugging at it. The white hair on his head is in no better condition.

I cautiously step off the threshold and into the laboratory, up to the table like I’m stepping onto unstable ground.

“High Chemist Sulien?” I prompt.

He hasn’t even acknowledged let alone looked up from the map that demands such attention. His eyes are practically stuck to the—

A booming slam rattles the bookcases. Tomes rock off their shelves, threatening to fall. I spin around, towards the sound, towards—

“You really should have those hinges tightened,” Nex notes while brushing dust off his shoulder. “Wouldn’t want to interrupt busy Chemists with slamming doors.” A smirk. Half irreverent humor, half shallow politeness. And it makes me want to slam the door into his face. Repeatedly.

“For what it’s worth,” Sulien grumbles from behind me. “That door is exceedingly heavy. It would take quite a force to shake my laboratory.”

“Or intention,” I mutter, enunciated enough for Nex to read my lips. To his credit or near demise, Nex dismisses me like a stubborn insect and joins me at the table while stuffing something into his pocket.

At least Sulien greets me with tired but alert eyes once I turn around.

“I apologize for the disorganization. I’ve been doing my own research and it’s been… less than fruitful.” Sulien rubs the bridge of his hooked nose. “I am regretfully aware that this was not the apprenticeship I promised you, Ryn. But I am grateful for your willingness to at least humor me in this.”

Nex rolls his eyes. I elbow him.

“We actually have been able to locate a significant crack in the side of the mountain,” I start, marking a glint of recognition in his eye that spurs me on. “Without taking any measurements, I can’t be certain, but it looked deep enough that it must’ve been caused by the tremors,” I relay, gesturing to the general area of the map where I believe the crack to be. “We plan to—”

“Excellent,” Sulien murmurs to the map. “I’ll need every bit of your research compiled and annotated. As soon as you have a plausible theory developed. Not a moment sooner. Not a moment later.”

Abruptly and certainly uncharacteristically, he rolls up the layers of maps of what appears to be mountains from various angles. He shimmies around the table and darts towards the door. The six dry sandwiches left behind. The discarded tomes abandoned. Nex and I left confused.

Sulien doesn’t look back when he pushes open the door with his shoulder, long, yellow rolls of map tucked under his arm.

“I’ll be sure to have the hinges serviced, Nex Avenell. Wouldn’t want anyone breaking the door trying to acquire someone’s attention.” He was gone before the last note of his sardonic words rang out, the door snickering shut.

I’m left with less than a complete conversation between us, but a new assignment was somehow thrust upon us without a second thought. I loose a breath as I take in the laboratory again. Such a vivid line of difference between the nearly ethereal vision the laboratory had displayed that first day and the battle ground before me. But it’s the building pressure within me, the coiling of my nerves, that demands my attention. A fiery knot fills my throat. My hands fist, grasping for control. My right twitches.

I was supposed to find a solution. Find my rescue. But I’m just as trapped as before. I don’t have time. Maven is wrong. I don’t have time. I DON’T HAVE TIME.

The laboratory fades into thick shadows. Something fractures inside me.

Tap, tap, tap.

Pebbles— no, boulders pound against my mind, my glass box cracking like thin ice. My breaths are shallow. My lungs already burning, but with more. More frustration. More anger. More hopelessness. Oxygen isn’t enough. My lungs are screaming for release. I want to scream—

A tug on my hair nearly unravels me. As curt as a pinch, but subtle like a request.

My head snaps to Nex, my head swimming from the motion. His bare fingers are still wrapped around a dark lock of my hair.

“You mumble when you think too hard.” His tone is marked by easy lightness, his expression drawn but open. “Cleaning helps with that.”

To emphasize, he drops his hand from my hair after draping it in front of my shoulder, then crouches down to gather the deserted tomes on the floor.

I blink at him efficiently stacking the tomes and standing to return them to their shelves. My throat is still crowded with panic, my lungs gasping for something air can’t sate. But the pounding in my head dulls to taps again. Much like the slam of the door had jerked Sulien out of his trance, the unexpected tug of my hair had pulled me back from an edge I wasn’t ready to step off of.

Stiffly, I match his movements, if only to tear myself from my mind. It’s tedious work cleaning the laboratory, but it parallels what I need. I collect the crumbled paper balls and tidy the metal quills strewn across the tables while organizing my thoughts. Separating my feelings from those thoughts requires more.

Nex doesn’t remark on whatever he had heard or on Sulien’s sudden departure. He doesn’t require the lull of conversation to keep him entertained. The silence he offers is packaged with no expectation or promise. I pensively take note of how he takes unnecessary care to organize the tomes on the shelves, giving me time.

How does he do it? So perfectly in control of every intonation and cadence. Effortlessly maneuvering the storm and maneuvering me, while I feel absolutely out of control.

The frost-kissed wind pushes against the window, the sound cushioning my consuming diffidence. It’s almost enough to distract from the now bent and misshapen metal quill still clenched in my right hand.