A Scholar Without Magic

by Guy Antibes

  A woman walked up. She nodded to Kelch. “You are the expert?” she said to Sam.

  “Not an art expert, a pollen expert of sorts,” he replied. “I have already discovered six fake paintings.”

  She glanced at the list and winced. “How can you do such a thing so quickly?”

  “I am a pollen magician, in a way,” Sam said, hoping that would be enough. It was quite easy to spot the fakes, since the pollen-artist created the entire canvas out of pollen. Each of the phony paintings looked like empty frames to Sam. “Are these your only paintings?”

  “Not at all,” the curator said with a smile. “Would you like to see our storage room?”

  Sam nodded. “I have another room to review.” He poked his head inside and found another.

  In the storage room, Sam found eight more pollen forgeries.

  “Fifteen paintings,” Sam said. “Do you know who could have removed them?”

  “If I knew, I wouldn’t have had to suffer a student to sniff around my museum,” the curator said.

  Sam looked at one of the paintings. There were layers of pollen that created the colors. A pollen-artist could have created one of these, and perhaps, even a pollen magician. He knew he’d have to consult with Professor Plunk to figure it out. If it was a pollen magician, finding the culprit might be easier.

  “Can I take one of the paintings with me? I’d like to consult with Professor Plunk,” Sam said.

  The curator chose the smallest counterfeit painting and wrapped it up for Sam to take. Kelch wrote out a pass, so he wouldn’t be stopped at the gate, which got Sam to wondering how the paintings were removed from the school. He made it to Professor Plunk’s house, and after giving Emmy a treat, stared at it for a while before the professor returned from his teaching duties.

  He closed his eyes and put his gold tip to his forehead as he looked at the painting in his mind, just as Banna Plunk had taught him to do. Sam hadn’t done much with Professor Plunk in the time he had been in Tolloy.

  “What are you doing?” Plunk said, walking into the room.

  Sam stood up. “I have a problem and would like your opinion on this piece of artwork,” he said.

  Plantian looked the picture over and touched the painted surface. “It is a forgery made of pollen,” he peered at Sam, “but you knew that just by looking without your spectacles, didn’t you?”

  Sam nodded. “I would like to find out if a pollen artist or a pollen magician made this.”

  “Artist. The frame is painted,” Plunk said immediately. “A magician could make the frame out of pure pollen, but since it is so thick, they just used a bulk technique and then painted it.

  Sam made a face. “I didn’t even notice the frame, I was so interested in the painting itself.” He looked again and could see the frame was painted front and back. He grabbed a knife from the kitchen and scraped off some of the paint. “Ah.” He could see the base color of the frame was a reddish brown with his spectacles on. “This is the culprit’s natural pollen color,” Sam said.

  Plantian smiled. “Banna taught you that?”

  “We had a problem where the color proved to be the key to figuring out the answer. I don’t suppose pollen colors are written down or anything.”

  The professor shrugged. “You mean registered to people? I don’t think so,” Plantian said, answering his own question.

  “But we need to find out who made this.”

  Plantian shook his head. “There are quite a few pollen artists in the city.”

  “There has to be a way to get samples.” Sam thought for a bit. “What about a tournament making pollen? We can examine their colors.”

  “Not polite,” Plunk said. “It is unseemly for people to compete with their pollen-making.”

  Sam never heard of such a thing, even in Baskin. “Then a project? Can you send out word for a project to pollen artists? They could provide a solid block of pollen, maybe six inches square. Something that would be difficult for them to change from their natural color?”

  “I suppose I could do that,” Plunk said. “We might want to give them a small payment for their sample?”

  “If you think that would work. That won’t violate any taboos?”

  “Not at all,” Plunk said. “I can get the word out tomorrow. I do know all the pollen artists at the university. We can do some snooping together, eh? I think I might enjoy that.” Plunk’s eyes shone with excitement. “Let us get started.”

  ~

  While Professor Plunk sent out his project letters, Sam returned to preparing for the open tournament. A few days later, while sparring with Professor Drak, Captain Gortak entered their practice room. Sam held to his concentration until he dropped his sword on the floor on purpose to stop the session.

  “How clumsy of you,” Gortak said, walking over to them and picking up Sam’s dueling sword.

  “It happens,” Sam said.

  He looked at Drak, who eyed the intelligence officer with suspicion.

  “I came to see if it was true that you intended to enter the open competition?”

  “I do, but the division for young swordsmen, not the open tournament itself,” Sam said.

  “You might want to reconsider. The Dictator will be in attendance at the open,” Gortak said. “Life might improve for you if you competed with the best of Vaarek’s swordsmen.”

  “I am not one of the best,” Sam admitted.

  “You spar with a former champion on what appears to be a competitive footing, and you say you aren’t good enough?”

  Sam’s eyebrows shot up as he looked at Professor Drak. “You won the Open Tournament? I thought Professor Grott was better than you.”

  Drak laughed. “He is. We are both former champions.” Drak turned to Captain Gortak. “Sam is still inexperienced. He will do better in the lower division.”

  Gortak shrugged. “Suit yourselves,” he said.

  “I’ll be more comfortable with people my own age,” Sam said. “Thank you for stopping the experiment.”

  “With the food? It was about over, anyway.” Gortak’s eyes turned to Drak and back to Sam. “You haven’t blabbed about it to anyone?”

  Sam shook his head.

  “Keep it that way. I’d like to see you compete, Smith, any way you decide. Have a good day.” Gortak nodded to Drak and left the practice room.

  “What was that all about?” Sam said.

  Drak looked at the door that Gortak had used. “He wants to use you somehow.” Drak swept the air with his sword. “Perhaps a job offer? I don’t see him wasting his time visiting if he didn’t come with a purpose.”

  “What kind of job could he possibly think I could do?” Sam said.

  “You are a snoop, aren’t you? I wouldn’t be surprised if he hasn’t already talked to the guard captain.”

  “Kelch is a lieutenant. Maybe I will have to ask him.”

  Drak nodded. “I think you should.”

  Sam put the point of his sword on the wooden floor. “Were you really a champion?”

  Drak smiled. “One glorious year everything came together. I trained well, the best person in the field had to withdraw due to sickness, and I was lucky. Grott is twice the swordsman I am.”

  “But you don’t try your hardest when we spar.”

  “I am trying harder and harder, Sam. You are an excellent worker and are very smart about how you react to your opponents. I’ve seen you use different approaches to everyone. Grott and I recognized that early on and felt it was just a matter of time until you put it all together, and you just about have. I wouldn’t count on winning the open tournament, not that you would make a fool of yourself, but you are perfect for the lower division.”

  “And I will be exposing myself either way,” Sam said.

  “Isn’t that what every swordsman wants?” Drak asked.

  Sam shook his head. “Not me. I’m a foreigner. I don’t want to be dragged into Viktar Kreb’s service.” Left unsaid was his inability to do anything other tha
n see pollen. Sam worried about what would happen if too many people found out about that. He had already been too loose with his background.

  “We will all be in the Dictator’s service before long. I must admit I would rather teach past history than to witness it happening before my eyes,” the professor said.

  ~

  Professor Dinik asked Sam to join him for lunch. As expected, Mito Nakara had joined them. Sam told them of Captain Gortak’s visit to the practice session.

  “I am moving our project to Zogaz for safekeeping,” Renatee said. “There may be too many prying eyes. Things seem to be coming to a head in Tolloy. I don’t know how much longer I have before my heritage gets in the way of continued employment at the University.”

  “They would fire you?” Sam asked.

  “I am not the only one who may be affected,” Renatee said. “Your friend Desmon Sandal was one of the first when the government closed down the foreign businesses at the Grand Market. Mito may leave.”

  Sam looked at Nakara. “Norna is leaving the university, too?”

  “She is preparing to leave after the tournament to return to Trakata. I have tried to talk her into departing sooner. I’ll be going with Renatee,” Nakara said.

  “You think I should do the same?” Sam asked.

  “Preparing and departing are two different things,” Renatee said.

  “Leaving is the last stage of preparing,” Sam said, scratching his head.

  He had been comfortable living within the confines of the University of Tolloy, but with Gortak’s visit and this new revelation, he wondered how long his stay in Tolloy would last. He didn’t see Kreb’s tightening of his control stopping any time soon.

  “So what is it you want me to do?”

  “Be watchful,” Renatee said. “If you hear of anything, let me know.” The joviality that was ever present with Renatee had obviously been put aside. “Now let us enjoy our lunch. Who knows when the government will shut down Hilsa’s place?”

  Sam couldn’t conceive of a reason to do so unless Hilsa’s clientele were doing just what Renatee was talking about, conspiring to thwart the actions of Viktar Kreb.

  ~

  Sam was called out of one of his classes. As he stepped outside the door, Lieutenant Kelch grabbed him.

  “Professor Plunk has given us the samples of the respondents. I think we have an exact match. You must come and confirm.”

  Sam had forgotten about the art forgeries for the past few days, but he went back into the classroom to retrieve his things and followed Kelch to the guard office.

  A line of sixteen blocks of pollen took up most of the table in Kelch’s small interrogation room. Professor Plunk stood with his back to Sam, looking out the window. He turned and grinned. “I think we have found our culprit.”

  Sam smiled at the light in Plunk’s eyes. He saw three of the counterfeit paintings leaning against a wall.

  “Take one, any one,” Plunk said. “I have already taken the liberty of scraping off the paint on the backs of the frames.

  Sam turned one over and found that Plunk had done more scraping that he needed to, but that was fine with him. He took each red and brown block and compared it to the frame.

  “These two look like they match,” Sam said.

  Plunk smiled at Sam and said, “You can do better than that. Use a little magic.”

  Sam turned to Lieutenant Kelch, who urged Sam to proceed.

  He took the gold tip out of his pocket and closed his eyes. He concentrated until he could sense inside the pollen. The frame had very thin layers laid on each other in a crosswise fashion.

  “There is a pattern here,” Sam said. He did the same to the two blocks and found layers in both, but in one the layers were varying sizes. The second block had an identical pattern. “This is the one.”

  Plunk slammed a fist into his palm. “Two pollen magicians found the same result for the same reason!”

  Kelch scratched his head. “I’ll pick her up right now. You two wait because I’m not going to know how to question her.” He left the room to Plantian and Sam.

  “Her?” Sam asked.

  “Jorda Okolt. She is a volunteer at the gallery. Her husband is the Tolloyan secretary in charge of equestrian services.”

  “What is that?” Sam asked.

  “He buys and sells horses for the city, I believe. He is rumored to be working for Kreb at the same time.”

  They talked about Emmy while they waited, and soon Kelch arrived with a frightened-looking, youngish woman. Sam thought she looked pretty for a lady who must have been in her middle thirties, but Sam wasn’t very good at guessing ages.

  “Will you admit it?”

  Jorda glared at Kelch. “You bring me here and then ask if I admit to something? Why don’t you tell me what?”

  She hadn’t noticed Sam and Plantian standing in a corner.

  “Professor Plunk, why are you here?”

  “For the same reason you are, Matron Okolt, this painting.” Plunk pointed to the blocks of pollen and the painting laying face down on the table. “You were the forger, I believe?”

  She turned bright red. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Sam Smith and I are pollen magicians. We can analyze the inside of pollen articles. The frame material matches in color and texture the block that you provided me yesterday.”

  She shuddered. “I thought you were collecting those for a pollen project.”

  Plunk was able to smile in the midst of the awkward situation. “This is the project, my dear.”

  “And this boy?”

  Kelch cleared his throat. “He is a consultant to the guard on snoop and pollen matters. I vouch for his competence.”

  The woman sighed and sat down on one of the chairs arranged against the walls. “I thought…” She began to sob.

  “You needed money?” Sam asked. It was the simplest explanation.

  She nodded as she fought for control. Plunk produced a pollen handkerchief and handed it to her. “I do.” She looked very afraid. “I am divorcing my husband. He will throw me out the door as soon as he finds out.

  The very mention of her husband dried Jorda’s tears, replacing them with an angry expression.

  “Can you return the paintings?” Kelch asked.

  She shook her head. “I have already spent the money.” She broke down crying again. “I am so foolish. The man I was involved with took the money and ran. I have no idea where he is.” She shook her head and continued her sobbing. She looked up, eyes red, face wet. “My husband will kill me when he finds out about this.”

  Sam could see she was serious. “If you aren’t arrested, what will you do?”

  She snorted. It looked like her future plans were gone. “I will move to another city, regardless. My husband is a monster and is becoming more monstrous as the Dictator gives him more responsibility.”

  Sam turned to Kelch. “If this woman makes restitution, will you arrest her?”

  “Perhaps not. I know the gallery would rather keep the thefts secret.”

  “Could you leave us alone for a few moments?” Sam asked.

  Kelch left Sam, Plunk, and Jorda Okolt in the room.

  “Do you have any specifics about what Viktar Kreb is planning?” Sam asked.

  “You want me to be a traitor to Vaarek?”

  Plunk shook his head. “We just want to be prepared for whatever happens. Sam, here, is a foreigner, you see.”

  The woman examined Sam’s face. “You look like a foreigner, yet you speak like a native.”

  Sam colored a bit. “I am a student at the University. I get plenty of opportunities to practice.”

  “All I can say is that the army is currently buying up all the good horses they can. Henker seems to think the army will quickly invade Ristaria and Trakata and then combine the armies to take Wollia and then move north to conquer all of Holding. The Dictator has a four-year plan to rule the world. I have no details, and all this might be idle boasting.”<
br />
  Sam didn’t think so from the way Professor Dinik talked.

  “Don’t worry. If you tell no one that we talked about this, I will pay off your debt. Lieutenant Kelch will be my agent in this.”

  “And I will find work for you in another Vaarekian city far away from Tolloy,” Plunk said. “You can start a new life that way.”

  Jorda sobbed some more. Sam let her go for a bit until she raised her head. “I agree.”

  Plunk retrieved Kelch and arrangements were made. Plunk and Sam walked back to the professor’s house. Sam wasn’t in the mood for any other classes, and he had to get to the Zogazin bank to make the transfer to the University’s account.

  “She won’t really escape from her husband, will she?”

  Plunk shook his head. “Maybe not, but if she is right about her husband, his time will be filled with other things. I’ll make sure the information is given to other parties.” Sam took his words to mean Banna. “It isn’t an unexpected situation, but the timing is confirmed.”

  Sam felt that his time in Tolloy was coming to a close. He went to the bank and made sure his funds were transferred to Zogaz and out of the country after he had taken care of Jorda Okolt. The money was well-spent if the woman had spoken the truth. Sam figured that he would find out soon enough.

  Chapter Sixteen

  ~

  “T hree more days,” Drak said. “Three more days and the tournament begins. I think you are as ready as you can be.”

  Sam stood alone in front of the professor. Norna had already left to return to Trakata, and her absence definitely gave his practices a hollow feel. The other duelists had also dropped out.

  “I will be there,” Drak said.

  Sam nodded.

  They left the practice room together but parted ways, with Sam heading to the Mechanical Sciences building. Renatee told him that Nakara had left the university along with the ‘agricultural’ machine Nakara had been working on.

  “More bad news,” Renatee said. “There is a dustman who has been seen going through the garbage he collects here. I’m afraid surveillance on my shop has increased. Is there anything you can do?”

  Sam thought about it. “If you accuse the man, Gortak, or whoever controls him, will be more motivated to shut you down. Why don’t you put something in the garbage that alludes to a meeting or information that is made up that even if discovered won’t implicate you?”