Twenty pairs of eyes stared at the dog-eared pamphlet on the lectern.
At Hour 460 of Kaelen’s slumber—as the Fallow Slate hummed at a four hundred and sixty-one times multiplier—soft peach-wood lanterns illuminated the basement lecture hall of the Nine-Cauldron Guild Tower. A heavy scent of dried lotus and cedar oil hung in the warm air.
Alchemist Linnea stood behind the podium, wearing her formal blue master robes.
In her hands, she held a grease-stained copy of Book 1 of The Bandit King’s Secret Bride.
“Look at page forty-two,” Linnea commanded in an intense, reverent whisper.
Twenty junior alchemists leaned forward over their wooden desks, turning to page forty-two of their identical pamphlets.
“Notice the charcoal smudge in the upper right margin,” Linnea said, pointing with a polished brass stylus. “Notice how there are three distinct hash marks, followed by a wavy charcoal curve.”
A young apprentice named Xiao raised his hand hesitantly. “Mistress Linnea... that looks like Master Vance wiped his greasy fingers while eating a meat bun.”
