Page 50 of Alchemised
There was undeniably something done to Ferron. With Morrough in his monstrous and distorted form, it made sense that he’d have unnatural abilities as a result of whatever transmutations he’d performed on himself, but Ferron looked mostly human.
Where did the power come from? She studied him.
Supposedly there were crystals and precious stones with properties useful for resonance. In early myths of Orion Holdfast, Sol’s blessing was described as a huge celestial stone. Amulets featuring crystals had been long popular as a result. Necklaces and brooches had been sold in Paladian shops and stands to visiting pilgrims who considered the city-state as particularly sacred to the Faith, often with promises that they would strengthen or expand an alchemist’s resonance or repertoire, ensuring admission to the Institute.
Many students wore heirloom jewellery, and the official figures of the Faith often wore items set with sunstones.
She studied Ferron for any jewellery or signs of an amulet. Guild families usually wore signet rings and a variety of pins and brooches to indicate their orders and exclusive clubs, but in stark contrast with his wife and father, Ferron usually wore nothing, not even a wedding band. The only piece visible was a slender, dark metal ring on his right hand.
Her eyes narrowed as she studied it.
“What kind of ring is that?” she asked.
He looked down. “This?” he asked, as if there were any other rings she could have been referring to. He turned his hand. “Just an old piece.”
He slipped it off and tossed it to her. She caught it reflexively, disappointed to discover that it wasn’t an unusual black metal at all, but a severely tarnished silver ring, as if he never took it off to care for it. It was hand-forged rather than transmutationally crafted; she could see the hammer marks that had beaten a scaled, almost geometric pattern onto it.
A bizarre thing for an iron alchemist to wear.
She could feel him watching and wondered what he’d do if she swallowed it.
“Don’t swallow it.”
She looked up.
He gave her a sidelong look. “You’re lucky the national exam never tested for an ability to lie. You have a transparent face.”
He held out his hand for the ring. Helena debated popping it into her mouth solely to provoke him.
Irritation flickered in his eyes. “Try it, and I’ll bring it back up again. All you’ll get is a sore throat.”
She dropped the ring into his palm, and he slid it back onto his finger.
“Why all this sudden interest in me?” he asked.
She shrugged. “You don’t make sense.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Oh, is that all? And here I was hoping you were plotting to seduce me.”
She stared at him blankly.
He gave a mocking smile. “Steal my heart with your wit and charms.”
Helena scoffed.
“Who knows, perhaps I have a proclivity for—” He paused, studying her, trying to find something.
Helena walked away. “Maybe tomorrow.”
ON HER OWN, IT WAS nice, feeling like a functioning person again. Helena had forgotten how easy it was to exist when her mind and body couldn’t betray her.
She was determined not to waste the effects of the tablet and moved through the house quickly, puzzling over the drug’s composition as she went.
Her parents had practised medicine. Her mother as an apothecary, and her father as a traditional surgeon trained in Khem. Helena had grown up surrounded by herbs and tinctures and medical procedures. It wasn’t formal training, but it was enough that she’d been a quick study as a healer, much to the distaste of her religious superior, Falcon Matias.
She’d once tried to tell him that the principles of healing followed the same rules as any form of medicine, citing her parents’ work. It was like manual versus alchemical metallurgy: The use of resonance did not alter the fundamental principles.
He’d been so incensed, he’d made Helena spend two days in a chantry offering penance for daring to compare her corrupted resonance to that of the Noble Art.
