I had woken up before daybreak, finding myself drooling on the table beside the bed. It was an unsightly show, but no one was there to see me and the girl hadn't moved yet. I quickly cleaned the puddle off the table and went back to my assigned chamber. The breeze was calm but threatened to disappear. I took the towel off the wardrobe and marched into the washroom, wanting to catch the gust soon after the bath. The force of tap water resounded loudly against the metal bucket. I must have woken some patients, and I hoped my student was one of them.
It took me an hour to clean myself. The scorched hand was the greatest of my worries. It stung to the touch, and I was too fatigued to use magic. The ugly thing disgusted even its owner. It was all kinds of red, black, and shrivelled. I was surprised I was not provided with any ointment or medicine to apply. The water too hurt it. So, till the bitter end, I had to wash myself and my hair with only one arm. That was excruciating.
I thought I had time to relax and unwind, but as I left the bathroom, wrapped in towels, two ladies greeted me. Nurses? The older one ignored my half-naked presence while the other shied away. I grabbed a clean, patient's white robe, and rushed back into the bathroom. The towel holding my hair came off and fell to the ground, drenched. With great patience, I dried myself and came out after donning the robe, feigning false pride.
The older nurse took the wet towels from my hand and left. While the other gave me a slight nod, a snigger, and a blush. Is she— no, can't be! She can't be the one that cleaned me yesterday! She can't be the one who saw my naked dignity and pride! I denied the obvious vehemently.
Soon, the clock turned eight as I sat contemplating magic, playing with the flowers that were left for me yesterday. The familiar nurse from before entered and left me with some porridge and a very thin slice of bread. Are they afraid I might turn fat? Have they even seen me? I looked at my tummy and rued. The porridge was delicious, but unfortunately, I could not thank the lady. She had rushed off far too quickly.
I watched the flowers and the sky outside, wondering what would happen of my classes that day. I was told by Ms Olsberg that I was to be questioned today about the incident. The door opened, and while I expected my interviewers, a lady entered. 'Lile!' It was Ms Solvent. She quickly came running by the bedside and looked at me. 'You seem fine, lad!' I frowned a little.
'She wishes to imitate Mrs Parkinson,' said the lady that approached from behind. It was Ms Orchard. She had brought with her a bouquet of carnations and a smile on my face. 'Hello, Lile,' she said through her inconspicuous grin, looking charming as always.
'Hello, Ms Orchard.'
She was without a sign of distress or worry. Her eyes passed from me to the flowers on the stand beside me. With unparalleled grace and elegance, she tucked her hair behind her ears and cleaned the wilted flowers. 'You will have more soon,' she said, throwing them away before checking the dishes I had just cleaned. Satisfied with my diet, she asked, 'When did you wake up?'
'Midnight,' I answered, like a sick child.
'Did you see her?' she asked.
And, 'Yes,' I replied.
'And, you have been told of your hand?' I believed I noticed a glimmer of sympathy, but I could not swear. I did not have my spectacles.
'Yes, to a degree.'
She nodded and stopped her questioning, but Ms Solvent was not so willing, 'Hey, Lile,' she said, hovering over the dustbin that contained the flowers, 'guess who brought which.' I looked at each one of them. I did not know. How could anyone? But I was the kind who extremely believed in the art of guesswork. I had accepted the challenge even before Ms Orchard could interrupt.
'Gladiolus from Ms Orchard?' The blue-eyed woman nodded, seemingly pleased. 'Lavender flowers from you, Ms Solvent?'
'Wrong,' she said, rather happy. 'It was from Ms Oak.'
'I see.' I thought for a second. 'Then, hydrangeas from you and carnations from Ms Soni.'
'Correct.' She was having fun. 'Daisies are from Mr Bones and Mr Canary. Chrysanthemums are from Mr Quincy, Mr Foreman, and Mr Mont.' She pointed at them, one at a time. 'Sunflowers are from Mr Fisk.'
'The pink tulips?'
'The new one, Ms Hilda Lore.'
'Truly? She was here?' I asked in astonishment. I had not expected queer and apathetic Ms Lore to visit. I appreciated her visit even more. I shall thank her when I am allowed to leave. 'What about my lecture?'
'It has been cancelled,' said my blonde senior. 'The dean has approved your leave, Lile. You may rest until you are prepared once again, so do not be hasty.' I was not, truly. If there was one thing that was on my mind, that somehow seemed to matter, then it was the Full-Moon Hunt.
We talked for a while. Ms Solvent told me how the tale of my battle against the beast had spread throughout the academy. 'The Martial Department were the first ones on the scene,' Ms Solvent described, spreading her arms and pouting her mouth. 'They have not said what the beast was.' She asked me about it and pestered me to tell her what it was.
'It was a beast with great spirit.' I recalled that thing. 'It had intelligence. It had fur.' A name appeared in my head. 'Werewolf.' I remembered those vertically slit irises. 'It was a beast, but it stood on hind legs. It was smart. The fire scared him but not enough to run in fright. If only it had even a trace of humanity, I would have believed it to be the beast of folklores and legends — the werewolf.' I recalled some more. 'It ambushed me.' Ms Lasfield could not have stayed alive that long. 'The cursed thing ambushed me. If it had not been for fire — the innate fear of the beastly — I would have been injured.' And there was no other element, save for Earth, to help me.
Ms Orchard was thrilled and wished for me. She kept prodding at me, hoping some secret would spill over. Had it not been for Ms Orchard the woman would have pounced on me. 'We must leave now, Ms Solvent. There are lectures to be taught.' Her sights turned to me. She removed a small package wrapped in brown paper from her inner vest pocket. 'A gift,' she said. 'Recover quickly, Lile.' And without further explanation, she left with an excited Ms Solvent.
I watched her as she left my vision, and then unwrapped the paper. The red lace on it came off easily, and inside, I found a pair of black, satin gloves. Thank you, I thought. That was very thoughtful if only a tad offensive. But I knew she did not mean that. So, I accepted with great pleasure. I wore it. It stung a lot, but that hurt would soon fade. Satin did not irk the skin and the colour hid the ugliness. There was a lace at the wrist to tighten the glove. I liked it.
At half past nine, the doctors arrived for their regular visits. They told me about my condition, which I had already heard, in a little more detail. I asked them, 'What about the thumb?' It was not responsive, and I believed they knew it.
The young amongst them seemed stressed, but an older lady said, 'We are afraid it can't be saved.' She continued after sharing a glance with her colleague, 'Your thumb has lost all its functions, Mr Dew. It may sporadically twitch but it won't recover.' They gave me a cream that felt cold to touch. Though they had treated my injuries, they were afraid of administering any medicine without knowing the effects it could have on a mage. I put their worries to rest as I explained it did not matter. I was a mortal first, mage later. 'What about Ms Lasfield?' I asked as they were leaving.
One of them spoke, 'She is still unconscious.'
'Still?' I felt nervous. 'She is not...braindead, right?'
'We do not believe so,' a senior doctor quickly said. 'She should be fine. Give her some time to heal.' I nodded, hoping the doctor knew better than me.
I was left alone once again. The watch kept ticking, and soon, it was half past ten. I read that week's issue of Arcane Weekly that Ms Orchard had bought for me. Other than the news about my employment, nothing attracted my gaze.
I put the issue down. My eyes were tired without my spectacles. The day had been taxing, considering my condition. So, I closed my eyes, hoping to catch a painless sleep. And soon, I fell silent.
***
I woke up to the sound of scribbling. I looked over at the clock on the wall. It was one o’clock. Through the blurry sight, I noticed someone sitting by the table. ‘Ms Parkinson?’ I asked, and the girl turned to me, fluttering her eyes. She nodded her head, left her work, and turned to me. ‘You were writing? What might you be doing here?’
The girl brought a tray to me. She removed the lid and handed a bowl to me. ‘Soup,’ she said.
‘Thank you,’ I said, accepting it.
‘I came to visit you. Mother was busy.’ I understood the sentiment. So, in silence, I slurped the soup while the girl continued her scribbling.
I peeked, looking at the page in front of her. What is this? She hid it from me. I felt like a thief and quickly averted my eyes. The place had started to bore me, and the silence and solitude did not help. If only she would wake… I asked Ms Parkinson’s leave and visited the girl after relieving myself. The colour in her cheeks had returned, and the tip of her nose bore a faint tinge of red. She was recovering. I wished her a good recovery and left, knowing she would not hear my words.
When I returned, Ms Parkinson handed me the paper she had been working on. On its pages were words of hope, recovery, and health. The spellings were incorrect in places, but otherwise, she had done an admirable job. I told her that and thanked her. The simplicity of my actions was enough to bring joy to her face. I was made to understand how blessed I was to have such an environment. I thanked her once again and told stories of my encounter with that beast while she sat, listening as if she truly cared. Perhaps, she does.
I asked her of her and Mrs Parkinson’s day. As it turns out, they were quite shocked to hear about the incident. The words had spread throughout the city and Mr Crawford had informed them explicitly.
Her gaze, I noticed, was returning to my gloved hand. ‘Do you wish to see?’ I asked, and she nodded. Thinking it was morbid curiosity, I showed her. She did not find it pretty, but she did not scream or jump. I do not know what went through her mind, for she offered to write my papers and letters for me from now on. I rejected her offers courteously. ‘Study. That will be enough.’ The lovely girl agreed, and we returned to our silence.
Soon, the door was knocked. ‘Please, come in,’ I said, and the door was opened. Ms Olsberg and a man I had seen before entered. Arsene Neumic. The Head of the Department of Martial Studies had himself graced me with his presence. I had heard about him from Mr Quincy, and none of it had sounded pleasant.
‘A pleasure to meet you,’ he said while reaching for my arm, ‘Professor Dew.’ It was my right hand — the one that I had burnt.
I had woken up before daybreak, finding myself drooling on the table beside the bed. It was an unsightly show, but no one was there to see me and the girl hadn't moved yet. I quickly cleaned the puddle off the table and went back to my assigned chamber. The breeze was calm but threatened to disappear. I took the towel off the wardrobe and marched into the washroom, wanting to catch the gust soon after the bath. The force of tap water resounded loudly against the metal bucket. I must have woken some patients, and I hoped my student was one of them.
It took me an hour to clean myself. The scorched hand was the greatest of my worries. It stung to the touch, and I was too fatigued to use magic. The ugly thing disgusted even its owner. It was all kinds of red, black, and shrivelled. I was surprised I was not provided with any ointment or medicine to apply. The water too hurt it. So, till the bitter end, I had to wash myself and my hair with only one arm. That was excruciating.
I thought I had time to relax and unwind, but as I left the bathroom, wrapped in towels, two ladies greeted me. Nurses? The older one ignored my half-naked presence while the other shied away. I grabbed a clean, patient's white robe, and rushed back into the bathroom. The towel holding my hair came off and fell to the ground, drenched. With great patience, I dried myself and came out after donning the robe, feigning false pride.
The older nurse took the wet towels from my hand and left. While the other gave me a slight nod, a snigger, and a blush. Is she— no, can't be! She can't be the one that cleaned me yesterday! She can't be the one who saw my naked dignity and pride! I denied the obvious vehemently.
Soon, the clock turned eight as I sat contemplating magic, playing with the flowers that were left for me yesterday. The familiar nurse from before entered and left me with some porridge and a very thin slice of bread. Are they afraid I might turn fat? Have they even seen me? I looked at my tummy and rued. The porridge was delicious, but unfortunately, I could not thank the lady. She had rushed off far too quickly.
I watched the flowers and the sky outside, wondering what would happen of my classes that day. I was told by Ms Olsberg that I was to be questioned today about the incident. The door opened, and while I expected my interviewers, a lady entered. 'Lile!' It was Ms Solvent. She quickly came running by the bedside and looked at me. 'You seem fine, lad!' I frowned a little.
'She wishes to imitate Mrs Parkinson,' said the lady that approached from behind. It was Ms Orchard. She had brought with her a bouquet of carnations and a smile on my face. 'Hello, Lile,' she said through her inconspicuous grin, looking charming as always.
'Hello, Ms Orchard.'
She was without a sign of distress or worry. Her eyes passed from me to the flowers on the stand beside me. With unparalleled grace and elegance, she tucked her hair behind her ears and cleaned the wilted flowers. 'You will have more soon,' she said, throwing them away before checking the dishes I had just cleaned. Satisfied with my diet, she asked, 'When did you wake up?'
'Midnight,' I answered, like a sick child.
'Did you see her?' she asked.
And, 'Yes,' I replied.
'And, you have been told of your hand?' I believed I noticed a glimmer of sympathy, but I could not swear. I did not have my spectacles.
'Yes, to a degree.'
She nodded and stopped her questioning, but Ms Solvent was not so willing, 'Hey, Lile,' she said, hovering over the dustbin that contained the flowers, 'guess who brought which.' I looked at each one of them. I did not know. How could anyone? But I was the kind who extremely believed in the art of guesswork. I had accepted the challenge even before Ms Orchard could interrupt.
'Gladiolus from Ms Orchard?' The blue-eyed woman nodded, seemingly pleased. 'Lavender flowers from you, Ms Solvent?'
'Wrong,' she said, rather happy. 'It was from Ms Oak.'
'I see.' I thought for a second. 'Then, hydrangeas from you and carnations from Ms Soni.'
'Correct.' She was having fun. 'Daisies are from Mr Bones and Mr Canary. Chrysanthemums are from Mr Quincy, Mr Foreman, and Mr Mont.' She pointed at them, one at a time. 'Sunflowers are from Mr Fisk.'
'The pink tulips?'
'The new one, Ms Hilda Lore.'
'Truly? She was here?' I asked in astonishment. I had not expected queer and apathetic Ms Lore to visit. I appreciated her visit even more. I shall thank her when I am allowed to leave. 'What about my lecture?'
'It has been cancelled,' said my blonde senior. 'The dean has approved your leave, Lile. You may rest until you are prepared once again, so do not be hasty.' I was not, truly. If there was one thing that was on my mind, that somehow seemed to matter, then it was the Full-Moon Hunt.
We talked for a while. Ms Solvent told me how the tale of my battle against the beast had spread throughout the academy. 'The Martial Department were the first ones on the scene,' Ms Solvent described, spreading her arms and pouting her mouth. 'They have not said what the beast was.' She asked me about it and pestered me to tell her what it was.
'It was a beast with great spirit.' I recalled that thing. 'It had intelligence. It had fur.' A name appeared in my head. 'Werewolf.' I remembered those vertically slit irises. 'It was a beast, but it stood on hind legs. It was smart. The fire scared him but not enough to run in fright. If only it had even a trace of humanity, I would have believed it to be the beast of folklores and legends — the werewolf.' I recalled some more. 'It ambushed me.' Ms Lasfield could not have stayed alive that long. 'The cursed thing ambushed me. If it had not been for fire — the innate fear of the beastly — I would have been injured.' And there was no other element, save for Earth, to help me.
Ms Orchard was thrilled and wished for me. She kept prodding at me, hoping some secret would spill over. Had it not been for Ms Orchard the woman would have pounced on me. 'We must leave now, Ms Solvent. There are lectures to be taught.' Her sights turned to me. She removed a small package wrapped in brown paper from her inner vest pocket. 'A gift,' she said. 'Recover quickly, Lile.' And without further explanation, she left with an excited Ms Solvent.
I watched her as she left my vision, and then unwrapped the paper. The red lace on it came off easily, and inside, I found a pair of black, satin gloves. Thank you, I thought. That was very thoughtful if only a tad offensive. But I knew she did not mean that. So, I accepted with great pleasure. I wore it. It stung a lot, but that hurt would soon fade. Satin did not irk the skin and the colour hid the ugliness. There was a lace at the wrist to tighten the glove. I liked it.
At half past nine, the doctors arrived for their regular visits. They told me about my condition, which I had already heard, in a little more detail. I asked them, 'What about the thumb?' It was not responsive, and I believed they knew it.
The young amongst them seemed stressed, but an older lady said, 'We are afraid it can't be saved.' She continued after sharing a glance with her colleague, 'Your thumb has lost all its functions, Mr Dew. It may sporadically twitch but it won't recover.' They gave me a cream that felt cold to touch. Though they had treated my injuries, they were afraid of administering any medicine without knowing the effects it could have on a mage. I put their worries to rest as I explained it did not matter. I was a mortal first, mage later. 'What about Ms Lasfield?' I asked as they were leaving.
One of them spoke, 'She is still unconscious.'
'Still?' I felt nervous. 'She is not...braindead, right?'
'We do not believe so,' a senior doctor quickly said. 'She should be fine. Give her some time to heal.' I nodded, hoping the doctor knew better than me.
I was left alone once again. The watch kept ticking, and soon, it was half past ten. I read that week's issue of Arcane Weekly that Ms Orchard had bought for me. Other than the news about my employment, nothing attracted my gaze.
I put the issue down. My eyes were tired without my spectacles. The day had been taxing, considering my condition. So, I closed my eyes, hoping to catch a painless sleep. And soon, I fell silent.
***
I woke up to the sound of scribbling. I looked over at the clock on the wall. It was one o’clock. Through the blurry sight, I noticed someone sitting by the table. ‘Ms Parkinson?’ I asked, and the girl turned to me, fluttering her eyes. She nodded her head, left her work, and turned to me. ‘You were writing? What might you be doing here?’
The girl brought a tray to me. She removed the lid and handed a bowl to me. ‘Soup,’ she said.
‘Thank you,’ I said, accepting it.
‘I came to visit you. Mother was busy.’ I understood the sentiment. So, in silence, I slurped the soup while the girl continued her scribbling.
I peeked, looking at the page in front of her. What is this? She hid it from me. I felt like a thief and quickly averted my eyes. The place had started to bore me, and the silence and solitude did not help. If only she would wake… I asked Ms Parkinson’s leave and visited the girl after relieving myself. The colour in her cheeks had returned, and the tip of her nose bore a faint tinge of red. She was recovering. I wished her a good recovery and left, knowing she would not hear my words.
When I returned, Ms Parkinson handed me the paper she had been working on. On its pages were words of hope, recovery, and health. The spellings were incorrect in places, but otherwise, she had done an admirable job. I told her that and thanked her. The simplicity of my actions was enough to bring joy to her face. I was made to understand how blessed I was to have such an environment. I thanked her once again and told stories of my encounter with that beast while she sat, listening as if she truly cared. Perhaps, she does.
I asked her of her and Mrs Parkinson’s day. As it turns out, they were quite shocked to hear about the incident. The words had spread throughout the city and Mr Crawford had informed them explicitly.
Her gaze, I noticed, was returning to my gloved hand. ‘Do you wish to see?’ I asked, and she nodded. Thinking it was morbid curiosity, I showed her. She did not find it pretty, but she did not scream or jump. I do not know what went through her mind, for she offered to write my papers and letters for me from now on. I rejected her offers courteously. ‘Study. That will be enough.’ The lovely girl agreed, and we returned to our silence.
Soon, the door was knocked. ‘Please, come in,’ I said, and the door was opened. Ms Olsberg and a man I had seen before entered. Arsene Neumic. The Head of the Department of Martial Studies had himself graced me with his presence. I had heard about him from Mr Quincy, and none of it had sounded pleasant.
‘A pleasure to meet you,’ he said while reaching for my arm, ‘Professor Dew.’ It was my right hand — the one that I had burnt.
