Page 39 of Sonnets and Serpents
Kerem held his gaze for a moment, then clarified, “Missingallhis bones.”
Suddenly the shrine made sense. Silas swallowed, his own research into magic stealing seeming tame by comparison.
What kind of experiment had the professor been attempting?
“No one knows what could cause such a thing,” Kerem said. “It’s never been seen before.”
Setting the essays aside, he rose from his desk and opened a chest on a shelf, removing a roll of tanned snakeskin. Tension lined his shoulders now, and Silas regretted raising the subject. The closeness of relationships might have varied, but the warlockry professors were a tight-knit group, and it must have been disturbing for Kerem to lose a friend in such a gruesome manner.
Silas rededicated himself, and they worked in silence, crafting Artifacts. But by the time he moved from snake bones to snakeskin, his head started pounding, magic slipping from his grasp. It felt pathetic not to be able to finish a batch of Artifacts he’d done a dozen times before. Was the bracelet interfering with his own magic? Or was having the princess around really that much of an agitation?
“Silas,” she whispered, as if summoned by his thoughts.
He almost slipped off his stool, banging his knee on the desk. Then he turned on Eliza with a glare.
“I’m not happy either,” she told him curtly, planting her hands on her hips. “I feel like a child saying this, but I’m in need of a washroom, and somehow, I doubt there’s one within twenty feet.”
Annoyance though it was, he could hardly blame her for being human.
She peered over his shoulder at the desk, then shuddered. “What do you do with ... all this?”
“Artifacts,” he said flatly.
She frowned. “I thought Casters made those.”
“Casters have their type, and we have ours.”
For Casters, creating an Artifact meant anchoring a Cast to a related object to increase the magic’s strength. They served no one but the Caster. For Affiliates, creating an Artifact meant imbuing an object with magical properties relating to their animal link. They could be used by anyone, although they could only be created from a piece of the Affiliate’s animal link, like snakeskin.
“As for what wedowith them,” he added, “we sell them at market to fund research. I infused these python bones with a snakelike flexibility and strength. Orchardists near the coast drive the bones into their trees during hurricane season.”
Baris would be eager to trade Silas’s work for his best papayas.
“These”—Silas gestured to the squares of snakeskin sewn to leather backings—“are sun protection. By drawing heat to themselves, they keep people cool and prevent sun sickness.”
“You protect people?” Eliza stared at him as if she couldn’t comprehend the idea.
Silas scowled. “I misspoke. These are both deadly weapons. Used for ending any student who misses a deadline.” He stood, grabbing his bag with too much force. “There are washrooms on the main floor.”
Kerem didn’t ask for details, only handed him another list, this one a collection of reference books he wanted from the library.
Eliza tried her best to be patient, truly. She repeated to herself a silent mantra ofpatience abiding, patience abiding. Sometimes she recited the entire sonnet.
Still, the hours were no longer filled with minutes. Each minute had become an hour itself.
After the washroom, Silas collected a stack of books from the library, and on their way back to Kerem’s office, Eliza realized her first impression of his physical build had been wrong. She’d thought he might haul people around like sacks of potatoes; now she realized his broad shoulders and tall frame were only ever put to use hauling around books. Had she carried the tower he currently hefted, she wouldn’t have been able to see over it, and she would have been puffing after a flight of stairs. Silas shifted his hold on the books once, but his breathing wasn’t labored. If anything, he seemed more energized returning up the stairs with a pile of books than he had been coming down empty-handed.
It wasn’t only being a snake that made him strange. It was everything about him.
While Silas delivered the books to his professor’s desk, Eliza eyed the cushion in the corner. It sat like the open maw of amonster, beckoning her to be swallowed. If she was idle any longer, she would lose her mind.
“How can I help?” she asked in Pravish—or at least tried to. It might have been something more likehow helpful I am.
But if she’d gotten it wrong, Silas would have corrected her. Instead, he squinted, as if trying to detect a snare beneath a pile of harmless leaves.
“There’s nothing for you to do,” he said.
But Kerem shrugged. “I won’t turn down an extra pair of hands.”
