Page 44 of Professor and the Seer
Frieda glanced at him with panic in her eyes. He offered her a soft, “You don’t have to tell her, but this is a safe place. Everyone here has an arcane ability.”
Jessica nodded. “Me, I’m all about the plants. I can grow one from a seed to bloom in a day.”
For a second, he thought Frieda would decline, but so quietly as to almost not be heard, she said, “I see things.”
“Like ghosts?”
“I wish.” A vehement statement from Frieda. “I see the future mostly.”
“Wow!” Jessica’s eyes widened. “That’s got to be freaky. I mean, forget being surprised for your birthday and Christmas.”
The comment made Frieda chuckle. “Yeah, it did drive my sisters nuts because I would thank them before even opening gifts. Would you like to know what I see for you?”
Jessica scrunched her nose. “Not really. I mean, if I know then I might change it and then it won’t happen, and what if it was awesome and I ruined it?”
A soft smile crossed Frieda’s face. “How about I just say you’re going to have a long and happy life. But whatever you do, don’t wear your white jeans on your date next week.”
Wide eyes went with Jessica’s bobbing head. “Oh, thanks for the warning. Hope the professor manages to surprise you. Be warned, he loves giving random quizzes.”
Jessica bounced off, and Frieda eyed him. “I thought you were a researcher.”
“I am. When it comes to teaching, I mostly substitute unless it’s something I’m very knowledgeable about. That said, the times I do impart my wisdom, I tend to test the students to keep them on their toes.”
“I aced all my exams,” she admitted. “I could see the answers. My teachers always assumed I was cheating. They weren’t wrong, but at the same time, they couldn’t prove it. They’d give me a test, stand over me as I wrote it, and bam. I’d get everything right.”
“Handy skill. What did you get a diploma in?”
“Nothing. I dropped out my first year of college because I knew I’d never be able to have a normal career.”
“A shame your mother didn’t send you here for your education.”
“You have professors that can see the future?”
“No, but you would have been able to learn mind-shielding, basic arcana, and we might have met when younger.” He grinned at her, and to his pleasure, she returned it.
“I don’t know if you’d have wanted to date me. I scared a lot of people away, answering questions they hadn’t yet voiced aloud. Trying to guide them from harm.”
“Humans sometimes have difficulty accepting that which they don’t understand.”
Her head cocked as she mused aloud, “You really aren’t bothered by my power, are you?”
“Nope.”
“You were freaked out when you woke up to me being an ice cube, though?”
“I was worried about you. I don’t want to see you come to harm,” he softly murmured as he dropped a light kiss on her lips. “Now, let’s go see the damage. Just promise you’ll still respect me if I start to cry.”
Her lips curved. “I promise to not judge. If it helps, I’d cry, too, if my library got damaged.”
The second he walked into the library the damage became readily evident. As Jessica stated, it appeared more like someone had thrown a tantrum rather than set out to intentionally destroy. Toppled bookcases had spilled their tomes. Students were picking them up and sorting them, a cart for those with damage, stacks for those that appeared fine.
A few of the students greeted John as they passed. Rather than get drawn into conversation, he offered a brisk wave as he headed for the rear of the library and the heart of the building. The archive had been intentionally placed in the center with no outside access. No windows, no chimneys, and thick walls to surround it. Given some of the books and scrolls oozed magic, not to mention some of those texts were about rituals deemed evil and banned, there were many protective layers, the first being the wall. Stone block, a layer of lead, then more stone, then iron, all meant to disrupt magic. On the outer wall, runes added further protection against impact and magical breach. To enter you had to pass via a narrow doorway, but not an ordinary one. First the wooden door made from fire-hardened ash, bound in iron, with a lock that had only two keys. One was held by the dean of the college, the other by him. He inserted it and turned it left, right, back to center, right, then left, the tricky combination undoing the tumblers in sequence.
“I’ve never seen a lock like that before,” Frieda murmured.
“Because they’re difficult to make and even worse to fix when they malfunction.” The door opened, and the second barrier had to be passed. Not a physical one.
“I’ll go through first. When you follow, step on the circle and wait.” He pointed to the floor and a dark spot.