ChaoticArmcandy

  In the end it took long enough, thought Aralia grimly as she waited for the fatal hour, to arrange all the pieces on the board. She sat erect at her desk, occupying her thoughts with her work, parsing the cold crisp lines of numbers—uncomplicated and spare, clean and untreacherous.

  The midnight bell had rung and fallen silent by the time the orderly’s knock sounded on Aralia’s door—a summons from the Chancellor, delivered in an even, clipped tone.

  An urgent matter. Rouse and make haste to his office. At once.

  There were no more details forthcoming, despite her repeated attempts to pester.

  In a careful sembnce of disgruntlement and disarray, she got ready and followed the man across the chill, moonlit expanses of courtyard, towards the sloping bck silhouette of the Arcane Tower.

  The guard at the great hall entrance was twitchy tonight—his eyes roaming even as he gestured them over the threshold. The ctter of their steps echoed hollow on the grand spiral stair as they ascended, and turned onto the broad corridor that led to the administrative wing, every window they passed dark and empty.

  Except one.

  Ahead of them, a faint glow spilled out onto the hallway as a door swung open.

  A birdlike secretary appeared at the threshold, beckoning them urgently in. Aralia undertook an expression of bored annoyance as she followed the orderly through a rge waiting room and stepped into a sumptuously decorated inner office, where two men stood in the far corner, half-full crystal tumblers in hand, their voices a low murmur. The orderly bowed and closed the door behind her.

  Aralia affected a slight stiffening at the sight of one of the figures—a tall, gaunt-faced man draped in elegant dark robes whose upper lip had begun to curl as soon as she’d crossed the threshold.

  Apollo Renfew, professor of Thanopegics, was widely known as one of her most bitter rivals amongst the Harmine faculty. His lineage was pure old guard, descended unbroken from the obsessively inbred and sorcerously talented Dragonian noble families, and his name was still broadly respected among the loyalists and social hygienists, even the vehemently anti-royalist faction that was now ascendant in the Ministry. Renfew made no secret of his vitriolic hatred of Aralia—and she’d long ago decided that was to her advantage, and directed him to keep antagonizing her publicly.

  He was one of her more dangerous assets, one she could never afford to rex her guard around. If the night ever came when he managed to slip the hooks she had in him, Aralia had no doubt she wouldn’t live to see the dawn.

  Fortunately, that made him perfect for a role such as this. Hours before, to his infinite disgust, she had instructed him carefully in exactly what to say and do in this meeting. He looked at her now as if she were the unexpected smell of sewage.

  “Ah, Factor Cordivar,” excimed Chancellor Basilica with some relief. “Please, sit.” He crossed to his desk and leaned forward over the vast expanse of tropical hardwood, its surface polished to a buttery sheen. His eyes were beetle-dark and quick in a wide, florid face.

  “Your arrival could not have come sooner. Now we can finally begin to be done with this.” The Chancellor gave a subtle jerk of his head towards the huddled, downcast girl in the corner.

  Aralia shot Ellie a cursory gnce.

  They’d let her have a chair, at least—though she’d been tethered to it with the same regard for comfort one might show to a rock or a log. Her whole form was crisscrossed and thickly swathed with sorcerous bonds that gleamed an oily bck in the glow of the alchemical mps.

  Ellie’s gaze darted up from the floor to seek hers.

  The little fool. She was only hurting herself.

  I am my mask, Aralia bade herself sternly. I am my armor. She turned back to the Chancellor without acknowledging the girl at all, and lowered herself into an empty chair.

  If I crack, if I falter, everyone is lost. “What is this?” she said impatiently.

  Basilica sighed. “An inconveniently timed problem, I’m afraid. I assume you heard of this afternoon’s ruckus?”

  Aralia frowned. “The kuffa agitator?”

  “Indeed.” The Chancellor raised a hand to massage his temples. “I am regrettably under-slept. Professor, if you would expin the creature’s presence in my office?”

  Renfew stepped briskly forward. “When our community was tipped off by a brave loyalist student to the unhygienic infiltrator’s presence, I undertook to look into the matter. The student himself provided the lead—the kuffa was an alchemy student who disappeared several weeks ago. A cursory check in the records yielded a match—a new maidservant was hired the same day. Fate was kind to deliver the culprit into my hands without much fuss, and it confessed almost immediately.”

  “I see,” Aralia stated coldly. “Astutely done, Professor.” She turned to the Chancellor. “I assume the kuffa wretch polluted itself through alchemical means, and that is why I am here?”

  “It was trained in Apomasaics,” said Basilica heavily. “By none other than yourself. Despite passing Ministry screening procedures.”

  “A concerning precedent.”

  Renfew snorted and the Chancellor threw him a warning look.

  “Just so,” said Basilica, turning aside to pace. “Can you imagine the potential damage if word of this gets out? The scandal? The snder spread by my detractors in the Senate? Harmine University’s prestigious alchemy programs, a breeding ground for filthy degenerate vermin?” He turned on his heel. “I trust you both understand my concern?”

  Renfew murmured his assent.

  Aralia nodded stiffly. “If Apomasaics loses political support, it will crush my department’s chances of securing the next round of funding.”

  “The timing is much too votile. We must keep this quiet until after the moot, when the new policies roll out.” He pointed at Aralia. “Factor Cordivar, I want you to take the creature, study it, find out how it breached our alchemy secrets and managed to reverse Apomasaics. Prepare me a full report, including a full set of proposals for countermeasures we can take to make sure this will never again occur under our noses. We must smooth this over, and quickly.” The Chancellor spread his hands reasonably. “When you’re done I’d prefer to liquidate her, Factor, if it’s all the same to you.”

  Aralia shook her head firmly. “The scientific opportunity for more data collection is too fortuitous, Chancellor. In any event, I have been needing a control subject for some time. As you know, there has been a Ministry bulletin posted for this very reason, but we haven’t had much luck until now. Pickings have been rather slim. To spend months waiting for another kuffa to be caught alive and survive the shipping process would dey research advancements grievously.”

  Basilica frowned, displeased.

  “However,” continued Aralia carefully. “For the sake of secrecy, it seems wise to keep the kuffa’s boarding arrangements informal for now.”

  The Chancellor waved dismissively. “Kennel the creature in your boratory for all I care. Just get me that report.”

  “The Special Research department is not equipped to warehouse humans, or their facsimiles,” replied Aralia smoothly.

  Renfew cleared his throat. “Clearly Miss Cordivar and I do not see eye to eye on much of anything—”

  “That’s Factor Cordivar,” Aralia interjected cuttingly.

  The Chancellor sighed. “Not now, you two.”

  Renfew blinked. “Yes, well, as I was saying, I see no reason not to let her handle this little error herself.”

  Basilica massaged his temples again. “Speak pinly, Professor.”

  “The problem seems very simple to me. The kuffa masqueraded quite successfully as a maid servant, did it not?” He turned to Aralia. “Do you have need of a maid? If not, give it to one of your staff.” He sneered. “I’m sure someone will want it, for one reason or another.”

  “How pragmatic of you, Professor.” Aralia’s voice was as cold and crisp as a snap frost. She turned to the Chancellor. “I will see to it. Now, if that is all?”

  The Chancellor opened his mouth to respond, then stopped as a soft knock sounded on the door, and gave a tired smile. “At st. Come in!”

  The door swung open and Aralia felt her insides go rigid with chill foreboding as Penelope Caul stalked into the room.

  ChaoticArmcandy