by C. M. Lance
He had the same full haircut that covered his collar in back. The white streak on the right side stood out like a beacon against the dark, almost black hair. The Dean’s smooth, unblemished skin made Sig realize he wasn’t as old as the white streak made him appear. He seemed young to head up a department at a university like Northwestern.
His yellow tie with a faint blue sheen stood out against the medium blue, spread collar shirt with gold cufflinks. On a rack in the corner hung the navy suit coat with a faint powder blue pin stripe that matched his pants. With the coat lining in powder blue, he would have radiated the aura of a dapper business executive if Sig didn’t get the feeling of swimming in a cesspool.
The Professor by contrast wore a tan tweed sports coat with elbow patches, over a yellow button down shirt and a brown knit tie. Business meets academia.
They finished the budget discussion and the Dean picked up a folder lying on his otherwise empty desk. He opened it and passed his finger down the paper inside. “Sigurd Thorval Stromgard. Very impressive board scores. Thirty five composite and thirty six in Physics - perfect. With scores like that, and your grades, we could arrange for a full scholarship in the Physics department. I’d like to understand why we are losing you to the study of Magic.”
“I’m not studying Magic. I want to study of the Physics of Magic.” He looked at the Professor who nodded for him to continue.
“Physics is old. It’s interesting, but so many people have been researching in that space that the pace of discovery has slowed. As a measure of that, I compared the number of published articles per capita coming out of the Physics department with the Physics of Magic department. Magic results are almost double. It’s not just the volume either; I evaluated the quality based on where the articles were published and the Physics of Magic ranks higher there also.”
The Dean fashioned the lemon-sucking look again. “I see. I’d like to review your statistics.”
“He did the analysis as part of his high school AP Physics study. He sent me a copy. I’ll be happy to forward it to you.”
“Thank you Arthur. So, Sigurd, what does the pace of discovery have to do with your decision?”
“If there are more discoveries being made there, I have a better chance of making a name for my self in this field.”
“Ambitious, that’s good.”
“I also have a great interest in magic. Since I don’t have any talent, maybe if I learn how it works, I can discover how to manipulate it.”
“Hmmm, no talent. Isn’t that unusual Arthur? I thought that most of your students have at least some tangential connection with magic.”
“True, but it’s heartening to see interest spreading into the general populace.”
“Have you ever thought that learning the causes can be used to both enhance and to prevent it, as happens in medicine?”
Professor Arthur nodded. “That’s an excellent analogy. As in medicine, we hope to prevent the dark, unhealthy symptoms and enhance the good.”
Lemon puss was back. Sig’s nausea increased. He sensed undercurrents in their words.
The Dean stood. “Thank you both for coming. Sigurd, your views are enlightening. You must remind Arthur that, as in medicine, you must be careful where you cut, or the patient dies.”
Chapter 53
Back in Professor Herman’s office, Sig watched him adjust items on the walls and shelves. Finally, he cradled a crystal artifact in his palms and muttered in what didn’t sound like English. Tendrils of light leapt from the crystal. Lightning arced between objects he had manipulated. It spread, and coalesced along the walls, ceiling, and floor.
Sig was afraid to move.
The interior surfaces of the room shimmered and the window turned opaque.
The Professor placed the catalyst crystal on his desk, sat down in his chair; folded hands behind his head, and put his feet on the desk. “There, that should prevent eavesdropping.” He smiled at Sig who remained motionless in the chair, hands gripping the seat.
“Oh, you can move. I’ve just sealed the room from any form of monitoring.”
Sig inhaled the breath he’d forgotten to take. “Spooky.”
“Someday you’ll be able to do that; we’ll keep working toward it. Now, describe for me what happened in Dean Heathcoat’s office.”
“It seemed like a successful meeting. I didn’t follow the funding discussion closely, but it appeared that you accomplished what you wanted. The Dean seemed please with my answers…”
The professor waved a hand. “No, not that. You appeared to be physically ill. I feared that you’d vomit on the Dean’s desk, but also hoped you would, to watch that supercilious twit’s reaction. What caused your illness? It wasn’t allergies.”
“No, I don’t have any allergies, except to the Dean, Andras, and whatever threw the lightning from the top of the Game Room. It felt similar to the time I passed the Dean in the hallway outside your office, only not quite as bad.”
“I felt it. The object I gave you before we left allows me to feel what you sense. I’ve become concerned about your reaction to the Dean.” He held out his hand. “You can give it back.” After Sig handed it to him, he placed the object on a shelf.
He said dryly, “If the Dean isn’t involved somehow in Black Magic, he has some serious trans-dimensional hygiene problems. Through you, I sensed the evil he emanates.” He shook his head.
“I’ve worked alongside him for the three years I’ve been at Northwestern. I never gained an impression of him as more than a pompous nincompoop who couldn’t understand the import of what we do. Now I realize that he’s been actively blocking our progress.”
“Why would he allow a Physics of Magic department at all?”
“Bernadette. As a former University Trustee, she has impressive political connections. She advanced the idea of creating the Physics of Magic department.
“Of course her generous financial endowment influenced the process. They tapped me because of my experience establishing and running the first such department and my connection to Bernadette.”
“Where did you establish another department?”
“In France. This opportunity drew me because of the Ley line density at the tip of Lake Michigan. Bernadette’s lobbying also influenced me. Otherwise, I would still be quaffing the French wines of which I grew so fond. Fortunately, I’ve grown to appreciate your wonderful California wines.” He had a dreamy look in eyes. He shook his head and rejoined the conversation in progress.
“Now, we must revisit our plans. First we must know Heathcoat better.”
“I know him as well as I’d like.”
“But not as well as we should. Were you aware that as an undergraduate he attended Northwestern? I received an earful about it when I first arrived, ‘Local boy makes good’ type of thing. We can use that to our advantage and find people in the area who can provide us with background information. Are you up to a research task?”
“I signed on as a research assistant; sure I’ll do it.”
“Giselle is an excellent researcher; she can help you. I’ll ask her.”
Sig’s enthusiasm increased.
Professor Herman clapped his hands. “Excellent, let’s reconvene in a week.” He took up the crystal object he’d used before and muttered foreign words. The shimmering faded and the scene outside reappeared through the window.
A knock sounded at the door.
The Professor glanced at his wristwatch. “Just in time for my next appointment. Good hunting.” His eyes locked with Sig’s. “This could be critical.”
Chapter 54
Sig enjoyed the research. He spent hours in the library with Giselle. She directed him to make a list of all faculty members who attended Northwestern concurrently with Dean Heathcoat. He turned up 146 matches.
Narrowing it to only those in the physics department turned up one name - Dean Heathcoat himself. Expanding the list to those who lectured in the sciences produced a manageable twenty-six matches.
Sig suggested that they review papers written by the Dean, to develop a feel for his areas of expertise.
His bibliography was thin. The ones they read were banal, generally reviewing the discoveries of others. Giselle observed that they were full of ostentatious prose, which appeared to be an attempt to disguise flimsy research and shallow thought. Well, as the expert researcher she should know.
Weak research was the least of the Dean’s problems. Sig filled her in on the feelings that overcame him when near the Dean. “The Professor explained it to me when he requested my help. He commended your judgment,” she said.
Nice to know. Sig still met with Professor Herman regularly to practice, or at least to attempt magic. He didn’t expect commendations for proficiency in that area.
At the next magic practice, the Professor reviewed the faculty list and made suggestions. He recommended seven faculty members who he felt were reliable and able to keep secrets.
The first four on the list were dead ends. They only knew of Heathcoat as the Physics dean, with no recollection of him from their college days together.
The fifth, a math professor by the name of Nancy Riley, remembered him vividly. She invited Sig to her office for a cup of coffee while she reminisced.
Luckily, his insurance check had arrived and he drove his new Jeep to the meeting.
She looked to be in her late fifties, with straight iron gray hair cropped evenly just above her shoulders. After pouring two cups, one of which she handed to Sig, she gingerly sat behind her desk. She groaned as she settled. “Bum knee, probably too much weight on it for too many years. I’m considering getting it replaced.”
She took a sip and set the cup down. “John Heathcoat. I’m glad you asked. I sometimes have trouble associating our natty, prissy dean with the boy I knew in college. He was such a strange duck back then.”
“Oh, how so?”
“How was he strange, or how strange was he? Let me count the ways. He was Goth, before there was a Goth. He was too late for Beatnik and too early for Goth. If you look at pictures of him from that time, he always wore black - that made the streak in his hair really stand out. He would have been a handsome brooding genius type if he didn’t brood quite so much.”
“He had the same streak in his hair in college?”
“Yes, same hair, different demeanor. Back then, he hung around but was a loner. Brilliant, but manic. I sometimes wondered how many people lived in his head. The smart one, the angry one, the kind one, the mean one, they all took turns. Half the time he wanted people to call him Johnny; the rest of the time, he insisted on John. He didn’t have many friends. I don’t remember any.”
“How did you know him, clubs, parties …?”
“I was captain of the chess team as a senior and John was a sophomore. By turns, he was our best player and our worst player, and I never knew which one would show up. When he was brilliant, he reveled in destroying his opponents. When he lost, it seemed like he didn’t care.
“Bipolar wasn’t a common diagnosis then, but I think psychiatrists of today would have had a field day with him. He doesn’t seem manic now. Amazing what they can do with meds.”
“I reviewed some of his publications and they aren’t exactly cutting edge.”
“Oh yes, that was another area of strangeness. He was infatuated with the idea of multiple dimensions. Not whether there are multiple dimensions, theory has already postulated that, but in how we could travel between them.”
“String Multiverse Theory?”
“Not the theory itself, the application of String Mulitverse Theory. It obsessed him, to the exclusion of the rest of his studies. When I left NU for my graduate work, I assumed he would flunk out, but obviously I was wrong or his focus changed. He’s now Dean John Heathcoat, Sc.D.”
”Sc.D.? Isn’t that the designation for a doctorate from Europe?”
“I recall from the announcement when he took the position that he studied in England and Germany. Ahh, yes, that reminds me of another unusual situation associated with Dean Heathcoat. He was the third candidate to assume his position in less than a year.”
“The others didn’t work out?”
“No, they died. Lightning struck the first on a golf course. The next died in a house fire. A fire started by lightning. Remarkable coincidence.”
"Lightning?” Growing up in the Midwestern plains, lightning was common, even enjoyable. He remembered sitting on the covered porch with his Dad, watching thunderstorms race across the prairies, marveling at the lightning displays. Now the word gave him chills.
“Dear boy are you all right? You grew very pale.”
“No, I’m fine, except for an allergy problem.”
“I hope it’s not asthma. My father died of asthma.”
“My father died from a lightning strike.”
“Oh my.”
“Coincidence. You graduated two years ahead of the Dean?”
“Ah yes, you’ve noticed the age difference seems more pronounced than two years? So have I. I’d kill to have skin like he does. I asked him once what he used. He told me Oil of Olay. She raised a hand to her face. “This is what you get with Oil of Olay. His must be genetic.”
“Or something. Well thank you so much for making time for me in your busy schedule.”
“I think the world of Arthur Herman, I’m glad to help one of his students.”
“I appreciate it and I know he does. On his behalf, I’d like to ask for your discretion about this inquiry. You know how vicious academic politics can be. He’d prefer that his boss wasn’t disturbed by my inquiries.”
“Mums the word.”
“Professor Herman said you could be counted on.”
She had a pleased smile as he departed.
Chapter 55
Arianna called Sig to inform him that Mary Beth, the Training Master, cleared him to workout with the Amazon’s again. “She convinced the Commander that you helped improve the fitness and skill level of the girls above expectations.”
“What was the Commander’s reaction?”
“She didn’t describe the Commander’s reaction, and I didn’t ask.”
They scheduled a workout for the following day.
He missed and needed the training. His training with the Amazons, helped him fare better against Andras the second time. The first time he lucked out when he had support from Rick and the Professor along with a nearby safe-place. The water witches and the Professor lent aid the second time. He needed to improve more if he ever met Andras by himself. Getting his ass handed to him by Andras would be much worse than by the Commander. It would be fatal.
When Sig arrived at the Training Center, a blonde Amazon he’d noticed, but hadn’t sparred with before, waited for him. “Hi, I’m Roxanne. Arianna traded off training sessions with me. The Training Master told me that my hand-to-hand needs work. Arianna agreed. I’m hoping you can do something for me.” She inhaled deeply.
Even in the baggy gi she wore, Sig’s eyes were attracted to her expanding chest. He smiled at her. “I’ll do what I can. Let me stretch first.”
She joined him while he stretched. She was very flexible and did marvelous things with her body.
They finished stretching and met on the mats. Sig folded his hands, bowed deeply, and looked toward Roxanne. She bowed low and her top gaped. She wasn’t wearing a sport bra, or any thing else, under her top. He estimated he had a view of eighty percent of her chest. The swaying mesmerized him. He held his bow, hopeful for the other twenty percent.
Concentrating on the wrong thing made him miss a block on her first kick into his ribcage. After that, he didn’t have any problem blocking her kicks and punches. She really needed to work on her technique. He anticipated her kicks and strikes well before they landed. He functioned as a punching bag, blocking her strikes while he studied her technique.
Just before the timer went off, she tried a leg sweep. He easily dodged it, spun, and dropped into a sweep that upended her. S
he landed on her back, knocking her breath out with a whoosh. He followed her down and drove the heel of his palm into her rib cage. If he’d followed through it would have broken ribs, instead, he ended up with a handful of breast.
Embarrassed, he snatched his hand back and leapt to his feet.
She smiled up at him. “You’re so masterful.”
His already flushed face turned crimson.
From her prone position, she raised her legs over her head and kicked into a kip up. She stood next to him and asked, “Will you show me what I’m doing wrong on the leg sweep? I missed you, but you got me.”
“You’re telegraphing your moves. You need to work on combinations that come more automatically. You’re thinking instead of reacting.”
“Can you show me what you did?”
“OK, you use the leg sweep after forcing your opponent to move their feet in a way that makes the leg sweep work. Here’s what I did.” He kicked, spun into another kick, dropped into a leg sweep, and jumped back up again. “Get back up into an attack position so you can take advantage of your opponent’s landing.”
“Please show me again.”
Sig went through the combination three more times. “Now you try it.”
Sig corrected technique errors as Roxanne went through the combination a half dozen more times. He saw Giselle across the gym while they practiced and he waved and turned back to Roxanne.
“OK, let’s see how you do with an opponent. Try it on me.”
She went through the motions competently. Even though Sig saw it coming and could have prevented it, he allowed her to sweep his legs, landing on his back. Instead of landing a disabling blow, she straddled his chest and bent to pin his shoulders. A breast swung out of her top, towards his face.
This time he saw one hundred percent of one. His eyes followed it. Fifty percent in this case was better than eighty percent.
She said, “Oops”, grasped it, and tucked it back in, pulling her gi closed. Still sitting on his chest she asked, “How did I do?”
