The great inner square of the University of Weyer was not meant to be walked across. It was meant to be circled, admired from wide marble archways or narrow side-paths. Cutting through the middle of it, boots clicking over uneven stone and past silent statues of long-dead scholars, gave the four students the air of a small military outfit about to start a siege. They all knew the effect this produced on other students and none of them minded in the least. Every stolen look, every sideways glance was, to them at least, a small victory over the unjust world they so despised. In other words: they were foolish. They were young.
Adrian kept a quick pace, hands in his pockets, eyes alert. The others trailed just a few steps behind, following his lead without needing to say they were. Adrian had always been the rashest, most impulsive one among them, and so he had become a sort of leader for the group without really meaning to. The fact that they trusted him, at least most of the time, says a great deal about the kind of people they were.
The square opened onto the central court, where columns framed the entrance to the administrative wing like the entrance to a temple of the kind the students in the archeology department were used to visit on field trips. The main building loomed above it all, its spires riddled with centuries of outstanding repairs and clumsy errors — relatively new gargoyles beside weather-worn ones, rust creeping into railings and window frames, stone cracked by the restless passage of time. The stained-glass windows of the lecture halls still held ancient stories of saints, kings and demons, but the colors had all grown faint and tired underneath layers of dust.
"Do we even know what floor he's on?" Rupert asked, panting a little as they rushed up the first set of stairs. "Navigating this place wastes so much time when you don't know where you're going."
"He's with the headmaster," Adrian said matter-of-factly. "Where else would they welcome a professor from the other side of the world?"
Erika muttered something incomprehensible about overcompensation. No one bothered to ask her to explain in greater detail.
After arriving on the second floor, Helge pointed discreetly. A pair of porters in formal livery stood near the main staircase. Both wore the blank expression of men trained not to speak unless asked directly.
Adrian approached them anyway. "We're looking for professor Lao Zhe. He just arrived. We're his—" He hesitated, breaking the mask of confidence he had tried to display. What are we, actually?
"—aides," Erika supplied coolly, stepping up beside him. She was good at covering other people's mistakes. Always managed to find an appropriate excuse. "Advanced research scholars."
The first porter did not blink. The second answered slowly. His speech was sluggish, almost similar to a few of the patients Rupert had seen in the University's infirmary, after they had been given painkillers. "He is with the headmaster."
"In session?"
"In private session."
Adrian scowled. "How long will it take?"
The porter's eyes flicked past him, towards the stairway the had come from. "You would do well to wait outside."
Erika turned on her heel before the man could finish.
They found a bench not far from the hedge maze, beneath an enormous copper clock that had not worked properly since being struck by artillery during the last coup d'état. Erika sat with her usual noble grace. Rupert leaned against a low wall and produced a yellow apple from his coat. Helge stood. He was the sort who always preferred to stand, or at least to not sit down completely, especially when thinking.
Adrian stared at the windows of the headmaster's office, two stories up on his right. Bright light flickered behind them, sometimes eclipsed by a pacing figure — tall, hunchbacked, who could not be mistaken for the professor. It was the headmaster. He always had been a tense man, but this... this was new. His gestures were too wide. His shadow paused too often, as if interrupted mid speech by the other man.
"I don't like it." Adrian said. "The old coward is not behaving as usual."
"He's probably afraid the Easterners will demand compensation for inviting one of their exiles." Erika said, idly inspecting her nails with a dissatisfied expression on her face. "If that happens they'll just deny ever having heard of him. Political embarrassment is the end of many universities, nowadays."
"Maybe," Helge murmured. "But I aeree with Adrian, something's wrong. I can feel it in the air."
They waited nearly an hour. The door did not open.
Eventually, it was Rupert who pointed to a boy about twelve years of age who was jogging towards them. He carried a letter in his left hand.
"Gods save me." Complained Erika aloud when she saw the courier. "Someone, read the damn thing and let me know if it isn't bad news again."
Rupert gave the boy a copper coin and passed the letter on to Adrian.
It was sealed with plain wax. No crest. Just their names — first names, written in pricey black ink, all on the same line.
Adrian broke the seal.
My friends,
I apologize for vanishing without warning. Circumstances demanded sudden travel — I hope you'll believe me when I say I had little choice in the matter.
The university will receive an official notice of my leave next week. I doubt anyone will ask questions, mostly because I'll be back before they come to know I'm gone.
I've seen something. I don't fully know what it means yet, but I suspect I soon will.
We were right to dig. Not everything we found was noise, there is some substance underneath it all.
Take care with what you study. Take even more care with how you think about it. That's the important part.
— Irvin
The silence after the letter was a strange one.
Erika, despite her previous complaint, ripped it from Adrian's hands, read it again by herself and handed it to Helge without a word.
Rupert scratched his head. "Seen something? What does that mean? Like a vision? A premonition maybe?"
Helge tilted his head. "I hope he's just coming up with an excuse for not warning us before departing. I pray he's not gone somewhere dangerous. Some old ruin or tomb. He's been obsessed with that the last few months."
"He's not that reckless." Erika said, but her tone was dubious.
"No, I wouldn't call him reckless." Adrian replied. "But he is ambitious, at least as much as the rest of us."
He folded the letter and slipped it into the lining of his coat. The back of his neck still prickled from before. Irvin wasn't the type to be dramatic. If he had discovered something, he would never say it outright, unless the situation was particularly dire. He would send a breadcrumb, and wait for someone to follow.
Adrian's mind was already moving fast. What had he seen? Where had he gone? Was it related to Lao Zhe? Surely its not a coincidence that the letter just arrived right now. Or maybe—
A soft creaking noise from above cut the thought short.
The window to the headmaster's office had opened.
The air shifted once more, as it already had at least twice during the morning — cold, strange, empty. This was not something a normal person would notice. But Adrian felt it, the way a magnet feels the presence of iron.
Then it passed.
And the window closed.