Page 134 of Alchemised

A CCORDING TO RECORDS, L ILA B AYARD CONTRACTED A bad case of bog cough after helping deliver supplies to the water slums at the south end of the island.

Bog cough tended to crop up every year in the early summer after the floods, as the air grew warm and damp, and the dark, recessed levels of the city, far from sunlight, found their interiors blackened with mould.

The symptoms were a deep cough coming from low in the lungs, and an occasional rash.

While mostly dangerous to children and the elderly, sometimes it would linger and transform into a virulent sickness that could sweep through the city like a plague.

That was the ostensible reason why the upper levels of the city preferred to be restrictive with the lower sectors of the population.

Helena was familiar with the symptoms because her father used to treat it every summer.

Most of the people who caught it couldn’t afford to travel up-city to a licensed apothecary.

Helena could replicate the symptoms almost perfectly using vivimancy, creating purplish rashes on Lila’s inner wrists and the sides of her neck, and agitating her lungs enough to make her cough violently while Pace examined her and gave the diagnosis.

With so many people in tight quarters, plague was a constant fear.

Lila was promptly placed in isolation in the Alchemy Tower, and everyone else involved in the supply delivery was quarantined for three days until they were declared symptom-free.

Such a common sickness did not dampen morale, particularly since it was considered primarily an affliction of the poor and unsanitary. That Lila had caught it was taken as a sign that she was still too weak from her injuries. High in the sun-soaked rooms of the Alchemy Tower, she would recover.

Luc, however, was distraught. He demanded to see her, but he was flatly refused. His own lungs still showed signs of deterioration and damage; under no circumstances was he permitted to go anywhere near Lila.

Helena hardly knew where to begin with this new secret.

Pregnancy was not something she’d ever studied.

Her experience with newborns was mostly limited to emergency situations.

She looked in the library for a few references but found the options lacking, until she remembered that Matron Pace kept most medical textbooks in the records office for easy access.

“I never thought I’d find you interested in pregnancy.” Matron Pace’s comment made Helena jump as she was caught hurriedly perusing one of the books.

Helena slammed it shut, cramming it into place. “I’m not. The title just caught my eye.”

“You’re welcome to borrow it.”

“No.” Helena shook her head. “Passing curiosity was all.”

She made for the door.

“Marino.” Pace’s voice was commanding.

Helena turned. Pace was watching her like a hawk.

“Are you in a family way?”

“No.”

“Accidents happen,” Pace said mildly, leaning back against her desk. “Especially during wartime. You wouldn’t be the first.”

Helena released an exploding little scoff. “I’m not pregnant.”

“I just hope your fellow is the responsible—”

“I can’t be pregnant. I’ve been sterilised,” Helena snapped, too mortified to keep listening.

Pace froze, shaking her head. “No. They wouldn’t. They couldn’t have possibly found that necessary at a time like this.”

Helena’s cheeks were burning, but her stomach had a gnawing pit inside it. “Well, they did. Maier did it. Ligature, same week I got back. It was—it was one of the Falcon’s conditions. So, like I said, not pregnant.”

She started again for the door.

“Helena, wait.” Pace’s voice was beseeching.

Helena winced, turning reluctantly back. Pace had one of her red, chapped hands pressed against her chest. “I shouldn’t have teased you. I had no idea. Maier never said anything.”

“It’s fine,” Helena said stiffly. “I wanted to be an alchemist more, and women don’t get to do both.” She lifted her chin. “Now I won’t ever have to worry about choosing. Besides—” She looked squarely at Pace. “—I’ll probably die young, so I’d be a terrible mother.”

Pace studied her. “Was your mother terrible?”

Pace couldn’t have hurt her more if she’d kicked her. The room swam.

Helena’s throat closed. “How dare you.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said it that way,” Pace said, but she didn’t really look sorry. “But Helena, I don’t think you know how to be honest with yourself about what you want.”

“It was the only way to become a healer—we needed a healer, Ilva said I was the only person who could do it.” Helena’s jaw trembled, and she had to set it hard. “It was the choice I had, and I made it. Would you really rather I hadn’t?”

“You weren’t even seventeen. You’d barely lived enough to know what you wanted.”

“I feel pretty alive right now,” Helena said through gritted teeth. “And I’m fine. ”

“Being alive is not the same as living. I hope someday you’ll have a chance to realise the difference.”

Pace went over to the bookshelf and pulled the book that Helena had been reading off the shelf, holding it in both hands as she stared at the cover.

“I was a midwife, you know. Long time ago now.” She shook her head.

“I should have realised. You’ve always poured your all into the present moment, as if that’s all you expect to have. ”

She turned back to Helena. “Perhaps a glimpse at the next generation will make the future feel a little more real for you.”

She held the book towards Helena. The title, The Maternal Condition: An In-Depth Study on the Science and Physiology of Gestation, glinted in the light from a window high overhead. “Lila Bayard will need the best care you can provide.”

Helena stared at her in astonishment. “How—?”

Matron Pace pressed the book into her hands. “I’ve been a nurse for twice as long as you’ve been alive. Your vivimancy skills are remarkable, but Lila would have had to be sick for a good three weeks before developing a rash like that.”

A S L UC BEGAN TAKING OVER leadership, Ilva’s health began a sudden and rapid decline as if all those years, she’d just been holding on until he was ready.

Some days she was barely lucid. Crowther had become so concerned about Ilva’s sudden deterioration that he’d had Helena examine her.

There was nothing wrong; she was just old and tired.

The war seemed to pitch back and forth in favour between the two sides. The constant fighting seemed to grant little advantage beyond leaving the city more battered.

Luc led another aggressive attack on the West Island, and they captured a warehouse.

It was found filled with large tublike tanks of fluid with bodies inside, tubes connected to veins, and breathing masks fastened over the noses and mouths.

Resistance fighters. All dead, but their bodies still warm.

When the perimeter had been breached, a gas had been released into the masks, killing them all mere minutes before the Resistance reached them.

A procession of lorries returned to Headquarters, filled with the bodies to cremate. There were only a few captives, but one was the Warden, who proved difficult and refused to answer questions.

Because the Warden was Luc’s captive, they couldn’t be disappeared into one of Crowther’s underground holes and tortured for information.

Crowther remembered then that Kaine had taught Helena a unique method of extracting information; she had mentioned it once as an alternative when trying to dissuade him from torture.

Helena was as horrified as everyone else at all the healthy, intact, familiar faces being prepped for cremation, so close to rescue. She’d immediately agreed.

Some strings were pulled and Crowther managed to get a few hours alone with the Warden, bringing Helena with him.

The Warden was a woman, with a thin face and short cropped hair and a wide mouth. Her pale-blue eyes instantly narrowed when she saw Helena. Each sized the other up.

Crowther settled into the shadows, leaving Helena to make her attempt.

“Who are you?” Helena asked, not sure how to begin.

“What’s it to you?” the Warden asked.

“Can’t say I’ve met any women among the Undying or their Aspirants.”

“Men generally like our bodies a lot more than they like us.” The Warden looked over into the corner where Crowther was watching. “Guess I’m one of the special ones.”

“How are you special?” Helena asked, even though she had a pretty good idea.

“Probably for the same reason you are.” The Warden had looked back and was studying Helena now. “The difference is that I’m not a traitor to my kind.”

“I’m not the one who just murdered more than a hundred people,” Helena said, struggling to keep her voice even. She didn’t know why it bothered her so much that this Warden was a woman, but it made her angrier.

“They would’ve killed me, given half a chance. I killed them first.” The Warden lifted her chin, jutting it towards Helena. “What are you?” Her eyes flicked over Helena. “Healer? I bet. I was a healer once.”

Helena was doubtful about that, but the woman was talking without coercion, so she let her.

“Didn’t want to be a healer, but there’s not a lot of choices out there for us. He tried to make me a nun. Wanted me to raise other brats born like me. Teach them how to keep their abilities in and punish them if they didn’t. Didn’t you?”

Helena turned to stare at Crowther, who watched, his expression unreadable.

“You know her?” Helena asked.

“Oh yes. Kestrel Jan often came to see us whenever someone misbehaved at the orphanage. Always brought a pet along, someone with a long leash whom we could aspire to become like as long as we’d do anything he asked. I’m surprised, though. They’re usually younger.” Her eyes flicked over Helena.

“That’s enough, Mandl,” Crowther said sharply.

Mandl grinned towards him. “See, I knew you’d remember me.”

“Pull the information and let’s be done,” Crowther said to Helena.

Helena took a deep breath.