Page 163 of Alchemised
The remains already smelled terrible, as though the chimaera had been in an early stage of decomposition when it died. In the process of creation it had been flensed and vivisected, its muscles filleted and intermingled with the parts of other creatures. Several of the organs had been replaced. It had the skull of a reptile, but part had been hollowed out and made to accommodate a larger mammalian brain.
It wasn’t created using necromancy; reanimating animals had been attempted many times in the past and never worked. The chimaera had been alive when it was made, but Helena couldn’t imagine how it had been kept alive.
Shiseo was on standby as she worked, handing her tools as she needed them. She didn’t understand why he worked with her as an assistant. He was too educated for it; the breadth of his metallurgical knowledge would have put many grandmasters to shame. Ilva’s request was an insult.
While she was writing up the report, Shiseo busied himself with sketching compound arrays for the metal-infused tinctures they’d been discussing. Silver and copper and iron all had medicinal uses and could boost the efficacy of certain extracts.
“Shiseo,” she said, looking up, “do you have a workspace of your own?”
He paused. “No. I was meant to perhaps teach at the Institute, but—” He shook his head.
She shifted, feeling awkward about how long it had taken for her to realise why he’d taken the post. “I should have said something sooner. If you want to work on your own projects, you’re welcome to use this space.”
He gave a vague smile, inclining his head, but she could tell immediately that he wouldn’t take her up on the offer.
Perhaps she was wrong. Had Ilva guilted him into the position? Of course. He’d come seeking political asylum, and Ilva had called in that debt. It would explain why he was so carefully inoffensive. She felt guilty, but she did need him.
“I should warn you, I technically stole this lab,” she said, looking up. “I mean, obviously it’s always been here, and no one was using it, but I did just move in and start making things without permission.” She shrugged. “Everyone just assumes someone else must have approved it. So if you don’t like—ill-gotten laboratories, I understand, but you are welcome to use the space for whatever you’re interested in.”
He looked at her with his impassive, guarded face, and then the corners of his eyes crinkled. “Perhaps there are a few things.”
IN THE WEEKS THAT FOLLOWED, Ferron’s liaising grew sporadic. Helena dutifully performed callisthenics, per his instructions, but he often failed to appear. Sometimes there’d be an envelope left on the table; other times, Helena would wait and eventually leave empty-handed. Her ring would burn at odd hours, and she would be forced to hurry to the Outpost, only to find a letter or map left, Ferron having already moved on.
The information seemed useful, but she could tell that Crowther was giving up on her, treating her as a write-off.
She was startled when she opened the door of the tenement and found Ferron waiting for her again.
He was sitting at the table with a silver coin in his hand, spinning and flipping it idly when she entered.
There was a long silence before he spoke without looking over at her. “The High Necromancer will be out of the country for the next week. He’s travelling into Hevgoss. There have been extensive preparations made for it. Nearly a third of the Undying will be travelling with him. The trip has been kept secret; only a few know.”
There was a pause.
Ferron pocketed the coin. “He’s never left like this before. If the Resistance has been waiting for an opening, this would be the time. The Undying are unlikely to coordinate well because they’ll all want the credit and glory for themselves.”
“And I assume you’re among those going,” she said, because of course he’d leave the city to burn, and for the blame to fall, and only come back to reap the rewards.
This was what he’d been working towards from the beginning. His long game. The Resistance was playing right into his hands, and there wasn’t anything Helena could do about that, because they had to seize an opportunity like this, or they might as well surrender now. They wouldn’t last to the end of the year.
He said nothing.
“Anything else?”
He shook his head as he stood and walked to the door, pausing just before he opened it. “I think we might as well plan to skip the next few weeks. I don’t expect to make it.”
CHAPTER 32
Maius 1786
THE NEWS THAT MORROUGH WOULD BE GONE along with so many of the Undying was the opportunity the Eternal Flame had been waiting for. Like a machine springing into action, the Resistance rapidly began preparing to attack.
Crowther had been disseminating Ferron’s intelligence over the last several months, attributing to various sources his maps, the information about patrols and rotations, chains of command and the hierarchies of who’d be called on first, and how they’d counterstrike if the Resistance attacked.
The battalions were raring for the fight.
However, a relentless sense of dread lurked beneath Helena’s skin, growing with each passing moment. What if it was a trap? What if Ferron had lied, hidden a noose within his information? She kept thinking about how strange he’d seemed.
The hospital waited, tense, strangled between hope and dread. Then the sirens started, and the lorries began to arrive, bodies flooding in, filling the hospital and lining the halls. There wasn’t room for all the wounded.
