Page 27
Story: A Forbidden Alchemy
Theo cleared his throat beside me, then gave me a look of warning. I resisted the urge to stick out my tongue.
Our third year had brought about a change in him. He was much taller, his shoulders broader. Hair was beginning to spout along his chin and upper lip. I enjoyed teasing him about it whenever I could, which was often. Thanks to Professor Dumley’s continued interest in us, we were regularly together in this drawing room, or on excursions out into the wider city to seek our mediums.
Dumley’s eyes slipped to the newspaper for the briefest of moments.“Oh, not at all,” he muttered, collecting the pages and then setting them aflame in his hand. The fire never seemed to burn him.
I watched the cinders with a frown. “But surely, they must be taking the Miners Union seriously now?”
Theo scoffed. “You worry too much, Clarke. Father says Tanner will eventually throw a bunch of money their way, and they’ll wander back to their pits and dig up more terranium.” He made it sound as though they were rats rummaging for crumbs.
“In any case,” he continued, “there’ll be no need for unions unless they find more Alchemists. Soon, we’ll all be a bunch of Crafters.”
“Now, now,” Professor Dumley interjected. “This is hardly talk for the classroom, is it?” Never mind that his classroom consisted of a tea set and a life-size painting of a naked woman.
“I have a surprise for you both today,” Dumley went on. “You see, I received a small scribble this morning from someone most esteemed!”
A knock came, and before Professor Dumley could move toward the doors, they opened, and in strode Lord Tanner himself, smile widening, jowls quivering.
My lunch made itself known, bubbling into my throat.
“My lord,” Theo said, bowing his head in the proper way.
The man was taller than I remembered him. More robust. Less a receptacle of power and more a mountain of it. The drawing room seemed somehow smaller, less grand.
He said, “Dumley. How are you?” without looking at him. He bared his teeth in a grin, staring at me with a pincerlike gaze as he shook Theo’s hand.
He knows what you are, I thought, and I had the urge to bolt from the room.
“Please excuse Miss Clarke,” Professor Dumley said now, eyeing me pleadingly. “I quite underprepared her for your arrival, my lord. She forgets herself.”
It was only then that I remembered I should be standing, curtsying, chiming a greeting.
“Apologies,” I muttered, tripping on my skirt as I stood and curtsying awkwardly for the first time in my life.
“Probably the heat,” Lord Tanner said, nodding his head to me. “Lord almighty, but it isstiflingin here, Dumley. I’m sure the devil keeps his drawing room cooler than this.”
Dumley snapped his fingers with a flourish, and the fire in the hearth extinguished. “I barely feel it anymore,” he said gaily. “I fear I’ve become rather cold-blooded with age. Tea, my lord?”
“Milk and sugar, if you don’t mind.” And he took Dumley’s usual seat, opposite my own. He seemed to envelop its frame. As Dumley hummed serenely, making the tea, Tanner crossed his legs and leaned back with a strange grace, continuing to stare.
I felt horridly peculiar.
“You’ll be pleased to hear, my lord, that Miss Clarke and Mr. Shop have made tremendous progress this past month alone,” Dumley offered, passing Tanner a teacup without minding the slosh of its insides. “We have great fun, don’t we, children? Why, Nina and I just yesterday ventured to the wheat farms just outside the city and tilled an entire field within an hour!”
Lord Tanner said, “Well, now. That’s something.” But his interest was clearly feigned.
“And Mr. Shop’s abilities already supersede those of our sixth-year water Charmers!”
“His father will be rapturous,” Lord Tanner said. “Not a day goes by that Lord Shop does not remind me of his brilliant son.”
Theo smiled weakly. “That’s very kind, sir.”
“I suppose you’d like to see it for yourself!” Dumley exclaimed, bouncing off his seat. “We could—”
But Lord Tanner held up a hand. “In a moment, Dumley. My visit today shall be a short one. I don’t wish to steal these two from their studies.” He drained his absurdly small cup and placed it down, smacking his lips. I felt as though his eyes were peeling back my skin.
“I’m sure, given all the chatter about town, that the two of you have heard mentioned the founding of a union, led by a mob of angry Craftsmen.”
I went still. I’d never heard any professor or even Aunt Francis bring up the strike action in the brink. Indeed, it seemed they were determined to ignore it altogether. As though admitting its existence would make it so.
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