Title: The Towe: Chapter Four, Part Two
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Chapter Four, Part
Two
Anton was never one to regret time spent in study, but even
for a student as keen as himself, the day dragged. It didn’t help that he had
no time to spend on his own work—he assisted in the first two classes, then
narrowly evaded being dragged to a lunch he no doubt couldn’t afford by
Montgomery and his companions by hiding—or rather, evading notice—in an empty
classroom.
The increasing interest that the other man had in trying to
monopolize Anton’s time was irritating, and put him in mind of a little boy
who, upon being told no, promptly
threw a tantrum. Probably at this point, the fastest way to get rid of the man
would be to go and waste some time with him in a public setting, to make it
clear that whatever game they were playing at, he had won. It would require
nothing more than for Anton to swallow his pride, really. He ignored the uncomfortable
squirming sensation in his stomach at the thought of being seen with peers of
the realm, however removed they were from their homeland, and mentally shook
his head. Perhaps when he had resolved things with Camille. For now, he had no
time to waste on braggarts and buffoons.
After lunch Anton had office hours, which were interrupted
halfway through by Doctor Grable himself. He shooed the underclassman out of
the small room that had been set aside near his own, much larger office, shut
the door, and turned his famous glare on Anton as he crossed his arms.
Doctor
Grable was a brilliant thaumaturge, one of the few researchers who Caroline
spoke well of, as well as a reputation for prowess at using his gift in combat.
Where he had learned such skills no one was exactly sure, and the dour,
stern-faced doctor wasn’t saying, but everything about his demeanor, from his
craggy face and stormy brow to his stark black robes, warned the wary to tread
cautiously. The unwary rarely got far enough to annoy him before he removed
them from his presence. And now he was here.
Anton gulped.
“I understand you’ve been in contact with one of our emperor’s
lumières.”
Wait, what? Anton
thought the whole reason Camille had gone without him to see Doctor Grable was
to keep his involvement quiet. His mentor must have read something of his
confusion in his face.
“After Lord Lumière informed me of the circumstances of the
deaths, I offered him the use of my best forensic thaumaturge—you. He politely
refused, which is not the action of a man who wishes to solve crimes. It didn’t
take long to realize that he must have felt at liberty to refuse my offer
because you had already given him assistance. This whole matter…does it have
anything to do with that bloody business on the train?”
“No, sir.” Anton found his tongue at last. “No, not at all.
That is merely where I made his acquaintance. There’s no connection, as far as
I know.”
“But you are working with him.”
“He asked for my assistance and I gave it.”
“Then you know what—who—he’s
looking for.”
“Broadly speaking,” Anton extemporized. Doctor Grable didn’t
seem to appreciate it. He took two steps closer, the storminess of his thoughts
darkening his eyes.
“If there is a murderer among our students, I want to know
about it. It becomes my business, whether Lord Lumière wishes it or not,
because I am responsible for them.” He held up a hand as Anton opened his
mouth. “In the broadest sense, I am responsible for the actions of all the
gifted who reside in this school. If one of them is misusing their gift in such
a heinous way, then it falls on me to act. Not him. Me.” The passion in his voice spoke of violence, and Anton barely
resisted the urge to shudder. When Doctor Grable took a step back, it was as
though Anton could finally breathe again. “I trust you’ll tell him this when
next you see him.”
“Oh, I—I don’t know if—”
“Don’t bother trying to deny it—he would be a fool not to make
more use of you. You might be rather too narrowly focused in your studies at
times, but where you make an effort, your results are always exemplary.” It was
perhaps the first open and direct compliment Anton had ever had from the man,
and he tried not to let the glow of accomplishment it lit within his chest
shine too brightly on his face. “That said, if you don’t involve me in the
prosecution of this matter, I am perfectly prepared to make your life quite
difficult, Mr. Seiber. Quite
difficult. Do you understand me?”
The glow was promptly snuffed out. “I do, Doctor.”
“Good. Carry on, then. Consider yourself relieved of your
teaching duties until this mess is resolved.”
“I—thank you.”
“Thank me by catching the bastard responsible for this.” A
moment later Doctor Grable let himself out, and Anton slumped back into his
chair, winded without even having moved. He wasn’t intimidated by many people—annoyed
by them, forced to be polite to them, reluctantly respectful to them yes, but
intimidated? That honor was reserved for people he was attracted to and Doctor
Grable, possibly not in that order.
Being relieved of his teaching duties was pleasant, but of
course no one had thought to tell the students that, and Anton felt obliged to
see the ones who had been waiting outside his office before leaving. By the
time he was done with them all, the sun had vanished over the edge of the
mountains, the time to meet with Camille was drawing near, and he had managed
once again to eat nothing since breakfast. Anton stopped in the dormitory long
enough to grab a cup of tea, constantly alert to evading notice, but he seemed
to have weathered the worst of other peoples’ unwanted attentions at this
point. He grabbed his holdall, not sure what might be required of him this
evening but wanting to be prepared for anything, and headed to Camille’s inn.
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