Lorimal's Chalice

Part Three - The Traitor

by Jane Fletcher


Disclaimers: see Chapter 1

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Chapter 6: The Dispensary
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        It was nearly time for the library to close. Jemeryl wandered from room to room, trailing a hand along the book spines. She was supposedly there to find a work recommended by Neame, but was actually expending more effort in brooding on her lack of progress in gaining access to the dispensary records. From the start, she had known her plan would require a combination of luck and timing. Over the previous six days, she had put a lot of effort and ingenuity into manipulating events, without success. Her manoeuvrings had led to nothing.
        The aimless drifting took Jemeryl to the balcony overlooking the main hall. Nearly everyone had departed from the upper floors. Only a pair of apprentices was visible, gossiping inside the room directly opposite, and a lone set of footsteps echoed from above.
        Jemeryl rested her arms on the rail and gazed down on the central body of the hall. There also, the library was virtually deserted. Rows of bookshelves stretched across the black and white mosaic floor. The number of people visible between the shelves could be counted on the fingers of one hand. Abruptly, Jemeryl froze, arrested by the sight of the very situation she had been trying to contrive.
        Bramell was sitting at a side table, running his finger down the pages of a ledger, clearly engaged in his favourite pastime of checking records. Slightly behind him stood Moragar. From what Jemeryl could judge, given the acute angle, the librarian was looking politely peeved. He was obviously unappreciative of the principal's intrusion into the library affairs. Not twenty feet away, Vine was flipping through the pages of a book. The young sorcerer stood in an aisle between two tall shelves. She was completely obscured from sight of the other two, but not out of earshot.
        There was no time to waste. Jemeryl scuttled to the spiral stairway as quickly as possible without attracting attention. On the ground floor, she slipped around the edge of the hall so as to approach Vine from the direction away from Bramell. One by one, she passed the deserted aisles.
        She reached the final row. Vine had not moved. Hopefully Bramell was also still in his seat, but Jemeryl dare not peer around the last bookcase and check. Jemeryl slowed the pace of her steps to a sullen prowl and sauntered into the aisle. A few nagging doubts made a late bid for attention, and were summarily dismissed - now was not the time to worry about the chances of success. Jemeryl launched into her plan, the first part of which involved assuming a demeanour of angry irritation.
        Vine glanced up. The smile of greeting changed to a frown as she registered Jemeryl's expression. "What's wrong? Is something bothering you?"
        "Orrago." Jemeryl snapped out her answer at the maximum volume permissible in the library. "The dispensary is a complete pigsty."
        "It's not that bad."
        "No, it's worse." Jemeryl said firmly. "Pigs would be more organised."
        "But it's not your problem." Vine's voice had dropped to a warning hiss.
        Jemeryl ignored the hint. "It is my problem when I've wasted over an hour learning we're out of the very thing I want. Of course, I feel sorry for Orrago, but the state of the dispensary is beyond a joke. Which idiot had the idea of putting her in charge of the dispensary? I hope if I ever turn senile they'll have the courtesy to hide me somewhere where I won't be an embarrassment."
        Vine had already glanced anxiously once or twice in Bramell's presumed direction. With her hands, she made a damping down gesture and said pointedly, "You don't really mean that about Orrago."
        "You're right. It's not Orrago's fault. Bramell's the one who needs a good kicking. Orrago doesn't know what day it is. But I don't understand Bramell; he's usually so keen to stick his nose into other people's business. Surely he could get off his arse and organise someone to sort it out? He's supposed to be good at ensuring things are organised into neat little rows - nobody can be useless at everything."
        Vine was now making frantic gestures, while attempting to point through the bookcase and mouthing Bramell's name.
        Jemeryl acted as if she hadn't recognised the gesture. If anything, she raised her voice. "I suppose you can't expect someone of Bramell's ability to understand the importance of having the compounds we need. Perhaps it's deliberate. Perhaps he hopes if no one else can get the drugs they want, it won't be so obvious that he needs three attempts to guess the name of a buttercup."
        Vine opened her mouth, although all that came out was a faint squeak.
        Jemeryl's tone became even more derisory. "I've always thought Bramell was a waste of space. It's not as if it requires any intelligence or initiative on his part. He just needs to delegate someone to help Orrago out. The state of the dispensary is a total disgrace."
        "And that is a disgraceful way to refer to senior members of this school." Bramell's voice rung out from the far end of the aisle.
        It took considerable effort for Jemeryl to stop the relief showing on her face. She had been starting to fear that Bramell was no longer in the vicinity. Her eyes dropped to the floor while she composed her expression into one of shocked dismay - and almost lost it again when, out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Vine's pitying look.
        "Jemeryl." Bramell snapped.
        Slowly Jemeryl turned to face the furious principal. He stood at the end of the row of books, shoulders thrown back, eyes blazing and shaking with outrage.
        "Er... yes sir?" Jemeryl said, hesitantly.
        "What were you saying?"
        "Nothing, sir."
        "Nothing?" Bramell voice cracked like a whip.
        "No, sir."
        "Well, I heard quite a bit of your nothing. I think we should go my office and discuss this nothing in more detail." Bramell's voice could have cut through glass.
        Jemeryl was unceremoniously marched across the main quad, watched by various surprised parties. Bramell's manner was such Jemeryl half expected him to take hold of her by the ear. She felt a rising indignation - after all, she was an amulet-wearing sorcerer not an unruly apprentice. It wasn't as if Coven rules forbade her from having, or expressing, an opinion about her seniors.
        Bramell strode to the door to his office and held it open. Jemeryl entered and stopped on the rug in the middle of the floor. She looked down at her feet - she was quite literally on the carpet. The door shut with a firm, deliberate clunk and Bramell slowly walked around the desk to take his seat. His eyes fixed her with a frosty stare; his lips were set firm in righteous condemnation; even his nostrils were flaring.
        The silence stretched out for what seemed like ages. Even though it was part of her plan Jemeryl felt her stomach knot.
        Eventually Bramell took a deep breath. "Now. Perhaps you would like to explain exactly what you meant?"

* * * * * *

        It was an hour before Jemeryl left Bramell's office, her ears ringing and with a very clear understanding of Bramell's assessment of her. He had also used the opportunity to include the anticipated lecture on relationships with the ungifted. On his words of dismissal, she fled the office and raced across the main square heading for her room.
        Since Vine had been a witness to the incident, it was a safe bet that half the school would already know what had happened. Those who saw her running away from Bramell's office might well interpret it as distress on her part, and assume she was seeking somewhere to cry in private. Jemeryl wasn't about to correct the misconception.
        She leapt up the stairs of the residence block, burst into the study and dived into her bedroom. Jemeryl slammed the door shut and leaned against it. At last, she could give vent to her elation. Both fists punched the air. Bramell was so predictable, once you got the measure of the man. She had been sentenced to spend all her free time tiding the dispensary.

* * * * * *

        The dull beat of waves vied with the incessant trill of grasshoppers in the darkness. Moths fluttered on soft wings through the warm air. Jemeryl and Vine walked side by side on their way back from the hospital wards, comparing notes on the day's gossip; who had said what about whom and why. It could be fun. Vine had been right about the incestuous nature of life in the school.
        At the point where a side path led up to the dispensary Jemeryl broke off the conversation. "I'm going to put in a bit more work on the tidying."
        "Didn't you hear Jan say he's perfected his recipe for mulled wine? There's going to be a group of us trying it out - aren't you coming?" Vine remonstrated.
        "I know it's a shame to miss the wine, but I really want to push on with the job."
        "You know, no matter how much enthusiasm you show, it's going to be a while before you'll be a serious candidate for the post of 'Bramell's favourite junior'."
        "It's not to impress Bramell."
        "Then why are you so keen?"
        "I'm hoping another hour or so will see the whole thing finished."
        "It's taken you long enough."
        "The best part of a month." Jemeryl agreed with a heartfelt sigh. The work had exceeded her most pessimistic prediction.
        "And you haven't been able to see much of your young mercenary. She might have forgotten you..." Vine stopped. "Oh, of course! You've got a free afternoon tomorrow. That's why you're so keen to get the job finished tonight. Well, I won't keep you."
        Jemeryl had walked a few yards when Vine hailed her again.
        "Oh, and Jem."
        "Yes?"
        "If ever you want to do something like that again, let me know in advance - I could have sold tickets." Vine was joking, and clearly had no idea of just how deliberate the whole scene had been on Jemeryl's part. She departed in search of the mulled wine.
        Jemeryl walked the short distance to the dispensary alone, smiling at the irony. It was quite comforting. If Vine did not know that she had ulterior motives, it was a safe bet no one else did either. However Vine had been quite right on the reason behind her determination to finish the job that night. Jemeryl was missing her lover with a painful intensity. She did not think she could bear it if she did not see Tevi on the following day. It was not just about making love. She wanted to see Tevi's face, hold her hand, hear her voice and talk to her - although, of course, making love as well would be pretty good.
        Jemeryl's polite call announcing her presence was met with silence. Orrago was not around. This was also comforting - the work would go quicker without interruptions. In the light of a conjured globe Jemeryl stood and looked at the dispensary with satisfaction. The packing cases were gone. Jars stood on shelves in orderly rows, arranged alphabetically by section, each clearly marked with a large new label. Neat bunches of herbs hung from racks suspended from the ceiling. The surfaces were clear. Of the previous disorder, there remained only a pile of battered boxes, balanced on the top of one tall cupboard.
        Jemeryl picked up the inventory and flipped open the pages. In the course of tidying and organising, she had performed a full audit. There was still a significant quantity of the nectar to be accounted for. But it's too soon to be certain, Jemeryl told herself, casting a critical eye at the last few boxes. There could be several gallons of the stuff up there for all I know.
        The first box dislodged itself from its perch and floated across to where Jemeryl waited. Dust arose in a thick cloud when the top was flipped open. Inside were a jumble of stained, half-empty bags and grimy bottles. Grimacing slightly, Jemeryl pulled out the first of the contents and set to work.

* * * * * *

        Time passed quickly. Each box was emptied in turn, with amendments made to the register. Anything not rendered useless by age was added to the appropriate stocks, the rest was discarded. Jemeryl tried to contain her growing excitement. Not until the final item was checked could she be sure.
        At last only one large bottle of liquid remained. A thick film of dirt and fluff coated the outside. Its contents showed a translucent pale yellow. Jemeryl lifted it from the box and held it up, squinting to read the faded label. Faintly legible were the words 'garlic oil'. She grinned - her nose could have told her as much.
        A new label was written. The bottle was wiped and placed in the correct spot on the shelves. Jemeryl made one last full circuit of the dispensary, looked under benches and behind doors, and checked that no drawer or hidden spot had been overlooked. At last she was certain; the inventory was complete.
        Jemeryl leaned against a counter and let the wave of triumph wash over her. During the last two years, someone had pilfered over half the school's supply of the nectar. Her hunch was confirmed - the renegade sorcerer was in Ekranos and working on the forbidden spell.
        As a final bonus, with the punishment task complete she would be free to go down to Ekranos tomorrow afternoon and meet with Tevi. Surely, the dispensary was now tidy enough to meet the terms of Bramell's sentence. Or was it?
        The floor was treated to a critical examination. Scattered leaves and other debris were strewn about - twigs and scraps of paper, even the remains of a half-chewed worm, undoubtedly a contribution from Frog. A long-handled broom leaned against the wall in a corner. It might be as well to put the finishing touch on the job. She certainly didn't want to give Bramell an excuse to confine her within school grounds for a day longer.
        The task of sweeping was half-complete when the door opened and Orrago hobbled in. The elderly sorcerer looked about at the neatly stacked shelves with a delighted, but slightly vacant, smile. Her eyes were wide open like an overawed child. She focused on the young woman with the broom.
        "You've done a good job Iralin - or is it Jelimar?"
        "It's Jemeryl, ma'am."
        "Oh yes, yes, of course." Orrago dug Frog out of a pocket and deposited him on a bench. The toad's bulging eyes blinked wetly in the mage-light. "Anyway, as I was saying, you've done a good job, it was kind of you to volunteer... I needed a little help around the place."
        Honesty forced Jemeryl to admit, "Er... I didn't quite volunteer." She was fairly certain the reasons she was working in the dispensary had been explained to Orrago, at least in general terms, but it was scarcely cause for surprise if the ex-principal had forgotten.
        "Oh dear, then who was it?"
        "Who was what, ma'am?"
        "The one who said... who was... oh, you know." Orrago shook her head and wandered off to her chair, muttering, "They can tell me in the morning. You can carry on now."
        Jemeryl returned to sweeping. She worked her way around the edge of the room until she reached a low bookcase in a dim corner. It stood an inch or two clear of the wall, which had allowed a good assortment of rubbish to slip down the back and form a thick wedge in the gap at the bottom. Jemeryl grabbed one end of the bookcase and pulled hard, hoping to swing it out and make enough space to get the broom in. Even as she did so, it occurred to her that it might be easier to remove the rubbish by telekinesis. However, the bookcase was not as heavy as she expected and it shuddered forward a few inches. There was a rumble and screech of the wooden feet on the floorboards, but it wasn't loud enough to cover the sound of something dropping.
        A second tug shifted the bookcase further from the wall. Jemeryl peered over the top to see what had fallen. Lying on the floor behind the bookcase, amid the general debris, was a thin, hand-written pamphlet. Jemeryl retrieved it and walked over to examine her find in the light of the globe. Neatly printed on the cover were the words 'The prevention of cancerous growths and associated tumours, by Lorimal of the Coven.'
        "What is it?" Orrago asked from her chair.
        "It's a manuscript." Jemeryl said softly. She had forgotten that Moragar had claimed the pamphlet was lost in the dispensary.
        "Oh, that's good."
        "I think it's one that's been missing from the library for some time." Jemeryl walked over to the ancient sorcerer and held out the pamphlet. "Do you remember this, ma'am?"
        "What is it?"
        "A manuscript." Jemeryl repeated.
        "Yes. Can you give it back to Druse for me?"
        Jemeryl abandoned the pointless attempt to question Orrago and returned to examine the bookcase. A deep horizontal strut, coated in a thick layer of dust, ran across its back about eighteen inches below the top. A disturbance midway along marked the spot where the pamphlet had lodged. There was also a slip of paper, trapped between the strut and the backboard by a dog-eared corner, crumpled where the pamphlet had squashed it down. Jemeryl plucked it free and smoothed the paper flat. It was a receipt from a supplier in town.
        The date caught her attention immediately - just under four years old. According to Moragar, it was six years since Lorimal's thesis had been lost in the dispensary. It might have been assumed that the manuscript had slipped down the back of the bookcase and lain undisturbed for all that time, if it had not been for the evidence of the receipt.
        The manuscript had been on top of it and so must have arrived at a later date. Jemeryl studied the marks in the dust more carefully. It looked as if the manuscript had been taken and replaced several times. Presumably, on one of those occasions, the receipt had been accidentally pushed down the back as well and become trapped. However it had came about, it proved the manuscript had been put behind the bookcase some years after Moragar had dowsed it to the dispensary.
        Jemeryl completed sweeping the floor, bid Orrago goodnight and walked back to her room. The manuscript was held firmly in her hand. Cleaning the dispensary had been a long job, but it had furnished her with evidence that the traitor was in Ekranos, and she had found the stolen manuscript. All in all, it had been most worthwhile.

* * * * * *

        The distance was lost to a shimmering haze that heralded the approach of high summer. The sun blazed down on the school site, without the faintest shred of cloud to weaken its force. On the upper balcony, the door to the study shared by Jemeryl and Vine was wedged open to allow a faint breeze to circulate. The light streaming in bounced off the worn floorboards and gleamed yellow on the ceiling.
        Jemeryl sat on a chair, and rocked forward on its two front legs as she leaned over her desk. She was alone in the room, making use of the break before the midday meal. In front of her, the two copies of Lorimal's report lay open at the beginning. Once again, she thumbed her way through the pages, trying to spot differences between the original and later transcript.
        Lorimal's manuscript was scribbled in an irregular, almost childlike, block-letter hand. The lines rose and fell untidily across the page. The paper was yellowing, worn from handling, with the occasional dog-eared corner. By comparison, the transcript was neatly set on crisp white pages, in the classic unvarying letters of magical graphology. That was the only difference. Not a single letter was missing from the copy.
        Jemeryl's forehead furrowed in confusion. She had been so sure she would find some significant notes in the margin or a missing appendix on the original - else why bother to take it?
        She reached the final page. In the transcribed book, the next chapter moved on to an associated report by another sorcerer. The remaining few pages in the original pamphlet were blank except for a collection of circular stains. Every test Jemeryl could think of showed the paper to be free of concealed writing. The only thing Jemeryl could deduce from them was that Lorimal had used the rear of her manuscript as a tablemat.
        She leaned back in her chair, glaring at the light on the ceiling and wondering if she was missing the obvious. Perhaps a different viewpoint was needed. Jemeryl's expression softened; in a few hours she was due to meet Tevi in Ekranos. Talking it over with someone else might help. Jemeryl's gaze drifted back down to the sprawled hand-written lines. She reflected pensively on the image of a young woman, much like herself, who had written the words, and the old woman who had died on Storenseg, and the life in-between.
        Her musings were interrupted by the sound of rapid footsteps coming to a halt outside. Jemeryl swivelled, hooking an arm over the back of her chair. A young apprentice was standing at the entrance. He rested a hand on either side of the doorframe and leaned into the room.
        "Bramell wants to see you in his office immediately." The boy gave the message with a breezy lilt to his voice. "And he says to bring the book you found in the dispensary with you."
        The summons catapulted Jemeryl into a string of half-formed conjectures. Surely, Bramell was not planning fresh ways to keep her and Tevi apart?
        "What did..." Jemeryl began.
        The messenger was not available for further questioning. Already his footsteps were fading along the veranda. Jemeryl grabbed the book and followed. Whatever the problem, things would not be improved by making Bramell wait. Yet, despite the advisability of haste, she hesitated for a few seconds at the door to his office, daunted by memories of her last visit. Through the solid wood she could detect the rise and fall of voices, but too muffled to distinguish words.
        Her cautious knock was answered by Bramell's crisp, autocratic tones. Jemeryl pushed the door open. Bramell was sat behind his desk, with a flush of anger darkening his features. Moragar was also present, standing by the window with his arms crossed and a suborn frown overlaying his normal exuberance. There was obviously a disagreement between the two seniors in progress. Whatever the subject, Jemeryl's entrance put a halt to it. Bramell turned to look at her as if she were something unsavoury that had just crawled into his office.
        "You wanted to see me sir?" Jemeryl asked demurely.
        "Moragar informs me you're in possession of a book that was improperly removed from the library. Is this true?" Bramell's tone made it clear the question was rhetorical.
        "Not by me, sir. I found it in the dispensary while cleaning."
        "Why didn't you return it immediately?"
        "I only found it last night, sir."
        "You should have informed me at once," Moragar joined in the attack, "rather than leaving me to find out at second hand."
        "I'm sorry sir. I hadn't realised you'd be so concerned."
        "It's my job to be concerned over the books that belong in the library." Moragar now sounded offended as well as annoyed.
        Jemeryl bowed her head, while directing silent curses at her study partner. She had no need to guess who the second hand belonged to. Why couldn't Vine mind her own business, for once?
        Bramell spoke again. "This book can be left here with me."
        "Er... I had intended to borrow it formally next time I went to the library, sir." Jemeryl said.
        "I've been told that you already have a perfectly adequate copy."
        "It's nice to have the original."
        Bramell fixed Jemeryl with a steady gaze. "I don't understand why you want the book at all. Surely it falls outside the bounds of your work at the hospital?"
        "It was just something that caught my attention, sir."
        "It would be better if you focused on things that are relevant to your studies." There was a long painful silence. "It might also be better if we made more effective use of your talents. Medicine is not your strength. I'll arrange for you to transfer to Levannue's section. She needs assistance with work on charms. Return anything you have out at the moment. You can start by leaving the manuscript with me."
        "Yes, sir." Jemeryl put the pamphlet on the table and stood with her eyes fixed on the floor, not trusting them to conceal her resentment.
        "Report to Levannue first thing in the morning." Bramell leaned back, steepling his fingers. "That is all, you may go."
        Jemeryl stormed back to her study, furious to have lost the manuscript. She threw herself down in her chair and glared through the window. She was certain she had just had an important clue snatched from her hands - if only she could have identified it.

* * * * * *

        "It's so frustrating. I had the manuscript in my hands this morning - and I lost it."
        "There was nothing you could have done." Tevi said reasonably.
        "I know. Bramell made certain of that." Jemeryl's voice was pitched low in resentment.
        The two women walked in the formal gardens between the Council Hall and main law courts. The river embankment formed a third side. All around, older citizens relaxed in the shade while young children ran squealing and yelping between the flowerbeds. On marble pedestals, the statues of bygone notables remained stonily aloof.
        The stroll through the gardens took them to the promenade along the embankment. Jemeryl leaned her shoulder against the rough, ringed bark of a palm tree and looked across the wide estuary of the river Dhaliki as it flowed into the sea. It was low tide. Mud flats glistened in banks, wet and grey. A few small boats plied the deeper channels.
        Tevi stood at her shoulder. "Come on Jem. Cheer up. Think of what you've achieved. We know the traitor is here."
        "True." Jemeryl did not sound mollified.
        "We might even be able to learn something from losing the manuscript."
        "Such as?"
        "Bramell's attitude. If he's the culprit, he'd be very sensitive about Lorimal and the manuscript. Did he give anything away?"
        Tevi looped her arm through Jemeryl's, gently pulling her from the tree. They wandered along the dusty gravel path under the long palm fronds.
        Jemeryl gave the matter thought before replying. "I think it points in the way of him being innocent - otherwise he'd have been a lot keener to know why I was interested in Lorimal's work. All he did was divert me away from it - which, to be fair, is what he's supposed to do. Either way, it's going to make the investigation harder. Bramell will be watching me to make sure I stay clear of Lorimal."
        "From what you said, he was overzealous."
        Jemeryl snorted contemptuously. "That's Bramell for you. It's what the man does best."
        "How about Moragar?"
        "I'm afraid I was too angry to pay much attention to him. But..." Jemeryl paused.
        "Yes?"
        "I think he and Bramell were having an argument when I arrived."
        "Over the manuscript?"
        "That would be the most likely topic. I know Bramell has kept hold of it - perhaps Moragar wanted the original back in the library." Jemeryl looked thoughtful. "Now I think about it, he got very heated when he talked about the manuscript before. If he went as far as to try and argue with Bramell, he must be very keen to get his hands on Lorimal's handiwork."
        "But that's only guesswork on your part?"
        "Yes." Jemeryl sighed. "And the thing is, I'd have thought Moragar and Bramell were the two people least likely to have hidden the manuscript in the dispensary to start with. Moragar can do whatever he likes with the books in the library, and Bramell has access to much better hiding places. No one can check up on him."
        "It might depend on the reason why the book was put there." Tevi pointed out.
        "It can't have been simply to keep it from others, else why not destroy it completely?"
        While talking, they had reached the end of the gravel path and left the gardens for the main commercial area of town. For a few dozen yards, they walked along a busy street, jostled by the crowds until Jemeryl was tempted to make a show of her sorcerer's amulet to gain some space. Before she snapped, they turned off into a side alley and entered the jumble of footpaths and small courtyards that filled the regions between the main roads in Ekranos.
        The alleys were just wide enough for them to continue walking arm in arm. Their footsteps reverberated between the narrow walls. Faint voices drifted down from open windows above but the alleys themselves were deserted. Once the noise of the traffic on the busy thoroughfare behind them had faded, they resumed their conversation.
        Jemeryl ran her hand through her hair, as if hoping to untangle her thoughts. "From the evidence of the receipt, we know the book was removed and replaced behind the shelves at least once. I'd guess someone hid it there so they could consult it as often as they liked without drawing attention by continually borrowing it from the library. The book was out of sight behind the shelves but would have been easy to reach, even without resorting to telekinesis."
        "Wouldn't Orrago notice someone taking it and putting it back?"
        Jemeryl shook her head. "Even if she saw she wouldn't remember long enough to tell anyone, and they probably wouldn't pay attention to her if she did."
        "Why would someone need to keep looking at the manuscript?"
        "That's a good question. It's a short work. If it was wanted for reference, whoever-it-was could have made their own copy."
        "There must be something special about the original." Tevi reasoned.
        Jemeryl hoisted her free arm in an exaggerated shrug. "Obviously, but I haven't a clue what. I've read the entire report six times and there's not a word that offers the merest hint of an unlawful use."
        "Perhaps the words weren't the important bit. What else was in the original?"
        "A wide assortment of stains."
        "You can't learn anything from them?"
        Jemeryl pulled a face. "Lorimal didn't own a proper tablemat."
        Tevi smiled and took a swipe at a large blue fly that was circling her head. "That wasn't quite what I meant. You don't need writing to leave a message, like the tracks of an animal. You can tell where it came from, what it was, where it went."
        Jemeryl's feet rooted to the pavement, jerking both her and Tevi to a halt; her eyes fixed unseeing on the distance. Her arms dropped to her sides, slipping free from the link with Tevi. "Oh, of course." she mouthed, under her breath. Oblivious to Tevi's questioning look, she resumed walking along the alley, her face a picture of enlightenment.
        "I suppose you will explain eventually." Tevi said in amused exasperation after a minute had passed in silence.
        "Sorry. I was thinking it through."
        "And...?" Tevi prompted.
        "It's to do with finding the chalice. Remember, the elders of the day tried to locate it after Lorimal's death, without success."
        "The stains help?"
        "Yes... yes, they could." Jemeryl became more animated. "When a person or an object makes a mark, such as a footprint, they leave a resonance in the astral domain."
        Tevi's face wrinkled in a frown, "A resonance? You mean a bit like an echo?"
        "A bit, though I think of it more as a fine thread linking the maker to the mark. In most cases the bond isn't strong and fades quickly. However, crystalline silver leaves an almost permanent resonance, which is why it can be used for recording purposes. Lorimal had used the last two pages of the manuscript as a tablemat. There were several circular marks, which I bet were made when Lorimal put her chalice down."
        "You could follow the thread to the chalice?"
        "Not quite that simple. It'd be exhausting, given the distance between here and Storenseg. A sorcerer couldn't track for more than a few minutes at a time without getting a splitting headache. The elemental forces of the ocean would make it like chasing a spider thread in a gale. The search must have taken months, possibly years."
        "Which is why they had to keep going back to the manuscript." Tevi said, sharing Jemeryl's excitement.
        "Quite."
        The two women emerged from a narrow passageway into an open square, dazzling in the full glare of late-afternoon Ekranos sunshine. On the opposite side was the Inn of Singing Birds. Despite the early hour, there were already a few people drinking at shady tables outside. The sight added momentum to Tevi's footsteps; the walking and talking had left her thirsty.
        Jemeryl mulled over the evidence. "Our traitor hid the manuscript where they could get to it easily, yet somewhere that wouldn't raise suspicion if it was discovered by chance. It would be assumed the book had slipped behind the bookcase in the general mess. Orrago's dementia provided a cover. No one would blame her or inquire too closely. Except..."
        "What?"
        "Orrago must be involved somehow. She was the one who borrowed the manuscript from the library in the first place."
        "Could someone have forced her?" Tevi asked.
        "I don't think so. Even in her present state, she still has full awareness of the upper dimensions, and six years ago, when the manuscript went missing, she had only been retired as principal for a few months. Presumably, she was far more lucid back then. And I can't see her being involved in a conspiracy - certainly not now. She'd be bound to give something away in her rambling."
        They reached the tables outside the inn. Tevi slid onto one of the benches and stretched out her legs, more than ready for a long cool drink. While they waited to catch the waiter's eye, Tevi considered the problem. "From what you've said, isn't it possible Orrago borrowed the book and accidentally left it lying in the dispensary. Then someone else saw it, realised it's potential and hid it in the nearest spot."
        Jemeryl thought it over. "It's feasible. But Orrago's mind was going. It's unlikely she'd have been doing any research. Even if she was, her main interest had always been contagious diseases. This manuscript was about cancer. There was no reason for her to consult it."
        "There may have been nothing rational about it. Her wits were wandering. Perhaps she picked up the book at random."
        "It's too big a coincidence that of all the books in the library she took the only one that could give access to Lorimal chalice - and it was seen by someone who knew what the chalice's memory held." Jemeryl shook her head. "I think someone deliberately went looking for the manuscript."
        "So what options are there?"
        Jemeryl thought for a moment. "Someone forged Orrago's name in the register, knowing she wouldn't be able to swear she hadn't taken the manuscript."
        "Is there no way you can check?"
        The sight of a waiter appearing in the open tavern doorway diverted attention Tevi's. She was caught by surprise when Jemeryl shouted in excitement. "Yes, there is."
        "Pardon?" Tevi said, confused by the tone of triumph rather than the words.
        "Remember what I said about the resonance linking a mark to the thing that made it?"
        "You can trace the signature to the person who wrote it?"
        "Not quite. The resonance itself would have faded years ago, but all the writing in the library is caught in an information web. Since the loan register is in the library, the resonance should have been picked up by the self-perpetuating core spells. The person's identity will still be there. It's probably deeply stratified, but it should be quite straightforward to pull it out. Then I'd just need to use a suitable astral filter to separate the name from aura-synopsis and all that stuff."
        "I think you've lost me slightly."
        "Sorry. It's hard to explain. But it should work."
        Jemeryl was always less coherent when excited. Tevi smiled in resignation. "I'll take your word on it."
        "The only problem will be in reconstructing the signer's name."
        "Is it difficult?"
        "Not really. It's just a bit tricky, and I haven't tried anything like it since I was a junior apprentice. I'll need to practice. Come on."
        Without further explanation, Jemeryl grabbed Tevi's hand and yanked her to her feet. She towed the surprised mercenary at speed through the tavern to the inner courtyard and up the stairs. The hectic dash was watched with amusement from the kitchen doorway by two of the inn-staff. In her enthusiasm, Jemeryl paid them no attention, but Tevi spotted the suggestive gesture one waiter made to accompany his whispered comment to the other, obviously making assumptions that were, for once, incorrect.
        Jemeryl did not release Tevi's hand until they had burst into their room. The onslaught of activity awoke Klara from her doze in a patch of sun. Her squawk of protest faded into a muttered comment about "some people" - neither received any acknowledgement from Jemeryl; she was too busy rooting around at the bottom of a bag. After a few seconds of scrabbling she stood up and beckoned Tevi over to a chair by the table, triumphantly holding out a pen and paper.
        Tevi looked startled. "But I can't write."
        "It doesn't matter. Just make a mark. If I can remember the spell I should be able to work out your name."
        "You already know it."
        "So I'll be able to tell if I've got it right."
        There was a certain logic to it. Tevi cautiously took the proffered pen, and rolled it experimentally in her fingers, trying to remember Jemeryl's method of holding the implement. The paper was a scrap torn from the bottom of a larger sheet and covered on one side with a list. Tevi dipped the nib in the ink and made a bold cross in the middle of the blank side.
        "Will that do? I could add a couple of squiggles if it will help." Tevi offered.
        "That should be fine."
        Jemeryl seated herself in the chair and pulled the paper in front of her. Her eyes bored into the tabletop while her fingers wove complex patterns in the air above her head.
        Tevi looked on with curiosity, waiting for something spectacular to happen. She thought she could detect a faint sour-sweet smell and a soft bass rumble, almost too low to be heard. In the end, the result was anti-climatic. Jemeryl's expression become steadily more confused and eventually she swore softly and shoved the paper away.
        "Didn't it work?" Tevi asked, disappointed at the failure of her first attempt at literacy.
        Jemeryl was irritated by her defeat. "Oh, something happened. But it wasn't your name. All I got was 'Strikes-like-lighting'. And what is that suppose to mean?"
        "Oh, well... um, it's... my real name. Tevi's just a nickname, but I prefer it. I've never liked Strikes-like-lighting... but it's traditional..." Tevi shrugged apologetically as her words trailed away.
        Klara strutted across the table, shaking her beak slowly from side to side. "Isn't it always the same. Just when you think you're getting to know someone, you find out they're not the person you thought."
        "Even on the islands no one ever called me Strikes-like-lighting." Tevi explained
        "Except your mother." Jemeryl suggested.
        "I think she only did it the once - at my naming ceremony."
        "I'll call you it, if you want."
        "Oh, please don't."
        Jemeryl laughed at the horror in Tevi's voice. "Where does the name Tevi come from?"
        "It short for Tevirik. In my people's stories she's the armourer for Rangir, goddess of the sea."
        "They named you after her?"
        "At second hand." Tevi looked downcast. "It's the crabs that got named after her - because of the armour."
        "Crabs." Jemeryl grinned, teasing.
        "We call them tevies. I got the name when I was three... at my first sword lesson. I was knocked to my knees within seconds. I had one hand on the ground and with the other I was waving the wooden sword above my head, hoping to ward off the next blow. Blaze just stepped back, crossed her arms and said 'I don't know if anyone will ever mistake you for a warrior, but you can do a first class impression of a tevi.' Before then, I think people used to call me Flash - because of the lightning bit, but Tevi was what stuck."
        "It's all right, my love." The teasing tone was replaced with gentle affection. "I think Tevi suits you. And it's probably just as well you hadn't mentioned it before. It proved my spell worked. All I have to worry about now is breaking into the library."
        "You're going to break in?" Tevi said in alarm.
        "I don't want Moragar or anyone else around. Otherwise, I'll attract quite a bit of attention if I start casting spells in the main hall."
        "Surely there's a risk?"
        "Less than my other option of breaking into Bramell's rooms to get the manuscript back, and then tracing the resonance myself to find out who's got the chalice at the moment." Jemeryl sounded unbothered.
        Tevi was not comforted. "I worry about you."
        Jemeryl stood and wrapped her arms around Tevi, hugging her tightly. "Don't."
        "I can't help it."
        Tevi rested her head against Jemeryl's and closed her eyes.
        Jemeryl broke the silence. "Come on. I'm thirsty. Let's go and get something to drink."
        Once seated outside, with full tankards, they let the subject drop by mutual consent. Jemeryl returned to the confrontation with Bramell. "I know he didn't mean to do me a favour, but I'm pleased he's moved me out of the hospital. Wards and charms are much more my sort of thing, and Levannue's the leading authority in the Protectorate."
        "What are charms and wards?"
        "Combinations of herbs and things to attract or repel people and animals."
        "You find that interesting?" Tevi asked with dry amusement.
        "Oh, it is - it's fascinating. For example, you've probably heard that rowan keeps sorcerers away."
        "Yes, but I thought it was just superstition. I mean rowan is harmless enough."
        "Not quite. If you can perceive it on a psychic plane, it's horrendous stuff." Jemeryl squirmed and took a mouthful of her drink. "It's hard to describe, but if the aura of rowan wood was a smell, it'd be rotten eggs, and if it was a sound, it'd be a tin fork scraped on glass. And the overall effect is worse than either."
        "Really?" Tevi said in surprise.
        "Yes. It won't force a sorcerer to go away. If I had to, I could put up with it."
        "But you'd rather not?"
        "Definitely."
        Tevi dug out a memory. "Someone told me that people up by the Barrodens make door lintels out of rowan. Are they trying to stop sorcerers visiting?"
        "It's more likely for ghouls - if anything they relish rowan even less than us. But it won't work with werewolves. For some perverse reason, they seem to like the stuff. No one knows why. That's what makes the whole area of wards and charms so much more interesting than healing colds and things."
        "Perhaps not to ordinary folk." Tevi suggested.
        "No point being healthy if you've got a ghoul sitting beside you."

Continued in Chapter 7.


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