Page 47 of The Ordeals
‘Only what we know happened last time. And the time before that,’ another male voice says, one that sounds oddly familiar.
‘To my husband.’
I look at Tessa, and find her eyes as wide as mine.
Nowthatvoice …
‘Parnell,’ she mouths.
‘Victims are usually wielders, drained and dead.’
‘Edmund, did you confirm the victims in the Morlagh?’
‘Two drained,’ he says, and I understand why the voice is familiar. Of course, it’s Alden’s brother, Edmund. ‘Bloodless. The other hopefuls were shredded by werewolves and the two I couldn’t find, most likely bitten and turned. I found blood, but not their bodies.’
‘And no leads as to the killer?’ Another voice, a female one … oh gods, I realise. It’s Caroline Ivey, the representative of the Crown.
‘Reports are scattered. No fixed pattern has emerged.’
‘What about this person at Hope Hall the other night?’
‘Unrelated, at least Grant thinks so. The usual rivalry, this year rather worryingly more bloodthirsty …’
‘Anyone on the suspect list?’ Edmund interjects.
Parnell laughs darkly. ‘Every tall male hopeful and every strongmasquier? Unless of course, it was a strong illusionist, but that’s unlikely. Doesn’t narrow it down enough. But also, as I said, unrelated. Let Grant and Caroline deal with that. I thought you called a meeting about the other victims.’
‘We did,’ Edmund says. ‘But it seems we need more evidence. No firm sightings, I presume?’
‘Nothing confirmed.’
‘Any hopefuls showing promise?’
‘Hardly,’ another woman’s voice answers. ‘There’s Alden, obviously. We’re keeping a close eye on him. But the rest, it’s too early to tell.’
‘Not an alchemist among them though, sadly.’ Hess. It’s Hess, I’m sure of it.
I frown, wondering what they mean. Surely they can’t be talking about which hopefuls will make it to become full scholars? As far as I can tell, no one has distinguished themselves in terms of their wielding yet, and certainly not Alden Locke.
‘Grant wants to test them further, and we need to accelerate the training ofallscholars.’
‘I agree,’ says Caroline Ivey. ‘Too few alchemists, not enough trained wielders in Kellend, and werewolves are a volatile resource at best. We should be more prepared than this; the warning signs are all there. It’s been eight years. Long enough for them to need to feed in earnest.’
I glance at Tessa, but she seems just as confused as me.
‘And of course Alloway will use any opportunity to invade if Kellend is weakened significantly. We cannot afford to have our numbers decimated like last time. Theine will not andcannotbe a buffer.’
‘Those damn monsters …’ Edmund says, his voice low and vicious.
‘The wards on Killmarth will hold. That’s all we can do for now. Give them time to train, time for us to find the wielders who can withstand them,’ Hess replies.
‘And time for research.’ That woman’s voice again.
There is silence for a moment and I believe that perhaps they’ve all left. Then Caroline Ivey speaks, soft and strained. ‘We must make sure it doesn’t happen again.’
There’s a shuffle of footsteps and Tessa swiftly closes the grate as I step down from my chair. It sounds like the meeting is winding up and we can’t be caught here. When we slip through the doorway back into the courtyard, I check first that the coast is clear. But it’s silent, every scholar in the library or at lessons, every hopeful scattered, most likely to fret about the next Ordeal.
I turn to Tessa and whisper, ‘What happened eight years ago?’
