The Miscreant

by Brock Deskins

  Garran knelt next to him, an enormous grin splitting his face. “You okay? You landed pretty hard. You’re lucky I only knocked the wind out of you. The father of a girl named Brenda caught us in the barn once. He took off after me with a pitchfork. I tripped on a log and landed so hard I crapped myself. It still didn’t keep him from beating me with the pitchfork handle, but I think that’s the only reason he didn’t stab me with it. Pity can save your life.”

  Garran stood and showed off by swinging the reaping blades around by the loop set in their handles. “All right, who’s next?” The leather cord on the left blade snapped, and the tool went tumbling through the crowd of students, striking one in the forehead with the haft. “Sorry, Justin!”

  Justin lay face down in the dirt and moaned. “I think I can taste colors…and some blood.”

  Garran smiled again when he thought about his next training session with Victor.

  ***

  Martin stood before Dean Kelsey, at rigid attention, as the man’s eyes silently debased him with their disapproving gaze. Spending the weekend in a jail cell was the worst moment of his life until he learned that Garran Holt, the person he was certain was responsible for his downfall, had ascended to his position as prefect.

  “I am very disappointed in you, Martin. I had high hopes for you.”

  “Sir, I swear, I do not know what happened, but I do know I did not raid the women’s dorms.”

  “You were found with the evidence in your room and hanging off your…person.”

  “I was set up! I know Holt framed me, and I’ll prove it if you give me a chance.”

  “I admit that Garran Holt becoming prefect is very suspicious. Tell me what you remember of that night.”

  Martin swallowed and shook his head as if to clear the lingering fog from his mind. “Classes went on as normal. I remember Garran missing two days of room inspections. I think he missed classes too. I started to feel odd shortly after dinner, so I went to my room and lay down.”

  “Odd how?”

  “I felt kind of drunk. At first, I just thought I had eaten something bad or was coming down with a fever. I was sweating a lot.” Martin looked toward his toes. “Then my…it was…and it would not go down, so I thought I would…take the situation in hand. I was not in my right mind by this time. Then I blacked out until the constables began pounding on my door and hauled me away.”

  Dean Kelsey rolled his tongue around in his mouth as he considered the possibilities. “It sounds like someone dosed you with rapture root extract.”

  Martin’s face brightened. “Then you believe me? Sir, you know I would never do something like this.”

  “I know, Martin. Garran Holt is a blight on this institution, and you are likely only the first to fall to the disease he spreads in his wake.”

  “Can you get me reinstated?”

  “I’m afraid not, Martin, not without concrete evidence of Garran’s sabotage. He also has some rather strong allies who will seek to thwart any attempt at expelling him.”

  The former student’s face fell. “Then I’m done here.”

  “Not necessarily. As I said, I had great hopes for you, and I still do. While you cannot continue training for the diplomatic corps, there are others who like to employ bright young men with promise. I will not expel you from the university. You will pursue alternative training while keeping an eye on Mr. Holt. He is not as immune as he might think, but any evidence we would use to punish him with must be irrefutable even to the highest authority.”

  Martin smiled, his face showing the relief he felt. “I will do my best, sir. I will do everything I can to see Garran expelled.”

  ***

  Garran pulled his ear away from the opening in the drainpipe set up next to Dean Kelsey’s window. He had been eavesdropping on the dean since the day after his raid and had spotted Martin entering the building. He naturally assumed that the former prefect was there to appeal his expulsion. It appeared as though Dean Kelsey was not going to let Garran’s actions go. That was unfortunate, but if the dean wanted to continue the war, then he would not sit idle.

  “You should have let it be, Dean Kelsey,” Garran said and made a detour to the infirmary before beginning another day of punishment detail.

  Garran tried to stroll into the infirmary without attracting attention, but an attendant stopped him midway down the hall. “Can I help you?”

  “Hi, yes, I was looking for a friend of mine.”

  “What is his name?” the older woman asked.

  “Uh…Justin. I’m not sure about his last name. I hit him on the head yesterday during training.”

  “He’s in the recovery ward down the hall to your left.”

  Garran tipped an imaginary hat and followed her directions. He spotted Justin lying in a bed amongst nearly a score of others, just over half of which were occupied with people suffering a variety of ailments and injuries.

  “Hey, Justin, how’s the head? Still tasting colors?”

  “No, but I can smell them. Did you know that blue smells like oranges? Weird huh?”

  “Yeah, that is odd. I just wanted to stop by and see how you are doing. I feel really bad about clonking you on the head—twice.”

  “Don’t worry about it. It was an accident. I guess it was just an unlucky day for me. They said I should be able to go back to school in a day or two.”

  “Is there anything I can do for you?”

  “Well, I could use something to drink. I guess there was a big rabble in the streets this weekend with people protesting Remiel’s slave labor, and the physics and attendants are stretched thin. Those of us in recovery sometimes get neglected.”

  Garran patted Justin on the leg. “I’ll be right back.”

  Garran poked his head out into the hallway before sneaking down the passage. He found a cart laden with a clay pitcher and several cups in a room with a sink and hand pump. He worked the handle until water began pouring from the spout and filled the jug. Plumbing still amazed him. He wondered briefly how many decades it would take for places like Wooder’s Bend to install such modern amenities.

  He pushed the cart bearing the pitcher of water and cups down the hall, but instead of returning to the recovery ward, he stopped at a room with a cabinet filled with various bottles and supplies. Disappointed that the cabinet did not contain any narcotics, he did find the primary focus of his search. Garran emptied the liquid contents of one of the brown bottles into the carafe before returning to the recovery ward.

  “Here we go, everybody,” Garran declared as he entered the room. He pulled a flask out of his coat pocket and dangled it in the air. “Who’s thirsty?”

  Garran filled the cups with water, spiked each one with a shot of booze, and passed them around the room. He raised his flask in toast. “Here’s to getting better.”

  “Oh, that tastes awful,” Justin said, his face contorting in disapproval.

  “Sorry, I didn’t bring the good stuff. Anyway, I should be going. I don’t want to get put on punishment detail by being late for my punishment detail.”

  “Sure, thanks for stopping by. I didn’t think you really gave a shi…oh…something’s not right,” Justin said and let out a large belch.

  Justin waved frantically at the bedpan sitting on a nearby table as he clamped his other hand over his mouth. All around the room, the patients covered their mouths and held their stomachs, fighting back a wave of nausea. Unable to suppress the mounting pressure any longer, vomit spewed between fingers and sprayed across the room.

  Garran fled into the hallway. “Help! Everyone to the recovery ward! We need help!”

  The same attendant whom Garran spoke to earlier raced down the hall. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “Dear God, it’s like something out of a nightmare! There’s puke everywhere! Get everyone to the recovery ward. Bring mops and buckets, quickly!”

  The few attendants and the physic on duty raced down the hall toward the commotion. Garran waded past them, fo
und the infirmary’s administration section, and darted into a room filled with books, ledgers, and stacks of papers. He located the most recent additions and browsed the sign-in sheets and physic’s notes. It did not take long for him to find what he was searching for, as both references were made within a day of each other.

  Garran left the disaster he created behind him and did not give it another thought as he headed across campus. He found Toby waiting for him near his cabin, standing next to a cart filled with a variety of tools and components needed to perform the afternoon’s tasks.

  “You’re late.”

  “You’re supposed to be a lunatic, so don’t break character by caring about the time.”

  Toby grinned. “Fair enough! Grab the cart.”

  The afternoon consisted of Garran’s least favorite activities. He and Toby dredged several ponds and dug weeds out from between the flagstone walkways. Garran actually enjoyed some of the maintenance-related tasks like carpentry and plumbing and such, but yard work was what made him truly feel like he was being punished.

  Toby called a halt to their labors as the sun began to set, stretching out the early evening shadows like a funhouse mirror a scant two hours after they started. To Garran, it felt like an entire day, so tedious did he find the work. They tossed their tools into the cart, but Garran did not grab the handles to push it back.

  “Toby, I want to stop by Dean Kelsey’s house before I return to my dorm. Can you take the cart back for me?”

  “Why do you want to go to the dean’s?”

  “Miss Kelsey has been so nice to me that I wanted to make sure she didn’t need anything done before I quit for the day.”

  Toby looked at Garran suspiciously. “What are you up to?”

  “What makes you think I’m up to something?”

  “I’ve been playing the fool for a long time, and I know bullcrap when I hear it.”

  “You’re so good at playing an idiot that I forget you’re quite astute. Anyway, that’s where I’m going.”

  “I said a man has to walk his own path, but it’s a fool thing to choose the one with bears on it. You go and poke the grizzly enough, he’s gonna maul you.”

  Garran grinned. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to poke the bear…I’m going to poke his wife.”

  Toby laughed and shook his head. “If you live past tomorrow, you have to tell me all about it. That Miss Kelsey is a fine old gal.”

  “Don’t worry, Toby, I plan on telling everyone.”

  Garran washed up at one of the ponds and made himself as presentable as he could before reaching the dean’s manor. He watched the house for several minutes before strolling up the walk and knocking on the door, just in case Dean Kelsey had changed his plans with his secretary. It appeared that he had not.

  Marla opened the door and flashed Garran a curious smile. “Garran, what can I do for you?”

  “Miss Kelsey, you have been really nice to Toby and me, and I don’t like the thought of someone misusing you.”

  “What do you mean, dear?”

  “Well…maybe it’s none of my business. I shouldn’t get involved in someone’s marriage, but it makes me so mad to see you not getting the appreciation you deserve.”

  Marla’s smile slid from her face and she opened the door wider. “Come inside and tell me what’s bothering you.”

  Garran hid his smile as he entered the posh living room and took a seat next to Miss Kelsey on her expensive sofa. “I was in the dean’s office a while back, and I saw this bill of sale on his desk.” He pulled the slip of paper from his pocket and handed it to Marla. “I didn’t think too much of it, but then I realized that it was the same necklace I saw his secretary, Vivian, wearing. Maybe it’s nothing, but it seemed to me to be awfully extravagant for a simple birthday gift or some such, and when I asked her about it she said that it had been her mother’s. I still let it go, thinking that my naturally suspicious nature was getting the best of me, but I was visiting a friend in the infirmary today and saw something else that concerned me.”

  Marla’s face was a mask of calm, but anger simmered just beneath the surface. “What did you see?”

  “I saw your husband and his secretary’s names in a physic’s ledger. I know I shouldn’t have snooped, but I’m an intelligence student, and the habit is hard for me to break. Under Dean Kelsey’s name, I saw that he had been treated for a stomach bug, but the day before, his secretary was treated for root rotter. Again, maybe it’s just coincidence, but we’re taught in school that few things are ever simple happenstance. It got me thinking that maybe the physic wrote down a different illness than what the dean was there for out of consideration for his station. If he is having an inappropriate relationship with his secretary and contracted such a horrible disease, I do not want you to suffer such a thing on account of her being a dirty whore.”

  Marla steeled her countenance in an effort to avoid showing the emotions welling up inside her. “Fat chance of that. The man has barely touched me in years.” Her façade shattered in an instant. “I’m such a damn fool! Even worse, I am an idiot. Damn that man!”

  “I am very sorry I upset you, Miss Kelsey.”

  Marla forced a small smile. “I knew what he was doing all these years, but I thought it would pass. Gods, how I wish I could make him feel as big a fool as I do.”

  Garran slid his hand atop of hers. “Maybe you can.”

  Marla wiped a tear from her eye and gave Garran a genuine smile. “You are very sweet, but you do not want an old woman like me.”

  “On the contrary, there is nothing more I would like right now.”

  “Even if I were willing to do that for the sake of revenge, it would only mean something if he knew about it.”

  “I want him to know. Men often do not appreciate what they have until someone else sets their sights on it.”

  “Philip would destroy you if he ever found out.”

  “I have friends far above him, and that makes me a very hard man to destroy.”

  Marla stared into Garran’s eyes, grabbed him by the wrist, and pulled him into what appeared to be Dean Kelsey’s study. Using her free hand, she swept everything off the desk onto the floor and sprawled across its polished surface.

  “Leave your boots on.”

  ***

  The sound of his door bursting open roused Garran from his sleep. It was the only warning he got before fists and truncheons battered him to the floor. The hail of blows did not stop until he blacked out and may well have continued for a time beyond his oblivion. Garran caught a glimpse of red cloaks, the only indication of whom his assailants were, before losing consciousness.

  The world returned in a flood of light and motion. Garran felt his feet scraping the ground and forced them to move, relieving some of the strain caused by the strong grip on his upper arms. He looked to his left and right and identified the two campus constables supporting his body between them and lugging him across the grounds. A third led the way a few paces ahead.

  The constables dragged their prisoner to the administration building and into Dean Kelsey’s office. Garran flashed Vivian a wink and a smile as he passed, earning him a vitriolic glare of abject hatred in return. The pair of constables hurled him onto the floor just before Dean Kelsey’s desk and stepped back.

  “Did you think you could defile my wife in my own house and I would just lie down for it?”

  Garran struggled to his feet and gave the dean a bloody-toothed smile. “The only one I cared about lying down was Marla.”

  A truncheon struck him in the back of his legs and returned him to the floor. He turned his head, locked eyes with the constables, and got back to his feet.

  “You are done here,” the dean continued. “Be glad I am only expelling you and not declaring a formal duel. You are hereby expelled from this course and banned from ever stepping foot on the campus again.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Dean Kelsey’s face clouded and he leaned forward in his chair. “I b
eg your pardon?”

  “You’ll be begging for a lot more than that if you ever send goons to put hands on me again.” Garran spun around and raised a finger to the constable about to deliver another blow with his cudgel. “Don’t. I’ll deal with you three shortly.”

  Caught off guard by the youth’s bravado and commanding tone, the constable checked his swing and took a step back. Garran turned to face the dean.

  “Even if consorting with the neglected wife of a campus official was against the rules, which it is not, Gregor Ward wants me here, and he will not allow you to remove me from the program.”

  “I do not know what interest Agent Ward has in you, but you need to be clear about the chain of authority. While Gregor is the chief agent, I run this program. I decide who attends and who graduates, not him. When it comes to this course I am a god.”

  Garran shook his head. “You are a priest at best, although many priests have trouble understanding the vast gulf that lies between their mortal positions and godhood. Gregor Ward is also the man closest to the king. If Gregor wants me here, then that means Remiel wants me here. If the king wants me here, then it is going to take the act of God, and I mean the real one, not some bureaucrat with an inflated sense of importance, to remove me. Let’s face it; as long as I pass my classes, you’re stuck with me. You can make my life miserable and try to drive me out, but I will do the same to you, and I think I am far more tenacious than you are. I’m like a bad case of root rot. You think you have me beaten, but I come back with a stinging vengeance when you least expect it. I suggest that we declare a truce. I will stay away from you and your interests, and you stop trying to sabotage my education. Let my abilities decide whether or not I graduate.”

  Dean Kelsey shifted in his seat and unconsciously adjusted the front of his trousers. “I will not lower the standards of my program no matter your threats or who sponsors you. Fail to meet the criteria I have established, and no one, not even the king, can save you from expulsion.”