Page 24 of The Deadliest Candidate

Fern grew more and more hopeful as each mentor was assigned. Dr Auden was finally next to stand; Fern had to stop herself from leaning forward, hiding her eagerness by tightly clenching her fingers together.

“Dr Auden. I will be mentoring Mr Lautric.”

Fern suppressed a sigh. Why him? It made more sense for Dr Auden to be Fern’s mentor—after all, her research swam in the wake of his. They were both scholars of Sumbra, both accustomed to dealing with Gateways and the entities beyond them.

Perhaps it did not matter—perhaps the Grand Archivists had opted to assign mentorships randomly to avoid bias and favouritism.

Fern exhaled. Well, there it was. Still, there was not a single Grand Archivist sitting at that table who wasn’tan exceptional scholar in their own right. There was nothing to be disappointed about.

Except that the last Grand Archivist at the table stood and announced, “Professor Farouk. I will be mentoring Mr Drei.” She then pointed at the chair next to hers. “And Professor Saffyn will be mentoring Miss Sullivan.”

There was a moment of silence. Fern remained utterly still, blinking slowly in disbelief. Professor Saffyn was a respected scholar, sure enough; having him as a mentor might not have been the worst thing that could have happened.

Except that his chair was empty and he was nowhere to be seen.

Chapter twelve

The Historian

Fern had barely thetime to compose herself and open her notebook before Professor Farouk made her way to the podium.

“I will now be announcing your first assignment. As mentioned yesterday, each assignment will be based on one of the Great Schools of Magic.

“Your first assignment will be based on the School of Alchemy. You will have five hours to illustrate and name the one hundred most powerful alchemical symbols. You will be expected to identify the key and ability of each symbol, and you will also have to justify your choice of most powerful symbols with sound research and arguments.”

She paused, and in the silence that followed, the only thing that could be heard was the furious scribbling of pens on papers. After a moment, Farouk continued.

“Marks will be awarded for the accuracy and intricacy of your illustrations, the information you provide about each symbol, and the quality of the research supporting your choice of symbols. You will have one week toprepare. This particular assignment will be assessed by myself, Professor Incera and Lady Covington, and we will award you all a mark out of a hundred.”

She stopped and looked around at the candidates.

“Any questions?”

There were no questions. Even the Ferrows, usually so loquacious, sat quietly. Luck, it would seem, was on their side—the advantage they would have over the others for this assignment was astronomical.

Professor Farouk gave a curt nod.

“Very well. You have seven days. Use your time wisely. The assignment will be held in the Grand Study Hall and will begin at exactly ten o’clock in the morning. I bid you all good luck. And remember:finis coronat opus.”

And with that, she gathered the papers from the podium and briskly left, the rest of the Grand Archivists following her out.

Voices rose as soon as the door closed behind the Grand Archivists, mingled excitement and trepidation. Fern was silent, already furiously scrawling notes, her mind racing.

One hundred of the most powerful alchemical symbols.Powerfulwas such a contentious word, its definition changeable and complicated.

The first ideas that came to her mind were the key foundations of Alchemy.Sublimation, she wrote,purgation, multiplication.Lesser Iosis and Final Iosis. Then there were the Divine Transmutations, though arguably some of the Lesser Transmutations were more powerful in their application. Fern wrote both down. Modern Alchemy and Archaic Alchemy would both need to beconsidered, but Fern’s knowledge of them was significantly rusty.

Fern’s knowledge of Alchemy was rudimentary at best, especially when compared to the arsenal of knowledge the Ferrows and the historian Josefa Novak would wield. Though Fern was well read and boasted a broad base of knowledge on which she had built her own expertise, there was no denying she would have to work hard to excel in this assignment.

So much for spending time on her own research. No matter how important it was, it would have to wait. She snapped her notebook shut and shot to her feet, checking her watch.

It was still early, and she had plenty of work to do. Further along in the front row of seats, the Ferrows and Orsini were already discussing strategy, Lautric nodding along.

He was listening closely, but barely spoke. She cast him a look of distaste. How much would he actually contribute to their strategy? He was lucky to find himself in this alliance, but how much did he plan on contributing to it?

She didn’t think she had heard him utter a word.

As she headed for the door, Fern’s eyes alighted upon Josefa Novak. She, too, had stood, packing away her books and notebook into a silk bag. But when she tried to leave, Edmund Ferrow, who had risen from his chair, quickly bounded over to her, blocking her way out of her row of seats.

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