Page 35 of Potions and Proposals
“So excellently maintained,” Emerson marvelled, stopping to examine the knights that could cut him in half.
Lucy walked ahead, not looking back, and waited for the thud of his body hitting the stone. The guardians wouldn’t skewer him unless he was truly evil. She hoped.
“How will I know if I’ve passed?” He jogged up beside her.
“H-how?” Lucy stammered, mentally preparing herself for a fight. What if he wasn’t who he said he was? There were plenty of magical folk on the fringe who’d do anything to gain access to these vaults, but she couldn’t think of any mad enough to disguise themselves as an Order member.
“Technically, I’m not entirely a magless,” he admitted, putting some distance between them. Apparently her silence was read as a threat, because he hurried to explain. “My great-great-grandmother was a healer, but she was never part of any coven. She had no magic herself, but she could work with nature. Understood plants and animals as though she could speak to them.”
Lucy considered his last name. “Hughes? I don’t recall any Healer name in our old ledgers.” She could’ve overlooked it…
“She never made herself known. She worked with the sick, disguised as a nun, mostly; she wasn’t one for rules when it came to helping people,” Emerson said.
“If she worked for the church, that explains why we have no record.”
“If you can’t beat them, join them,” he agreed, admitting to a crime the Order would have burnt his ancestor for.
“Is that your philosophy? To hide amongst them?”
“Yes and no, but she was my inspiration to join the Order.”
“Do your employers know this?” She’d never heard of the Vatican letting those of magical descent into their ranks.
His smile became shaky. “Technically, there was nothing to disclose, as I’ve no magic myself.”
“Then how did you know you’d pass the warding?” Lucy asked, trying to remain calm, so she didn’t end up accidentally setting an Order member on fire. With everything going on with the coven and Benedict, it couldn’t have been a worse time for him to arrive.
“I didn’t. To be honest, I was testing myself just as you were testing me. To see if any trace of magic lingered in my blood.” He smiled.
“I can’t decide whether you’re gutsy, clever, or dangerously naive. I appreciate your honesty, but if I were to report you, the Order would imprison you. You’ve put yourself at great risk coming here!”
In spite of her words, Emerson appeared relieved to share his history with someone.
“My only hope in sharing my past with you is that you don’t have to be on guard. I read in one of your translations that warding might also fail if a person, magless or not, harbours no ill intent. I hope this will further confirm that my presence isn’t a threat, and that I only wish to help,” he said, his eyes wide with hope.
Lucy took a moment to consider. If he stepped out of line even an inch, she could report him. His own would do far worse to him than her kind would, and she could use her knowledge tokeep the grimoire longer, should she need to. She didn’t want to use blackmail, but – her palms burned – desperate times called for desperate measures.
“You’re right about the warding.Somemagless who wish no ill intent or self-gain from our magic will be allowed to pass unharmed,” she told him, “though it’s very rare.” Together, they passed through the tunnels lined with ancient relics and cursed objects. “Please don’t touch anything; not all magic down here has good intentions,” she warned.
He nodded, his broad smile like that of a child in a sweet shop as he slowed to look over book spines and rare items. When Lucy stopped at the intersection of all the tunnels, he nearly walked into her, transfixed by the sight of the vault.
“Can we go in?” He walked around the glass room filled with dozens of shelves with books and artefacts that were far more sacred than those he’d already observed. Lucy let him look, waiting to see if his intent would switch now that he’d got this far. “It’s a far larger collection than I anticipated. This is exceptional,” he breathed, not daring to get too close or linger too long in one spot. Still, she wasn’t going to let just anyone touch the ancestral texts; she had already taken him far enough.
“Not today. I’m sorry, but I need permission from the High Priestess. As you can see, the grimoire is safely within the vault; that should be enough to prove my co-operation,” she said, guiding him back the way they’d come. His gaze lingered on the text only a few feet away, before backing up.
“Forgive me for assuming, but if I’ve made it this far… I wonder if I’ve passed your tests?” Emerson asked, clearly pleased with himself.
“I still need permission to bring you into the actual vault.”
He sighed. “I won’t press. I just wanted you to know you can trust me.”
“I think this is enough for today. Let’s not run before we can walk.” Lucy was far more worried about touching the grimoire with her untrustworthy hands. If she burned, singed or even marked the book in front of him, the Order might believe she’d done it on purpose to stop them from getting their hands on it again. Or, worse, Emerson could report back that she couldn’t control her element. Such a revelation would have consequences of epic proportions, even if she did have something on him as well.
On their return, the armoured knights remained frozen. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or worried that their warding might’ve failed. She ignored his repeated success, not wanting to let him know where the tests were in case he reported back on the inner workings of their vault.
“Can I give you some advice?” she asked as the platform came down for them, wanting to reward him for his honesty. Many wouldn’t put themselves in harm’s way to prove their story.
“I’ll take any help I can get,” he said, clearly on a high from making it this far. His joy radiated off him in waves.
