Chương 18: Chapter 16 ~ Rumors

01/11/1111 EotTS 12: 39 Gysel checked her clock: forty-five minutes of undisturbed reading time was fine, but it would be more if the door were never answered. The knock came again, and the sheets on her bed rustled as Puppet-Cat rushed for the window; he vanished into the early autumn afternoon, leaving the only option for company, whoever (likely Lyma) stood behind that door, knocking.

Standing from the desk, Gysel went to the door and opened it, but it was not Lyma on the other side: it was Wyohla who was standing before her.

"How did you get in?" Gysel asked.

"Lyma made copies of the key," answered Wyohla, dangling the piece of brass from a thin brown rope, before putting it into her pocket.

"Why?"

"So we can get in," Wyohla said with a perplexed head shake.

"We all have keys to each other's homes."

"Who else has a key to the dorm's common room?"

"All of us except for Thyres."

"Why not Thyres?" Gysel asked.

"Because we don't know him well enough."

"Is that why I do not have a key to your house?"

"No, I would be more willing to just give you a key. Giving a man a key to your house is different from giving a woman a key to your house. I wouldn't mind if you snuck in during the night, Thyres... not so much."

"That makes sense. Are you here for Lyma?"

"No, I know she is in class. I'm here for you. We have until the fourteenth hour for lunch, so I came to see if you wanted to go for lunch."

"On campus?"

"We don't have time to go into town before lunch ends... so yes."

"All right." Gysel turned and went to put on her shoes; with Puppet-Cat gone, there would be no company to eat with in the dorm-room, so eating with people, in the din of the cafeteria, would have to do; it was nice that the 'we' did things together—but how long would it last, it has never lasted long, why will this be any different, they want something, everyone wants something, why give when one can just take, snatch, steal, then move on to the next before it is time to pay that debt...

but Wyohla and the others seem... different... or maybe they are just better at hiding it, they seemed like they were hiding something, everyone hides things from people, maybe 'we' is just a group of normal people, hiding normal things, who enjoy normal activities, a group of normal friends, in a normal, foggy, city named Thoranyn. Wyohla craned her neck, likely trying to see the bookshelf, but her feet had not crossed the threshold; she stayed at the door.

"Have you started on that book?"

"The Lunar Magick one?"

"Yes."

"No," Gysel said as she made her way past Wyohla and into the common room.

"I would like to lock the door. Move, please." Wyohla backed away from the doorway, Gysel closed the door, and locked it.

"So why haven't you started it? It is interesting."

"I am waiting for the class so I can understand what I should be looking for," answered Gysel—always asking, constantly nagging, nagging is not how one gets another to do things.

"That's a good way to do it." Opening the door to the hallway, Wyohla ushered Gysel out.

"Where is Ardhy?" Gysel asked, looking both ways; there were pressing questions related to sigillography that needed to be asked: 'how do they work,' and 'how does one consistently draw such small shapes,' were the most pressing, along with 'how does this turn into a functioning sewage system.'

"He can't get into the female wing without you or Lyma present." Wyohla started for the stairs.

"So he is waiting by the board." Gysel nodded—why does Wyohla walk so fast?

"Why does he have a key if he cannot get in?"

"Because we learned that he cannot get in without Lyma about five minutes ago."

"Oh, all right." Ardhy and Lyvahn were waiting just outside the common room of the female dormitories; Ardhy was talking to the guard, laughing, and Lyvahn was looking at his shoes, kicking up a corner of the carpet, then letting it fall back down again before repeating. Wyohla walked up, and planted herself next to Ardhy, but did not say anything to him. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Anyways," Ardhy said, as he gave Wyohla a fleeting side-eye.

"It's lunch, and we are both on the clock, so I'd best get going. How often is this your post?"

"First and fourth day of every quarter," the guard answered.

"Then I'll be seeing you more often." With a wave, Ardhy started off, and everyone else followed. Gysel looked for Wyohla on the board as they passed: there she was, Wyohla Syrlwaer, Wyohla the Free Worker; she was in the top ten, for both Ritual and Spiritual Magick, but there was not enough time to count the placements before the others were halfway up the stairs to the cloister. Once they entered the fresh autumn air below the overcast sky, Ardhy turned around to Gysel.

"Do you usually pull stunts like that?" He asked.

"Like what?" Gysel asked.

"Talking like that to the teacher."

"He isn't a teacher, he is a substitute teacher."

"Well, do you talk to most substitute teachers like that?"

"No, I just wanted to be exempt, and the Headmaster told me that I had to ask Tithrynn. So I asked."

"That is really something you should do during office hours," said Lyvahn, "At least, that is what I would do."

"No, you wouldn't," said Ardhy, "you would just stop showing up, hand everything in on the last day, and hope it all works out. You did that all throughout private school."

"A man can change."

"I'll believe it when I see it. How long have you been saying you were gonna grow a beard like your uncle? Five years, maybe six, since Visi started growing his."

"Honestly, Lyvahn," Wyohla said, "I wouldn't loan you money."

"Why do you think Lyma is the one who asks you for money?" Lyvahn said with a grin.

"Because she doesn't trust you either." Lyvahn's grin vanished, and he only huffed in response.

"Anyways," said Ardhy, as he pulled open the door to the cafeteria, "The 'substitute teacher' had to take a fifteen-minute smoke break, because you made him so angry. I wouldn't be surprised if everyone wants your notes, Visi certainly will."

"He cannot have them," said Gysel, as she pushed ahead of the others to be first in the line for food.

"Everyone must learn properly. It benefits no one to cheat."

"A wise man once told me that there are no short cuts in the Royal Arts," said Wyohla.

"Who? Was it your father?" Gysel asked—Wyohla is placed quite highly on the board, so she likely has familial encouragement.

"No," Wyohla laughed, as she fidgeted with the red stanchion ropes.

"It was my yoga instructor. My father isn't fond of all this stuff."

"Oh?" Gysel raised an eyebrow, as she moved forward with the line; Wyohla having a yoga instructor was unexpected, but someone with her skill would certainly be part of a long line of people who take part in the Arts.

"Mine is not either."

"How about we discuss this another time?" Wyohla motioned to the counter.

"It's your turn to order." Gysel walked up to the counter, and was promptly motioned forward before being given a chance to order.

"We all know it, don't worry, cheese on top," said the clerk. Smiling, Gysel walked to the order-pick-up area, and waited for the others. Once everyone had received their food, Ardhy led the way to a table, walking past ones for four people, to a larger one for eight. Gysel hurriedly ate while Ardhy and Lyvahn discussed political goings-on, and Wyohla ignored them to focus on her own food. Lyma, Visi, and Thyres entered the cafeteria—what class do they have to-day? it was Ritual Magick...

no, it was sigillography, was it not? are they finished class now or just on break for lunch?

"The others are here," Gysel said, as she pointed towards them. Lyma noticed her, and waved back, after a kick, Visi joined her, but Thyres was too busy ordering to join in on the greeting. After about ten minutes, the three were making their way over.

"Gysel, I need those papers," said Visi, as he placed his wooden tray down with a clatter next to Ardhy and sat.

"No," answered Gysel.

"Please?"

"No. You need to work for it," Gysel paused.

"How did you hear about it?"

"We bumped into someone I know in the halls," said Thyres.

"He is in your class. I think, by now, everyone knows you have the theoretical steps to turn lead into gold."

"Looks like you're going to be famous again," said Wyohla, as she was applying a very generous helping of butter and sea-salt to her baked potato.

"I do not want to be famous again," Gysel muttered—what if anyone who asks about the papers, or the secret, is simply told that the answer is in the textbook? that would not be a lie, the answer really is there... if one knows where to look. Gysel looked to Visi, ready to test her theory.

"The answer is in the textbook, Visi." Visi scoffed.

"I don't believe you, they wouldn't just put that there."

"No," said Thyres.

"She's probably right. Most operative alchemy books have weird things buried within them if you know how to look. But I've been over that textbook a bunch and haven't found anything like it."

"So, tell us where it is, Gysel."

"No," said Gysel.

"You need to find it yourself. I found it myself, and others found it themselves." Visi groaned, and Lyma changed the subject to what happened in Operative Sigillography, something which, surprisingly, did not seem to interest Ardhy very much. The conversation ebbed and flowed until Ardhy checked his watch.

"We need to head back," he said.

"Is class over for you three?"

"Yes," said Lyma.

"Figured."

"Does anyone want to come by my place after class for dinner?" offered Wyohla.

"I'll cook," added Ardhy. There were hmmms and haws, but eventually everyone agreed, except Gysel.

"Gysel," Wyohla said, "are you coming?"

"No," Gysel answered.

"Why?"

"I have to write a letter to my parents." This was not a lie: Mother needed to know that her darling doll had arrived safely in Thoranyn—alone time is also needed, the cafeteria was, and is, too loud, and the 'event' from the twenty-seventh is still being processed, Wyohla did not need to know this, she will use this, try to sneak in, so she would not be told.

"Hmm... well, you know where I live, and if you want to come by, you are welcome to. Just make sure to knock."

"All right. Good-bye." Standing, Gysel took her tray, and brought it to the counter, then started back to her dorm but paused—maybe the kitchen has pumpkin seeds which they do not need, and would be willing to part with; something that can be used to attract birds to the bay windows, hulled of course, there are doves around and they eat seeds whole, it would be horrible if one were to choke. Parking herself at the counter, Gysel stared at one of the chefs until they noticed and addressed her.

"Yes? Is everything alright?" The chef asked, rubbing his arm.

"Do you have pumpkin seed? I would like to hull them and feed them to the birds."

"Let me check." The chef disappeared from view, and returned after about a minute with a cheese-cloth bag.

"We have tons, lots of pumpkins this year. I was told you can have some if it is for feeding the birds, that is what was going to happen to them anyway. If you want more, feel free to ask."

"Thank you." Gysel took the bag, and left.