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“Speak carefully,” said Baudet, “lest your words tempt God.”

“There are worse things to be afraid of than God,” said Emmeline, looking at her brother.

Before he could reply—before anybody else could weigh in on the conversation, the doors of the auditorium opened and the Grand Archivists entered.

Two of them, this time. Professor Farouk, with her clever eyes and her shock of snow-white hair, followed by Lord Battyl, his white beard trimmed to a point, jewels adorning his chest beneath his black sash.

“Good morning, candidates.” It was Professor Farouk who spoke, Lord Battyl standing at her shoulder. “Congratulations on your excellent scores in the Conjuration assignment. Despite the circumstances, it was clear that most of you applied yourselves to the fullest extent for this assignment, and for that, we wish to praise you all.”

Despite Farouk’s words, Fern once more had the impression that the Grand Archivists seemed stuck behind some great wall of ice, observing the candidates as though from afar.

“Your third assignment,” Professor Farouk continued, “will be based on the Arcane School of Elemency. For this assignment, you will select one of the four classical elements: fire, water, earth, or air. The Final Element, whether you call it aether, void or Sumbra, is not an option due to the rules and regulations that govern it.”

This was a mild surprise. Professor Farouk was, of course, correct: the Sumbra Laws were inviolate and uncompromising—but then, Carthane had always been a law of its own.

And after the Grand Archivist’s stern speech following Lautric’s choice to eschew Transgressive Conjuration for the last assignment, Fern had not expected to be locked out of her own field of expertise for this assignment.

She was irritated but not surprised. Despite Carthane’s independence as an institution, it was still subject to the power of the Reformed Vatican, no matter how distant the church and its ostaries might feel here.

“Once you have selected your chosen element,” Professor Farouk continued, “your task is to identify the oldest and newest spells for your chosen elements. You must present both spells with your evidence, then perform them. You will be assessed on the spells you choose, the thoroughness of your research, and the quality of your presentations. Although we will not be assessing you on the power of the spells when you perform them, we will be focusing on the accuracy of your incantations and spellcraft.”

Professor Farouk stepped back, and Lord Battyl took her place. His hands were folded in front of him, rings gleaming with sapphires and rubies.

“This assignment will be assessed by the full panel of Grand Archivists. You will be awarded a mark out of fifty. Following this assignment, we will shortlist those of you who will continue on to the final part of the candidacy, your thesis. All other candidates will be dismissed. Any questions?”

A dull silence followed. Nobody had any questions. Everybody knew all too well what was at stake; everybody had come too far to back down now. Fern felt the determination of the other candidates like a fortress of steel behind her, casting a great shadow over her.

Lord Battyl nodded briskly. “Very well. You have one week. Use your time well—remain focused onwhat is important. The assignment will be held next Monday in the Grand Mage Hall and will begin at ten o’clock in the morning. Work hard, show us what makes you a worthy candidate, and do not forget:finis coronat opus.”

Chapter forty-one

The Pyromancer

It was time forFern to remember her priorities.

She had failed to help Josefa or find Vittoria. She had been too late to rescue whoever had called for help in the Arboretum that night, and she had no way of accessing the Astronomy Tower until she found a way through the ward.

But she had not come here with the intention of helping others. She had come here to secure a job at the world’s greatest arcane library and to work on her research. The Grand Archivists themselves had told her to remember why she was here and why it mattered.

Fern was still determined to do the right thing—but she would have the power to do much more good once she became a Grand Archivist. She might not be able to change the world, but she could fix some of its wrongs, if nothing else.

And to do that, she must stay focused.

She set off to the Elemency Tower determined to avoid the other candidates. It had been her intentionfrom the beginning, and she’d faltered from the path she’d set herself. No more.

Thankfully, the Elemency Tower was enormous and complex, full of places to hide.

Each floor was dedicated to a separate element. Earth on the ground floor, then water on the first, fire on the third, air on the fourth and Sumbra—the fifth element which had once been called aether by alchemists—on the topmost floor.

Each section was decorated according to its element, with the ground floor full of plants and creeping ivy, the second floor featuring a fountain in its centre and the third floor a matching firepit in a latticed cage of wrought iron. On the fourth floor, cross-shaped arrow slits pierced the thick stone walls, allowing the wind to whistle through.

As for the top floor, it was unadorned and plain, a maze of bookshelves underneath a high, pointed roof. A dormant Gateway stood in the middle of the room, half-hidden by the maze of bookshelves. It had been inactive for over several hundred years and looked like nothing more now than a rickety archway of ancient stone. Even the indicative sigils carved into the rock were half-faded.

Darkness and cobwebs overhung all, and dust danced in the rays of pallid light cast by four windows high in the walls.

It was there that Fern sought refuge, picking up books from each wing on her way up and carrying them awkwardly with her good arm. She would not be disturbed here; she doubted any of the candidates would want to spend time so close to a Gateway—shedid so herself with much reluctance. Even if a Gateway had been dormant for centuries, they were unpredictable and had a will of their own; they could never be fully trusted.

Fern delved into the labyrinth of shelves and took a seat at a dusty desk. In the heavy silence, she set her books down and cracked a new notebook open. This assignment would determine the candidates shortlisted for the next assignment—she could not afford to do anything now but excel.