“I think I felt the curse earlier,” she said. “But not on Leo, or even on the lighter. I feel it here, in the hallways when I walk around alone. Do you feel it too?”
“I don’t know,” said Keir. “I feel a sense of unease at times, but I attributed it to the darkness in the hallways and a lack of air circulation. Maybe some peculiarities in the architecture. Sometimes buildings like this that have been partially ruined and added onto over centuries have strange features. Places where walls come together at odd angles, steps that seem too short or too tall, that sort of thing. It can be a bit disorienting when you’re used to well-made structures.”
“My cottage is pretty wonky, and it doesn’t give me that sense at all. But I do see what you mean.”
Keir closed his book and looked at Alison. “Do you feel unsafe?”
“No,” she reassured him. “Not really. I feel as though I’m being watched though. Not all the time. Just…I don’t know. I’m being silly. It’s probably just all the royal guards hanging about.”
“Alison.” He tucked the hair behind her ear. “I trust your instincts even if you don’t. If you feel like something isn’t right, we can leave. If you want to stay and try to figure it out, I’ll stay with you.”
“Thank you,” she said and kissed him softly.
“Of course, I’m suspicious of the library, personally. Yes, it’s helpful, but doesn’t it seem odd to you that the library can read everyone’s inner-most thoughts and feelings and no one seems to think that’s unusual? Perhaps that’s what you’re feeling. Perhaps it’s listening to us right now.”
He had meant it as a joke, but the idea sent a shiver up Alison’s spine.
“Maybe I’ll just put these books in the bathroom for the night. Just in case.”
Keir laughed, but he also handed his book over. “Just in case,” he said.
It didn’t take long for those of the group who weren’t preparing for the autumn term to settle into a routine.
Following breakfast in the dining hall, Alison, Keir, Weyland, and Lady Sibba joined Leo (and often Ceri) in Professor Marin’s workshop to run their tests. Weyland and Leo cobbled together some kind of crude power-saver from the material samples and a few of the lab’s many parts, while Alison and Lady Sibba crunched the numbers from the previous experiments. Keir’s official role was ensuring their safety, but in practice, he was frequently called to the High House infirmary. While there had been no further major ‘lectrocution incidents with the solar-power crew, there had been an outbreak of a nasty cold during the move-in.
They continued day after day, sharing their progress with Professor Marin each night. She reviewed the results and suggested modifications, and the next day, it was back to the workshop again to try four cells in the chamber rather than two or a zinc cathode rather than one of adamant. There were countless variables and combinations tried, but by the nightbefore the first day of school, they had narrowed down the design significantly.
“Mithril is extraordinary,” said Professor Marin when they showed her the latest tests. “It’s far better at handling overcharge when combined with iron than the alternatives. The answer is here if we can just solve the leakage problem. Of course, it’s very expensive, but if it’s the crown making the investment…”
“Gwenla says there’s more mithril than the dwarves let on,” said Alison. “It’s sort of a false scarcity situation. Keeps the prices high.”
“It’s a good thing we know a dwarf,” said Weyland. “I barely managed to get my hands on mithril even when I worked for Derkomai.”
After they packed up their experiments for the day, Alison hesitated before opening the door to her room. The halls were filled with the nervous anticipation of the upcoming term, students coming and going, collecting last-minute supplies and books and discussing plans on which classes to try (and which ones to avoid).
It reminded Alison of her own first day of college. Her father hadn’t managed to get time off from the manufactory on move-in day, so her mother had been the one to help her carry the same trunk she still used into her tiny dormitory. They had fought bitterly, as they often did when they were tired and stressed, arguing over what Alison needed to do, which Alison had felt perfectly capable of figuring out for herself.
Her mother had tried to make amends as she left, perhaps not wanting to leave things with her only daughter on the final day of her time under her parents’ care on a bad note, but Alison had refused to listen. She didn’t feel the weight of it at the time, the loss her mother must have felt. She didn’t even feel the massive change that was happening, not really. All she felt wasrelief that her life was finally starting and gratitude to be free of her mother’s nagging and their constant bickering at last.
That was all she felt until the night before classes began, at least. By then, the anticipation had turned into anxiety, and she found herself paralyzed with fear that it had all been a mistake, that she wasn’t smart enough to go to university and that she ought to go back home right then and forget about the whole thing.
She had called home, hoping to speak with her father. They had always been close, and she knew he would know just what to say to make her feel better.
But it had been her mother that had answered.
Alison kept the conversation short, still holding some piece of resentment over the way her mother had made her feel the week before, but her mother had said something to her that had stayed with her nonetheless:
“Everyone feels the exact same way you do. None of us know what we’re doing, not really. You aren’t a mistake. You worked hard and you deserve to be where you are. Don’t let that voice inside you keep from being as great as I know you can be.”
At the time, Alison had rolled her eyes and ignored what she said. She had zeroed in on the phrase “as I know you can be” as evidence that her mother thought she wasn’t great right then.
But now, watching the students in the halls, she got it.
They looked at her and saw someone grown up, someone with the answers, but she wasn’t.
She never would be, and that was okay.
Her mother had never had all the answers, either.
