Fallen Magic

They made it to the Guild Council’s meeting without incident. The route there was through a secret passage that had one end in Philippa’s cellar and the other in an unremarkable basement that turned out to belong to the Guild’s headquarters. Beth couldn’t have kept track of the twists and turns they took – there were several branching passages, too – if she’d wanted to, though she supposed knowing where an entrance was would already be enough to cause a lot of harm to the Guild.

Philippa waited with them until one and thirty came around, and then brought them into the Council room. The Council consisted of a group of seven, as she’d said. All of them old, looking various degrees of stern. One woman, Beth noticed suddenly, was missing an arm and had deep scarring running down her face. She struggled not to stare.

“The Council recognises Master Philippa Baptiste,” said another woman. She looked the youngest of the group, though she had to be at least sixty. Her voice was cold and precise.

“I thank the Council for their recognition, and beg leave to present my guests,” Philippa replied at once.

“Granted.”

“These, then, are Bethany Quirk and Jack Leroux. They claim that they were until recently companions of Master Isabelle Froment, who was held in a military base performing alchemical research for the government. That they escaped that base using an alchemical invention of the Master. That Miss Quirk served, unofficially, as the apprentice to the Master. And that they have a letter written by the Master to the esteemed President.”

The Council members shifted in their seats. Beth supposed the story did sound rather improbable, if you hadn’t lived through it. “I see,” said the same woman who’d spoken before. “The Council recognises Miss Quirk and Mr Leroux. I am its President, Master Madeleine Roy.”

“We thank the Council for their recognition?” Beth guessed, copying Philippa. She received vaguely approving nods, so she assumed she’d guessed correctly.

“Master Baptiste, you may leave. The Council thanks you for your presence.”

“And I thank the Council for its time,” Philippa replied, bowing her head. She shot Beth a friendly smile and departed.

“I propose that the President reads this letter to the Council before any further discussion,” said a man sitting next to the President. “That will save us a good deal of unnecessary questioning, I think.”

“Do any object?” the President asks.

No-one objected.

“Then the Council approves the proposal. May I have the letter?”

Beth had kept the envelope on her person ever since Isabelle had given it to her. She felt a little bereft, letting it go, but this was what Isabelle had intended to be done with it. She removed the envelope from her pocket, took a couple of steps forward, and slid it across the table to the President.

She took a letter-knife that sat beside her on the table, unsealed the envelope, and withdrew a sheet of thick paper. “The letter begins with several Guild passwords,” she said, skimming her eyes down the paper, “including those used to personally identify Master Froment. I will not speak them in front of non-Masters, but they are genuine and my fellow Councillors may inspect them if they wish to.”

“I wish to inspect them,” said the man who’d initially proposed the letter be read. The President showed him the sheet of paper. “They are in fact genuine, to the best of my knowledge,” he said after a second. Beth hated the surprise in his voice.

“Very good. If I may continue?” There was a second of silence, which the President took as confirmation that she could continue. “To the esteemed President of the Guild of Alchemists,” she read, quoting Isabelle, “I must first apologise for my long and previously unexplained absence. It was not, you must understand, by any choice of mine.”

Isabelle spent a couple of paragraphs summarising her situation. She placed a great deal of emphasis on the fact that she had not given up any Guild secrets, or given the government the means to create harmful alchemies they could not already. None of them are true alchemists, she wrote scathingly, so they cannot hope to understand my work without my presence.

Beth could almost hear her master’s voice reading the words. Stars, she missed Isabelle.

She then introduced Beth and Jack, once more taking pains. This time to make sure that they understood that Beth could be trusted despite having been sent to her by the government, and that though Jack was officially her test subject she had followed the Guild’s practice and tested her concoctions on herself primarily.

“There remain, I am sure, the questions of how the escape was made, and why I have not at once returned to give this report myself. I regret that I cannot answer those questions here. When I do return – which I hope to be within a few days of the date on which you read this – I will discuss those matters with the President in confidence. But they cannot be trusted to paper.”

“Convenient,” said the man sitting on the President’s other side, who hadn’t yet spoken.

“Sensible,” the scarred woman disagreed.

Beth thought the latter, but then she was biased by the knowledge that Isabelle’s story was accurate.

“I have also enclosed some requests which I humbly submit to you in the event I do not return when I hope,” the President continued once the interruptions ended. “…and the rest is formalities and more passwords. Well, it tallies with their story, at least. And I don’t believe this could have been forged.”

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

“No,” the first man to speak agreed. Beth decided to mentally call him Spectacles, at least until she found out his actual name, because he had a pair perched on the end of his nose. “But I don’t believe we can be certain it was sent in good faith either.”

“Are you suggesting,” the scarred woman asked incredulously, “that Master Froment would betray the Guild? Surely that is unthinkable.”

“Of the girl we knew, yes,” Spectacles said. “But she suffered a great loss, and she has been gone for two years. Who knows what can happen in that time?”

“I propose that we read her requests before we speculate on her motivations,” said a woman sitting at the end of the table, who Beth nicknamed Ginger for obvious reasons.

That proposal met with no objection, so the President reached into the envelope and produced more papers. “Master Froment asks that we consider her associates friends of the Guild, with all associated privileges and responsibilities. She in particular asks that we invoke the right of sanctuary on their behalf.”

There were disbelieving scoffs from half the Council. Beth didn’t know what the right of sanctuary was, though she could guess. But that wasn’t a good sign.

“She vouches for their good character, and that they will be loyal to the Guild. Further, she says that in her opinion Miss Quirk has the capacity to become a Master of Alchemy, and offers the highest recommendation that she be taken on as an apprentice by a current Master.”

Beth smiled, despite herself.

“The remainder relates to the estate of the late Master Francis Froment. She knows that the Guild held it in trust for her, but is uncertain whether that is still the case. Master Treasurer, is it?”

“Yes,” said the man to the President’s right, the second to speak. “Except for some perishable alchemical ingredients which were taken into the Guild’s storage and have since been used. The Guild gave the estate a fair price for them.”

“I see. Her letter, then, contains instructions for what is to be done in the event of her not returning within two weeks of this date. There is to be an auction of the house’s contents, in which only friends of the Guild may bid, with… some specific bequests as exceptions. In particular, the Potions of Stars’ Blessing – there was no record of Francis Froment having produced those, I believe?”

“No. None.”

“But she clearly states where they are to be found, and that they are to be divided as evenly as possible between Miss Quirk, Mr Leroux and the apprentice Tobey Martin.”

Beth didn’t know what these potions were either, but from the Council’s reaction she guessed they were important.

“She was close to the Martin boy, if I recall correctly,” the scarred woman said.

“Might be worth summoning him to Council at some point,” Spectacles agreed.

The President waited a few moments for silence before continuing: “The other bequests are not significant for the time being. The proceeds of the auction are to be considered as a donation to the Guild, with the exception that she asks for an amount to be set aside to contribute to the costs of Miss Quirk’s apprenticeship, or for her personal use if she is not apprenticed.”

Beth blinked. She appreciated the money, but… surely Jack needed it far more than she did? Why hadn’t Isabelle –

“The house, then, is to be sold, and the proceeds from that sale – excluding any administration costs – are to… to be given in their entirety to Mr Leroux.”

Oh. She had. She saw Jack blink and take a step backwards, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“This is to be done discreetly, and the Guild is to assist him in storing these funds or transferring them to others in a similarly discreet way.”

“Does Master Froment want us to pluck a star from the sky and give it to him while we’re at it?” Spectacles asked. Beth flinched.

“She does not. She makes no further requests, in fact.”

There was a moment’s silence. Beth was afraid that if she didn’t speak now she might never get the chance. “Might – might I ask the Council for a few clarifications?”

“You may,” said the President.

“Thank you. What does it mean to be a friend of the Guild? And what are the associated privileges and responsibilities?”

“Friends of the Guild are those associated with it. Masters and apprentices mostly, but also non-alchemists who work with or for us. Families of masters, sometimes. Most of the privileges and responsibilities are holdovers from a bygone age. Really, now, the only responsibility is secrecy and the privileges are the right to attend and speak at full Guild meetings, access the Guild’s library, use the Guild’s alchemical ingredients and conduct alchemy within their buildings.”

“You should also address the right of sanctuary,” said a man who hadn’t yet spoken. He was unremarkable enough that Beth struggled to think of a good nickname for him. “Since Master Froment references it.”

“That is… one of those relics of a bygone age. Specifically, what we refer to as the Forbidden Years, when the practice of alchemy was illegal. Once the right of sanctuary is invoked, a friend of the Guild is entitled to its protection from their enemies. Whether they be individuals, organisations, governments, even the stars themselves. It was meant to shelter our members from arrest for practicing alchemy, and has not been used since alchemy was made legal again.”

“So Isabelle is worried that the government will come after me and Jack, because we escaped their base. And she wants you – the Guild – to protect us.”

“Indeed. Do you require any other clarifications?”

Beth shook her head. She was curious about the purpose of a Potion of Stars’ Blessing, but it wasn’t that important. Not compared to the other things. “I thank the Council.”

“I propose, then, that we ask questions of our guests, so as not to detain them for too long.”

In other words, they wanted Beth and Jack gone so they could confer on what to do next.

There was no objection to the proposal. The President asked first “Do you disagree with any of the account presented by Master Froment?”

Beth wasn’t sure she agreed with Isabelle’s assessment that she had what it took to be a Master of Alchemy. But that wasn’t what they meant. “No.”

“No,” Jack agreed.

That formality out of the way, the real questioning began. They were asked if they’d had any knowledge of or hand in creating the documents Isabelle had sent to the Council (no), if they knew where Isabelle was (no), if they knew anything about the method of their escape (yes, Beth admitted, but that was Isabelle’s secret to share).

“If Master Froment does not return, will you explain then?” asked Ginger.

“I – I’m not sure. I don’t know if it’s what she would want. I’ll think about it.”

That wasn’t the right answer, she knew, but it was still better than saying yes and regretting it.

Someone asked if they thought Isabelle intended to return. “I think so,” said Beth cautiously. “But whatever she’s doing, there’s danger. And she might be prevented from returning because of that.”

Jack was less certain. “She keeps her own counsel, and does what she thinks is best. I hope she’ll come back, but I don’t know.”

Beth wasn’t exactly enjoying this questioning, but the turn it took after that was still an unpleasant surprise. Some of the Council seemed to seriously believe that they were government spies, though she wasn’t sure whether the story was that they’d fooled Isabelle or that Isabelle herself had turned her coat.

They asked leading, sometimes outright hostile, questions. Beth answered them as straightforwardly as she could, but it was still hard not to trip over her wording and imply something she didn’t mean to. Especially when she felt as if what she said was being twisted, deliberately misinterpreted.

Beth had hoped the Guild would be safe. That she would have space here to consider her next moves, perhaps even build a future. But the more distrustful questions she and Jack answered, the more she began to doubt that. Stars, she couldn’t do this without Isabelle.