It had been five months since James killed the Purist named Ceralline in Walendar's Tower. And during that time, two things happened. First, Iris and James started a relationship and second, she had sunk her claws deep into the man's psyche. Seldom did Iris let an opportunity to remind him of what he had done slip by unmentioned. Sometimes she made him feel good about his actions, helped prepare him to do so again if necessary. And it would be necessary. Other times she pulled the strings of his paranoia and fear. Made sure he knew she held a piece of information that could put him behind bars. Though, she was never heavy-handed with her threats. Mere hints and insinuations were plenty. She made one such insinuation as she and James walked across the front campus of University da Mi'lier.
"I heard they made progress in the investigation surrounding Ceralline's death," she whispered. The High Chamber was not letting the Purist's mysterious death fade away into the sad archives of untimely deaths.
James stared at her nervously. His voice was full of fear. "It's only a matter of time till they figure out it wasn't no suicide."
"Relax, James. If anyone had seen us, they'd be coming for us by now. All we have to do is keep our promise to one another."
"Right." He gave an uncomfortable smile. "Course we will." (That's right. You belong to me. And your services will prove most useful.)
She slid her hand into his as they continued toward the school.
University da Mi'lier was built like a cross, three shorter wings were dedicated to alchemy, arithmetic, and healing. The fourth, and longest, branch was the Hall of Histories. A library that featured the works of some of the greatest commoners and Purists in the history of the empire. The answers to all Iris' questions lay upon its shelves. Most of which pertained to her goal of purging pure magic from the world. There had been late nights, early mornings, and full days worth of studying within the walls of the remarkable library. So many in fact, that Iris knew the place as well or better than the aids that worked there. Slowly but surely she had created friendships with the workers as they came to her with questions about where to locate difficult to find books. She had found a home in the library, one that made her almost as happy as her real home in Faylawn. Something she would have never expected upon her first weeks in Locke.
Unlike the other branches, the Hall of Histories was open to the entire city of Locke. Thus, she and James spent much of their time together in the library. Such was the case as Iris held James' hand and led him through the long corridors of the university. It was true that Iris had made some friends with those that appreciated her diligence and intellect, but not all of her classmates found her so appealing. Many thought her strange or avoided her due to her taboo relationship with a Purist. And those that worked with her in the alchemy lab resented her for the favoritism she was receiving from Master Rellin. All of which explained the dodging eyes from some passersby and glares from others.
An arched opening awaited them at the end of the corridor. Stone statues of long-dead Masters stood on either side, open books held in their hands, their faces sculpted to depict deep thought. As they approached the arch Master Rellin turned the corner unexpectedly. Iris stopped quickly to avoid crashing into the thick man. The corridor's torchlight illuminated a tray with several glass tubes on it in his hands. Each was filled with a different colored substance. (That must be the project he's always hinting at vaguely.) Master Rellin smiled at her, lowered his brow at James.
"How is my prodigy?" he asked Iris. His voice filled the corridor, drawing more jealous looks from both commoners and Purists as they passed.
"Quite well, Master Rellin. Just heading to the Hall of Histories to read with James." She gestured toward the charmer. "James, this is Master Rellin. He's the mentor I've told you all about."
James shifted Iris' books from his right arm to his left and extended his hand before realizing Master Rellin's hands were full. He laughed. "Sorry 'bout that. I reckon I'm a bit nervous to meet someone like you." That brought a hint of a smile to the self-indulged alchemist's face.
"Ah! Don't be foolish, James. You're the brilliant one. A Purist like yourself. I should be bowing down to you," said the old man.
"Not at all, I'm-" James was interrupted by Iris.
"Jameson's not like that sir, not at all. He's different. Wants peace between us all," said Iris.
"Is that right," said Master Rellin. Wicket nodded. Iris could see a hint of embarrassment on his face.
"Forgive me if I'm inclined to be a tad skeptical. I've been around for many years. Seen terrible things from both sides." He looked at Iris. "Then again… I've never met someone quite as brilliant as Iris. So, if she believes in you, perhaps I should too."
"You should," said Iris. "He treats me like an equal, he's defended me when other Purists have tried to belittle me."
"Well, I do wish there were more Purists like you then, Jameson Wicket." Master Rellin nodded and walked between the couple carefully, breaking the grip they held. He stopped and turned back to Iris. "Please remind me that I'd like to show you what I've accomplished here… when you're done with Jameson."
Iris couldn't help but smile at the man's words. "Yes, sir. Of course." (Is this it? Does he finally want to work together?)
The Hall of Histories was a large room, the largest Iris had ever seen. The western wall had tall windows stretching nearly the entire height of the room. The panes of glass were tinted by a black alchemical substance Iris knew to be called sunblock. It still allowed the glass pane to be looked through comfortably, but did not allow the sun to bother the students. Between the tall windows were green banners that hung from a few feet lower than the windows to the tops of the bookshelves that stood between them. In the middle of each banner was an open book resting in front of two crossed swords. Master Rellin had explained that it was designed by the Purists that now ran the university, their way of proclaiming academics before conflict. (Maybe they should read their own books once in a while.)
Nearly every inch of the other three walls within the room was covered by bookshelves, rolling ladders were attached to shelves all over the library. A second story archive was linked by a catwalk that was accessible by the use of a staircase in the southern corner of the room. When Iris and James entered the hall they immediately made their way through the aisles of tables that filled the vast space in the middle of the room and went upstairs.
"What are ya after today?" asked James as he tried to keep up with the speeding woman.
"Something special… for you," she said over her shoulder.
Iris figured it wasn't enough to simply wrap James around her finger. It was crucial that she also mold his thoughts and opinions if she was going to ask him to do the things she would need done when the time came. (If I do well enough he will see what needs done without me asking. Self-motivation supersedes any inspiring words, even from the most brilliant minds.)
She rushed down the long catwalk until she found herself in a special section of the library called the Influentials; a selection of books that were deemed to have impacted the empire more than all others, for better or worse. She crouched down, knowing nearly every title of every book in the special section. Her finger ran across the dusty spines slowly until she found what she was looking for.
"Ah! Here we are," she said excitedly. She pulled a thin tome from between two heftier ones and stood up. She held the book in front of herself where James could see it as well.
"A Common Life," said James.
"Indeed. By your mentor," she said. "Arren Walendar."
"He wrote a book?"
"Aye. Many in fact. But this is the one that would interest you most. It's his magnum opus."
James looked at her as if she had spoken some sort of foreign language.
"His life's work. He goes into great detail about why he believed there should be a common ground between you and me."
"Really? He wrote about it?"
She smiled and nodded. "Aye. And I'd like you to read it." He frowned at her. "Please… for me. Besides, you said he was your mentor. That you wanted to be like him. Well, this book will teach you exactly how he felt about Purists and how he believed we should all go about living in harmony… as equals."
"Is that right?"
"Of course. I've read it several times myself. Front to back."
Maybe I should take a look then," he said as he took the tome from her. Perfect.
"Thank you, James." She grabbed his waist and pulled him close enough to kiss his cheek. (Hopefully he understands what he is reading.)
Master Rellin's study was located on the third floor of the university's alchemy branch. Despite having been at the university for almost a year, it was the first time Iris had entered her mentor's dignified work space. Four tall windows provided a view of the northeast campus below. Each was tinted with sunblock like those in the Hall of Histories and featured the same banners as well. Several arched beams stretched the width of the room, crossing through the straighter beams that ran the room's length. Two identical burgundy rugs covered the majority of the floor, leaving a foot of space between them and near the walls. At one end of the room was an extravagant fireplace, at the other a painting that depicted the city of Locke. Large square bookshelves were spaced evenly across most of the walls.
Iris found herself seated near the fireplace, exactly where Master Rellin had told her to sit. Four chairs surrounded a wide, but short table made of beautiful cherry wood. A platter full of cut fruit and vegetables lay in the middle. A bottle of wine and several glasses sat beside it. She leaned forward and plucked a few sliced apples then leaned back in the plush chair. Master Rellin was standing near his desk located beneath the mural. He was opening pieces of parchment that were sealed with wax, scanning them quickly, then placing them on neat stacks on either end of the desk. She was chewing on an apple slice when he turned around abruptly and made his way across the room.
"Iris," he said as he walked.
She covered her mouth and tried to swallow the food without looking too uncivilized. "Aye, sir."
Master Rellin took a seat at the other end of the table. "Thank you for coming by," he said.
"It's an honor. It truly is one of the finest rooms in the university."
"Aye." He looked around. "I must say, it is marvelous. It wasn't always so elegant and well decorated though. It was simply pitiful when I took this position." He looked as though he was remembering his first days as the Master of Alchemy at University da Mi'lier. "How hard I had to work hard to find myself sitting in this room. Some would say too hard. That I was obsessed with my career. I know my wife would have." Now there was sadness on Master Rellin's face. "A wise woman, she was. Much like you." He leaned forward and grabbed a handful of orange slices. "You have her wisdom and my work ethic."
"I'm only beginning my journey," said Iris. "Whether I can sustain a career as long as yours is still to be seen."
"You may be new to the university, but you are no stranger to alchemy. I can only imagine how many hours you spent in your cellar, learning, experimenting, inventing."
Iris thought about her modest little laboratory in the cellar of her parents home. (How far I've come. And so quickly.)
"I aspire to be as great as you someday sir. Nothing short of hard work will get me there."
"Even brilliant minds are wrong sometimes, I suppose."
Iris stared somewhat blankly. Confused. Offended, but unwilling to show it.
"You're already every bit as brilliant as I ever was."
"Surely not, sir."
"If there is something you can learn from me, it is that the greatest minds seek the sense of inferiority. They do not fear it. I've been looking for you for years, Iris. No one has ever made me feel so inferior. Not intellectually. Not commoners, not Purists."
There was little reason to say thank you. Master Rellin wasn't foolish enough to believe she wasn't grateful for such praise.
He continued. "I'm sure you know as well as I do just how difficult it is being a commoner. How easy it is to feel like you're less than them.""
"Very easy," she muttered. "Very, very easy."
"Aye," he said. "Thus, I find it odd that you've been spending so much time with that Purist. What did you say his name was?" (I'm not here for him to ask me to apprentice him. He wants to lecture me on my choices. Should I tell him what I'm doing to James?)
"Jameson Wicket," she said.
"Ah, yes. Mr. Wicket." His fingers strummed the arm of the chair. "You're going to be something special, Iris… but not if you allow people like Jameson Wicket to pull you down. Whether he's a Purist or not, you and I both know he's beneath your intellect. He won't be able to elevate you, push you to greatness."
(That I can't argue with. But it doesn't matter. I'm not with him to fall in love.) She stopped, felt awkward as her eyes fell to her lap . She couldn't deny she had been suppressing her unexpected feelings for James. When she looked up Master Rellin was studying her intently.
"What is it?" he asked.
She said, "My mother used to tell me that The Creator puts everyone you meet in your life for a reason."
Master Rellin looked uninspired. "Do you believe that? Do you believe that Mr. Wicket is in your life for a reason?"
She shook her head. "You're right," she said. "He's not right for me." The words hurt surprisingly bad as she heard them out loud.
"No, he's not."
She nodded nervously, trying her best to hide how she was feeling.
"And because you understand that. I'd like to show you what I had earlier when we bumped into one another."
(Maybe he did have an apprenticeship in mind. A sinister way to get to the point though. Am I stepping into a working relationship or a battle of wits?) "I'd love that, sir."
Master Rellin smiled as he stood from his chair. His powerful frame was wide and thick. Thicker than she'd expect for a man of his profession. He reminded her more of the huntsmen back in Faylawn. The ones that would be tasked with taking down the more dangerous game. His black hair dangled down to his shoulders and looked like it could be on a much younger man's head. (Alchemicals surely.)
He made his way toward an armoire that stood beneath one of the banners near the windows. The sound of keys jingling filled the room as he pulled an iron key chain from beneath his scholarly robe. The doors of the armoire opened wide though Iris still could not make out exactly what was on the shelves. When he turned back to her the wooden tray from before was in his hands. He walked carefully toward the low table and sat the tray down in front of her. Only two of the several test tubes she had seen before were still on the tray. One was filled with a pink fluid, the other was green and boiling viciously. (What could that possibly be? Greenleaf? Cloverskin?) Master Rellin noticed her contemplation.
"You won't have learned about these in your studies," he said. "These are something new."
"What are they sir?" she asked.
He leaned back in his chair. "I'd love to share my project with you. In fact, I'd love to make you my apprentice."
The words were like a gentle song the bards played in the pubs back home.
"Me," she said softly, trying not to give away her elation.
"Yes. Truth be told, you probably don't need to be an apprentice, but such is the old way."
"I'm flattered sir, but I must admit, I feel that sense of inferiority you mentioned. I'm sure there is plenty for me to learn from you." She wasn't entirely convinced by the notion but it felt right to say.
"Something tells me I may be learning from you someday," he said. She looked away timidly. "There's only one thing left to do and we can make it official."
"What's that?"
"You must promise me you will not see Jameson Wicket ever again. You will not speak to him. You will not even think of him. And he sure as the three hells should not be wandering around in the Hall of Histories or anywhere else in the university."
(That presents a problem.) Her feelings for James were in the forefront of her mind. (I solve problems though, right? I will find a way around it.)
"Understood," she said confidently.
"Excellent." He stood and extended his hand. She gripped it tight as they exchanged a smile. Every bit of her own cunning was present on his face.