And a third, called viable air, was highly flammable and yet very efficiently consumed by the human body. Viable air could be isolated in an alchemical reaction—in fact, it was the very treatment the Panacea’s doctors had offered Adria for her damaged lungs after the Black Trial.
Excited by this idea, I set up my second burner and began mixing everything I could remember from Past Amber’s notes on a hyperefficient candle flame, which involved dipping the wick in a tarry substance that interacted with regular environmental air to off-gas viable air, which made the flame burn brighter.
If I could reproduce her tarry substance and coat the inside of my air bladder in it, that substance would react with the trapped environmental air to create a higher concentration of viable air, which would make my breathable supply more efficient. Which would make it last longer.
By the time the water had hit my knees, my waterproof coating was cooling in its vial, and I had cut a large circle from my cloak with a pair of shears I’d found among the provided equipment. While the coating cooled, I monitored the tarry substance that would be my viable air catalyst, and for the first time in at least half an hour, as I shivered in the cold water, I glanced around the arena, through the glass panels.
Several students were painting the insides of air bladders like mine with the coatings they’d created. Keryth had lit two of her burners and was carefully examining the transparent panel blocking her cell from the rest of the maze. Wilder had all three of his burners alight, and he was also studying the panel at the end of his cell, but he was examining not the glass itself but the metal frame attaching it to the perpendicular walls of the clear corridor.
Brilliant, I thought as I watched him slosh through water not yet up to his knees, since he was several inches taller than I. The alchemical formulas that would weaken a metal frame would surely be much simpler and faster to concoct than anything that would affect the glass itself. And I was uncertain the transparent panels actuallywereglass, given that two of our classmates—both men—had already tried to shatter them. Both had wound up with broken equipment for their troubles, which no doubt limited the functionality of their workspaces.
If I were certain that Lord Calyx’s metal-melting fluid would work on the labyrinth frames, I might have taken an approach similar to Wilder’s. But I was far from sure of that, given that it had not dissolved the metal trim piece on the Conservatory staircase.
When my waterproof substance had cooled, I spread it generously over the outside of my air pocket and blew to dry it. The finished product was rough and rubbery, but waterproof and airtight, and flexible enough to let me close the circle of material into a pouch.
By the time the exterior coating had dried, murky water was lapping at my thighs and my entire body was covered with gooseflesh. My hands shook as I worked, and water had just begun to slosh onto the shelf below my work surface. Tiny waves rocked unused vials, pulling them back and forth with a motion that grew more aggravated by the moment, both from the rising of the water level and from every sluggish movement I made.
I snatched up my frock and what remained of my cloak and made room for them on a corner of my work surface to keep them dry, in case I found myself in need of more material.
The rising water had slowed me down, both from its natural resistance to motion and from the cold. Men seemed to have the advantage again in the White Trial because they were generally taller, so less of their bodies was submerged. But there was nothing I could do about the lack of physical equity.
Regardless of size or gender, those who wore spectacles would have even more difficulty once we were fully submerged.
By the time my tarry catalyst had reached the proper color and consistency—denoted by a sudden bright green flare rippling through the vial—the supplies on my shelf had been washed away. Some floated around my waist, and others had sunk to the floor, where they rocked in the water with every move I made.
The catalyst was still too hot to use, but I was running out of time. I needed to know immediately if I’d made the solution properly, because if I hadn’t, I’d have to start over, and there was no guarantee I’d have time to complete a second batch.
Shaking from the cold, I grabbed a candle from the edge of my workstation and snuffed out the flame with two fingers, then inverted it into the vial, coating the wick in the still-hot, bright green substance. I blew on the wick to dry it quickly, then poked it into the flame of a lit burner.
The candle flared brightly.Extraordinarilybright. So bright, in fact, that I heard a gasp from my left and turned to see Raelah staring at me from her transparent cell.
It worked.
Though the catalyst was still hot, I poured a generous blob of it onto the inside of my still-flat air bladder and used the dull side of a scalpel to spread it over the entire surface. It dried quickly into a smooth, thin, greenish layer, and I immediately gathered the edges of the double-coated cloak material and tied the air pocket closed with the lace from the neck of my cloak.
With one viable air bladder complete and hopefully functional, I found myself with several extra minutes, a dry and otherwise worthless frock, and nearly half a vial each of both coatings. So I grabbed the shears and cut out a second bladder. I painted it as quickly as possible with the waterproof coating, and while I was waiting for that to dry, nervously eyeing the rising water as it now actively threatened the surface of my workstation, I accidentally knocked my candle off the edge.
I gasped, horrified by the loss of light—until I realized that the candle was still burning.Underthe water.
What in the name of all chaos…?
I stared at the bright white glow as it sank toward my feet, drifting back and forth with the current.
My viable air coating, which I’d tested on the wick, was somehow allowing it to burn underwater!
With a jolt, I remembered a line running up the margin of Past Amber’s notes on her candle experiment, noting that her candle had stayed lit in the rain and reminding herself to test that particular side effect for its cause and limits.
Its limit, evidently, would blow right past complete submersion in water.
Suddenly inspired, I turned and sloshed through waist-high water to grab the torch mounted on the white marble wall at my back. It was still burning, and for the first time, I noted that its flame was the normal yellowish color of every stove and fireplace I’d ever seen, rather than the stark white glow of the torches mounted in the halls of the Conservatory.
On impulse, and despite the risk that I’d be unable to see well enough to finish my second air bladder, I slogged three slow steps back to my workstation, where water now sloshed over the edge with every move I made, and smothered the torch flame with my miraculously still-dry frock.
This particular torch appeared to be constructed of resinous wood and fabric scraps soaked in animal fat, to extend the length of the flame. I added several scraps from my dress, binding them tightly to enclose the remaining original fuel. Then I carefully poured half of the remaining viable air catalyst onto the cloth binding the fuel and poked at it with a set of laboratory tweezers to compress the material in strategic places, spreading the catalyst and helping it soak through the fuel. While the torch dried at the center of my work surface, I spread the remaining viable air catalyst in a thin layer over the inside of my second air bladder and blew it dry, then tied it closed with a strip of material torn from my dress.
Then, just as the water rose fully onto my work surface, I snatched up my still-burning candle and lit my treated torch.
The flare of light was so bright that even I gasped.
