by Rook Winters
“Are you sick?”
“I’m not sure. I couldn’t breathe and then everything just went kind of funny in my head.”
“It’s not much further to the university and then we can find a place to stay for the night. You should drink something but I don’t know where—”
The sound of a door opening behind them broke her train of thought. They both turned, the quick movement making Court’s vision unsteady for a second.
The man in the doorway was rail thin with eyes that protruded from his face so much they looked like they might roll away at any moment. The red-handled axe dangling from his hand accentuated his unfriendly demeanor.
“Move along,” the man said.
“My friend was ill. We just need—”
“I saw him emptying himself over there. Whatever disease he’s got, we want it away from here. Move on. Now.”
He swung the ax up and grabbed the handle with both hands, instantly escalating his posture from intimidating to dangerous.
“Let’s go,” Court said, his voice cracking.
Elle furrowed her brow but got up and helped Court to his feet. He was still shaky but the short rest had made him feel a little better. He found he could walk with only a hint of lightheadedness.
“Nice neighborhood,” Elle said.
He tried to chuckle but it made him cough, the taste of bile still stuck in the back of his mouth.
They walked without talking. Court focused on moving his feet and keeping his mind away from his memories. The scale of the buildings and streets made it difficult for him to judge distance but it didn’t seem to take long for them to reach a sign proclaiming University of Toronto St. George Campus.
“We’re close,” Elle said. She closed her eyes for a moment then said, “It should be just ahead and over.”
Unlike the streets they’d been walking through, they found an area surrounding several buildings that was clean and not overgrown. The buildings were shorter and made from stones and brick, a stark contrast to the earlier buildings made from inconceivably large slabs and that seemed to stretch up to infinity.
“That’s it,” Elle said.
Court followed her up the stairs and through a heavy set of doors carved from polished wood.
“I’m a bit surprised the doors were just unlocked like that,” Elle said once they were inside. There was no sign of people, just a corridor that stretched out to the left and right.
“Do you know where to go now?”
“No, but there’s supposed to be an administrator’s office near the entrance.
The clacking of shoes echoed in the hallway, the sound of the footfalls suggesting an urgent walk but not a full run. A woman emerged from the dim hallway into the brighter confluence of the doorway and the corridor. She looked a few years older than Court, although it was hard to be certain in the low light. She moved with a confidence that made Court believe she was more than comfortable with the assortment of weapons she carried. Despite her hurried approached, she seemed calm, as if rushing to them was out of responsibility and not trepidation.
“Welcome to the University of Toronto. What do you seek?”
“We’re looking for someone,” Elle said. “A professor here.”
“You’re a little late for that.”
“Aren’t you open for a couple more hours?”
“I mean you’re about a decade too late for finding professors. There hasn’t been a real university professor here since I was a teenager.”
“We’re trying to locate someone who used to be a professor here,” Court said.
“What’s wrong with him?” the woman asked, using the bow in her hand to point at Court.
“We’ve had a long day and his stomach is a bit upset.”
The woman took a step back.
“Sick? What other symptoms?”
“Not that kind of sick,” Court said, trying to sound like he was fine.
“I think he’s just dehydrated.”
“I can fetch him clean water but he stays there. We can’t risk spreading viruses to the people here.”
Court sat on a nearby bench. The woman returned with a glass jar filled with remarkably clean looking water.
“Mind the chip in the glass,” the woman said. She set it on the floor and pushed it closer to Court with the bow. “Can’t be too careful when it comes to disease.”
“Thank you,” he said.
The water was tepid and not refreshing like the well water back in the village but it still felt wonderful as he drank and washed away the awful taste still in his mouth.
“You two stay here for now. If he’s only dehydrated and the water helps, I’ll believe you that he’s not sick and you can come in.”
The woman went back down the hallway. When she was gone, Court offered the last of the water to Elle but she refused.
“What do we do if they don’t let us in?” Court asked. Even whispering, he worried that his voice would carry down the long hallways that seemed to amplify the tiniest of sounds.
“I’m less concerned with that and more concerned about them not having any information we can use.”
They sat quietly for a while and Court started to feel a little more normal, although he was hungry. Elle had assured him they’d be able to get a place to stay and food with their money, but he didn’t know when that would be. A craving for dried apple slices came over him and he stood up abruptly, not willing to let his mind drift back to thoughts of village life.
“I’m feeling better,” he called.
The woman returned. With his eyes adjusted to the light, Court could see her weaponry more clearly. Two daggers tucked into a belt were plain with simple handles; arrows protruded from a green-and-gray quiver strapped across her torso; the ornate hilt of a sword poked out above one shoulder; and what appeared to be the handle of a decorative dagger was strapped around one leg.
“Jump in place ten times,” she instructed.
“What?”
“Jump in place. Prove to me you’re not sick.”
Court shrugged and started hopping.
“You too,” she said to Elle.
Court felt foolish, but he counted out ten jumps and then did two more so he finished at the same time as Elle.
“Good enough. Come on back with me. I’m Ursula, sergeant-at-arms for the university.”
Both sides of the corridor were cluttered with artwork, shelves full of real paper books, and even a mounted skeleton of a small animal. A lizard, Court guessed.
“Right in here,” Ursula said. “This is Maud.”
The woman behind the desk wasn’t tall when she stood up, which seemed to require considerable effort on her part. She was a round woman with graying brown hair cut short in a way that made her head look even rounder. She was almost as pale as Elle had been the day she arrived in the village. Ursula carried herself as a fighter; this woman had the air of someone who avoided action.
What was the word Elle had used? Administrator?
“Greetings,” Maud said with a wheezy voice. She extended a hand and Elle pressed her palm against it.
A blocked of carved wood on Maud’s desk announced Superintendent.
“Ursula tells me you are in search of a professor.”
Court turned to look at Ursula but she had gone.
“That’s right,” Elle said. “We know she used to work here but we’re not sure where she went after the university closed. We are hoping you might have information on her whereabouts.”
“Au contraire,” Maud said indignantly, “this university is not closed.”
“No, of course not. I mean from before, I guess.”
“You guess?”
At that point in the conversation, Court decided he didn’t like this Maud woman very much. She could stand for some of Marsh’s instruction on the basics of pleasant conversation.
“All I mean is, we were told that she was a professor here and we’re trying to find out where she is now.”
&n
bsp; “I see. Unfortunately, young lady, the university does not make a practice of giving out personal information about staff, present or previous. It can create delicate situations for us. Expensive situations, if anyone were to pursue us in the future for sharing things we ought not to have disclosed.”
“We aren’t here for any nefarious purpose, just delivering some sad news.”
Nefarious, Court thought. He knew that word, it had been in something Marsh had given him to read, but he couldn’t remember the meaning. It was good that Elle was handling the conversation, he wouldn’t be able to verbally spar with Maud.
“Sad in what sense?”
“An old friend of hers died. We’re trying to locate her to let her know.”
“I can assure you that anyone old enough to have been a professor here is accustomed to old friends dying unannounced or even disappearing without a trace.”
“Be that as it may, delivering the news was a dying request of her friend. We’re trying to respect that. And you did say that you don’t make it a practice to give out information but surely that means there are exceptions from time to time.”
“Yes, that is true. From time to time, as you say, for benefactors and patrons of the university.”
Benefactors and patrons were words that Court didn’t know.
“How much?” Elle said.
Maud put a hand to her chest, feigning offense.
“My dear, our confidential staff records are not for sale.” Maud drawled the last two words with disdain dripping from each syllable. Then she reached into a drawer and slid an anonymous currency device across the scuffed wooden desktop. “But if you care to make a small donation to the university, you will be helping to continue the traditions of this grand institution that stretch back to 1827.”
Elle’s lips narrowed and her eyebrows squeezed together as she took out their anonymous currency device. Court saw her dial it to twenty and tap it against Maud’s.
Maud clucked and shook her head side to side. Elle’s lip curled on one side, exposing some of her teeth. She tapped the device again.
Maud only sighed.
Elle dialed twenty a third time and tapped. Maud’s expression stayed blank. Despite a lifetime of being taught that violence was rarely the best course of action, Court had an intense urge to introduce Maud’s forehead to the top of her desk. The thought of Ursula’s bow and sword in the corridor helped him keep his impulse at bay.
When Maud realized that Elle was not going to offer up further qynars, she said, “Thank you so much, my dear, for supporting the University of Toronto. Your donation is greatly appreciated.”
Through gritted teeth, Elle said, “Now what about the professor?”
“Oh, I’m sure we can relax the rules this one time. What is the name?”
“Nora Barrett.”
“Let me just check.”
Maud returned the anonymous currency device to her desk drawer and took out a small tablet. She consulted with the tablet for a minute then excused herself to the next room. She returned within a minute with a paper file.
“We keep hard copies of our records to ensure nothing gets tampered with. Plus there’s something magical about physical things, don’t you think? That’s a big part of the raison d’être for the university these days. But I digress. It says here that Nora Barrett was a full university professor then resigned eleven years ago, which was before…”
“Before things changed,” Elle said.
“Yes, a good way to put it. About a year before. No doubt she heard rumors and got out early. Regardless, I’m afraid that’s all the help I can be.”
“What?” Elle said, almost shouting.
Court heard a rustling outside the door; he assumed it was Ursula preparing for trouble.
“According to our records, Dr. Barrett went missing shortly after she resigned. She is presumed deceased.”
Elle shrank back into her chair.
“Not an answer you were prepared for? She wasn’t a young woman, you know, not even eleven years ago. You shouldn’t be surprised.”
“Isn’t there anything else you can tell us?” Court said.
“That’s all I have. But if you want to leave your names and a way to contact you, I’ll keep my ears open.”
Maud smiled at them. It was an awful smile to Court, like the twisted smile he imagined the Big Bad Wolf made when it met Little Red Riding Hood. Marsh hadn’t approved of that story but it circulated through the village year after year regardless, usually told by the teenagers to younger kids around the campfire. Sometimes one of them would hide in the shadows and howl at just the right time. Court remembered a time when he jumped in his seat, even when he knew the howl was coming. He had been too old to be scared by a campfire story. Paulo had nearly pissed himself laughing.
“Your name?” Maud asked again, breaking Court from his memory.
Elle grabbed his forearm, her nails digging in so hard that it hurt.
“Let’s go. Now.”
She yanked his arm and he followed her out the door. They rushed past Ursula and hurried down the hall.
From behind them, Maud’s voice came in a loud wheeze, “You didn’t leave a way for me to contact you.”
They burst out of the stone building and into the sunlight.
“What was that all about?”
“I panicked,” she said. “Something about that woman. I don’t trust her. I don’t want her to know anything about me. About us.”
Elle moved briskly and Court had to force his legs to keep pace even though they were several inches longer than hers.
“Where now?”
“We need a place to stay. That leech weaseled sixty qynars out of me. And for nothing. We couldn’t afford that. We…”
“What?”
“We should go demand our money back. She hustled us. I bet she already knew that Nora Barrett was dead.”
“Did you not get a good look at Ursula? I wouldn’t suggest storming back in there, you’re likely to lose a limb.”
For a moment, Court replayed his fantasy of cracking Maud’s head on her desk then pushed it aside. Marsh would say that such thinking was neither helpful nor healthy.
“I know you’re right. It’s just wishful thinking.”
The state of the city deteriorated as they moved away from the tiny cluster of university buildings. Piles of garbage reappeared. A trio of mangy dogs darted between buildings. Court instinctively reached for his mag gun before remembering they had left it behind in Alma. The dogs reminded him of how hungry he was.
“That’s where we can rent rooms,” Elle said, pointing out a wide building. “It used to be housing for students at the university. From what I read, it’s been well maintained since the university was gutted.”
Behind a metal door, they found a lone man waiting behind a counter in an austere room. A single metal door was to the right of the counter. On the wall behind it, plain black letters said HOTEL RESIDENCE.
“Good afternoon,” the man said. “Checking in?”
“How much for two rooms?” Elle asked.
“It’s ninety qynars per night. Each.”
“Ninety each?”
“That’s correct.”
Elle looked at Court. If pressed to describe the meaning of the look, he would have said despair.
“We can’t afford that,” she said.
“You could share a room. Two people in one room is only 135 qynars.”
“We can’t afford that either. Is there someplace cheaper that you could recommend?”
“There are other places but not that I would recommend. The security and cleanliness of Hotel Residence is the best you will find in the old city. In good conscience, I cannot recommend accommodations where you run the risk of your room being robbed of everything but the bed bugs.”
The hotel man had a smug look on his face as he alone enjoyed his joke.
Back in the waning sun of the late afternoon, Court said, “My impression of Toronto
isn’t great so far.”
“That asshole in there isn’t wrong. This is the only place I found that sounded reasonable.” She collapsed on the steps. “Shitty sour split.”
“Language, language. Language, miss.” The voice came from a nearby tree.
Leaves rustled and a body landed on the ground with a thud. The source of the voice was a shortish man, maybe five feet tall, dressed in layers of brown fabrics. There was no telling what the original colors might have been.
Reacting purely on instinct, Court moved between Elle and the stranger. Elle nudged him aside so she could get a good look.
“Why were you in that tree?” she asked.
“Shhhh,” the man replied. “Keep your voices down and don’t use their profanities. They are listening.”
Elle rolled her eyes.
“You don’t think after fifty years that the Others haven’t gotten used to humans saying sour split?”
The man covered his ears and searched the sky.
“Please,” he begged.
“We’ll make you a deal,” Court said. “She won’t say it again if you’ll tell us the best place to get a clean, safe place to sleep for the night.”
“My tree is best but you can’t have that.”
“We were hoping for something more indoors,” Elle said.
“Then the Hotel Residence, right there.”
“We can’t afford it,” Elle said. She looked down at her feet and Court thought it was odd that she would feel embarrassed in front of a man living in a tree.
“Then you want the Rofchild. Very clean, most people only stay a few hours, not enough time to get dirty. And no bugs. Best place to go for no bugs.”
“Why would people only stay a few hours?” Court asked.
Elle looked at him in surprise. Neither she nor the tree man answered his question.
“How do we get there?” Elle asked.
The man pointed and said, “Go that way until you see the orange pizza store then turn left and you will find the Rofchild.”
“Thank you,” Elle said.
The man’s expression grew somber. He grabbed Court by the shoulders.
“Go quickly and get inside. They’re watching us, from the skies. I saw them just today. It’s not safe. It’s never safe.”