Page 51 of A Tower of Half-Truths
Alain cleared his throat, jostling her from her thoughts.
“Well, to return to what we were saying: you may not be an arcanistofficially, but I’ll consider you one in my book, if you’ll pardon the play on words.”
Without thinking, she nudged him in the ribs.
“Ouch!” he cried, then paired it with a chuckle.
“Careful. Make one too many puns, and this arcanist will start tossing your books out the window—or into the fireplace.”
“Yes, you’re definitely an arcanist.” He sighed, rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. “You’ve held the title for not even a minute, and already you’re drunk with power.”
They shared a laugh, though for Mavery the moment of levity was short-lived. Alain didn’t care that she wasn’t a university graduate. He didn’t even seem to care that she’d lied about it. But one detail about her past still remained a secret, and if it ever came to light, she doubted he would be so forgiving.
I can’t in good conscience associate with a criminal.
If he thought that of Enid, someone he’d known for years, he’d certainly think that of someone he’d known for only a month. And wasn’t Mavery’s relationship with him equally transactional in nature? She was nothing more than a commodity to him. He only kept her around because she was a Senser with a knack for organizing books.
She should have left the day she discovered those letters and learned that Alain had begun looking into her past. Deep down, she knew this man had nothing worth stealing; the only thing keeping her here was a foolish belief that she could make this arrangement last in the long term. The longer she stayed, the greater the odds he would learn what kind of person she truly was. She needed to cut her losses and leave before he made that decision for her.
Seventeen
Mavery spent her day off plotting her next move. She’d first considered taking her savings and running off in the middle of the night. But no, she’d done enough of that for one lifetime. Alain had been decent to her in the short time they’d known each other; she at least owed him a proper goodbye.
Ultimately, she decided to announce her resignation first thing on Onisday morning. She would keep the details vague: she’d been presented with another job opportunity that was conveniently far away from Leyport. She would wish him luck with his current endeavors, then bid him farewell with a shaky promise to keep in touch. Then, she would seek out another mark or, gods forbid, another crew.
It was far from an ideal plan, but what choice did she have?
Alain opened the door before she barely had the chance to knock. She wondered whether he’d augmented a resonating ward for her, or if he’d been standing by the door with his ear pressed to it.
“At last, you’re here!” he said, though she was precisely ontime—same as every morning. He grasped her by the shoulders and steered her toward the sofa, moving so quickly he nearly caused her to trip over her own feet. “Come in, take a seat. I have something to show you.”
“I need to talk to you about something,” she said, but he was already halfway to the kitchen. “Alain, did you hear me?”
“Yes, we’ll speak in a moment. But first…”
He slipped through the doorway, and the clinking of alchemy equipment soon followed. Mavery dropped her pack at her feet, then dropped herself onto the sofa. No doubt, he’d finally completed his experiment. She would humor him, let him indulge in his excitement for a moment before she snuffed it out.
He returned carrying a single teacup. He placed it before her on the table, then bounced on his heels as he waited. Simply watching him made her exhausted.
She raised the cup and peered at the liquid. It was black as tar and nearly as viscous, with a medicinal smell that made her nose scrunch.
“Remember the café we visited almost a fortnight ago?” Alain asked. “Think of this as my own take on alchemical tea.”
Whatever he called it made it no less unsettling. Mavery thought back to the assortment of ingredients he’d bought from Enid. Based on how his supplies had dwindled, every ingredient had gone into making this potion, including…
“Don’t tell me you put the powdered claws inthis.”
“Only a very small amount.” She balked, and he dismissively waved a hand. “As the old saying goes, the difference between medicine and poison is all in the dosage. I’ve tested it myself multiple times and found that it’s perfectly safe. As for its effectiveness, well, onlyyoucan determine that.”
“And what, exactly, is this supposed to do?”
Alain sighed. “A healthy dose of skepticism is a virtuous trait for a scholar, Mavery, but youcanhave too much of a good thing.”
She gave him a hard stare. “I’m not drinking this until you tell me what it does.”
“But that would spoil the surprise.”
“Alain…”
