The Flaw in the Stone Read online

  “I’ve changed my mind,” Melia said.

  Ilex tilted his head, taken aback.

  “I agree with you after all,” she clarified. “Council dimension honey does taste different to me today than it did in my youth. And alchemical factors do indeed appear to be affecting my sense of touch.”

  “What are you doing?”

  Ilex and Melia, startled by the sudden intrusion, jolted away from one another.

  “Cedar!” said Melia. “Have you no sense of protocol? A Junior Initiate does not simply walk unannounced into a Magistrate’s chambers.”

  “What is the protocol for an Initiate walking into an Initiate classroom?” Cedar lowered her eyes, but her attempt to repress a smile belied the deferential gesture.

  Melia did not respond. She gestured to Ilex, subtly implying he clean up the honey she had spilled when interrupted by Cedar. His attempt to comply was ineffective.

  “My apologies for interrupting your . . . classroom preparation. I certainly understand how such intense focus on an Initiate lesson could lead you to forget that Initiates would be attending,” said Cedar.

  Melia nodded, ignoring the edge of sarcasm in Cedar’s voice.

  “Whom are you planning to choose as your partner?” Ilex asked Cedar.

  “For what?”

  “Today’s lesson on Lapidarian honey.”

  “I offer my services,” proclaimed Ruis, appearing beside Cedar. “What will be required of us?”

  “It seems we are to spill Lapidarian honey on the table and then attempt to wipe it up,” replied Cedar, no longer attempting to hide her smile.

  “You have certainly become rather forthright since the day I brought you to Council dimension,” observed Melia.

  “A lot has changed in two years.”

  “We had just been speaking of the effects Council dimension can have on an individual. You may be pleasantly surprised once you reach Elixir years.”

  “I look forward to the honour of receiving Elixir,” replied Cedar.

  A few other Initiates wandered in, followed by Obeche, who made his usual dramatic entrance.

  “Senior Initiate Ruis,” he called. Obeche had a habit of challenging certain students whenever the opportunity presented itself.

  “Yes, Junior Magistrate Obeche.”

  “Please illuminate for me three characteristics of—” He broke off suddenly when he noticed the remains of the spilled honey.

  He turned away from Ruis to address Ilex and Melia. “Have you discerned a new method to differentiate Lapidarian honey from the honey of the outside world?”

  “Certainly, the occasional alchemical experiment is warranted in preparation for a joint Initiate session,” replied Melia.

  “Certainly,” said Obeche.

  Though several other Initiates had by then gathered around the table, Obeche once again addressed Ruis, “Senior Initiate Ruis, can you discern which of these three pots holds in its belly the metaphorical gold?”

  “This one,” Ruis responded without hesitation, pointing to the pot farthest from him. He exuded confidence, suggesting he had gleaned sufficient details from his preparatory reading.

  “Why that one?”

  “The honey in that pot has a sheen to its surface — a golden sheen.”

  “All that glitters is not gold,” said Cedar.

  Ruis turned to her and smiled.

  “Impressive, Cedar. And disappointing, Ruis,” concluded Obeche. He walked to the front of the classroom to take his position behind the lectern. Ilex placed the pots on a silver tray, which he then carefully carried to the front of the room. Melia likewise stood and moved to a position between Ilex and the classroom alembic.

  “Initiates, take your seats!” instructed Obeche. “As you will have already ascertained, during this joint Initiate session, Senior Magistrate Melia, Junior Magistrate Ilex, and I will elaborate on the characteristics and life-enhancing properties of Lapidarian honey. Needless to say, you are to exhibit the utmost maturity and cautionary behaviour throughout the lesson, as you would when you handle any volatile alchemical substance.”

  “Honey is volatile?” asked Cedar.

  “Not generally,” responded Melia. “Not literally. But Lapidarian honey has been known to mitigate . . . inhibitions. This,” she held up the pot whose contents she and Ilex had most recently sampled, “is the vessel containing the Lapidarian honey. Regular honey — honey from the outside world — merely sweetens the palate. Lapidarian honey tantalizes the senses like a fine aged wine. Or so I recall from my youth.”

  “Youth, of course,” Obeche added for the sake of the Initiates, “is no excuse for disreputable behaviour. Any Initiate who partakes of excessive honey today or, more specifically, who illustrates lack of control over its effects will be reprimanded accordingly.”

  “‘The quality of mercy is not strain’d,’” quoted Ruis.

  “It droppeth as the honey upon the page beneath,” replied Cedar, softly laughing.

  Council Dimension — 1785

  Melia climbed up onto the gnarled, tangled, and expansive trunk of the ancient wisteria tree. She balanced herself by holding a branch with one hand and extended the other to Saule.

  “Sit here,” Melia suggested, gesturing towards an indentation in the trunk’s expanse that would welcome Saule in perfect comfort. Though Ilex had brought Saule to Council dimension, Melia had been the one who had grown to cherish her over the years. Now, as Saule settled into the naturally formed seat in the tree, Melia found it hard to believe her young friend had already become a Magistrate. In watching Saule now, Melia was reminded once again to acknowledge that, as slowly as one aged in Council dimension, time nonetheless continued to pass. Melia herself was proof of that, having reached Novillian status only a few months ago. She still remembered crossing the threshold of the Initiate classroom for the first time all those years ago; now she was one of the nine Elders. Yes, alchemists could live for hundreds of years — for an eternity given a fortuitous alignment of circumstances and Quintessence-infused Elixir — but the threat of conjunction or erasure or even Final Ascension effectively quelled taking time for granted. How could she predict the number of years or months or mere hours she had left to share simple joys with friends?

  “Oh! Melia,” said Saule, “this tree is stunning — even more majestic than your description last week led me to imagine.”

  Melia positioned herself beside Saule. She leaned her head back as far as she could to gaze in awe at the masses of cascading purple blossoms.

  “Yes, I heartily agree. Spectacular, unparalleled beauty!” Melia confirmed. “One unmatched even by the most radiant of trees in the Amber Garden.”

  Saule laughed. “I would not hazard such a comparison. I cherish the Amber Garden above all landscapes in Council dimension — gardens and forests alike. Yet I’m astounded by the splendour here. The sight, the aroma, the softness of the petals, the roughness of the bark — I feel bathed in sensation. And I’m grateful for your generosity in bringing me here.”

  “One attains certain privileges as an Elder, unlimited portal transport being one.”

  “Are we in an ancient garden of the outside world? Japan, perhaps?”

  “Most certainly not. We remain within the confines of Council dimension. Even the most revered wisteria trees in Japan cannot rival the expanse and beauty of this one. Azoth Magen Quercus once told me that this particular tree is more than three thousand years old.”

  “Three millennia — how is it possible?”

  “We are sitting in the first wisteria tree of the original Lapidarian garden, one created through manuscript inscription many Councils ago with sacred inks gleaned from the Lapis: a sacred grove to house the bees, centuries before the majority were transported to the lavender fields of the primary apiary. Like the fields, this garden exists in a subspace of Cou
ncil dimension, accessible only by portal. Of course, you may return whenever you’d like — you need only attain permission from an Elder for transport.”

  “Portal transport is granted only if the reason is warranted. I am not certain ‘desire to immerse my senses in the ancient wisteria tree’ would count as valid grounds for travel.”

  Melia laughed. “You need permission from an Elder. I will grant you permission. I cannot think of a better excuse for travel than sensuous pleasure. If you listen carefully, you can still hear a few Lapidarian bees. Whenever the Elders deem it necessary, a few hundred bees are returned to this ancient garden from the lavender fields to maintain the wisteria tree along with the other trees and plants. If no one finds pleasure in this garden, no one will think to ensure its maintenance through future rotations. I am grooming you for your future on Elder Council, my friend.”

  “A few centuries away, I should think.”

  “Stranger things have happened in the history of the Alchemists’ Council.”

  “Well, if I am to become an Elder one day, I hope to be like you. You’re different from the others,” observed Saule. “You treat me differently. I confess, sometimes I do not understand your intentions. What interest has a Novillian Scribe in fraternizing with a Junior Magistrate?”

  “I cannot speak for the other Novillians, but I, for one, enjoy your company. The Orders of Council mean little to me in the arena of friendship. After all, we may end up spending hundreds of years together. What difference could a few orders of separation make within such an extended time frame? Or, if we have only a few years together, why not create memories to last an eternity? Just don’t get yourself erased or chosen for conjunction.”

  “Ha! Another difference — you are the only Elder who makes me laugh.”

  “And who from the Council at large makes you laugh, Saule? If you say Obeche, I may fall from the tree.”

  “See,” laughed Saule, “I appreciate your sense of humour.”

  “So does Ilex,” said Melia.

  Saule paused, observing Melia before venturing her next remark. “You don’t have to remind me of your love for Ilex, Melia. I know you’re committed to him alone. The entire Council is aware of the depth of your love for one other.”

  “Yes. Ilex and I are indeed bound eternally by love. But I was not purposely reminding you of my relationship with him. I was simply stating a fact of my current life.”

  “Apologies, Melia, I—”

  “Wait. I must interject. You needn’t apologize. I consider you one of my closest friends. I trust that you reciprocate my feelings of friendship and will be honest with me if you do not.”

  “Then I must confess to you, I am indeed finding it difficult to navigate this friendship — to locate its boundaries. Perhaps I would better understand the intimacies of friendship if I too had a beloved, someone in my life to love, as you have Ilex in yours.”

  “You are a member of the Alchemists’ Council, Saule. You’re not limited to the confines and misguided morality of the outside world. You are certain to find love one day. In the meantime, we will navigate this friendship together, most likely into uncharted territory.”

  Saule smiled. “Even an eternity may not be long enough for me to find happiness in love. You do not yet know my tattered history. I have experienced one failure after another in that realm, both inside and outside Council dimension.”

  “Then begin at the beginning. We have all the time in the world — and that may not be an exaggeration. What better way to bring closure to your failures than by speaking them aloud to a friend in this brilliantly soothing arboreal landscape? Tell me your story, Saule.”

  “Once upon a time . . .” began Saule, taking her first step towards her unmapped future.

  Council Dimension — 1800

  Melia stood on the balcony of her residence chambers overlooking the landscape. The rising sun made the ancient stone of the grand Council buildings appear to glow. She knew she was fortunate to have lived so long — indeed, for almost four centuries now — amidst the beauty of Council dimension. Her earlier years as a Magistrate preparing Initiate history lessons served well to remind her that certain periods of the Alchemists’ Council had been far more tumultuous than those of her tenure. Would she and Ilex have had the luxury of falling and remaining in love if, for example, they had been Council members during the period of the Second Rebellion? Yes, Melia had witnessed various outside world conflicts over the centuries; yes, she had known strife among Council members — especially since Quercus had become Azoth Magen — but overall she and Ilex had enjoyed years of relative serenity together: a state of being epitomized in the sunrise she watched as Ilex slept soundly in her bed. She considered abandoning her view of the horizon, moving back into the room to wake Ilex by positioning herself on top of him — her morning reveries moving her from a state of calm nostalgia to arousal within moments. But she was distracted by Ravenea, who was walking alone along the channel path below the residence building. Could she be headed this early to the Scriptorium?

  “Ravenea!” she called out softly, aiming to attract her friend’s attention without waking Ilex or anyone in nearby chambers. When Ravenea did not respond, Melia tried again, this time with pendant in hand. Whether influenced by pendant proximity or not, Ravenea turned and looked up to the third-floor balcony where Melia stood waving. Rather than replying aloud, Ravenea gestured for Melia to join her. Melia returned to the room, changed quickly from her nightclothes and shawl to her cotton gown and silk day robes, and moved swiftly and quietly through the corridors and out into the courtyard, temporarily forgetting about Ilex and what she might otherwise have shared with him that morning.

  Ravenea awaited her on a small bench beneath a large oak tree.

  “Good morning,” said Melia. “Were you headed to the Scriptorium?”

  “Yes. I could no longer lie in bed. The night was . . . restless. I saw no purpose in wasting time when I could get an early start on work.”

  “On this beautiful day, could you find nothing to occupy your leisure hours beyond Novillian duties?”

  “As you know, Melia, ascension becomes less frequent — indeed, is no longer assured — once one reaches the higher orders. I must prove myself worthy should a rotation commence.”

  “True,” Melia nodded. “But you have certainly earned yourself time to relax on occasion, even if such occurrences are rare.”

  “And take the risk that Obeche will outrank me one day?”

  Melia laughed loudly then, prompting Ravenea to grab Melia’s arm and suggest they move elsewhere so as not to disturb anyone still asleep in the residence chambers.

  “I welcome time with you before commencing today’s duties,” Ravenea said as they walked along the path together. Melia sensed a note of sadness behind Ravenea’s decorum.

  They opted for a small alcove of trees and benches surrounding the pond referred to as the Wishing Well by those who had arrived in Council dimension prior to Quercus’s edict as Azoth Magen of the 17th Council: “Alchemists will no longer use Lochan Pond to practise outside world folkloric nonsense.” Tossing in a coin was thereafter strictly forbidden; thus — wish or no wish, belief or indifference — doing so had become a means of quiet rebellion by Council members who had experienced conflict with Quercus over one matter or another. Melia was particularly fond of peering into the water for outside world coins that she could add to her growing international collection.

  “There’s at least one to be found today,” said Ravenea, knowing of Melia’s habit and pointing towards the pond’s centre.

  “I can’t see it.”

  “Neither can I, but I threw one in myself just last night, so it must be somewhere.”

  Melia laughed again, imagining what had sparked Ravenea to risk censure this time. Her previous coin-tossing incident had followed a reprimand by Quercus on the state of her apparel: R
avenea! An alchemist who aspires to Azoth should not don wrinkled robes. Melia had been in earshot on that occasion and was rewarded later with a gold coin that looked like it hailed from ancient Greece. Melia did not ask Ravenea if the coin had been hers; she had merely dried it off and tucked it away in her coin box to admire on another day.

  “In all seriousness, Ravenea, you have no reason to doubt your abilities to ascend to Rowan on the next rotation. Azothian status will then be well within your grasp. You could afford to spend more time with friends or, dare I suggest, a lover. Scribe Esche seems fitting.”

  “Melia!”

  “Well, if not Esche, then perhaps Magistrate Saule could—”

  “Melia! Stop!”

  “But she is lonely too!”

  “I am not lonely! A choice of lovers is readily available to me, if I should be overcome by unquenchable thirst. For now, I am content to let this situation — and discussion — rest. I do not need distractions on my path to Azoth.”

  “So you plan to remain celibate for several decades?”

  “If need be.”

  “Ravenea! Be sensible.”

  “I am being sensible. I am sensibly saving myself from distraction and heartache.”

  “Lovers come and go. Heartache comes and goes. If I were not bound to Ilex, I would be taking advantage of Council benefits: hundreds of years, dozens of lovers, no risk of pregnancy or disease. On this subject, I truly do not understand you, Ravenea.”

  “And I do not understand you, Melia. Really, it’s a wonder we’re friends at all.”

  Melia smirked. “Really, it’s a wonder we have never been lovers.”

  “You’re incorrigible!”

  “And you love me for it.”

  “I do love you.” Ravenea paused, staring into the pond. “And that is the reason that what I am about to say is so difficult for me.”