PROLOGUE
A MEASURED LIFE
Fifteen years before the founding of the Invisible College
Isaac used the littlest measuring spoon to scoop a heap of wood ash into the mortar. Then, with
vigorous strokes of the pestle, he began to mix it into the combination of chymicals he’d already
pulverized. The creak of the door sounded behind him.
“I’m busy,” he said, not looking back.
“I’m leaving,” said his roommate Blake Sherburn from the doorway.
“Can you fetch me some more saltpetr while you’re out?”
“I’m not going out, Isaac. I’m going home. Back to Telimar.”
Isaac stopped working the mortar and pestle and turned his neck, looking at Blake with
confusion. His roommate wasn’t wearing his scholar robes but a traveling cloak and riding boots.
“Why are you going to Telimar?”
Blake heaved a dramatic sigh. “I told you weeks ago. My younger sister is getting married.
I’m going to be gone a fortnight.”
“A fortnight!”
“You act like this is new information, Isaac. I’ve told you all of this before. I’ll be gone a
fortnight, maybe more. It’s not easy to travel in winter.”
“But how long does it take someone to get married?” Isaac asked, feeling a surge of
restlessness in his chest. He’d come to rely on the help Blake offered for his various experiments.
His roommate had more friends and social obligations, but he was interested in Isaac’s work and
keen to learn from him. They’d gotten along well together since joining the university. “The boat
ride to Telimar is several hours, then the carriage ride to your family’s home can’t be more than
two days. The ceremony is maybe . . . twenty minutes . . . and then the return. Six days at the
most.”
Blake sighed. “Just because you despise your family, doesn’t mean everyone does. I miss
them, and my sister and I are close. It may be longer than a fortnight. At least my snoring won’t
keep you up at night.”
“It doesn’t keep me up. I just make it a point to tell you when you do snore is all.”
“That is so helpful,” Blake said with another prolonged sigh.
“If you think so.”
“I was being sarcastic.”
Isaac paused, mouth open, and then he shut it. “I still need some saltpetr. Can you get some
before you go?”
“I’m afraid you will be running the errand yourself this time. You need to get outdoors more
anyway.”
“I don’t like . . . people,” Isaac said, wrinkling his nose.
“That may not be entirely their fault,” Blake said with an arch look that Isaac interpreted as a
subtle rebuke.
“Off with you, then,” Isaac said. “You’re right. I can get my own things, thank you very
much.”
“Good. Because I need to leave for the ship. You seriously haven’t noticed me packing and
talking about the harbor schedule?”
Isaac thought on the question a moment and then shook his head and turned back to the work
in his alchemy. He loved the little closet he’d turned into his private sanctuary, a place that
smelled of burnt metal and fragrant chymicals.
“Have a safe journey? Give my regards to your family? Hope all goes well? Hope you
encounter a young lady you’d like to get to know better?” Blake’s intonation made it sound like
he was asking questions at every pause, but that was absurd since Isaac wasn’t the one leaving.
“You’re the one going,” Isaac said gruffly. “Fare you well.”
Another sigh. The door shut, but Isaac had already gone back to grinding his powder after
tipping in another small dose of ash. Several hours must have passed because the closet was
getting darker and darker, and he found himself squinting before realizing with a jolt that he
hadn’t procured the saltpetr.
He was about to call out for Blake, to see if he’d get some, but remembered abruptly that his
roommate had already departed.
“Bother and nonsense,” Isaac grumbled and scooted his chair back. He extinguished the
candle on the table with a pinch—waste not—and hurriedly fetched his long jacket and a cloak.
Winter had already settled on other parts of the realm, discernable by the snow line in the
mountains, a distinguishable feature manifesting the temperature difference at certain altitudes.
He added a wool scarf around his neck, counted the coins in his purse, and then left his tiny
abode, locking the door securely behind him. There was too much riffraff in the town, including
more than its fair share of burglars. Some students were robbed the week tuition was due, so
elaborate means had been constructed to safeguard the transfer of coin from student to bursar.
The breeze was bitingly cold, so Isaac walked briskly, keeping aware of his surroundings.
The streets were mostly empty, as folk preferred to keep indoors in such cold, and the lateness of
the hour and the hastening dusk meant shops were already closing. He should have left sooner,
but he’d been distracted by his work, which he did in addition to the studies required by the
masters of the university during the term. Thankfully, he could focus on his own work at the
moment, as the term had ended. The lunar fortnight break between terms allowed students the
opportunity to visit family, which Isaac was loath to do.
Two merchants were bickering about the price of an old loaf of meat bread, and Isaac hastily
dodged to the other side of the street. He was careful to watch his steps, lest he put his foot in a
pile of human refuse tossed out from an upper window onto the street.
As he passed a tavern, he heard some lively—meaning drunkenly—manifestations of
pleasure happening inside and quickened his pace. Several students owed Isaac money for their
regular urges to drink ale and spirits. He didn’t feel it immoral to profit off their proclivity to
spend money on things that required frequent urination. He always expected interest on capital
lent.
His ears and the tip of his nose were tingling with the cold, but it wasn’t an unpleasant
sensation. Once he had passed two other taverns, the street became quiet again. No one else was
about, and that would make him a target of the cutpurses and criminals inhabiting the notorious
island and its famous university. The dichotomy of life in such a remote location was an endless
source of provoking thoughts. Why did this part of society wish to uplift a student’s thoughts
through deep learning and reason but permit them to be surrounded by an atmosphere of
temptation?
“I don’t care if you have to roam the streets all night, you scabby little wench! You find a
customer this time, you bring me cuppers, or you’ll freeze to death tonight.”
Isaac heard a frail cough and a desperate voice. A woman’s voice. “I can’t. I can’t.”
“What’s it to me?” tossed back the angry man. “Another girl will have the bed. Cuppers or
cold. Your choice. Now git!” Isaac heard the smack just as he reached the gap between two
buildings. He glanced down the alley, seeing a brawny man towering over a woman who wore
too little clothes for such an evening. Isaac’s stomach shriveled with pity and repulsion, and he
strode by, but not before the man had caught a glimpse of him.
“There’s a student,” he hissed at the woman. “Now’s your chance!”
As soon as Isaac left their line of sight, he bolted down the street and ducked into another
alley, his heart racing. He hated men like that who compelled women to prey on the financially
insecure students—and some of the faculty. It was an old, unhealthy dynamic that had festered
around universities for ages and led to squalid and unseemly living conditions for all concerned,
but there was nothing he could do about it. He was just grateful he’d passed by before she’d tried
to entice him. The poor woman must have encountered horrible circumstances to have been
forced to such wretched means of earning her room and keep.
Isaac arrived at the shop that sold chymicals and reagents and found, to his dismay, it was
indeed closed. He stamped his foot in frustration and let out some harsh epithets about the
owner’s apparent laziness for wanting to close shop so early. He knocked soundly on the door,
hoping the promise of a transaction might lure the proprietor back down from the living quarters
above. But to no avail. Fuming at the inconvenience of having to return the next day, Isaac set
out for his dingy but comfortable dwelling, choosing a circuitous route to get there so he
wouldn’t need to pass that alley and the poor soul assigned to haunt it. It was worth going well
out of his way to avoid that encounter!
Yet, to his utter astonishment, there she was. He recognized the shabby and all-too-revealing
chemise. She appeared to be shivering with cold, waiting on the next corner. Watching him with
a look he found disconcerting. What an impossible situation. He averted his gaze and felt the
misery of his gut-stabbing dilemma.
“I’ve been looking for you,” she said. “I’ve been looking for so long this time.”
“I’m sorry, um, miss,” he stammered. Her voice sounded . . . familiar. Impossible. “I’m not
interested.”
“I know. You aren’t the kind who would be.” He’d passed her, but she’d already fallen in
beside him and was keeping pace with him. That was dreadful.
“Please . . . go away,” he said as delicately as he could.
“You don’t understand what I want.”
“I think I do.” He fumbled in his pocket for his purse and hurriedly spilled some coins into
his hand. “Just take them and go. Don’t follow me.”
He scattered the coins on the ground and was amazed by the loud, sharp noise they made.
He’d been foolish dropping the coins in the street, but he didn’t want to even risk touching her.
Afraid she might grab him and try to persuade him with more than words. This encounter had not
been of his choosing, but he still felt ashamed of himself for treating another person with such
dismissive cruelty.
Risking a backward glance, he saw her kneeling in the street, watching him leave in a hurry.
One by one, she picked up the coins as he dashed away, his heart pounding. He’d go to the shop
early the next morning. Criminals liked to sleep in, didn’t they? In all likelihood, there would be
a lower risk of a repeat encounter.
Finally, having set a hurried pace, he made it back to his dwelling and unlocked the door. He
looked back, seeing the street empty. He had a preternatural feeling he was being watched, even
though he couldn’t see anyone. After going inside, he locked the door again, then rubbed the
tension from his mouth, grateful to be home. Grateful for the solace of being by himself again.
At his family manor in Flamsteed, he would have had servants to answer the door. To fetch the
things he needed. But this isolation, and the immersion it allowed, was worth trivial
inconveniences and the occasional criminal ones. The few cuppers he’d tossed in the street were
easily replaceable.
After relighting the candle, he pulled off his cloak and folded it nicely before tucking it back
into the chest he’d gotten it from. Next, he unwound the scarf and folded it up as well before
putting it away. A little gurgle in his stomach reminded him that it was time for supper, so he
went to the small pantry where he had his stores of food. He picked his food and produce on the
same day every week to minimize the amount of time spent haggling for it and bought things in
greater quantities to get a lower cost and avoid the necessity of repeat shopping trips. He
economized the allowance he’d given himself from his inheritance, determined to prove to his
mother that he was a rational and—
A knock sounded on the door, interrupting his thoughts. He set down the half a cabbage he’d
just picked up, stunned at the intrusion. No one ever visited him for a social call. Blake had
friends, but he did not bring them over. That was an ironclad agreement between them.
With his heart galloping, he walked to the door soundlessly, careful to avoid the squeaky
floorboards. Another knock sounded, followed immediately by a quick series of raps.
He was about to part the curtain to see who’d intruded on his peace when he heard an
incantation, a song that was unfamiliar and exotic. The lock turned before his astonished eyes.
The thrill of magic made gooseflesh prickle down his forearms.
The woman he’d left kneeling in the street came in and shut the door behind her. ...
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