Page 56

“Well, my dear Emmy,” Edmund said, “shall we get started on this assignment of ours?”

Emmeline stood and took her brother’s arm with an adoring smile. She seemed genuinely pleased to be working with her brother, as though there might even have been a doubt that the twins would choose one another for this assignment. The serenity with which the twins left the Palissy Auditorium did nothing but remind Fern of how much she was dreading this task.

She turned swiftly to Dr Essouadi, who was also readying herself to leave. “Dr Essouadi, I was wondering if you might consider working with me for this assignment?”

The doctor turned and took Fern’s elbow in her hand, shaking her head.

“Ah, a kind offer, Miss Sullivan, and I’m so sorry, but I’ll be working with Ravi.”

The pyromancer had beaten her to the doctor; she should have predicted it.

The two were closest in age and experience, and beyond that, they would make an impressive pair, pooling together an extraordinary amount of talent and knowledge. Fern hastily thanked the doctor, and turned her head to sweep the room with a look, wishing desperately Josefa was still here.

She caught sight of Vittoria Orsini preceding Baudet out of the auditorium, her long skirts trailing behind her, Baudet’s eyes on her like a worshipper gazing up at a saint. Fern could not help but wonder if it was mere infatuation she was witnessing, or simply Baudet’s clever opportunism and naked ambition.

Whether Orsini was flattered by his attention, or whether she felt safer with someone who was willing to get his hand bloodied in her defence, or whether she wished to draw deep from the Reformed Vatican’s well of knowledge, that was much harder to tell. Fern supposed it did not matter, in a way.

She felt a hand at her side, a gentle touch, almost hesitant. The air was perfumed with the almond sweetness of marzipan. She turned, already knowing that it was not Vasili Drei who stood behind her, for he had been first to leave after the twins.

“Mr Lautric…”

“Miss Sullivan. I was hoping you and I might work together on this assignment.”

With a vague gesture towards the door, Fern hazarded, “I’m sure I saw Mr Drei leaving alone, perhaps he’s still looking for a partner…?”

“Mr Drei will be working with Emmeline and Edmund.”

Fern smiled, the kind of stiff, polite smile she reserved for matters of petty bureaucracy. “I’m sure he could be persuaded.”

Lautric answered her smile with one of his, and that smile was slow and amused and almost tender.

“I’d rather persuadeyouinstead.”

“You should know that I am an orphan,” Fern said, more out of strategy than impulse. “My name is without renown; my parents were of humble origins. My only friend is a librarian. I don’t have an ounce of influence at my disposal.”

“But you are capable, hard-working and knowledgeable,” said Lautric. “Exactly all the things one would wish for in a partner.”

The wordpartnerin his pretty mouth seemed to hold a different meaning. The subtle manipulation again, that strange feeling that she was being almost seduced. This conversation would not go the way she needed it to. Lautric would not allow it to.

Retreating behind the reliable fortress of her professionalism, Fern stuck out her hand.

“Colleagues, then. For this assignment at least.”

Lautric took her hand with a soft laugh. “I look forward to our partnership.”

His fingers were warm; Fern pulled her hand away from his as soon as politeness allowed.

Chapter twenty-seven

The Wretch

The Invocation Wing, reflectingthe importance and grandeur of its great school, was lined on one side by long tomb-shaped windows through which thick ribbons of light fell across a marble floor and ornate escritoires.

At the far end of the wing, the wall was draped with an enormous tapestry, woven with threads of silver and gold, depicting a cosmic scene of gods and mythical creatures. Beneath the tapestry, a raised dais held an ancient lectern upon which rested the legendaryCodex Arcana, written by hand by the founders of Carthane.

On both sides of the lectern, two grand staircases spiralled upwards to a mezzanine, the railing of the staircase adorned with delicate carvings of angels, their eyes set with tiny amethysts and selenites. Balconies of gilded marble overlooked the main floor, each hosting a subsection of Invocation. Summoning, Conjuration and Banishment, Occlusion, Warding and Sealing, and, of course, Transgressive Invocation.

The rest of the candidates were already scattered throughout the wing when Fern and Lautric arrived. Fern, in the lead, made the choice of a pair of escritoires half-hidden behind the fanning leaves of a majesty palm close to the book directories. Lautric set his things down and ambled away, returning a minute later with two cups of coffee.