'The pleasure is all mine,' I said, shaking his hand with my left one. 'So sorry; my right arm is too heavy to be moved. Effect of sedatives, they say,' I lied. The man shook his head in understanding while I reminded myself not to move that arm the whole conversation. My integrity depended on it. Ms Olsberg gave me a curt nod which I returned with a subtle smile.
'I have been told that your recovery is moving at a fascinating rate. You have a good temper for pain, Professor,' the grey-haired man said, rejecting my offer to take a seat. He looked at lovely Ms Parkinson, who had emptied her chair for him, and as if she was no threat, ignored her. His sharp yet passive eyes did not scrutinise any other but me. The peaked cap on his head cast an ominous shadow on his demeanour. I felt it then. This man was no simple professor. He bore a spirit like none other. Those eyes were of one who was prepared for war and blood. 'I will keep it brief, professor; do not want to disturb your recovery or rest.' He produced an envelope from his pocket, opened it, and read. He said, 'We have a number of details and questions here.' He put the letter back inside. 'Could you recount your encounter with the beast.'
'Surely,' I said and began the tale. The students that had approached, the ajar door, my magic, and the encounter in the basement — I recalled it all. At the end of it, the man thought for a minute in silence.
'Impressive instincts,' he said. I wondered if that was praise. 'But could you not have refrained from burning your limb?' His question befuddled me. That is what you wish to know? Should you not be concerned about the beast more? Perhaps he noticed my confusion, for he answered, 'Everything in order, Professor. Everything in order.'
I nodded and answered, 'Fire was the one element available to me.' I kept it brief.
'What about Earth? And I believe the basement was damp.' He cleared his throat. 'I have seen your impressive authority over water, Professor. Could you not have put those impressive skills to work?'
I wondered if he wanted to learn or interrogate me. Should I be offended? 'It was damp, indeed, but gathering the moisture from my surroundings would have been straining and time-consuming. Add to that the measly amount I would gather and the properties of water... It was too risky. The girl bled with each second, so much that I had stepped into her blood unknowingly.'
'What about Earth and Wind? The men that studied the beast and its surroundings tell me that the door was unhinged, its lock broken.' His eyes gleamed, 'Did you use wind?' I felt the expectations in his gaze and wondered if he were there to demand compensation. If it were truly so, then I would have had no choice but to sell my effects to repay the man.
'Wind is not the most effective element when fighting, much less when fighting in a limited space.' I swallowed my nervousness. 'And Earth is not my speciality. If I had more time, then I could have used it. But it was a dire situation, and I needed to be quick.' The man seemed satisfied. He asked me a few more questions which I answered diligently. Ms Olsberg and Ms Parkinson listened too.
'What do you make of the beast, Professor Dew?' the man asked as the clock struck three.
'The beast?' I thought for a moment. That thing was not simple. 'It was terrifying. I am simply glad that the girl survived. But more than that, its intelligence stood out.' I still recalled those eyes and that ambush. 'He ambushed me.'
'He did?' The man seemed ever more interested.
'Yes. The girl had been missing for hours, and yet, there she was, still alive by the time I arrived.' I had thought much about it, and no matter what, that stood out. 'With those injuries, she should have died long ago, and I do not believe she could have stayed hidden all that while.'
'They were recent then, the injuries?'
'I believe so.' A frown took over Ms Olsberg, and I too had a strained face. 'He kept her alive, I believe.' That was my conclusion. 'He was ambushing at least one more, deliberately.' Me, specifically perhaps? The recent memory of that owl was enough to make me suspicious. But one must not jump to conclusions. Keep calm. Be smart. I told myself a few words I had brewed. 'If not for fire, it would have conquered me.' It would have won if not for the element that terrifies its kin. 'It lied in wait.' The most chilling thing about a beast is its ferocity, but when intelligence surpasses that trait, it becomes something far more horrifying.
Mr Neumic did not say much for a while. Ms Olsberg took his place. 'Professor,' she said, 'you have received the letter, I hope.'
'The letter?' I asked, confused.
'Yes. It was an invitation for the Full-Moon Hunt.'
'Ah,' I exclaimed, recalling the neatly-written letter Ms Orchard had brought me. So, that handwriting was yours? Mr Neumic makes you write his letters? I wanted to make fun of the man's writing skills, thinking poor calligraphy is what made him delegate his responsibility, but soon I felt depressed. I can't write anymore. My handwriting skills were soon to be compared to a child's drawing. I knew it. 'I did receive it.'
'Well, you see,' — she looked at her superior — 'we believe that the beast may have escaped the forest and entered the building. The full moon is upon us; it would not be strange for their kind to begin roaming. This one may have been an unfortunate incident.'
'But the attack took place in broad daylight,' I protested. 'The beasts of full moon never leave dark in the mornings—' ah. I understood. 'The basement was dark.'
'Yes. Your theory is correct. We believe the same.' Terrifying thoughts that had entered me while roaming those lonely corridors shook me once again. 'It may have entered at night, spending early hours in the basement.' Her face was solemn, and I felt chills and shivers. 'It was there the whole morning.'
'I see.'
She said a few more things to me. Mr Neumic was done with his thoughts and interrogation. He turned to leave but stopped right at the threshold. 'Professor,' he said. 'I hope you accept the invitation.' His eyes were very sharp. 'You may just witness where these beasts come from.' I nodded and the man left, closing the door behind him. He appeared to me more like a commander of an army than a professor, and I believed that is how most saw him. Even Ms Olsberg acted so towards him. I did not know if that was concerning or not.
'Hunt, huh,' I murmured while Ms Parkinson returned to her writing practice. 'Could you pass those pills please, Ms Parkinson?' I asked the woman, recalling I had forgotten to take the afternoon dosage. 'One of these and two of these.' I counted and swallowed them along with the water Ms Parkinson so graciously provided. I saw her looking at the medicines and noting down the prescription and their schedule. I did not stop the girl. My mind was quite busy. The hunt. I was supposed to take part in it, and my curiosity was piqued. I shall take part in it.
The rest of the afternoon was spent resting and recuperating. In the evening, at dusk, I had a few more visitors. Mr Crawford made a brief visit. He said the incident was keeping him busy too. Apparently, the Dean had sent a message along with him as he himself couldn't come. It was a formal letter, inquiring about my health and wishing a speedy recovery. I read and asked Mr Crawford to return my thanks to the Dean. He agreed and left. Had to postpone the lecture, I thought. What a disgrace.
Mr Quincy too visited along with Ms Oak. Mr Mont and Ms Soni followed. Mr Bones was interested in my unsightly hand. He examined it and commented on my ability to endure pain. It was true; I was rather proficient in distancing myself from pain. Some other professors followed. Mr Fisk told me that the students were scared after what had happened while others were excited and wished to encounter similar beasts. I thought that was a realm of stupidity no man should reach. Such is youth. He told me that others too wished to visit but were unfortunately held back by their duties. I understood that part. I did not hold any accountable; they had done more than I had ever expected.
I bid them goodbye one by one. After an early dinner — which Ms Parkinson, present still, served me — I went to see my unconscious student. She still lay in bed, without a twitch of a finger. I noticed the two students sitting by her bunk and left without a word. The night was darkening still, and I asked Ms Parkinson to be cautious on her journey back, to which she looked at me in silence. I figured then. She wasn't leaving. 'You won't be leaving?'
She shook her head, showing a small bag presumably full of her effects. 'I will be staying until you recover and depart.'
'Does Mrs Parkinson know?' I asked, concerned.
'She asked me to.'
'I see...' The two women were very caring. I thanked her. And I shall thank Mrs Parkinson, I thought, staring at the night sky through the open window.
The dark descended upon us, and I went to sleep, hoping Ms Parkinson was comfortable sleeping on the mattresses borrowed from the hospital. I did not like that I slept on the bed while she had to make do with some cheap mattress and the cold ground. So when I thought she had fallen asleep, I threw my sheets on her while tweaking with the temperature around me. Neither of us felt cold now, and I was comfortable going to sleep. Another night was spent in the hospital this way.
***
A few more days passed. Ms Parkinson kept me company, taking care of my medicines and meals. I had some rare and some frequent visitors. Mrs Parkinson had come and pitied me like a little child. She kept saying how I had acted recklessly like her sons but changed her tone suddenly and praised me for saving the student. She asked about my meals and health. 'Do not worry; I will care for the house,' she said while leaving. Ms Orchard visited each day, and I appreciated that. Ms Parkinson would get to leave my side. The lovely girl needed fresh air.
'What is this?' I asked, looking at the newspaper Ms Orchard had brought for me. 'Professor Pretty? Is this a farce?' My eyes were narrowed, but Ms Orchard found it funny. She gave a slightly amused smile.
'That is what they are calling you,' she said, pointing at the story about the beast and me. Apparently, some child had managed to take a picture of the beast's charred body and had sold it to the Excellence Daily. How rich are these children? I thought. A camera? Selling and buying pictures? I can't afford a dip pen here... 'It is a nicely written article,' she said.
'Rather informal and unprofessional calling me Professor Pretty, wouldn't you say?' I defended myself.
'Moniker is a good thing. It connects one with the other slightly more deeply.' I thought that was a joke, and it indeed was. Ms Orchard was having fun at my expense. I allowed her that freedom. It was rather rare to see her smile so heartily.
'Why pretty, I wonder.' I was aghast. 'I am their mentor and teacher.'
'There were far worse names, Lile.' She recounted them, 'Fiery Dew,' — I chuckled at that one — 'Dancing Pony, Professor Young.' She counted a few more. Novel, aren't they? Put such thought in studies...
I wished I could be so light-hearted, but my mind was someplace else. 'She isn't waking yet,' I spoke abruptly. Perhaps I shouldn't have. Such depressing thoughts were best left to oneself, but she was the only one I felt I could confide in. She was older and wiser than me. Other professors had their worries and Ms Parkinson was young and too busy caring for me. 'If she doesn't wake soon, she may never wake.' My chest felt heavy and I did not like this feeling.
'She will wake,' Ms Orchard said. I did not take her for the kind that would lie to console someone, and yet, I wondered if she were lying to console me. I hoped not. I hoped she was being truthful. My hopes depended on those words.
'Will she?' I asked, my voice quivering.
'Yes, she will.' She looked at me. Seeing my unconvinced face, she continued, 'Marcus sacrificed himself for the sake of his land, family, and people.' She sat by my bed. 'His sacrifice did not go unnoticed. It was justified, and no harm came to his people.' She looked at the hand wrapped in bandages under the satin glove. 'Your sacrifice too will be rewarded. She will wake.'
'Thank you.' I did not truly think that this measly act was worthy of being called a sacrifice. Marcus had sacrificed himself, whole and fully. I was not dead; I wondered if such an act could be called a sacrifice. 'I will be conducting a class tomorrow,' I said, recalling the letter I had sent to the Planning Offices. 'Announcements must have been made. She won't be there; I know, but I shan't stay in this ghastly place. I heard retching last night from the room next door. I am running away at the first light in the morning.' I laughed slightly, but I was very serious. I was leaving even if gods came to halt me.
The rest of the day was spent with my visitors and Ms Parkinson. The girl cared for me with immense attentiveness. She had gone home to bring me my clothing and attire I was to wear the next day.
That night too I visited the girl. She was still not waking. 'Please do not die,' I whispered, looking at the dark spots under her eyes. I knew she could not hear me, but I hoped that the student that had managed to stay alive despite all that was done to her could heed me, again. 'Your parents will be visiting you soon. The journey is long, they say. Stay alive till then at the least. For them.'
I sighed, thinking I was acting unreasonably. The child couldn't even hear me, but still, I continued, 'Tomorrow is the twelfth of March; I will be teaching my second lecture. I will prepare notes for you.' Though they may not be readable. 'So, wake up soon.' I sat by her for an hour. The skies seemed dark and hopeless, like the thoughts that pervaded my head. 'On the night of the fourteenth, as the fifteenth draws, we will be searching the forests and woods. So, wake up until then.'
I spoke my heart out, for from tomorrow I needed to be myself again. I stuck by her for a while. That night, for the girl that threatened me with eternal sleep, I hummed a lullaby my mother used to sing. And I hoped she would wake, just like me.
'The pleasure is all mine,' I said, shaking his hand with my left one. 'So sorry; my right arm is too heavy to be moved. Effect of sedatives, they say,' I lied. The man shook his head in understanding while I reminded myself not to move that arm the whole conversation. My integrity depended on it. Ms Olsberg gave me a curt nod which I returned with a subtle smile.
'I have been told that your recovery is moving at a fascinating rate. You have a good temper for pain, Professor,' the grey-haired man said, rejecting my offer to take a seat. He looked at lovely Ms Parkinson, who had emptied her chair for him, and as if she was no threat, ignored her. His sharp yet passive eyes did not scrutinise any other but me. The peaked cap on his head cast an ominous shadow on his demeanour. I felt it then. This man was no simple professor. He bore a spirit like none other. Those eyes were of one who was prepared for war and blood. 'I will keep it brief, professor; do not want to disturb your recovery or rest.' He produced an envelope from his pocket, opened it, and read. He said, 'We have a number of details and questions here.' He put the letter back inside. 'Could you recount your encounter with the beast.'
'Surely,' I said and began the tale. The students that had approached, the ajar door, my magic, and the encounter in the basement — I recalled it all. At the end of it, the man thought for a minute in silence.
'Impressive instincts,' he said. I wondered if that was praise. 'But could you not have refrained from burning your limb?' His question befuddled me. That is what you wish to know? Should you not be concerned about the beast more? Perhaps he noticed my confusion, for he answered, 'Everything in order, Professor. Everything in order.'
I nodded and answered, 'Fire was the one element available to me.' I kept it brief.
'What about Earth? And I believe the basement was damp.' He cleared his throat. 'I have seen your impressive authority over water, Professor. Could you not have put those impressive skills to work?'
I wondered if he wanted to learn or interrogate me. Should I be offended? 'It was damp, indeed, but gathering the moisture from my surroundings would have been straining and time-consuming. Add to that the measly amount I would gather and the properties of water... It was too risky. The girl bled with each second, so much that I had stepped into her blood unknowingly.'
'What about Earth and Wind? The men that studied the beast and its surroundings tell me that the door was unhinged, its lock broken.' His eyes gleamed, 'Did you use wind?' I felt the expectations in his gaze and wondered if he were there to demand compensation. If it were truly so, then I would have had no choice but to sell my effects to repay the man.
'Wind is not the most effective element when fighting, much less when fighting in a limited space.' I swallowed my nervousness. 'And Earth is not my speciality. If I had more time, then I could have used it. But it was a dire situation, and I needed to be quick.' The man seemed satisfied. He asked me a few more questions which I answered diligently. Ms Olsberg and Ms Parkinson listened too.
'What do you make of the beast, Professor Dew?' the man asked as the clock struck three.
'The beast?' I thought for a moment. That thing was not simple. 'It was terrifying. I am simply glad that the girl survived. But more than that, its intelligence stood out.' I still recalled those eyes and that ambush. 'He ambushed me.'
'He did?' The man seemed ever more interested.
'Yes. The girl had been missing for hours, and yet, there she was, still alive by the time I arrived.' I had thought much about it, and no matter what, that stood out. 'With those injuries, she should have died long ago, and I do not believe she could have stayed hidden all that while.'
'They were recent then, the injuries?'
'I believe so.' A frown took over Ms Olsberg, and I too had a strained face. 'He kept her alive, I believe.' That was my conclusion. 'He was ambushing at least one more, deliberately.' Me, specifically perhaps? The recent memory of that owl was enough to make me suspicious. But one must not jump to conclusions. Keep calm. Be smart. I told myself a few words I had brewed. 'If not for fire, it would have conquered me.' It would have won if not for the element that terrifies its kin. 'It lied in wait.' The most chilling thing about a beast is its ferocity, but when intelligence surpasses that trait, it becomes something far more horrifying.
Mr Neumic did not say much for a while. Ms Olsberg took his place. 'Professor,' she said, 'you have received the letter, I hope.'
'The letter?' I asked, confused.
'Yes. It was an invitation for the Full-Moon Hunt.'
'Ah,' I exclaimed, recalling the neatly-written letter Ms Orchard had brought me. So, that handwriting was yours? Mr Neumic makes you write his letters? I wanted to make fun of the man's writing skills, thinking poor calligraphy is what made him delegate his responsibility, but soon I felt depressed. I can't write anymore. My handwriting skills were soon to be compared to a child's drawing. I knew it. 'I did receive it.'
'Well, you see,' — she looked at her superior — 'we believe that the beast may have escaped the forest and entered the building. The full moon is upon us; it would not be strange for their kind to begin roaming. This one may have been an unfortunate incident.'
'But the attack took place in broad daylight,' I protested. 'The beasts of full moon never leave dark in the mornings—' ah. I understood. 'The basement was dark.'
'Yes. Your theory is correct. We believe the same.' Terrifying thoughts that had entered me while roaming those lonely corridors shook me once again. 'It may have entered at night, spending early hours in the basement.' Her face was solemn, and I felt chills and shivers. 'It was there the whole morning.'
'I see.'
She said a few more things to me. Mr Neumic was done with his thoughts and interrogation. He turned to leave but stopped right at the threshold. 'Professor,' he said. 'I hope you accept the invitation.' His eyes were very sharp. 'You may just witness where these beasts come from.' I nodded and the man left, closing the door behind him. He appeared to me more like a commander of an army than a professor, and I believed that is how most saw him. Even Ms Olsberg acted so towards him. I did not know if that was concerning or not.
'Hunt, huh,' I murmured while Ms Parkinson returned to her writing practice. 'Could you pass those pills please, Ms Parkinson?' I asked the woman, recalling I had forgotten to take the afternoon dosage. 'One of these and two of these.' I counted and swallowed them along with the water Ms Parkinson so graciously provided. I saw her looking at the medicines and noting down the prescription and their schedule. I did not stop the girl. My mind was quite busy. The hunt. I was supposed to take part in it, and my curiosity was piqued. I shall take part in it.
The rest of the afternoon was spent resting and recuperating. In the evening, at dusk, I had a few more visitors. Mr Crawford made a brief visit. He said the incident was keeping him busy too. Apparently, the Dean had sent a message along with him as he himself couldn't come. It was a formal letter, inquiring about my health and wishing a speedy recovery. I read and asked Mr Crawford to return my thanks to the Dean. He agreed and left. Had to postpone the lecture, I thought. What a disgrace.
Mr Quincy too visited along with Ms Oak. Mr Mont and Ms Soni followed. Mr Bones was interested in my unsightly hand. He examined it and commented on my ability to endure pain. It was true; I was rather proficient in distancing myself from pain. Some other professors followed. Mr Fisk told me that the students were scared after what had happened while others were excited and wished to encounter similar beasts. I thought that was a realm of stupidity no man should reach. Such is youth. He told me that others too wished to visit but were unfortunately held back by their duties. I understood that part. I did not hold any accountable; they had done more than I had ever expected.
I bid them goodbye one by one. After an early dinner — which Ms Parkinson, present still, served me — I went to see my unconscious student. She still lay in bed, without a twitch of a finger. I noticed the two students sitting by her bunk and left without a word. The night was darkening still, and I asked Ms Parkinson to be cautious on her journey back, to which she looked at me in silence. I figured then. She wasn't leaving. 'You won't be leaving?'
She shook her head, showing a small bag presumably full of her effects. 'I will be staying until you recover and depart.'
'Does Mrs Parkinson know?' I asked, concerned.
'She asked me to.'
'I see...' The two women were very caring. I thanked her. And I shall thank Mrs Parkinson, I thought, staring at the night sky through the open window.
The dark descended upon us, and I went to sleep, hoping Ms Parkinson was comfortable sleeping on the mattresses borrowed from the hospital. I did not like that I slept on the bed while she had to make do with some cheap mattress and the cold ground. So when I thought she had fallen asleep, I threw my sheets on her while tweaking with the temperature around me. Neither of us felt cold now, and I was comfortable going to sleep. Another night was spent in the hospital this way.
***
A few more days passed. Ms Parkinson kept me company, taking care of my medicines and meals. I had some rare and some frequent visitors. Mrs Parkinson had come and pitied me like a little child. She kept saying how I had acted recklessly like her sons but changed her tone suddenly and praised me for saving the student. She asked about my meals and health. 'Do not worry; I will care for the house,' she said while leaving. Ms Orchard visited each day, and I appreciated that. Ms Parkinson would get to leave my side. The lovely girl needed fresh air.
'What is this?' I asked, looking at the newspaper Ms Orchard had brought for me. 'Professor Pretty? Is this a farce?' My eyes were narrowed, but Ms Orchard found it funny. She gave a slightly amused smile.
'That is what they are calling you,' she said, pointing at the story about the beast and me. Apparently, some child had managed to take a picture of the beast's charred body and had sold it to the Excellence Daily. How rich are these children? I thought. A camera? Selling and buying pictures? I can't afford a dip pen here... 'It is a nicely written article,' she said.
'Rather informal and unprofessional calling me Professor Pretty, wouldn't you say?' I defended myself.
'Moniker is a good thing. It connects one with the other slightly more deeply.' I thought that was a joke, and it indeed was. Ms Orchard was having fun at my expense. I allowed her that freedom. It was rather rare to see her smile so heartily.
'Why pretty, I wonder.' I was aghast. 'I am their mentor and teacher.'
'There were far worse names, Lile.' She recounted them, 'Fiery Dew,' — I chuckled at that one — 'Dancing Pony, Professor Young.' She counted a few more. Novel, aren't they? Put such thought in studies...
I wished I could be so light-hearted, but my mind was someplace else. 'She isn't waking yet,' I spoke abruptly. Perhaps I shouldn't have. Such depressing thoughts were best left to oneself, but she was the only one I felt I could confide in. She was older and wiser than me. Other professors had their worries and Ms Parkinson was young and too busy caring for me. 'If she doesn't wake soon, she may never wake.' My chest felt heavy and I did not like this feeling.
'She will wake,' Ms Orchard said. I did not take her for the kind that would lie to console someone, and yet, I wondered if she were lying to console me. I hoped not. I hoped she was being truthful. My hopes depended on those words.
'Will she?' I asked, my voice quivering.
'Yes, she will.' She looked at me. Seeing my unconvinced face, she continued, 'Marcus sacrificed himself for the sake of his land, family, and people.' She sat by my bed. 'His sacrifice did not go unnoticed. It was justified, and no harm came to his people.' She looked at the hand wrapped in bandages under the satin glove. 'Your sacrifice too will be rewarded. She will wake.'
'Thank you.' I did not truly think that this measly act was worthy of being called a sacrifice. Marcus had sacrificed himself, whole and fully. I was not dead; I wondered if such an act could be called a sacrifice. 'I will be conducting a class tomorrow,' I said, recalling the letter I had sent to the Planning Offices. 'Announcements must have been made. She won't be there; I know, but I shan't stay in this ghastly place. I heard retching last night from the room next door. I am running away at the first light in the morning.' I laughed slightly, but I was very serious. I was leaving even if gods came to halt me.
The rest of the day was spent with my visitors and Ms Parkinson. The girl cared for me with immense attentiveness. She had gone home to bring me my clothing and attire I was to wear the next day.
That night too I visited the girl. She was still not waking. 'Please do not die,' I whispered, looking at the dark spots under her eyes. I knew she could not hear me, but I hoped that the student that had managed to stay alive despite all that was done to her could heed me, again. 'Your parents will be visiting you soon. The journey is long, they say. Stay alive till then at the least. For them.'
I sighed, thinking I was acting unreasonably. The child couldn't even hear me, but still, I continued, 'Tomorrow is the twelfth of March; I will be teaching my second lecture. I will prepare notes for you.' Though they may not be readable. 'So, wake up soon.' I sat by her for an hour. The skies seemed dark and hopeless, like the thoughts that pervaded my head. 'On the night of the fourteenth, as the fifteenth draws, we will be searching the forests and woods. So, wake up until then.'
I spoke my heart out, for from tomorrow I needed to be myself again. I stuck by her for a while. That night, for the girl that threatened me with eternal sleep, I hummed a lullaby my mother used to sing. And I hoped she would wake, just like me.
