Page 13 of Alchemised
He choked on his saliva. “Well—it seems the most likely explanation. In my opinion.” His face was gleaming with perspiration.
Stroud sucked on her teeth. “And the survival?”
“She—did not let herself die. Per-Perhaps a low level of internalised resonance in a competent healer would provide a sufficient means of self-sustenance when ordinarily a body would perish under such conditions.”
“That’s absurd!” Stroud snapped.
“That is immaterial. Can we recover the memories?” Morrough said. “The Eternal Flame would not go to such lengths unless the information was of vital importance.”
“Your Eminence.” Stroud sounded pleading. “The Order of the Eternal Flame is gone. Their ashes are all that remain.”
“I did not ask you,” Morrough said, his focus on the man, who’d turned a sickly green.
“I don’t—believe—”
“Get out.” The air hummed.
The man blanched and bowed repeatedly, thanking Morrough for his mercy and patience as he walked backwards out of the room with visible relief on his face.
“What are you hiding?” Morrough loomed above her.
Her heart beat faster and faster. She had no answer.
Stroud leaned over as well, eyes narrowed in appraisal. “Your Eminence, perhaps if we removed the frontmost section of her brain, we might be able to penetrate some of the memories before the fevers become detrimental,” she said, trailing her finger thoughtfully across Helena’s forehead. “Or it might alter the pathways enough to revert things. I would be honoured to maintain her vitals while you perform the vivisection.”
Terror sliced through Helena as Morrough nodded. Stroud stepped to the side, adjusting the light overhead, as though intending to begin immediately.
“Pardon,” a soft voice interrupted, and Helena felt a rush of relief until she realised it was the traitor, Shiseo, standing with his case gripped in his hands. “I have just remembered one small thing. There was a General Bayard. His head was injured in the war.”
“Yes.” Stroud seemed irritated by the interruption.
“The brain was healed, but”—he paused as if struggling to find the right words—“it blocked him from who he was—his mind, his true self.”
“Yes. We are aware of what happened to Bayard. Nonverbal. Dependent. His wife had to care for him like a child,” Stroud said, her voice waspish.
“Of course, I apologise. It was probably nothing.” Shiseo bowed and appeared to be on the verge of leaving.
“Wait.” Stroud sounded conciliatory. “You’ve begun now. Tell us what your point is.”
Shiseo stopped. “I don’t know all the details, but I believe they pursued a cure for him late in the war. A complicated procedure of the mind.”
“By a healer or by a surgeon?” Stroud leaned forward.
Shiseo tilted his head as if trying to recall. “A healer.”
Stroud pursed her lips. “Elain Boyle, I imagine.”
Shiseo tilted his head again, no recognition in his face.
“She was Luc Holdfast’s personal healer. The Eternal Flame was rather lax in their record keeping, but Elain Boyle’s name appeared frequently in the last year of the war. She seemed to have become unusually distinguished.” Stroud tapped her fingers on her lips, sucking at her teeth again.
“Where is Boyle now?” Morrough asked.
“Killed when we seized the Institute. I believe her body was sent to the mines. We could see if there are any remains.” Stroud’s attention returned to Shiseo. “What did the Eternal Flame do with Bayard that you think is somehow relevant?”
Shiseo bowed again.
“I was only aware of this because they hoped there were similar techniques used in the Eastern Empire. The healer, I was told, had a special ability to—to alter not just the brain but the mind. They proposed to enter the mind of Bayard and heal him from within.”
