by Karen MacRae
“If our master wished him cured, he would be cured no matter how many Healers’ lives it took. We need his mind to work well enough to get by. His body is not required, as long as he can sit on a horse.”
“I’ll do what I can, but his mind will never be the same again, no matter how many Healers you get.”
Elona stroked the teenager’s cheek, enjoying its young silkiness. “You must come to my room tonight. I’m pleased to see you again.”
Nijel’s heart sang and a flutter of excitement began to build in his belly. But first the accountant.
Sifry didn’t seem much better when he’d finished, but he at least had his eyes open and was answering questions. He didn’t make any sense, but he chattered away to himself quite the thing. The others clustered together by the door, watching the still-reclining invalid talk nonsense.
“He’s useless,” Mystrim said bluntly. “Completely gaga. Surely you can do more, Healer?”
“I can’t Heal what the body has accepted. I managed to relieve some of the damage, but the rest is permanent.”
Ebdry was staring at the old man in dismay. “This is Sifry? The Eduin Sifry?”
Mystrim nodded.
“Light! How the mighty have fallen,” his friend said quietly.
“What do you mean, ‘the’ Sifry?” asked Pyteor.
The professor walked over to stand by the old man’s side, the end of his enormous nose covered with a scented handkerchief. “This is the man who negotiated the Treaty of Munagra and wrote the finest thesis on Number Theory the world has ever seen when he was only twenty-four. It’s still used today as the pinnacle of thinking in that field. He dabbled in mathematics and law and government during his career and put us all to shame with his brilliance.” Ebdry gingerly held out his hand to his hero. “It is an honour to meet you, sir.”
Sifry smiled happily and took the proffered hand. “Sunset stew is bushy,” he replied.
“Does it matter if he’s gone potty?” Pyteor asked, not bothering to lower his voice. “I mean, it’s not like he did much anyway.”
Sifry looked at the young man and smiled. He whispered, “Pernicious sequence,” then Elona saw a red flash and Pyteor took his dagger from his belt and almost chopped off the top portion of his middle finger. Blood spurted everywhere and Pyteor screamed in horror at what he’d just done to himself. Elona laughed. “He understood that all right.”
While Pyteor rushed about to find something to wrap his finger in and negotiated with Nijel to be Healed, the others reconsidered Sifry’s condition, especially since his Compulsion gift was still working and he apparently no longer felt the need to play a servile role.
Mystrim carried a chair to sit by the bed. He reminded himself this was his master’s father and schooled his face to appear full of deference. “I mean no disrespect, Professor Sifry, but it appears that a lack of air during the shipwreck has made your speech difficult to understand. Our master told me you could be relied upon to acquire the books we need from the Ionantis library. Ebdry here has told us about your magnificent career. I would guess, therefore, that you have full access. Is that correct?”
“Fish. Curmudgeon the rivulets.”
Mystrim tried again, a little impatience creeping into his voice. “Perhaps you could just nod or shake your head at the moment? You just said, ‘Fish’ in answer to my question.”
The old man’s eyes narrowed. Mystrim held his hands up in apology. “I swear it’s the truth, sir.”
“Nipples.”
Mystrim gestured for the others to join him outside in the hallway. “This is hopeless. How can he possibly get us the books?”
“His standing is sufficiently esteemed that he’d probably be allowed to take an assistant into the restricted area to do the lackey work and interpret for him.”
“An interpreter? A fine idea, Ebdry. A fine idea.”
Elona rolled her eyes at the ego-rubbing these two did for each other. “He can’t just show up though, can he?” she asked the professor.
“No. That would be very peculiar. And everyone will want to meet him. They’ll probably want to arrange a dinner and make lots of speeches to show off how clever they are.” He looked across sadly at the old man. “I would have loved to get his opinion on my own work.”
Elona had no time for this nonsense. “We don’t have time for after dinner speeches and brown-nosing. We’re already behind schedule.”
Ebdry looked down his long nose to smile patronisingly at Elona. “The quickest way to get those books is to use Sifry. If the books are in the restricted section, you won’t be able to get them without him. Even I would not be able to remove them from there and I am one of the Quorum’s most respected scholars.”
“Not quite respected enough though, eh, Ebdry?” Elona sneered. The professor looked distinctly uncomfortable.
“What are you talking about?” Pyteor asked.
“The restricted section can only be accessed by the High Quorum.” Elona spotted the blank look on Pyteor’s face and decided to rub the insult into Ebdry’s wounded ego while she had the chance. He needed to be brought down a peg or two and reminded that he was no better than the other Quorum graduates in the room. “Only those assessed as having truly outstanding gifts are admitted. Sifry is HQ. Ebdry is not,” Elona said bluntly. “That’s why our master sent his father. He must believe the books are restricted access and Ebdry can’t get in there.”
“The Inner Quorum do, however, favour those with gifts in more than one area when deciding who to admit to the HQ,” Mystrim added, trying to ease Ebdry’s ego. They needed the man’s assistance and money after all.
Elona glowered at the friends but held her tongue. There was no point in completely alienating the academic. “How are we going to stop him killing his interpreter if he gets a bit cross with them?” she asked.
“You’ll just have to be careful, Elona,” Mystrim replied.
“Me? Why me?”
“Because you can at least Read his mood and either calm him down or stick a knife in him before he makes you jump out of a window or something.”
Elona could see the weather mage’s point but wasn’t happy about it. Silence fell. It dawned on Elona that it wasn’t all bad to be the one accompanying the cripple. Nystrieth would undoubtedly reward whoever got the books. “Fine,” she said. “We’ll need appropriate robes. Best make mine yellow. If I’m supposed to be an interpreter of gibberish, I’ll have to be a Reader. I’d never get away with pretending to be Language gifted. We’ll need a carriage and a sedan chair for him too. He can hardly walk and I’m not carrying the man. I’m assuming no identification will be needed?”
“I’ll say I’ve known him for years. That should be good enough. I know Vice Chancellor Donald has met him. He never shuts up about it. If it’s truly him, Donald will vouch for him too. It’ll be enough.”
“It’s him all right. Our master told me,” Mystrim replied, smirking at Elona. He felt the balance of power shift his way. He was in Nystrieth’s confidence and she better not forget it.
CHAPTER 17
E bdry was off at the crack of dawn to spread the amazing tidings that Eduin Sifry was paying a short visit to the city. He promised faithfully to have the old man and his interpreter inside the library the next day at the latest.
Pyteor and Elona went to retrieve Sifry once the butler had assured them that he and his clothing had been thoroughly cleaned. They carried him down to the lounge and seated him comfortably in one of Ebdry’s beautifully unholstered armchairs in front of the fire. A day of trying to make sense of their accountant’s gobbledegook was a waste of time, though. All they learned was that he mostly understood tone and body language, but words had lost all meaning. Elona could see he was becoming increasingly frustrated and waved everyone out of the room before red arcs started flying. No matter how garbled his language, Sifry’s gift still understood what he meant. The man was downright dangerous.
Professor Ebdry returned gloating just be
fore dinner.
Elona grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against the wall. “Where the hell have you been?”
“Easy, Elona,” said Mystrim. “I’m sure our friend has his reasons.”
Elona stared into the professor’s eyes. “I dislike inaction, Ebdry. Best remember that.” She dropped the man back onto his heels and took a step back.
“I will not tolerate such behaviour in my home! This is outrageous!” he spluttered, rubbing at his neck.
Elona took a small step closer and the man clammed up. She nodded her approval. “Report,” she hissed.
“I had to arrange for robes and let it be known around the school that the great Sifry was paying us a visit tomorrow. I had lectures at nine, ten and thirteen then meetings with a few key supporters until the Vice Chancellor could fit me in at fifteen. I’ve been with the University administrators and catering people ever since. Everyone’s very excited even when I explained the genius was not quite himself.”
Pyteor laughed. “Not quite himself? There’s an understatement!”
“Humph!” snorted Ebdry. “I could hardly tell them he’s a complete loon, now, could I?”
The others turned anxiously to see if Sifry was following them at all. Seeing them look at him, Sifry smiled pleasantly and waved. “Plentiful underskirts,” he said as if he were bestowing some great honour.
“What did you tell our supporters?” Elona asked Ebdry, her tone urging the man not to disappoint her in having blown their cover.
“Merely a hint of the great Sifry’s support for the proper respect of law and order and a reminder of the laws Rybis has broken in working against a legitimate foreign power that stands only for a fairer society. They were impressed with my argument, if I do say so myself.”
Even Mystrim rolled his eyes. He’d had just about as much as he could stomach from his ‘good friend’ Edbry. The man’s youthful enthusiasm and quick-witted humour had turned to pomposity and delusions of misunderstood brilliance as his ambitions were repeatedly thwarted over the years. Still, he was rich and he was useful. Even better, they wouldn’t have to see him again once they had the books.
“What’s this about catering?” Elona asked.
“They had a fit when they heard they’d be expected to lay on a ten course banquet for two hundred with only a day’s notice so between us we managed to persuade the Vice Chancellor to go for a four-course dinner for thirty-seven: the Heads of School, the Inner Quorum, the senior professors in mathematics and law, including myself of course, plus Sifry and you. They also agreed you could be admitted to the library’s restricted section as long as you’re in Sifry’s company at all times.”
“What’s to stop Sifry not being well enough for the dinner?”
“Nothing, but you can’t leave before the afternoon tide so you’re here for at least another day. Plus, I suspect you might find it difficult to shake off his admirers. They’ll be queuing at my door if he doesn’t go to the dinner. Even if he doesn’t make sense, they’ll want to be able to say they met and talked with the man.”
“No one’s going to believe he wants to read anything,” warned Nijel.
No one had considered that issue.
“Can I make a suggestion?” he continued. Mystrim nodded, but the teenager waited until Elona had given him permission. “We can say his speech has gone, but he was communicating perfectly by writing until his hands got too bad. We tell them he was studying the Nystrieth situation but had need of certain books to complete his work. Hence the visit.”
“His hands are bad, but he can still hold a pen,” Pyteor pointed out.
Nijel shared a look with Elona. He was remembering her telling him that, if Nystrieth wanted his father Healed, he already would be.
She’d already joined the dots. “We’ll need to use crimwort.” Nijel nodded. “Are you sure you can Heal it so no busybody can tell it’s been faked.”
“I’m sure.”
“What are you two talking about?” Mystrim asked suspiciously.
Elona lowered her voice. “We knock him out with crimwort so he doesn’t remember, break his hands and Heal them as if his arthritis has ruined them.”
Mystrim was impressed but managed to remove all signs of it from his face. “An interesting idea. Ebdry, what do you think?”
“It should work. Only one or two will have any medical knowledge and people will believe anything if it’s in their interest. All they’ll want tomorrow is to cosy up to one of the people who defined modern academia, no matter how decrepit he is.”
“Simplistic accumulation exponential?” asked the genius loudly. “Monolithic circumambulation!”
Elona sighed. “Best buy extra crimwort, Ebdry. I’ll keep him topped up enough to look awake but stop him doing too much talking.”
The plotters watched as the old man struggled out of his chair, hobbled over to a cupboard, opened the door and peed all over the contents.
“Light help me!” prayed Elona quietly.
She made sure Sifry had emptied both bladder and bowels before they set off the next morning. He was happy enough to be helped into the carriage and seemed to perk up considerably when Professor Ebdry led them through the gate between Order and Physical Arts. Word seemed to have got out because indigo-robed students and staff lined the left-hand side of the street, hoping for a glimpse of the great man. Elona lifted his left elbow to flap his gnarled hand around in an approximation of a wave and the crowd cheered. The befuddled genius caught on and kept up the waving, smiling at his admirers with what seemed like genuine pleasure. Elona thought the whole thing quite ridiculous. The man had written a couple of books, for light’s sake.
The officials were there to meet him when they arrived at the Hub. Elona had to confess the place was impressive. Much too clean and perfect for her taste, but the architecture was outstanding. She helped the old man down from the litter and held him steady while the bigwigs of the University welcomed the hero of Munagra. Elona felt her interest piqued. Hero, eh?
“Elementary correspondency,” he warbled happily as he shook Vice Chancellor Donald’s hand. Or, rather, let the other white-robed man hold his fist and move it up and down. Sifry’s fingers were unable to do anything but curl. Only his right thumb had been spared.
The Vice Chancellor assumed he’d misheard the celebrity over the noise of the crowd and Elona took the opportunity to step forward and suggest that Professor Sifry was keen to get to the library.
“Of course! Of course! Old friends such as Eduin and I need not stand on ceremony,” the Vice Chancellor said with a toadying smile. “We will see the professor at dinner.” He waved for another white-robed woman to come forward. “This is Professor Kirklund. She’s in charge of the library and will make sure your visit goes as smoothly as possible.”
Professor Kirklund held out her hand to Sifry and nervously squeaked a load of nonsense about how honoured she was to meet a man of such great renown, blah, blah, blah. Sifry gave her his fist to shake and told her, “Breasts a buttocks bodacious.”
Elona quickly stepped in. “You’ll have to excuse the professor. His mind is all there, but his speech is somewhat limited.”
The librarian’s shock was replaced with concern. “How sad for him. Aphasia without cognitive decline. Severe arthritis too. What a terrible trial for you, professor, but you must be assured the library is there for you. It will be a privilege to be of assistance. I’ve read all your work, you know. Quite extraordinary. Especially that piece on…”
Elona prised Sifry away from the sycophant and got him onto the sedan chair to get up the insane number of stairs to the entrance. The entire route was lined with students trying to see what all the fuss was about. Elona was pleased to hear a considerable number of ‘Who?” and “Never heard of him” dismissals along the way. It made her feel less of a fool for not knowing of Professor Sifry, never mind Munagra.
The whole library staff was waiting to meet their distinguished visitor. Elona quietly told t
he Kirklund woman that Professor Sifry quickly grew tired and would prefer to save his energy for his research. The librarian immediately launched into a lengthy monologue about how she understood. Elona wondered how the woman could possibly run a library: she never shut up. At long last, she found the breath needed to snap her fingers at the staff line. A young man peeled away to stand before them.
“This is Leo. He will get anything the professor wishes to see. You need only ask. Now let me accompany you down to a private study room on the lower floor. It has a beautiful view of the fountain and I’ve arranged for snacks and drinks for you.”
Elona tuned the woman out.
Thankfully, the scale of the building had its benefits: even the stair wells were built to impress so the litter was manoeuvred without difficulty and they were soon sitting in an elegantly appointed room in an area only the High Quorum could access. Sifry fell asleep as soon as he sat down. Elona smiled, she’d timed the dose of crimwort perfectly. Having no esteemed audience, the head librarian soon disappeared. Her underling stood to attention by the desk, awaiting instruction.
“The professor will start with ‘Divining Purity’.”
Leo bowed and disappeared. He came back after five minutes, apologised for the delay and disappeared again. Another ten minutes passed before he returned. “I’m sorry for the delay. We’re having a little difficulty sourcing the book. It appears to have been misfiled. Is there something else I can get for you while we wait for it to be located?”
Elona was horrified. This was not supposed to happen. She cleared her face of any concern. “Unforeseen Consequences of Balance.”
The librarian did his disappearing act and another ten minutes passed. Sifry slept through it all.
Elona was munching on a surprisingly tasty biscuit and viewing the idyllic scene outside with distaste when a small cough alerted her to the young man’s return. His cheeks and aura were scarlet with embarrassment. “I’m terribly sorry, but it seems that this book has also been misfiled. Is there anything else I can get for you while we wait for it to be located?”
