Page 46 of The Ordeals
Lucas Winter
Caroline Fetlock
Perdita Beacham
George Godolphin
Tessa taps an index finger on a figure towards the end of the top row. ‘That’s my father. George Godolphin.’
I round on her slowly. ‘You’re related to one of the founders of Killmarth? You’re not just third generation then.’
‘Well …’ Heat rises up her cheeks as they flush and she shrugs. ‘Killmarth was established four generations back when alchemists were discovered during the Fair Age, sotechnicallyI’m third generation. I promise I don’t get any special treatment because of it. Nor did grandmother or father. It’s why I try not to draw attention to it. My great-grandfather died before I was born, but I’ve heard he was pretty insistent on that rule. Family ties came second to actual ability.’
‘Did he make the Ordeals, you know … ?’
‘Cut-throat?’
‘Yes.’
Tessa goes on. ‘Only the strongest survive, so only the strongestcarry the magic in their bloodlines. That was the plan, but of course then the more elite wielding families wanted to preserve their status and the bloodlines, and so Kellend became as it is. Occasionally you’ll see a strong wielder born into a different class, though. And the Crown keeps funding Killmarth to keep the territory strong, which at least makes it possible for all of the strongest to compete.’
‘If you know when and where the Crucible is,’ I say.
She exhales. ‘There is that. But if someonereallywants to get in, they figure it out.’
I press my lips together, not mentioning how close to the bonethatstatement is as I scrutinise the photograph again. ‘You think there’s something here about Harvey Parnell’s disappearance?’ I think back to when Parnell showed me to Hope Hall, the mystery surrounding Darley.
Tessa shrugs. ‘Why else would you close off an entire hall and never reopen it? But it wasn’t just Parnell; my father let slip once that a good number of scholars of Darley at the time disappeared as well.’
‘Alchemists?’
She nods.
I wonder what this means. Why such an old sepia photograph is displayed on the wall and none from any more recent years, why this place feels like a time capsule from more than eight years ago. Despite the sense of unease lingering in the air, it gives me hope that there may be some sign of my parents in this place. ‘Let’s keep looking.’
The corridor leads to a dead end. A locked door, with not a whisper of sound on the other side. There’s still no sign of the two people we saw walking in here, and I wonder where they are. I try peering through the keyhole but find it’s been blocked up from the inside. Straightening, I look at Tessa. ‘Lost your nerve yet?’
She smiles ruefully. ‘Absolutely not. We haven’t checked the other floors. If grandmother taught me anything, it’s to be resourceful. To use the space of time between Ordeals to my advantage.’
The second floor is much the same, except it contains a series of smaller studies. But the third floor and attic rooms … this is where the scholars slept. The attic floor contains only locked doors between the eaves and we find that out of thirty rooms on the first floor, just three are unlocked. The first contains a single bed, covers tucked neatly around the mattress, a chest of drawers and a desk. It looks too clean, as though it’s been carefully maintained, unlike the cobwebs and dust crowding the other rooms. We leave it quickly and move to the second room. This one holds more promise, containing the same furniture, but in the desk drawers, we find a set of letters. Tessa quickly snaps the twine holding them together and we leaf through the faded handwriting.
‘Love letters,’ Tessa says.
‘From H to D … you don’t think … ?’
Tessa’s eyes widen and she grabs the one I’m holding, placing them back in the drawer. ‘There’s no dust. What if Parnell still comes in here? What if these rooms …’
‘Were their bedrooms as scholars?’ I frown down at the letters. ‘How sentimental of her. That’s heartbreaking.’
Tessa blinks quickly, a hint of fear cramping her features. ‘Not good if she catches us here.’
I nod, already heading for the door. We don’t bother with the third bedroom; the whole place feels sad and watchful. Too watchful. There doesn’t seem to be anything here we can use. I hoped it would be like the poison garden, clues hidden away for us to find. This whole hall feels off. Wrong, somehow.
But when we reach the landing on the first-floor staircase, Tessa hesitates, motioning to me. There are voices. Quiet, controlledvoices and they’re coming from the locked room at the end of the corridor. Tessa raises her eyebrows to me and, after a brief hesitation, I roll my eyes in defeat. She grins, leading us to the classroom closest to the locked room and points to an air vent.
I hasten after her as she quietly places a chair against the wall, balances on her tiptoes and pulls a small lever on a discreet gold grate set high on the wall. I do the same, bringing a chair beside hers and, with my height, I can hear without having to strain.
‘Eight years of almost no encounters and now it’s happening again,’ a male voice says. ‘Any thoughts on this?’
