I asked for everyone’s understanding and swiftly excused myself. My steps, loudly resounding against the ground, took me towards the path enshrouded in lilac trees while Ms Olsberg chased after me. It took her no time to arrive beside me. She was fast, strong, and a great marksman — capable, in simple words. I realised that I admired many of her traits then. And while brushing the wet leaves aside, we continued towards the hospital building.
The wind swept my hair which had turned a lonely ashen grey. I liked the colour, and each strand felt far softer. I need a change of clothes, I told myself. I had carefully removed the moisture off my clothes before continuing the walk back, but the unexpected visit of rain only worsened my state, and without removing the ring, I could do little against the mighty burst from the heavens. I shan’t remove the ring, I warned myself. At the least, the temperature was regulated, and the rain would eventually let up. I felt no cold despite the mist setting in.
On our way, I asked Ms Olsberg a few questions that concerned me now that my head had significantly cleared. ‘Do you mind answering a few questions for me, Ms Olsberg?’ I asked politely as the clinks of my pocket watch and chain created an accompanying melody.
‘Why, of course not.’
‘Is the hunt always so controversial?’
‘No.’ Even while speaking and answering simultaneously, she did not seem the least bit bothered. ‘It was a grim scene. We are used to occasional accidents, but this time was an exception. We are used to ambushing them rather than being ambushed. Does not feel very flattering on the other end. I realised that today.’ She clicked her tongue in apparent displeasure. ‘Ambush not only allows us to end them without casualties but also requires less personnel.’
‘Why not hunt in the day?’
‘They hide. In the mornings, they hide — and hunt at night. To chase them after daybreak suggests to invade their den which is a greater risk,’ she flatly said. ‘We would require more hands and meticulous planning.’
‘Why not erase them once and for all?’ My suggestion was chilling, but I believed having wolf packs amidst an academic institution was anything but wise.
The green-eyed woman gave me a mysterious smile. ‘Mr Neumic says the same.’ That was least flattering, but her voice bore no implications. ‘The Professor of Theology disagrees though. Senseless murder, he calls it, and many agree. None can blame him.’ We exited the familiar path and took a moment to breathe before continuing. The break was for me, not for her. ‘When you imagine yourself entering someone’s home and slaughtering their young… Well, it isn’t what many of us would call duty. We also prefer it this way. Keeps the blade and senses sharp.’ After seeing the beasts that were three times larger than a medium-sized dog, I had complicated thoughts about sparing them.
Suddenly, an odd term came to mind — Executioner’s Mercy. The Empire of Reece used to employ it. It was exercised when a man was condemned to death but the executioner did not wish to end a life for whatever reason. So the judiciaries began employing bloodthirsty maniacs one step away from degeneracy as executioners in the reign of Ectuse the III. And so fell an empire, corrupted and vile, hundred years later. I cleared my thoughts. I had digressed before I knew. ‘Why on the full moons? Why not hunt on regular nights?’ I asked.
‘Tradition. They become frenzied at the sight of a full moon.’ Our feet resounded on the paved stone path in the silent early mornings. ‘The less intelligent they are, the easier their movements and intent become.’ She took a breath and looked at me. ‘It is less of a hunt and more of a culling, but a decade ago, it used to be a tradition where even students took part.’
‘Is it unique to the academy?’ I believed not.
‘It has been a tradition for the academy. We even celebrated it. Later, it evolved into a need because of the rapidly rising numbers. Students were forbidden from partaking then.’ She looked around, searching for the path in the dark. The lamppost nearby was not lit and I wondered why. ‘It started from the academy, but it did not take long for the whole of Celbrun to adopt. On each full moon, the City Hall of Celbrun sends for stationed officers to clear the beasts. Many a time, mercenaries are involved.’ She gave a cryptic smile. ‘Even if casualties occur, the city won’t suffer.’
‘Do you gather they too had a bad hunt?’
For moments, she was silent. ‘Do you not believe that the woman was responsible for it?’ she asked a moment later, genuine as she could seem.
‘No,’ I answered without a moment’s hesitation.
‘Then, I can only wonder.’
My barrage of questions did not end there. I had made a mental list full of queries, and it demanded answers while the memory was fresh. ‘Is the red moon special? Why were we not aware of it?’
‘Red moon, as you know, is a very rare occurrence. I am as much in the dark about its effects on the world and if it had anything to do with the beasts’ behaviour. Professor Henry — that is Carson Henry, the Professor of Meteorology — has been occupied with some research. He has been gone for a whole year now. Not many professors can afford such a long leave, but the man is old — one of the senior ones. If he were here, he could have warned us. A scarlet moon can be observed from very few areas. If we had known about it, we would have planned ahead. Hunts on red moons are called off. Old wives’ tales call it horrid. Superstition, all.’
‘Why did we not leave then?’
‘As I said — superstition. We have no knowledge if it truly does bring harm. Add to that the attack on your student, and we could not wait until the next full moon.’ I listened to her intently as the rain became gentler. Our steps were taking us to a familiar place — one blurry in memory.
Silence filled the air, and reluctantly, I asked another question. ‘What did Mr Rupert say? Did he mention why he led us there and why?’
‘You could have asked him.’ She looked at me funnily as if I was a shy child.
‘I was rightfully occupied by my latest face, I should think,’ haughtily I replied. You may call me a boy, but treating me as a child was out of the question.
‘Others were more so.’
‘…Indeed.’ That was a well-placed stab — friendly yet effective. Attention, a double-edged sword, was something I craved as a child. Not anymore.
‘Nothing remarkable,’ she answered honestly with a sigh, a little exhausted from my questioning. ‘He was chased, he says, by a pack. Fortunately, he managed to hide. He is a good climber. He is the only one of the scouts who prefer to lay on trees.’ Like an ape, she cursed under her breath. ‘A coward really, fears for his life. It saved him though. He was hiding on a branch when he noticed the pack that was waiting for him below. Scared the world out of him. He hid, rid them of him, and was about to run away when he felt as if someone stared at him. A coward’s instinct… I am surprised he confronted it rather than running away. He chased the feeling towards the ravine while leaving marks for us. And there, he was captured. Same story with Clara's group.’
‘Why did he not inform us?’
‘He dropped his flare gun, that numbskull.’ The woman chewed on her lips. I did not believe she would ever be cursing in front of me, but here she was. ‘He will be penalised later, I am sure. One less person would have died had he completed his task.’ In her voice was disdain, and to some degree, I agreed with her. Well, at the least, he chased after her.
I was pensive, wondering if I had any further curiosity that needed to be satisfied, when Ms Olsberg suddenly said, ‘You have a lot of questions, Professor.’
Oh, I have many more. ‘Curiosity.’
‘Curiosity kills the cat, Professor.’
‘Thankfully, I am not a feline.’
She sniggered and led me further in. Soon, I saw the familiar fountain and the row of wooden benches. The white building was just behind them. ‘Do you feel fine?’ the strong-willed, liberatingly attractive woman asked.
‘Hm?’
‘The face.’
‘Oh, yes.’ I lightly swept the question. ‘Nothing unusual.’
‘I hope you don’t mind my asking professor,’ she said in a serious tone, ‘as this is not something one sees each day.’ She pointed at my face. ‘Do you not feel any discomfort? You are not unharmed? Is it permanent?’
I pondered for a while. ‘Yes. It is permanent. It is not really a…harm, I suppose.’
‘I would rather not delve further into it; I hope you understand.’ I gave a faint, affirming grunt. She seemed satisfied with it. ‘Will Arcane Knowledge affect the students too?’ she asked suddenly.
‘No.’ That was a firm answer. That was the only answer. For a while, silence lingered about us. I did not say anything, and she did not pry. We were nearly at our destination. ‘…do you believe the torrent from before has caused harm?’ Those words slipped me, uneventfully, unbeknownst to me.
‘No.’ Her answer was far sturdier and her voice confident. ‘The trail it left, towards the northeast, implies that it only went through the woods and forests. Perhaps, you ended up causing harm to wildlife, but no man died.’ She gave me a reassuring smile, but I felt anything but reassured. Survival of men was wonderful, but knowing that I caused harm to the forest was disheartening. I, of all men, should not be doing that.
My questions halted, and soon, we arrived at the white building. The stentorian voice of the disgruntled Head Nurse was what greeted us as she saw us entering, drenched from head to toe. She carried, in her arms, a lamp and a packet of mothballs that, though necessary, repulsed me with its scent. I considered it for a second. Does that make me a moth? Of course not. Even the joking thought made me shudder.
The old woman was very much not pleased with us dragging ourselves to the home of the sick and infirm early in the morning. ‘There was that man who broke his ribs too,’ she kept fussing while I dried myself and Ms Olsberg with magic. Charming as I was, outside the entrance, I scattered the blobs of water that had been gathered, making small splashes which further angered the old lady. I sincerely apologised.
I wondered what she thought we were doing out in the woods, but 'be careful next time' was not wise advice in my very honest opinion. I would rather be sitting in my new house, sipping tea, pretending to be a handsome and rich nobleman instead of running around killing beasts. But the woman is old. The old ones were mostly irate and knew not of fun. I was afraid I might turn into such a depressing sight one day, so I tottered away as soon as I could. Before I could find myself out of her sight, I heard her asking about my hair and face, having realised I was that professor — yes, that one — the one that burnt his hand. ‘What did you do this time?’ I heard her voice, over the gentle rain, now some distance away.
Does she think I am doing this deliberately? I wondered, taking the stairs. Burn a hand each day; run the doctor’s way.
I rushed through the many corridors that greeted me as Ms Olsberg helped. After climbing a few stairs, we found ourselves in a familiar hallway. ‘This way,’ Ms Olsberg said as I followed behind. There was urgency on both of our faces. I was afraid that simply waking may not have healed her. Of course not. There was a lingering fear that she may be distraught and much worse.
We rushed towards the closed door that emanated light from the thin gap at its base. Ms Olsberg waited for me in the doorway as I made towards her, huffing and puffing. With a short breath, I knocked on the door while the green-eyed woman waited beside me. It was rather awkward for both of us to be back in a civil environment. We had killed, slaughtered, and buried. We had watched the spilt guts and red-tinted leaves. It was a bizarre experience and the disparity from now and then only added to the disconnection.
We heard footsteps behind the door, and soon, the door was opened gently. To my surprise, a face I hadn’t expected was there.
‘Ms Orchard?’ I mumbled.
She looked at me for a minute as if perplexed. ‘…Lile?’ she uttered, breaking away from her usual stoicism. ‘What happened?’ She had a deep frown on her face which felt unlike her. ‘You look different, and is that a scar?’ She suddenly moved a step closer, and to my surprise, sniffed the air delicately. Ivory be good! I felt my heart jump out of its cage. She was mere inches away from me.
My heart raced. The perfect shape of that nose was something to admire. I kept it to myself, but I was realising once again that I was an admirer of delicate features. They had a sensuous nature to them. Not to sound like a narcissist but my own nose was shaped nicely. In mirrors, long ago, I had found a sense of confidence that held me from being a recluse. I did not wish for any immoral thoughts, but seeing Ms Orchard’s face was tantalising. Her nose suited her. That was the best thing about Olish girls — the little, sensuous noses. ‘Jasmine,’ she muttered. ‘Feminine perfume, Lile?’ She showed a plain face, examining the abnormality under my right eye.
From boyish to womanish, I thought, recalling the face I had seen on the surface of the pond. And never a shred of manly… Depressing thoughts engulfed me, but I shrugged them off. Now is not about me. ‘Recount in detail for me, yes?’ she said, ushering us in. I walked in, looking at the bed with a large frown. Ms Lasfield, though full of colour, was still not conscious. Before I could ask, Ms Orchard said, ‘She went to sleep a while ago. The medicines put her to sleep. They are strong.’
I nodded while taking a seat on the nearby sofa alongside Ms Olsberg. ‘How come you are here, Ms Orchard?’ I asked, looking at the woman’s rather light clothing. It was not informal, but she wore no coat or suit. A plain white shirt, dark blue trousers, and a rather comfortable bow tie accompanied her loafers.
‘I volunteered. Someone needs to note the girl’s behaviour,’ she said while pouring hot water in teacups. A sudden realisation dawned on me. ‘I am here to see if she suffers from any aftereffects, mentally.’ I understood the sentiment. Her injuries were anything but superficial. Add to it the perverse behaviour of her attacker, and we find an extremely scarred child. I was sure the girl will never be the same again. But there was a world of difference between a minor change and a major one. ‘How was the hunt?’ she asked, her pretty blue eyes scanning my new appearance.
‘Terrible,’ I answered. ‘We had…accidents.’
The woman lightly raised an eyebrow. ‘What kind?’
‘The kind that ends up killing men,’ replied Ms Olsberg, skimming through the newspaper from the day before. ‘It will make headlines.’
‘You weren’t hurt?’ she asked me.
‘Fortunately.’
The charming woman nodded. ‘What then’ — she offered us tea, placing the cups in front of us with the etiquette that a peasant like me could not imitate — ‘caused this?’ Her eyes lingered on my eyes as she took a seat in front of us. Like always, they did not seem to bear any semblance of interest, but I could tell she was intrigued. That was the worst part of living in an academic institute — each and every one is intrigued. I told her the story minus the part where I cried. That bit was reserved for my demons; a special privilege, if you will. She listened to it with great intent.
In the early morning hours — when the light had yet to bless us, in the quarters of a sick child, under the light of warm lamps — I recounted a harrowing story which Ms Orchard listened to with great intent. All the while, Ms Olsberg kept reading the paper. ‘Quite an adventure,’ the blue-eyed lady remarked as I approached the end of my heroic tale. I was no Marcus, but it cost me nothing to portray myself as such. Though, in hindsight, Ms Olsberg must have seemed the better of the bunch. ‘More tea?’ she asked.
And with delight, ‘Thank you,’ we cried. The night had been rough, and only this charming lady seemed kind.
I asked for everyone’s understanding and swiftly excused myself. My steps, loudly resounding against the ground, took me towards the path enshrouded in lilac trees while Ms Olsberg chased after me. It took her no time to arrive beside me. She was fast, strong, and a great marksman — capable, in simple words. I realised that I admired many of her traits then. And while brushing the wet leaves aside, we continued towards the hospital building.
The wind swept my hair which had turned a lonely ashen grey. I liked the colour, and each strand felt far softer. I need a change of clothes, I told myself. I had carefully removed the moisture off my clothes before continuing the walk back, but the unexpected visit of rain only worsened my state, and without removing the ring, I could do little against the mighty burst from the heavens. I shan’t remove the ring, I warned myself. At the least, the temperature was regulated, and the rain would eventually let up. I felt no cold despite the mist setting in.
On our way, I asked Ms Olsberg a few questions that concerned me now that my head had significantly cleared. ‘Do you mind answering a few questions for me, Ms Olsberg?’ I asked politely as the clinks of my pocket watch and chain created an accompanying melody.
‘Why, of course not.’
‘Is the hunt always so controversial?’
‘No.’ Even while speaking and answering simultaneously, she did not seem the least bit bothered. ‘It was a grim scene. We are used to occasional accidents, but this time was an exception. We are used to ambushing them rather than being ambushed. Does not feel very flattering on the other end. I realised that today.’ She clicked her tongue in apparent displeasure. ‘Ambush not only allows us to end them without casualties but also requires less personnel.’
‘Why not hunt in the day?’
‘They hide. In the mornings, they hide — and hunt at night. To chase them after daybreak suggests to invade their den which is a greater risk,’ she flatly said. ‘We would require more hands and meticulous planning.’
‘Why not erase them once and for all?’ My suggestion was chilling, but I believed having wolf packs amidst an academic institution was anything but wise.
The green-eyed woman gave me a mysterious smile. ‘Mr Neumic says the same.’ That was least flattering, but her voice bore no implications. ‘The Professor of Theology disagrees though. Senseless murder, he calls it, and many agree. None can blame him.’ We exited the familiar path and took a moment to breathe before continuing. The break was for me, not for her. ‘When you imagine yourself entering someone’s home and slaughtering their young… Well, it isn’t what many of us would call duty. We also prefer it this way. Keeps the blade and senses sharp.’ After seeing the beasts that were three times larger than a medium-sized dog, I had complicated thoughts about sparing them.
Suddenly, an odd term came to mind — Executioner’s Mercy. The Empire of Reece used to employ it. It was exercised when a man was condemned to death but the executioner did not wish to end a life for whatever reason. So the judiciaries began employing bloodthirsty maniacs one step away from degeneracy as executioners in the reign of Ectuse the III. And so fell an empire, corrupted and vile, hundred years later. I cleared my thoughts. I had digressed before I knew. ‘Why on the full moons? Why not hunt on regular nights?’ I asked.
‘Tradition. They become frenzied at the sight of a full moon.’ Our feet resounded on the paved stone path in the silent early mornings. ‘The less intelligent they are, the easier their movements and intent become.’ She took a breath and looked at me. ‘It is less of a hunt and more of a culling, but a decade ago, it used to be a tradition where even students took part.’
‘Is it unique to the academy?’ I believed not.
‘It has been a tradition for the academy. We even celebrated it. Later, it evolved into a need because of the rapidly rising numbers. Students were forbidden from partaking then.’ She looked around, searching for the path in the dark. The lamppost nearby was not lit and I wondered why. ‘It started from the academy, but it did not take long for the whole of Celbrun to adopt. On each full moon, the City Hall of Celbrun sends for stationed officers to clear the beasts. Many a time, mercenaries are involved.’ She gave a cryptic smile. ‘Even if casualties occur, the city won’t suffer.’
‘Do you gather they too had a bad hunt?’
For moments, she was silent. ‘Do you not believe that the woman was responsible for it?’ she asked a moment later, genuine as she could seem.
‘No,’ I answered without a moment’s hesitation.
‘Then, I can only wonder.’
My barrage of questions did not end there. I had made a mental list full of queries, and it demanded answers while the memory was fresh. ‘Is the red moon special? Why were we not aware of it?’
‘Red moon, as you know, is a very rare occurrence. I am as much in the dark about its effects on the world and if it had anything to do with the beasts’ behaviour. Professor Henry — that is Carson Henry, the Professor of Meteorology — has been occupied with some research. He has been gone for a whole year now. Not many professors can afford such a long leave, but the man is old — one of the senior ones. If he were here, he could have warned us. A scarlet moon can be observed from very few areas. If we had known about it, we would have planned ahead. Hunts on red moons are called off. Old wives’ tales call it horrid. Superstition, all.’
‘Why did we not leave then?’
‘As I said — superstition. We have no knowledge if it truly does bring harm. Add to that the attack on your student, and we could not wait until the next full moon.’ I listened to her intently as the rain became gentler. Our steps were taking us to a familiar place — one blurry in memory.
Silence filled the air, and reluctantly, I asked another question. ‘What did Mr Rupert say? Did he mention why he led us there and why?’
‘You could have asked him.’ She looked at me funnily as if I was a shy child.
‘I was rightfully occupied by my latest face, I should think,’ haughtily I replied. You may call me a boy, but treating me as a child was out of the question.
‘Others were more so.’
‘…Indeed.’ That was a well-placed stab — friendly yet effective. Attention, a double-edged sword, was something I craved as a child. Not anymore.
‘Nothing remarkable,’ she answered honestly with a sigh, a little exhausted from my questioning. ‘He was chased, he says, by a pack. Fortunately, he managed to hide. He is a good climber. He is the only one of the scouts who prefer to lay on trees.’ Like an ape, she cursed under her breath. ‘A coward really, fears for his life. It saved him though. He was hiding on a branch when he noticed the pack that was waiting for him below. Scared the world out of him. He hid, rid them of him, and was about to run away when he felt as if someone stared at him. A coward’s instinct… I am surprised he confronted it rather than running away. He chased the feeling towards the ravine while leaving marks for us. And there, he was captured. Same story with Clara's group.’
‘Why did he not inform us?’
‘He dropped his flare gun, that numbskull.’ The woman chewed on her lips. I did not believe she would ever be cursing in front of me, but here she was. ‘He will be penalised later, I am sure. One less person would have died had he completed his task.’ In her voice was disdain, and to some degree, I agreed with her. Well, at the least, he chased after her.
I was pensive, wondering if I had any further curiosity that needed to be satisfied, when Ms Olsberg suddenly said, ‘You have a lot of questions, Professor.’
Oh, I have many more. ‘Curiosity.’
‘Curiosity kills the cat, Professor.’
‘Thankfully, I am not a feline.’
She sniggered and led me further in. Soon, I saw the familiar fountain and the row of wooden benches. The white building was just behind them. ‘Do you feel fine?’ the strong-willed, liberatingly attractive woman asked.
‘Hm?’
‘The face.’
‘Oh, yes.’ I lightly swept the question. ‘Nothing unusual.’
‘I hope you don’t mind my asking professor,’ she said in a serious tone, ‘as this is not something one sees each day.’ She pointed at my face. ‘Do you not feel any discomfort? You are not unharmed? Is it permanent?’
I pondered for a while. ‘Yes. It is permanent. It is not really a…harm, I suppose.’
‘I would rather not delve further into it; I hope you understand.’ I gave a faint, affirming grunt. She seemed satisfied with it. ‘Will Arcane Knowledge affect the students too?’ she asked suddenly.
‘No.’ That was a firm answer. That was the only answer. For a while, silence lingered about us. I did not say anything, and she did not pry. We were nearly at our destination. ‘…do you believe the torrent from before has caused harm?’ Those words slipped me, uneventfully, unbeknownst to me.
‘No.’ Her answer was far sturdier and her voice confident. ‘The trail it left, towards the northeast, implies that it only went through the woods and forests. Perhaps, you ended up causing harm to wildlife, but no man died.’ She gave me a reassuring smile, but I felt anything but reassured. Survival of men was wonderful, but knowing that I caused harm to the forest was disheartening. I, of all men, should not be doing that.
My questions halted, and soon, we arrived at the white building. The stentorian voice of the disgruntled Head Nurse was what greeted us as she saw us entering, drenched from head to toe. She carried, in her arms, a lamp and a packet of mothballs that, though necessary, repulsed me with its scent. I considered it for a second. Does that make me a moth? Of course not. Even the joking thought made me shudder.
The old woman was very much not pleased with us dragging ourselves to the home of the sick and infirm early in the morning. ‘There was that man who broke his ribs too,’ she kept fussing while I dried myself and Ms Olsberg with magic. Charming as I was, outside the entrance, I scattered the blobs of water that had been gathered, making small splashes which further angered the old lady. I sincerely apologised.
I wondered what she thought we were doing out in the woods, but 'be careful next time' was not wise advice in my very honest opinion. I would rather be sitting in my new house, sipping tea, pretending to be a handsome and rich nobleman instead of running around killing beasts. But the woman is old. The old ones were mostly irate and knew not of fun. I was afraid I might turn into such a depressing sight one day, so I tottered away as soon as I could. Before I could find myself out of her sight, I heard her asking about my hair and face, having realised I was that professor — yes, that one — the one that burnt his hand. ‘What did you do this time?’ I heard her voice, over the gentle rain, now some distance away.
Does she think I am doing this deliberately? I wondered, taking the stairs. Burn a hand each day; run the doctor’s way.
I rushed through the many corridors that greeted me as Ms Olsberg helped. After climbing a few stairs, we found ourselves in a familiar hallway. ‘This way,’ Ms Olsberg said as I followed behind. There was urgency on both of our faces. I was afraid that simply waking may not have healed her. Of course not. There was a lingering fear that she may be distraught and much worse.
We rushed towards the closed door that emanated light from the thin gap at its base. Ms Olsberg waited for me in the doorway as I made towards her, huffing and puffing. With a short breath, I knocked on the door while the green-eyed woman waited beside me. It was rather awkward for both of us to be back in a civil environment. We had killed, slaughtered, and buried. We had watched the spilt guts and red-tinted leaves. It was a bizarre experience and the disparity from now and then only added to the disconnection.
We heard footsteps behind the door, and soon, the door was opened gently. To my surprise, a face I hadn’t expected was there.
‘Ms Orchard?’ I mumbled.
She looked at me for a minute as if perplexed. ‘…Lile?’ she uttered, breaking away from her usual stoicism. ‘What happened?’ She had a deep frown on her face which felt unlike her. ‘You look different, and is that a scar?’ She suddenly moved a step closer, and to my surprise, sniffed the air delicately. Ivory be good! I felt my heart jump out of its cage. She was mere inches away from me.
My heart raced. The perfect shape of that nose was something to admire. I kept it to myself, but I was realising once again that I was an admirer of delicate features. They had a sensuous nature to them. Not to sound like a narcissist but my own nose was shaped nicely. In mirrors, long ago, I had found a sense of confidence that held me from being a recluse. I did not wish for any immoral thoughts, but seeing Ms Orchard’s face was tantalising. Her nose suited her. That was the best thing about Olish girls — the little, sensuous noses. ‘Jasmine,’ she muttered. ‘Feminine perfume, Lile?’ She showed a plain face, examining the abnormality under my right eye.
From boyish to womanish, I thought, recalling the face I had seen on the surface of the pond. And never a shred of manly… Depressing thoughts engulfed me, but I shrugged them off. Now is not about me. ‘Recount in detail for me, yes?’ she said, ushering us in. I walked in, looking at the bed with a large frown. Ms Lasfield, though full of colour, was still not conscious. Before I could ask, Ms Orchard said, ‘She went to sleep a while ago. The medicines put her to sleep. They are strong.’
I nodded while taking a seat on the nearby sofa alongside Ms Olsberg. ‘How come you are here, Ms Orchard?’ I asked, looking at the woman’s rather light clothing. It was not informal, but she wore no coat or suit. A plain white shirt, dark blue trousers, and a rather comfortable bow tie accompanied her loafers.
‘I volunteered. Someone needs to note the girl’s behaviour,’ she said while pouring hot water in teacups. A sudden realisation dawned on me. ‘I am here to see if she suffers from any aftereffects, mentally.’ I understood the sentiment. Her injuries were anything but superficial. Add to it the perverse behaviour of her attacker, and we find an extremely scarred child. I was sure the girl will never be the same again. But there was a world of difference between a minor change and a major one. ‘How was the hunt?’ she asked, her pretty blue eyes scanning my new appearance.
‘Terrible,’ I answered. ‘We had…accidents.’
The woman lightly raised an eyebrow. ‘What kind?’
‘The kind that ends up killing men,’ replied Ms Olsberg, skimming through the newspaper from the day before. ‘It will make headlines.’
‘You weren’t hurt?’ she asked me.
‘Fortunately.’
The charming woman nodded. ‘What then’ — she offered us tea, placing the cups in front of us with the etiquette that a peasant like me could not imitate — ‘caused this?’ Her eyes lingered on my eyes as she took a seat in front of us. Like always, they did not seem to bear any semblance of interest, but I could tell she was intrigued. That was the worst part of living in an academic institute — each and every one is intrigued. I told her the story minus the part where I cried. That bit was reserved for my demons; a special privilege, if you will. She listened to it with great intent.
In the early morning hours — when the light had yet to bless us, in the quarters of a sick child, under the light of warm lamps — I recounted a harrowing story which Ms Orchard listened to with great intent. All the while, Ms Olsberg kept reading the paper. ‘Quite an adventure,’ the blue-eyed lady remarked as I approached the end of my heroic tale. I was no Marcus, but it cost me nothing to portray myself as such. Though, in hindsight, Ms Olsberg must have seemed the better of the bunch. ‘More tea?’ she asked.
And with delight, ‘Thank you,’ we cried. The night had been rough, and only this charming lady seemed kind.
