Chapter 14 Ren Monroe

Their plan proceeded like the first, gentle turnings of a set of carriage wheels. Ren's first duty was to do nothing. A most infuriating task. But she'd discussed this with the Tin'Voris before parting from Ravinia. She knew when she returned to Kathor, she'd be watched more closely than ever.

Landwin Brood reacted as expected. It was a great delight to realize that he didn't actually know where she'd gone. The Brood scouts followed her with a deliberate lack of caution as Ren led them on a rather boring hunt. Nothing she did connected to their larger plan. It was her mother who was executing the first crucial steps instead. Ren just hoped she was being properly thorough about it.

One of the other unexpected consequences of her brief disappearing act was a slew of invitations. A letter for this dance or that gala. A birthday party one night in the Heights, followed by a wedding the next day in Safe Harbor. Landwin Brood was clearly shifting his tactics. He would rather welcome her into those circles of power than lose track of her in the city at large. Ren would occasionally raise her glass from across the room, offering a smirk, just to screw with him.

She was also forced to walk right into Landwin's trap for her daytime hours. The invitation that had come before Theo left for Nostra wasn't one that she could turn down. It was a prestigious research position. Lacking any alternative, Ren accepted.

And so—two weeks after her encounter with the Tin'Voris—she found herself walking up the steps of the Peeress Observatory. She'd been here before. The entire first floor was a museum that cataloged the history of magic. Primary schools came here at least once a year. Ren doubted she'd have time to take a tour. Her lettered invitation directed her to the basement of the building instead. There were two paladins posted at the door for security. She saw the markings of the Brightsword Legion on their uniforms. Her papers were quickly checked and approved. The guard shoved open the looming double doors.

The hallway deposited her into a far wider room. The ceilings were relatively low, but the actual space was staggeringly large. Ren wasn't even sure she could see the opposite wall, which meant this underground wasn't connected only to the museum but to several buildings. The entire space could have comfortably fit several thousand people.

Her first impression was that it was completely empty. There were no walls dividing the room. Not even support columns to keep it from caving in. Just a great, vast emptiness. It took a few moments to notice the small displays. They were like odd little pieces of art. The nearest one was a single leather chair smattered with some kind of berry compote. Just beyond that, she spied a dozen ropes dangling from the ceiling. All of them were carefully twining together with the help of unseen hands.

Each new curiosity drew her deeper into the cavernous space. Only after passing a dozen similar oddities did she spy the other researchers. The group stood in the far corner of the room, all gathered around the base of a wide tree. Its uppermost branches brushed the low-hanging ceiling. As Ren approached, one of the figures detached smoothly from the others.

He was devastatingly good-looking. Nearly a head taller than her. The smile he offered was as sharp and pretty as any knife. Every angle of him was perfectly complemented by a tailored brown suit, which happened to match his eyes. Ren thought she was woefully underdressed in comparison.

"Hello. You must be the newest addition to the team." He sidestepped a small bucket that appeared to be filled to the brim with discolored forks. "I'm Ellison Proctor."

They shook hands. Ren recognized the name. He was the older brother of Ash Proctor. An image of Cora knifed through her memory with brutal quickness. She could see the girl walking beside her in the woods, shyly discussing her own opinions about the best-looking students back at Balmerick. Cora had claimed that Ash Proctor was one of the most handsome, but she'd taken him down a few notches for having small hands. It was the last time they'd all had a good laugh together, before all the dying. Ren swallowed once and slammed that dark cabinet of her mind shut.

She recovered just in time to shake Ellison Proctor's hand.

"Ren Monroe," she said. "It's a pleasure. I'm excited to work with you."

There was a small outburst from the group. Ellison grinned at her.

"Come on. I'll introduce you to your team. I'm more of a property manager here. Day-to-day magical maintenance. These are your fellow researchers."

He led her back to the waiting group. Ren quietly adjusted the collar of her shirt before following. It was a great relief to find that the others were not dressed in suits, or anything fancy at all. Ellison made a Wait one moment gesture as they reached the group. No one else looked her way. All of their attention was determinedly fixed on the tree. Ren spied traces of magic in the air.

The tree was being forced to blossom. She recognized the brightney apples that dominated the valleys south of Kathor. They started out small and bloodred, but as the spell accelerated their growth, each one colored in with the traditional white speckles. All but one.

Ren thought she saw the shape of the experiment. A single apple began to shrivel unnaturally. Far more rotten than normal. Red faded to brown, deepened to black. She saw it shriveling and twisting until it looked like a curse from a fairy tale.

"The moment of truth," one researcher announced. Ren noted the woman was by far the oldest in the group. "Time to see if you were worth the money, Pecking."

One of the other researchers snorted. Ren watched curiously. This wasn't a particularly new application of magic. The law of guided decay was very established agricultural magic. It channeled instances of rot from the collective group to a singular entity. Instead of twelve half-decent apples, an application from this category of spells would assure the harvester of one grotesque apple, but eleven others that were mostly flawless.

The common mistake, Ren knew, was in pushing the spell too far. That was on the verge of happening now. The spell had clearly been cast too wide. The decaying apple was preparing to hit a natural threshold. It was fully dead. Something so withered could not accept any more rot. Ren felt the subtle flick of magic in the air as a secondary spell activated.

Usually a severance charm came next. The apples would continue to grow naturally from that point on. A few of them might suffer the occasional imperfection, but most of the potential rot and disease would be mitigated by the first apple. Farmers had accepted this ratio as their standard for decades.

Except the second spell wasn't a severance charm at all. Ren heard an uncharacteristic pop. The apple directly above the first one started to fade and brown. As the process repeated, there was a raucous cheer from those gathered. The other researchers crowded around and slapped the back of the youngest-looking person in the room—just a boy to Ren's eyes. He couldn't have been a day over sixteen. His round cheeks blushed violently at their outburst.

"Great work," the older woman said. "Go ahead and get the secondary studies going. I want this to be foolproof before you present it. You've got something here, Pecking. Excellent work."

The woman's attention swung in Ren's direction. She had silver-streaked hair and her eyes narrowed to dark slits. She looked familiar, but Ren couldn't summon a name under such scrutiny. The woman didn't offer to shake hands. Instead, she gave a perfunctory nod.

"The Broods finally decide to come play," the woman said. "And who do they send? Not one of the heirs. Not a prized cousin or a genius nephew. They send me you."

Ren had been prepared for any number of opening statements. This was not one of them. She felt a slumbering animal rise in her chest. All the years of anger and mistreatment back to a steady boiling. She set her jaw and said nothing.

"Tell me what you just saw," the woman demanded.

The boy—Pecking—was beside his prized tree, carefully examining the results. The other researchers, both older than Ren, waited intentionally in earshot. She saw the two of them exchange looks. They wanted to hear how Ren's first test went. Like most of her peers at Balmerick, they appeared all too ready to glut themselves on her failure. It only made her angrier.

"He used the common guidance spell for decay," Ren began. "Instead of using a severance charm, though, he added…" It had been some time since she'd done this. Class had kept her sharp and on her toes. Pressured her into being the best. She was rusty. "A proximity spell… with a directional overflow charm."

Pecking was watching her now too. The older woman's head tilted.

"My great-grandmother tried that combination," she replied. "Nearly a century ago. It didn't work then and it won't work now. Come on. Try harder. What's the missing spell?"

Ren felt like that combination of spells should have worked. Why wouldn't it be enough? Her mind scrambled for another answer. What else could there be?

"How about this," the woman said, cutting off Ren's thoughts. "You have until the end of the day to figure it out. If you give up, feel free to leave early and don't bother coming back. But until you figure out the answer, I won't take you on for this role. I do not have time to waste on the Broods' bottom-feeders. We all pull our weight here."

Ren tried not to be stung by that final accusation. The woman paced off in the direction of one of the other displays. The other researchers took that as a sign to scatter. Ellison Proctor hovered awkwardly beside her.

"Well. Good luck," he said. "I'd enjoy seeing you again."

He left her there, staring at the tree and the cherublike boy beneath it. Ren shook herself. It was like rattling a cage. Waking up some dormant creature in her chest. There was no time to seethe over being called a bottom-feeder. She'd learned this lesson at Balmerick. The only defiance that counted in their world was the sort of defiance that led to results. She thought back through spell combinations and possibilities. Truly, there were hundreds of categories of spell types—under which hundreds of subcategories existed. Even if she could research for months, it was possible she wouldn't stumble upon the right answer.

She waited for Pecking to back away from the tree before making her own approach. She half hoped there'd be some trace of his magic in the air. But whatever he'd done was far too complicated to parse. All she could do was examine the two pieces of rotten fruit. There were no real clues there, other than the fact that they were side by side, and the second apple had not rotted quite as extremely as the first. Ren circled the tree twice before realizing Pecking was watching her. His eyes flicked over to where the head researcher stood, then back to Ren.

"I could just tell you," he whispered, round face betraying no emotion. "The answer."

Ren snorted. She knew from experience that help like that would never come for free. There was also the simple and annoying matter of pride. If this boy could figure it out, so could she.

"No, thank you."

He blushed a little. Or maybe his cheeks were permanently that color?

"She just wants you to say that you don't know," he whispered back. "She gave us all a question like this. When we first came here. She wants you to say you don't know, because then she can begin teaching you."

Maybe he was really trying to help, or maybe he was doing his best to get rid of her. It was not a coin she could afford to flip. She sat down in front of the tree and closed her eyes. When Pecking sighed and walked away, she set to the task of solving the impossible. It was like unpacking old boxes, long covered in dust. All the information was still there, but that didn't mean it was sorted and set out quite as neatly as it had been during her school days.

As she searched the rows of her mind, the others went about their normal tasks. Nearly every experiment received a visit. At first, Ren had not understood their random array about the room. Ellison Proctor was the answer to that question. He spent most of his time along the exterior walls. He'd pause at very specific intervals and perform the same, repetitive spell, before continuing around the room. Ren had been idly observing him when the larger image fell into place. The room was one massive grid. There were no walls or corridors or hallways, but there was magic. Unseen spells sectioning off each experiment in its own tidy square. The perfect layout just made her want to be a part of all this even more.

The woman who'd assigned Ren her task vanished during the middle of the day. Ren had no appetite for lunch, but the head researcher's absence brought the other two circling back like a pair of curious vultures. Ren realized they were siblings.

"Any guesses yet?" the sister asked. "Or did Pecking already slip you the answer?"

The brother snorted. "Bet he asked her on a date, too."

"He didn't tell me anything," Ren replied. "I'm working it out myself."

That led to another exchange of grins. The sister twirled her hair with one finger.

"So. You're Ren Monroe."

Ren stared back at her. "I am."

"Heard you got lost in the woods last year."

The brother snickered. "Gods, Maryan. Have some manners."

"What?" The girl—Maryan—sneered back at him. "It's just a fact. It's not like I'm making fun of her or something. She literally was lost in the woods."

"Forgive my sister," the brother said, ignoring the explanation. "She's never been a very social creature. My father considered giving her away when she was young. No one would take her."

"Shove off, Flynn. She's not going to sleep with you just because you think you're funny."

Ren couldn't help smiling. She'd expected everyone in this place to be prim and proper. These two felt more comfortable to her than any of the others.

"Anyways," Maryan said. "The Broods picked you as their goat, huh?"

Ren frowned. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"This is the Kathorian Collective," Maryan answered. "A mutual research endeavor shared by all the major houses, without exception. Well, the exception was the Brood family. Obviously. Until you came."

"Right," Ren said. "The Kathorian Collective. So we're sharing our research with each other? Everyone's notes are public? How does that make me a goat?"

"She didn't read the fine print," Flynn said. He shook his head. "No one ever reads the fine print."

"How could you not read the fine print?" Maryan echoed.

"There was no fine print. I just had a standard invitation."

"The Broods probably signed the contract on your behalf," she said. "Can they do that? Who knows? Guess they can do whatever they want. Yes, it means we share research. New spells and all that. But the only reason all the houses agreed to participate was through a contractual obligation of mutual exposure. Which means you can be interrogated by the other major houses, whenever they want, and they're allowed to ask you anything. They can even use manipulators to extract the truth from you. Anything short of literal torture."

Flynn was studying Ren. "She still doesn't get it. Maybe she's not that smart?"

"And you said I don't have manners?" Maryan scowled at him. "Gods, Flynn. I'm sure the Broods sold it as some kind of honor, but you can say goodbye to being involved in any important house functions. As long as you're contractually working here, it means they're not going to let you in on any other private affairs, because that would risk something secretive coming out in an interrogation session."

They heard the distant sound of a door opening and closing. All three of them looked back, across the vast and open space. The head researcher had returned. Ren could hear her shoes click-clacking across the stones in the distance.

"Back to work," Flynn muttered. "Sorry to be the bearers of bad news. But really, you should have asked to read the contract. Who doesn't ask to read the contract?"

Maryan shoved him away. "It's not that bad. All the magic is brilliant down here, at least."

The two of them shuffled off, leaving Ren alone once more. The news should have been a bigger blow, but she'd already been ostracized by the Brood family. This move was a simple act of solidification. A far more official and logical reason to keep her isolated. She thought it quite clever.

But the more fascinating detail was that the Broods had not been participating in this so-called collective. They'd held out until her arrival. Which meant she would exist in this space unobserved. Unless one of the others spied for them? That felt unlikely. It was a small taste of freedom, but it shivered pleasurably down her spine, nonetheless.

Work resumed. The others orbited the room. She continued to hunt for the right answer until she felt like she'd exhausted every option. Sighing, Ren flagged down the older woman. She crossed over to Ren with a look that could have withered every flower for sale on Market Row.

"What? Quitting already?"

Ren shook her head. "I've arrived at my best possible guess. I didn't think it made sense to delay. I am not going to think of a better answer."

The woman crossed her arms. "Go on, then."

"He used all the spells I mentioned earlier. Everything would be corded together. And then… I think he would have had to use a veracity altercation spell. Kind of like the one they used when they moved Balmerick University. I think he needed to lie to the second apple."

"Expand."

That was one of Ren's favorite words in the entire world.

"The second apple would have sensed the flow of decay entering the first apple. There was an established magical direction. Health comes this way. Rot goes that way. The original versions that attempted to expand on the spell didn't work, because the second apple resisted the fate of the first one. Not necessarily because it's sentient but rather because there's an established magical flow. It would recognize any attempts at redirection and reject them. Adding a veracity spell would convince the second fruit that the rotten flow… will be good for it? I don't know. That's the best I could come up with.…"

Ren knew it sounded absurd, but then the wizards who'd first suggested using that same spell for Balmerick's foundations had been greeted with doubt too. The woman snorted in response.

"So… you're not just the dregs of House Brood."

Ren lifted an eyebrow. "Was I right?"

"It took Pecking a whole damn year to figure that out. What a colossal waste of time. Gods. All right, be back here tomorrow. I want three new spells you'd like to work on—and the coinciding experiments that might help test them." She gestured around the room. "I can get you just about any imaginable material, but you can see our testing sites are limited in size. Unlock your imagination. Bring me something with teeth. My name is Seminar. Welcome to the Collective."

Ren's brain stumbled to a halt before she could properly celebrate her own success.

"Seminar? Wait. Like… Seminar Shiverian?"

The older woman nodded. "Do you know anyone else who's been saddled with that atrocity of a name? If you do, let me know. Maybe we could form some kind of support group."

"But… I mean… you practically invented the structural magic systems. I've read so much… We studied your spells in all of my advanced classes.… You're a legend."

"Right. I always forget about this part," Seminar said. "The glow you see emanating from all of my various orifices right now will eventually fade. I work my research team to the bone. We push the limits here. You'll forget all about the fact that I invented the modernized stun spells. Trust me."

Ren's mouth was still hanging open. "I did forget that you invented those. You've invented so many spells that I actually forgot you invented modernized stun spells."

Seminar smiled. "Get here on time tomorrow. Good work today."

Ren felt giddy. She knew this entire process was a glittering trap. The Broods were intentionally luring her to some version of a life without Theo, but she was literally researching spells under Seminar Shiverian. She and Ethel Shiverian were modern magic. It was an unthinkable honor. Her new advisor paused only long enough to speak with Pecking.

"She figured it out. Took you a bloody year. She figured it out in an afternoon."

Seminar glided past him. Pecking's cheeks colored a violent shade of red. He slammed his tray of instruments down. It was awkward, though. The room was too large. There was no exit nearby. No doors to slam behind him. Instead, he thundered off to the northwestern corner in the most pitiful, prolonged display Ren had ever seen.

She'd managed to impress one of the most accomplished wizards in Kathor. She'd found three new potential friends—none of whom should have any ties back to House Brood. She'd also found a new rival. The last detail was almost comfortable. Like slipping on a pair of old shoes. Her father had once told her that if she had no enemies, she was being too quiet. Ren walked over to Pecking's tree and plucked the finest-looking apple from the bunch. She found she was ravenous after skipping lunch. It was just the thing for the long walk home.