by Byrd Nash
As a Doppelgänger, Paul proved excellent at the job. He moved through the campus community without being noticed while he noticed everything.
Paul’s Doppelgänger talents allowed him to lift a memory from another’s mind, appearing as someone they knew. As the only fae who could see Paul’s true form, these acts of mistaken identity always privately amused the chancellor.
Over the decades, Paul used his abilities to build a confidential network that reported to him juicy gossip and fermenting plots. His informants included those within the administration, as well as students.
While the latter were the best snitches, they didn’t have a long span at the university because they graduated. Bandemer had toyed with the idea of failing the best informers, but Paul insisted the chancellor not interfere with changing official school records.
The chancellor rubbed his hands together, trying to draw Paul’s attention to his ring, but the Doppelgänger was looking down, idly leafing through a folder. The chancellor didn’t fall for this pretense; he knew the Mindbender had a memory like one of those computers his secretary used.
“Out with it.” Getting testy, Bandemer drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “You want to tell me something, but I see you worry about how I’ll take it. I don’t know why all of you treat me like I’m a child.”
Paul knew, as everyone who dealt with Bandemer, that the chancellor had a mercurial temperament. Troubling problems needed to be brought sideways to him or when he was in one of his expansive moods.
The Doppelgänger replied tactfully, “I do not believe I’ve seen that ring before?”
Bandemer started to preen until, realizing Paul’s manipulation, he slapped the flat of his hand down on the tabletop. “Out with it! You can admire my ring, which is indeed quite beautiful, when we get done with the matter you want to discuss.”
Paul scratched his eyebrow, giving a half-amused, half-ashamed sideways smile at being caught out by Bandemer. “The boy, Logan Dannon, returned for another year.”
The chancellor waved Paul’s concern away, his hand showing off a flash of green and his expensive lace cuffs fluttering.
“As his grandmother, the Morrighan, requested, the boy has a full-ride scholarship now. It seemed to satisfy the Celtic war goddess.”
Last spring, they had almost become embroiled in a war between the Morrighan and the university. It seemed a fae student, a siren, had Beguiled the grandson of the goddess with a love spell. Since the siren’s enchantment instilled a never-ending yearning in the heart of its victim, it would have eventually killed the boy.
Generally, the chancellor refused to concern himself with humans silly enough to become involved with the fae. However, the Morrighan was too powerful an entity to ignore.
Remembering it, Bandemer said, “The Morrighan took all of the siren’s hair. The stupid girl left here with a head as bald as an egg.”
It was a tradition within a fairy court that subjects, upon swearing fealty, would provide their liege a token lock of hair. The symbolic gesture represented the act of giving your life into the care of your sovereign.
The act of cutting hair had also become a method to resolve blood feuds without loss of life. A token lock was far easier to give than a finger, arm, or an ear, to settle a grievance or dispute.
“That creature,” began the chancellor, “what was her name again?”
“Sibyl.”
“Hasn’t returned? If she has, let the griffins have her. I don’t have the patience for these student love affairs. A lot of drama and not much action. Now give me a lusty fairy queen and — .”
Before Bandemer could get himself lost in discussing his summer conquest, Paul quickly reassured his liege, “No, she left the country as commanded. What concerns me now is those who were involved in last semester’s difficulties. Such as the dryad who acknowledged a human as a bondmate.”
Bandemer raised a plucked, narrow line of an eyebrow. Bondmates were the network of relationships fae formed within the bounds of the Laws of Civility. Humans, as lesser beings, were not considered worthy of being graced with such a connection.
“That’s unusual.”
“Indeed,” Paul agreed. In fairness, he added, “but it doesn’t break any rules.”
The elf stroked his fingertips down his hollow cheek. His skin was feeling dry. He needed to schedule a facial.
“Go on. Spit out whatever worm is in your brain. I don’t have all day to coax it out of you.”
“Brigit Cullen has also returned. I hold her Bond.”
“I’ve identified the dryad’s court and her allegiance. This summer, Queen Titania’s court was full of the gossip about the girl. Her wraith couldn’t stop bragging about his role in some challenge-game over the girl running away from her court."
Bandemer pursed his lips, thinking over the matter. "As the child of a queen, just be careful in how you handle her. But you’re good at applying the right amount of squeeze.”
Last semester when Brigit Cullen had demanded Paul’s help in stopping Sibyl, the Doppelgänger had taken her Bond under the Laws. The dryad had been furious about the deal but, with no better choice, had reluctantly agreed.
What she hadn’t known was that Paul would have helped her anyway because the matter involved the royal house of Bewachterberg and the Morrighan. However, it was a point the Doppelgänger had concealed from the dryad during their negotiations.
“Next? Next?” demanded Bandemer, who was growing impatient. “Something else is bothering you other than some wood nymph.”
“I have an uneasy feeling,” Paul admitted reluctantly. “The weather was odd the other day. Did you notice it?”
“I did and requested the griffins review the matter. Defending the borders is their business. Don’t try to be all things. You’ll tire yourself out and be of no use to me.”
“I just have a feeling —”
“Something happens every semester. There’s always drama. When it happens, we either enjoy it, ignore it, or destroy the threat.”
The chancellor stood up, indicating the meeting was at an end.
“Remember, you're a Doppelgänger, not a Cassandra. Don’t try to predict the future.”
“Yes, my liege,” the spymaster agreed humbly, adding, “And may I say that is the largest emerald I have ever seen in a ring. It has a beautiful color.”
“Good groveling, Paul, but next time notice my attire faster. I spend hours looking my best, and my effort should be appreciated,” rebuked the chancellor.
Debts Come Calling
When Brigit exited her class, she saw Logan in the hall. She gave him a grin and started walking over to him. Suddenly, a feeling came over her. Brigit slowed her pace. Reversing direction, she rapidly walked to the stairwell.
Paul followed, calling from behind, “How did you know?”
She didn’t answer for she didn’t quite know the answer. Only that seeing Logan’s face without its owner was eerie and unsettling.
The Doppelgänger’s features always arranged themselves into who you expected to see. Fae Glamour didn’t work on fellow fae. However, the Doppelgänger’s magic was not an illusion. It worked by pulling thoughts from the victim’s mind, and thus his disguise could not be penetrated.
As far as she knew, Logan, being a bard, was the only person who had seen the Doppelgänger’s true face. Despite her curiosity, Logan was not forthcoming in describing what he had seen. He only told her that it was Paul’s business.
Brigit pushed through students who were trying to make their way to their next class. Gaining the top of the stairs in the atrium, she grabbed the banister rail and hurled down the stairs. Paul fast on her heels.
While Paul’s Mindbending abilities were uncomfortable, worse was she had incurred a Debt to him last spring. To obtain Paul’s assistance to free Logan from the siren’s spell last semester, Brigit had placed herself under the Doppelgänger’s thumb due to the Laws of Civility.
Brigit knew she would have to pay
the price, but she was going to make the playing field was as level as possible. As long as she remained inside the building, he had the advantage.
Brigit rushed through the door, reaching the campus grounds with its many old trees. As a dryad, she could enter any of them. She found a friendly tree and was about to dive inside when Paul’s words stopped her, “You cannot outrun your obligations.”
She didn’t appreciate him using her strict interpretation of the Laws of Civility against her. It annoyed her that, after working so hard to keep her Debts small, she now owed a large one to the most dangerous being in Bewachterberg.
As the Doppelgänger walked over to where Brigit stood, half-merged into a tree, she told him tersely, “Tell me what you want, and I’ll resolve my Debt.”
Logan’s smile didn’t fool Brigit.
“Why don’t we have a polite chat? I promise I won’t bite.”
The dryad retreated more into the tree. Feeling the strength of the ancient tree, its deep roots connected to the vastness of the earth, she felt safe enough to deal with the Doppelgänger.
“Start chatting.”
“Our Debt is substantial. It can’t be voided by you buying me a coffee.” Although Paul spoke softly, his words made Brigit shiver. The tree shook her leaves in sympathy.
The Doppelgänger was correct.
Last spring, the Mindbender had impersonated the prince to fool the siren. Since the Doppelgänger’s ability to impersonate another person was not through Glamour, he was able to deceive and trick the siren into leaving the country.
“Pointing out the weight of my obligation does not endear you to me. State what you want from me so we can call this Expletus.”
“Things are not so simple,” Paul said. “Your identity was used to vandalize the library.”
He tapped her tree.
“Emerge from your tree and let us talk.”
The accusation thrown at her by Anna Burkhalter, the head librarian, infuriated Brigit.
“How could I use my library account to destroy books?” demanded Brigit. She had repeated this question three times, but no one in Burkhalter’s office was listening to her.
Indignant, she looked over her shoulder to where Paul was standing, arms crossed, back against the wall, in the corner of the librarian’s office. He had exchanged his face for a hodge-podge of features Brigit must have seen on dozens of other faces. Eyes, nose, mouth, and chin shifted each time she looked at him. She turned away, fuming and a bit nauseous.
At least he wasn’t using Logan’s face.
The Doppelgänger said nothing while she defended herself against the accusations from Burkhalter and the geeky tech guy from the university’s computer department.
Their vague threats and insinuations were like jabs to Brigit’s honor. She was getting punchy. If they pushed her much more, they would get a performance that her mother, Queen Elixia, would have applauded after she took notes.
“But it’s your ID,” the librarian’s voice was calm, but intractable. She was a tall, commanding woman, but her height didn’t intimidate the short Brigit. The dryad had faced down her father. Besides, the truth was on Brigit’s side.
“As your tech guy would tell you,” explained the dryad again, “a login is probably the easiest thing to fake or steal. Even I know that! And I’m a tech-moron.”
Seeing their skepticism, Brigit narrowed her eyes. “Besides, I can’t use a laptop or a cell phone. Check my disability waiver. If I touched a computer or cell phone, it would blow up. Kablooie!”
Brigit made an explosion gesture with her hands. When they just continued to stare, she snapped, “If you don’t believe me let me type something on your computer there,” she pointed to the laptop sitting at the woman’s desk, “or hand me your cell phone, and I’ll try to make a call.”
Brigit’s fae talents impacted her ability to use some human-made technology, especially anything that had complicated communication electronics. She couldn’t use a graphing calculator in her math classes, or a debit or credit card in shops, and couldn’t ride the e-scooters because of their electronic card swipe.
Thinking about it, Brigit grew angry over an assumption she would do something as foul as cheating. Her dark brown eyes became black and sparkled with fire. She compressed her lips to a thin line to keep back the words she would have liked to say.
The man seated next to the librarian started to speak, reluctantly agreeing.
“Her student ID could have been stolen. The login was past midnight. It was probably done remotely, perhaps by a hacker. This requires a certain level of sophisticated knowledge this fae student seems to lack.”
“But how did someone get your ID?” demanded the librarian. She tapped the end of her pencil’s eraser on her desk to punctuate her words. It was obvious, Burkhalter wanted someone to blame.
“I don’t know who or how,” retorted Brigit. “If I knew who was guilty, do you think I wouldn’t drag them in here to answer your questions?”
Brigit’s voice and hands trembled under the injustice.
“What other proof do you have that it was me? Do you have security footage? A witness that said I was here? A computer that I did this crime upon?”
Neither of her accusers answered, and Brigit gave them an evil triumphant smile. “I see from your faces that is a big fat no. When you get better proof, let this goon,” she indicated Paul with her thumb, “pull me out of class to answer for this crime. Until then, I’m not going to be victimized by a half-baked witch hunt. And even witches have rights now, so back off.”
Paul looked up from checking his phone messages.
“I believe the fae. I just received confirmation from the griffins that the dryad entered Bewachterberg’s borders three days after your system recorded the vandalism.”
“How dare you —!?” cried Brigit. She wished she had Jib with her. She’d order the púca to claw out the Doppelgänger’s eyes. Griffins! Snooping up on her? Watching her whereabouts?
“It’s best that I did dare,” returned Paul in somewhat of a bored tone. “Don’t think you're special. The Bewachterberg borders are always watched.”
Turning to Anna Burkhalter, he told her, “I’ve confirmed the dryad’s story. She cannot be the vandal you are seeking.”
Before any of them could say anything further, the dryad turned, grabbed the door handle, and exited the librarian’s office. In her haste, she walked through one of the library’s ghosts, hitting a blast of chill air. She automatically muttered, “Sorry,” and kept walking.
“Wait!” cried the male ghost.
Her mad rush through the library received several astonished or condemning stares from staff and students. To avoid them, she dodged into the women’s bathroom. She turned on a faucet and splashed some of the liquid onto her face, wiping her heated cheeks.
“Can I talk with you?” asked the specter behind her.
“No. Beat it.” Brigit had never been keen on the library ghosts.
Last year, when her roommate evicted her, she slept in the library until finding Logan’s spare room. She had spent many a sleepless night in the library because the ghosts loved to argue about who was the smartest, brightest, and the best writer or researcher. Furthermore, her summer adventure in a chateau had not endeared their kind to her.
“It’s important,” he insisted.
“Really?” Brigit gave out an exasperated snort. “Are we going to argue over a dissertation you wrote thirty years ago? Or complain about a professor that you had for English 101?”
Before he could explain, Brigit walked out, leaving the library and all contained within it behind.
François Auguste Bandemer entered the abbey, strolling by the library tables where students hunkered over their laptops. He paused for a moment, his right hand resting on the top of his walking stick, and struck a pose.
The murmur of voices through the building silenced. Whether it was through the application of the chancellor’s magic or his dramatic appearance,
wasn’t clear. However, by the time he finished a promenade around the circumference of the nave, everyone knew of his arrival.
Anna Burkhalter, the head librarian, met him before he started a second tour around the columns. They greeted each other with polite head bows; Bandemer’s so slight that it was more of a chin nod.
“Chancellor.”
“Frau Burkhalter.”
Burkhalter was a Swiss outsider. She gained her appointment three years ago after an unfortunate episode resulted in the last head librarian being devoured by griffins. You could not call upon ancient powers and not expect to suffer the consequences when the judgment went against you. Since Burkhalter had served in some capacity with the Swiss military, Bandemer hoped she was made of tougher and more sensible stuff than her predecessor.
However, Burkhalter’s recent appointment meant this would be the first fundraising event under her leadership. Bandemer was not going to let a green department head ruin his party, especially when they were showcasing such a substantial donation.
“Here to see the collection before we reveal it?” she asked, gesturing with her hand for him and his clerk to follow her.
“First, we shall discuss the necessary preparations to receive my guests.”
At a snap of his fingers, the clerk, who had been shadowing him a respectful distance, stepped forward. He gave Burkhalter one of the two clipboards he carried.
“Diamond-level donors and others of wealth are being invited.” The chancellor gave a graceful, but dismissive wave with his hand. “A few will be fae. Wealthy humans like the occasional titillation of being in danger as long as the risk isn’t real.”
“A walk among the tigers, as long as the cats are fed beforehand,” said Burkhalter, nodding her head in perfect understanding.
Impressed with her quick comprehension, the chancellor joined his arm with hers. Tucking her hand in the crook of his arm, he invited her to take a tour of the building. Bandemer wanted an audience to impart the fullness of his vision.
The reception would start at sunset. He had arranged some fae Glamour to make it appear the abbey was lit only by candlelight. It was a pity that he had to spend magic for the effect, but the fire code wouldn’t permit real candles. There would be a mysterious forest and a waterfall. No, she shouldn’t concern herself. No real water. All illusion.
