Nevernight (The Nevernight Chronicle #1) - Jay Kristoff Page 0,84

table.

“Tric, get that lit!”

Hush fell to his knees, gasping for breath. Marcellus toppled backward out of his stool, clutching his chest. Not asking questions, Tric lit the burner, quickly stepping aside as a gasping, sweating Mia dumped a glass boiling chamber onto the flame. She poured the peppermilk inside, the grayish liquid bubbling almost immediately. The room was swaying before her eyes. Jessamine was on her hands and knees, Diamo dropped like a rock. Spiderkiller watched the proceedings silently, that same black smile on her lips. Not lifting a finger. Not saying a word.

Carlotta finally found the bluesalt, stumbled and nearly fell on her way to the burner. Pouring the purplish granules into the boiling flask with shaking hands, she dumped in a handful of bright yellow calphite. A series of tiny pops sounded inside the glass and a thick greenish smoke began spilling from the top. The reek was akin to sugar boiling in an overfull privy, but as Mia sucked it down, she found the tightness in her chest fading, the spots in her eyes dimming. Smoke continued to billow forth, heavy and thick, sinking down to the floor.

Carlotta dragged the semiconscious Hush closer, Mia helped Belle and Petrus nearer to a lungful. Ash and Pip were barely moving. Blue lips. Bruised eyes. But within a few minutes in the reeking smoke, all were breathing normally. Trembling hands. Disbelief on every face.

Slow clapping rang out in the room. The shell-shocked acolytes looked wide-eyed to Spiderkiller, still leaning on her desk and smiling.

“Excellent,” the Shahiid said, looking between Carlotta and Mia. “I’m pleased to see at least two of you have some knowledge of the Truth.”

“And this … is how you test us?” Carlotta gasped.

“You disapprove, Acolyte?” Spiderkiller tilted her head. “You are here to become a mortal instrument of the Lady of Blessed Murder. Do you think life in her service will test you with more kindness?”

Mia was still a little short of breath, but managed to find her voice to speak.

“But Shahiid … what if none of us had known the answer?”

Spiderkiller looked among the acolytes, standing or sitting around the now silent boiling flask. Drummed her fingers again on the terrarium of dead rats.

She looked to Mia. And ever so slowly, she shrugged.

“Resume your seats.”

Still more than a little shaky, the novices slouched to their places. Marcellus patted Mia and Carlotta on the back as he walked past. Hush and Petrus nodded thanks. Belle still looked shaky, sitting with her head between her legs. Ashlinn shot Mia an “I told you so” glance as the girls resumed their seats. The story about Spiderkiller murdering a tardy acolyte didn’t seem so far-fetched now …

“Good show, Corvere,” Ash whispered.

“Show?” Mia hissed. “Maw’s teeth, we could’ve all been fucking killed.”

“All except Tricky, of course.” Ash smiled at the Dweymeri boy. Tric was patting Belle on the back, wide-eyed but none the worse for wear. “Impressive nose he’s got under those tattoos. Remind me to skip the next meal he thinks smells funny, neh?”

Spiderkiller cleared her throat, looking pointedly at Ash. The girl fell silent as the dead.

“So.” The Shahiid clasped her hands behind her back, pacing slowly. “Beyond blades. Beyond bows. Be your victim some legendary warrior in shining mail or a king on a golden throne. A dram of the right toxin can make a garrison a graveyard, and a republic a ruin. This, my children, is the Truth I offer here.”

Shahiid Spiderkiller indicated Mia and Carlotta with a wave of her hand.

“Now, perhaps your saviors will explain how the red dahlia toxin works.”3

Carlotta took a deep breath, glanced to Mia. Shrugged.

“It attacks the lungs, Shahiid,” she replied flatly, her composure returned.

“Bonds to the blood, so that the breath cannot,” Mia finished.

“You two have read Arkemical Truths, I take it?”

“A hundred times,” Carlotta nodded.

“I used to take it to bed with me,” Mia said.

“Surprised you can read…,” someone muttered.

“Beg pardon?” Spiderkiller turned. “I did not hear you, Acolyte Jessamine?”

The redhead, who still seemed out-of-sorts at the Shahiid’s “demonstration,” nevertheless lowered her eyes.

“… I said nothing, Shahiid.”

“O, no. Surely, you were about to explain how the toxin is extracted from the dahlia seed? The lethal dose for a man of two hundred and twenty pounds?”

Jessamine’s cheeks turned red, lips pressed firmly shut.

“Well?” Spiderkiller asked. “I await your answers, Acolyte.”

“Nitric filtration,” Carlotta suggested. “Into a bed of aspirated sugar and tin. Boiled and condensed. The lethal dose for a full-grown man is half a dram.”

Jessamine glared at the girl with