I supposed either was really possible.

“As most of you are probably aware,” he said, his eyes slipping over Keri La Belle as he said “most”, “Chancellor Davies is going to be holding a press conference at five P.M. tonight. We have been ‘asked’ to show the conference in class. Now, we don’t have a whole class period before the conference starts, I don’t know how long it will last, or what will be said in it. I don’t even know for certain what the subject of the conference will be.”

“I wasn’t aware, actually,” La Belle said.

“Yes, I knew that,” Hart said.

“You looked at me like you thought I did.”

“Anyway,” Hart said, “there’s not a lot that we can cover, under the circumstances… I’m not sure whether it’ll be worth trying to continue class after the conference ends, so I’d like to get…”

“Hey! Do you think it’s about the dead swan girl?” La Belle said. “Don’t you think it’s a bunch of crap that one non-human dies and it’s this whole big thing, with imperial agents and press conferences and things?”

“Don’t you think if any of the humans had been royalty from a politically sensitive area, they would have received the same attention?” Hart asked. “If not more?”

“Hell no,” La Belle said. “Humans don’t get shit… we don’t have special dorms, or special meals. Nobody organizes a protest when we go missing. If we had a group for the advancement of humans, people would say it was racist.”

“Or normal,” Ms. Carter said. “There are plenty of groups that advance humanity.”

“Yeah, but, we wouldn’t be allowed to say it right in the group’s name,” La Belle said. “If we had a human channel or a united human college fund or a… a… human league, everybody would jump on their ass and call them racist until they gave up.”

“An organization doesn’t have to say they’re for humanity,” Carter said. “It’s the default state in human-controlled society.”

“What human-controlled society? Like, Hart says it’s okay that she’s getting all this attention because she was a princess, but we humans don’t even have royalty,” she said. “We’re like all advanced past that, and stuff. Oh, unless you count the emperor and empress, but that’s not inherited… is it?”

“The imperial titles are not explicitly hereditary by law, but the emperor traditionally names his successor, and in most cases the person he’s named has been both a descendant or collateral relative of his and in a strong enough position to enforce their claim. Let’s call it semi-hereditary and move on,” Hart said. “But the empires are not the only human states in the world, and there are a number of feudal states and a few constitutional monarchies with human royal families at the head.”

“Whatever, none of them even go here,” La Belle said.

“Well, that would be a very good reason for their deaths to get less attention around campus,” Hart said. “Now, ladies… I wouldn’t mind giving up half of a class period to discussing this kind of topic if I thought it would lead anywhere interesting, but since we can’t do anything more than speculate about what the Chancellor will have to say…”

“We can do that, though,” La Belle said.

“Do what?” Hart asked.

“Speculate.”

“Not in an informed way,” Hart said. “And it seems pointless when we’re going to be find out for sure in… twenty-five minutes. So, let’s talk about Republican History until then.”

“But why do you think it took…”

Thankfully, he just started talking over her at that point. It ended up being more like twenty minutes, because he got the TV set up and attuned to the university’s news feed at a few minutes before five.

“Can we speculate now?” La Belle asked.

“It seems even more pointless to do so, which makes me think there’s less chance I’ll be able to stop you,” Hart said.

“I just want to know why they waited until now to say anything about this,” she said.

“I’m pretty sure the university’s been giving statements pretty non-stop for the last four days,” Hart said. “I imagine they didn’t hold a press conference until they had something worth holding one for.”

“Don’t you think it might just be because the royal family’s coming?” someone asked.

“Well, that would fit the definition of ‘worth holding a press conference over’,” Hart said. “Guys, seriously… I don’t know any more than you do what’s going to happen and what they’re going to say.”

“Would it be the university holding the conference if they actually have something to say about the case?” some guy sitting on the end of the second row asked. “I mean, I’d think it would be the imps announcing if they’d solved anything.”

“That could be,” Hart said. “I really don’t know.”

“That’s a bunch of crap,” La Belle said. “Like you wouldn’t ask what it’s about when they told you to show it in class.”

“Who said I didn’t?”

“And they didn’t tell you?”

“No, even though the folder the dean was carrying was stamped ‘top secret and confidential unless anyone asks’,” Hart said. “One more time: I really don’t know anything. Now, let’s all be quiet… I think this is it.”

The image in the box had just dissolved from a static image of the university… one unfortunately highlighting the fountain… overlaid with floating announcements to a fixed shot of a raised platform in front of the administration building. A large number of people, students and others, were gathered in front of it. The view was pulled too far back to make out a lot of details about the people on the stage, but it looked like a lot of guys in suits. There were a large number of campus guards and provincial officers in between the crowd and the stage.

A man stepped up towards the podium and the image zoomed in on him. He looked a bit like a lawyer, and a lot like he hadn’t slept all week. His short, dark hair was neat in an air-puffed sort of way and his suit looked well-made. He cleared his throat a couple of times before he began.

“Good evening, students, members of the press, and esteemed representatives of the Lebedev family of Mariinsky Lake,” he said, and the view swung around and zoomed in on a group of people sitting in chairs near the stage. The cordon of security around them made it impossible to see much more than a mass of fur hats and coats. “For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Mitch McSmeagol, director of public relations for the university here. In regards to the ongoing investigation into the death of Her Royal Highness, the Princess Lidiya Petrovna Lebedeva… a matter which concerns us all very deeply… we have been informed by the Imperial Bureau of Finding of this Republic, appointed by the grace of His Excellency Magisterion XIII, that the case has been brought to a close. Chancellor Bethany Davies will be reading a statement, after which we’ll be taking a number of questions.”

There was a tiny amount of scattered clapping. He stepped back from the podium and put his hand on Chancellor Davies’s back and said something to her as she stepped up to take his place. She nodded and waved him away.

“Good evening. After a thorough inquest, the Imperial Bureau of Finding has determined that the death of Princess Lidiya was due to natural causes, relating to a monster or monsters who were able to strike due to a previously unconsidered aspect of the university’s protective spells,” the chancellor read. “We stress that there is no reason to worry about the integrity of our protective spells, which are the strongest and most comprehensive in the province. There was more than one casualty of Veil Night frivolities, and in each and every case the victim was found outside the lighted areas protected by our paths. This was also true in Miss Lidiya’s case. While no doubt she felt safe being surrounded by the protective sidewalk that ringed the fountain, the fountain itself was not so protected.”

This was about the last thing I’d expected to hear, though it was all arguably true. If the fountain didn’t have its own separate protective spells woven into it, a ghoul could drop down into the middle of it and be perfectly safe. How it would have got there was the question, and the obvious hole in the story… unless they were claiming that a flying creature had gone after Leda?

Of course, they weren’t actually claiming anything had… just there had been an unspecified “monster or monsters”. That could be a ghoul, it could be a winged terror… it could be a transformed mermaid whom the safety spells didn’t even recognize as a monster and who could just as easily walk up to the fountain and step in as Leda herself had.

Were they trying to fob this story off on the family as a quicker alternative to actually solving the case? That was a better outcome than picking a scapegoat, but only marginally so… what would stop her killer from restraining her appetite after she’d literally got away with murder?

“The death of Princess Lidiya was as tragic as it was unforeseeable, but there is a lesson in it for all of us: be careful. None of us could have guessed a person would be so vulnerable in the fountain after dark…”

“I could have,” Steff whispered.

“…but that’s all a part of why we urge students not to linger out of doors after sunset. When you have to go somewhere, travel with friends and stick to the paths. There has never been a monster attack on a student within the network of sidewalks and footpaths since it was put in back in 198. We extend our deepest sympathies to the family of the victim, the ruling Lebedev family of Mariinsky Lake, and are pleased to be able to offer them our hospitality during these trying times. We hope they will join with us in looking for a way forward, a way to prevent such future tragedies before they happen. Agent Greer from the Imperial Bureau’s field office in Enwich will now discuss his team’s findings.”

I didn’t recognize the man who stepped forward. The fact that they were using someone other than Mike Gregory to deliver the “findings” screamed cover-up to me… maybe he simply wasn’t available, but from what Lee had said it seemed like he’d be unlikely to go along with a story that served political expediency over justice. Greer mumbled his way through a statement that said nothing more than what Davies had already said, which was almost nothing.

I wondered what it would do to the official story when my information reached the authorities, but then I realized that unless Lee had been unable to get a hold of Mr. Embries completely then it was unlikely that he wouldn’t have spoken up before this plan was put into motion. Even if he was only the Vice-Chancellor, he was probably among the people on the stage, and he would probably have been in on the plan.

If they knew but were doing this anyway, what did that mean? Would they rather blame things on some unknown flying creature or mysterious hopping ghouls than go after the mermaids? What exactly would stop them?

“Did you hear Davies? ‘We hope the family will join us in not suing our asses for using their daughter as ghoul chum’,” someone said, to general snickering.

“Hey, it’s not their fault she couldn’t stay on the paths,” La Belle said. “If they sue, I hope they lose… because any money the school pays will just come out of our pockets. Why should I pay for someone else’s stupidity? I pay my fair share already.”

“No argument here,” Hart said.

“If she wanted to swim, we do have a swimming pool,” La Belle said. “Though I don’t think animals should be allowed in it.”

“She wasn’t an animal,” I said, my frustration at the situation boiling over. “She was a person.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t want people-feathers and people-poop in my pool, either,” La Belle said.

“Do you even go to the pool?” one of the other girls in the front row asked her.

“I haven’t yet, but I’m paying for it with my fees,” La Belle said.

“Well, so was she,” someone else said.

“Shh,” Hart said. Mitch McSmeagol had rejoined Davies and Greer at the podium and they were getting into the question-and-answer part of it. Whoever was working the camera for the university’s news channel was having a hard time getting the view and audio pickup focused on the person asking the question. He zoomed way in past the head of the man who was speaking, getting a close up of the lip of the stage. The view jerked upwards as he pulled back, giving us a glimpse of the row of men backing the Chancellor up. They were other high-ranking university officials, probably. Vice-Chancellor Embries was indeed among them. After whizzing past him, the camera came back and focused on him, like he was the most interesting thing the cameraman could see.

The Vice-Chancellor looked entirely too pleased with himself… I meant that both in the general sense that he looked more pleased with himself than was probably altogether healthy for an individual, and in the specific sense that he looked way too happy about the idea that the institution he helped to head up was likely to be facing a lawsuit from the family of a slain student, especially since it seemed really unlikely he’d be able to claim any reward from the family in that case.

“Yes. We have already been meeting and working with the royal family, today, to come to a private solution to… any lingering… issues they may have,” Chancellor Davies was saying, as the view continued to hold on Embries. It was a little muffled, but it was easy enough to make out now that the classroom had fallen completely silent. “They are our guests in the Imperium, and we’ve extended every courtesy and cooperation to them, trying to come to terms with… with what has happened.”

“We would ask that everybody please try to respect their privacy in this time of grief,” the PR head added, quickly and smoothly cutting her off. “Thank you.”

I gathered that the “good question” she was avoiding answering had been about the possibility of a lawsuit… the mention of meeting with the family in private made me wonder just how much pull Embries could have. Enough to all but own a law firm, it seemed. Enough to broker a “private resolution” between Leda’s family and the Imperium that kept the university insulated from the worst fallout?

Pinning it on a totally random wandering monster encounter didn’t exactly make the school look blameless, but it would probably be better than the panic and outrage when it was proven that one of the school’s non-human students had done it. Back towards the coast there would probably be a panic and furor over mermaids, but here in the midst of the woods and plains of Prax there wouldn’t be any targets for people’s worst instincts except for the other residents of Harlowe and the university itself.

But what would become of Iona and Feejee, if neither were officially implicated in Leda’s death? I doubted her family would go along with any plan that didn’t involve bringing the killer or killers to justice, but I wasn’t sure that it could be called “justice” when a representative of the Imperium stood up and read a bit of creative writing and then a “private resolution” took care of the killer.

I didn’t know whether I wanted to be right about all this or not… I supposed it would be better if the panic could be avoided and the threat of mermaid attacks ended at the same time, but for all that this might be a nice, neat solution, it didn’t feel like a clean one. If I was right, then I was really glad I’d kept my name out of things.

I turned to ask Steff what she thought of it all, only to find her staring at the TV with a look that could only be called slack-jawed wonder. Like, her jaw was literally hanging over. There was even a bit of drool in the corner of it. The image in the box was still the same close-up of Mr. Embries… I would have suspected the cameraman had wandered away, but the focus stayed on him too perfectly even when he shifted slightly.

He was really kind of handsome, in a silver fox kind of way. Kind of dashing, kind of stately, with an odd sort of presence that you could feel even through the TV… he didn’t exactly seem like Steff’s type, though.

“Steff?” I said quietly.

“Shh,” she said.

“Steff, come on, what’s the big deal? You’re drooling over this guy,” I said.

“Shh!” several other people said. I looked up and saw that everyone in the room was as transfixed by the image in the TV as Steff… and apparently the cameraman… were. I stared at Embries, wondering exactly what it was about him that demanded this much attention, but I still didn’t see it. I mean, he was handsome and well-dressed, but he was also… old.

He’d been looking slightly to the side… focusing on the podium, probably, but then his gaze slowly turned and focused on the camera, like he’d just noticed it was pointing at him. As he stared out from the screen, there were a few gasps, sighs, and even a moan from around the room. A look of irritation flashed across his face, and the image in the box flickered away, then became the static image of the fountain again.

“Uh… looks.. looks like they’re having some mystical difficulties there,” Hart said, sounding like he was just waking up. “Well, I guess we have all heard the important parts. Class… um… dis… let’s pick it up on Friday, okay?”

“Dude, who was that old guy?” La Belle said. “I kind of think I want him to eat me.”

“Oh, shut up, Keri,” one of the other front row girls said.

Next: Everybody goes to dinner like nothing happens. Or else something happens. You’ll just have to find out, won’t you?

Discuss this story on the Livejournal feed.

I hadn’t really noticed it the time we’d gone to town, though. While even the public parts of the interior were done up in a style similar to the chancellor’s office, the outside wasn’t that impressive. It looked like it sat very low to the ground and seemed to blend in with its surroundings. I got the impression that the only thing that prevented it from apologizing for taking up any space at all was that it didn’t want to draw attention to itself.

At the moment, it didn’t have much choice in the matter.

The day was getting on towards noon, and word of the protest was probably spreading through classes. If there had been a hundred students in front of the building the last time somebody gave the chancellor a headcount, the crowd must have grown since then… and it was even larger if you counted the gawkers and onlookers who weren’t obviously participating but hovered around the edges. Those were all humans.

The group actually in the midst of things was a lot more mixed. In addition to Harlowites, there were also humans and about a dozen or so dwarves, including—I was pretty sure—my former classmate, Karl, son of Krieg. Feejee and Iona, the mermaids, stood among them. It was kind of an odd juxtaposition.

Everybody I expected was there, of course. To my surprise, the centerpiece of spectacle seemed to be Dee.

In spite of the sunlight and very public setting, she had thrown off her hooded cloak and her robes. She sat completely nude right in the middle of it all, cross-legged beneath a large parasol with her eyes closed. She’d set up placards around herself, with a single word written in multiple languages, one on each line. I recognized the two elvish scripts and high draconic, but the only one I could actually read was the Pax: “SHAME.”

I supposed it must have made some sense to her.

The crowd gave her a wide berth, out of what I hoped was respect. Some people seemed to be either gawking or very clearly averting their eyes, but both seemed to be in the minority.

Amaranth was the center of a rather large knot of mostly human, mostly male students that she addressed enthusiastically while they looked on attentively. Steff stood on a table with refreshments and banners for the Prism Pride Coalition and GSH, surrounded by what I assumed were those groups’ members. It took me a moment to spot Celia. Rather than leading a group in chanting slogans as I might have expected, she was being led by Shiel the kobold, who stood on a retaining wall holding a sign that said “WHO WILL BE NEXT?”

There was kind of a party atmosphere. Some people batted around balls, and there were a couple pairs of people sparring here and there. Some of the humans had brought music boxes or sound crystals, and several different songs competed with the jumble of talking and chanting, but they all lost out to the band that had set up on the edge of the crowd. It took me only a moment of wondering where they’d come from before I recognized the shirtless lute player, his head bowed low as he concentrated on his playing.

Sooni and her nekos were present, as well, though none of the cats looked very happy. They all held signs. Kai’s was bilingual, and said “End Oppression Now!” in precise block letters and (presumably) the same message in Yokano symbols. Maliko’s just had the big red circle-and-slash “NO” symbol on it, with nothing in the middle… probably a cultural mistranslation. Suzi’s read “SAV MAKCEN Z” in big loopy handwriting.

To my great surprise, Sara and Tara Leighton were also there… though while the hand on Sara’s side of their body held a sign that said “BAN TELAPORTS NOW”, Tara’s sign read “I’m Not Here.” They were both glaring at each other and it looked like they’d been fighting with markers. Finbar was a short distance away, clearly trying to pretend he wasn’t with either of them.

I took all this in within the first few moments of stepping out into the bright sunlight. The chancellor and I had come out without any announcement or warning, and the crowd didn’t notice us all at once. The chants stopped, the conversations died, and the general buzz and murmur faded away. Finally, the only sound left was from Ian, pouring all that he had into the lute. Once again, I was impressed by how good he really was.

Then, he noticed the lack of noise around him and stopped, looking up sheepishly.

So cute.

“Hi, Mack!” Two called from somewhere in the crowd.

“If I may have your attention, please,” the chancellor said.

Dee’s eyes opened in tiny slits.

“You’re supposed to say ‘hi’ back!” Two complained, and this time I spotted her. She was among the group around Amaranth.

“Hi, Two,” I said, waving.

“As you can all see, our missing student has been recovered safe and sound, thanks in large part to the efforts of Professor Scott Smith of the delving and discovery department.”

The applause at this statement was mingled with boos and hisses, especially from the group with Shiel and Celia. Chancellor Davies ignored this.

“As many of you will already have heard, Mis… Ms. Mackenzie has spent most of the morning in the university’s famous labyrinth,” the chancellor said, putting her hand on my shoulder. I resisted the urge to pull away. “Though she suffered no lasting injuries, she’s no doubt greatly fatigued and was only recently discharged from the healing center for magical exhaustion. Therefore, I ask that you do not burden her with a lot of questions about her ordeal. The faculty of Magisterius University joins you all in celebrating the safe return of one of our own. A celebratory luncheon will be served shortly in the area of the pent and the student union plaza, provided by Sloan Food Services.” She paused, and then added, “Students with particular dietary requirements may let the catering staff know, and every attempt will be made to meet them.”

It was pretty obvious that the purpose of the lunch was to move the crowd away from the administrative building as quickly as possible now that the crisis was over. Few things appealed to a college student more than free food.

The chancellor made a big show of shaking my hand and giving me a quick hug, then disappeared back inside. The guards who had been standing all along the front of the building closed ranks, blocking the door.

Amaranth tried to run to me as soon as the chancellor finished speaking, but her crowd of admirers was reluctant to part for her. Dee rose seemingly by just straightening her legs. She was quite a vision to behold, nude, with her white hair framing her head and torso like a halo of light. Ethereal beauty and grace were not exclusively the province of surface elves, though their darker cousins generally kept themselves hidden away one way or another.

She pulled on her robe, which she’d folded up and placed on top of her spread-out cloak. She donned the cloak, and drew the cowl over her head and face. Watching her dress herself was a bit like watching some kind of transformation. I’d never before noticed how bulky her garments made her look compared to her actual size. Now, I was reminded of fighters donning heavy armor.

While I watched Dee’s transfiguration, Steff reached me ahead of anybody else. She crashed into me, wrapping her arms around me in a crushing embrace and kissed me, open-mouthed, to pronounced whooping and hollering from the pride contingent. For a moment, I was too stunned to reciprocate, and she drew back, hurt and confused. I pulled her to me and kissed her back. There were wolf whistles and applause… and a few calls of derision.

We broke the clench as more people approached, Two and Ian among them. I hugged Two, then passed her into Steff’s arms and kissed Ian. Dee seemed to have vanished completely… parasol, placards, and all. I looked around for Amaranth, but she was still looking for a way through the crowd, too gentle to shoulder her way through it. Now that the crisis was over, too, she was starting to attract more interest from the guys around her, who crowded in closer and groped at her.

She stood on her toes and shot me an imploring look over the heads of the people in front of her. I wanted to run for her, but suddenly a boy was in my way. I tried to get around him, but he moved to block me.

“Hi, there… I’m Kent Angstrom, with the Gazetteer,” he said. “Is the pitchfork supposed to be some kind of statement?”

“Um, hi,” I said. “If you don’t mind, I’m trying to…”

“I just have a few questions. Did I hear the chancellor call you Ms. Mackenzie?”

“She gets abused by the healing center and dumped into a dungeon and that’s all you want to know about?” Steff asked. “Her choice of title?”

“Well, you have to admit, it’s an unconventional form,” Kent said. “I just wondered what it’s supposed to signify.”

“Conventions are for nerds and salesmen,” Steff said. She stepped between us. “Everybody has the right to be addressed as they see fit.”

“If you don’t mind, I’d like ‘Ms. Mackenzie’ to speak for herself,” Kent said.

“Hey, man,” Ian said. “She just wants to see her friends.”

“Considering the cross-section of the campus that turned out in support of her, that seems a little selfish,” Kent said. He turned to me. “People have questions. They’re going to want answers.”

“Look, I understand that, but I’m not sure I should be talking to anybody right now,” I said. Would doing so help or hurt my case? I really probably did need a lawyer.

“So, you’re planning to sue the school, then?”

“I didn’t say that,” I said. “Look, I just want to get to Amaranth.” Looking past the student reporter, I could see that she was being positively mobbed now.

Kent glanced over his shoulder. She’d just been lifted off her feet, a pair of men holding her legs and another moving between them. Clothing was being flung carelessly away.

“I think you’re going to have to get in line,” he said with a smirk.

My hand was in a fist and came up.

“Honey, no!” Steff cried. She and Ian both grabbed me. I let them pull me back.

“Look, man… back off,” Ian said.

“I’m just doing my job,” Kent said.

“Go do it somewhere else,” Ian said.

“I can take a hint,” Kent said, holding up his hands. “Stories are going to be written either way. I just thought you might like to have some input in what they say.”

Celia, Shiel, and some of their group had drifted over by this point.

“Hey, is this guy bothering you?” Moeli the hobgoblin asked. “You heard the chancellor, man.”

I couldn’t even see Amaranth any more, there were so many people around her now. I wanted to cry.

“Why don’t you mind your own business?” Kent said.

“Why don’t you, mammal?” Celia said, getting her snake-eyed visage right up in his face. Shiel, along with Oru and a couple of male goblins I didn’t know, partially surrounded him. He paled and stepped back.

“Fine,” Kent said. He looked at me. “I’ll talk to you later, though.”

“Fine,” I said. “I look forward to it.”

“Good,” he said, straightening his shirt and then walking away through the crowd.

I’d kind of expected Sooni, in her capacity as my self-declared “best friend”, to have led the charge towards me, but she seemed too busy with her own admirers to think of that. There were a few boys, but it was mostly girls, obviously fixated on her ridiculous hair or lavishing attention on the nekos. They were petting and scratching them, like they were actual animals.

Maliko and Kai looked murderous… but Suzi seemed to be into it.

“Hey, sweetie, you want me to try to dig Amy out?” Steff asked.

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “She’s working.”

“Are you sure?”

I wasn’t, but I was sure enough. I wanted to sink into Amaranth’s warm curves and forget the arrows and hellhounds and everything else, but I didn’t want to disrupt her work. Giving her body to whoever wanted it was her sacred responsibility.

“Let’s just go to the lunch thing,” I said. “We can get some food and make an appearance and then go back to Harlowe. Amaranth can catch up.”

“Okay, you’re the boss,” Steff said. She gave me another kiss. “I’ll just run and go tell her the plan.”

She was off before I could say anything, using an odd combination of agility and boldness to get through the wall of onlookers and participants around Amaranth. She came back with a big grin on her face.

“That girl really knows how to take it in stride,” she said. “Or in anywhere else.”

Two ran up to grab my hand when we started walking.

“Where’s your friend, Hazel?” I asked her.

“She wanted to come, but her cousin Honey made her promise not to,” Two said. “She said, ‘What if the police get involved?’ But we weren’t breaking any laws. I checked.”

“I think Honey’s just a little sheltered,” I said.

“She’s a little goody no-shoes, you mean,” Steff said.

“I’m sure she means well,” I said.

“You really are Amy’s toy,” Steff said, shaking her head.

“And proud of it,” I said. To Ian, I said, “I, um, heard you playing, a little bit.”

“We were just sort of messing around,” he said.

“It was good,” I said.

He shook his head.

“Not yet,” he said. “But maybe we will be.”

They’d set up a bunch of portable grills and picnic tables in front of the union, with hot dogs, hamburgers, and chicken breasts. We hung around for a bit, and people kept coming up in ones and twos to introduce themselves or tell me they were glad I was okay. A lot of people seemed to just be there for the food, though, and I overheard quite a few people asking what it was there for.

I got my share of incredulous and even dirty looks from those who apparently couldn’t believe it was somehow in my honor.

When I judged that I’d done my duty, we went through the line. I made a pair of chicken sandwiches with hamburger buns and some mustard, and got a few carrot sticks and two little strawberry swirl ice cream cups. I saw Two take another ice cream cup after I got mine, and smiled.

“Your butt’s going to keep getting bigger if you keep eating like that,” Steff said.

“What do you mean, ‘keep getting bigger’?” I said, scowling. I tried to twist around to look behind me. “It’s the same size it’s always been.”

“No,” Two said, shaking her head. “It’s bigger.”

I looked at Ian. “What are they talking about?”

He threw up his hands and shook his head. “I’m not saying anything.”

“My butt is not big,” I said.

“I didn’t say big, I said bigger,” Steff said.

I started to put one of the ice creams back, but she grabbed me by the wrist.

“I didn’t say it’s a bad thing,” she said. “You’re starting to fill out, is all.”

“Why can’t it go up top instead?” I said, though I still didn’t quite believe her. I didn’t feel any different.

“Wait and see,” Steff said. “Maybe it’s working its way up.”

“I like your little breasts,” Ian said. I glared at him. “I mean, I like the size they are.”

“Thanks,” I said, deciding to take it in the spirit it had been intended. I’d almost died at least twice in the past week… possibly more times, if I counted the attacks of the previous weekend. I didn’t want another stupid, pointless fight with Ian.

We had to use both hands to carry our floppy paper plates, except for Steff who somehow managed with one. Two walked as close to me as she could on the way back to the hall. I would have liked for Amaranth to be there, too, but the company of two of my lovers and my adopted sister was enough to make me feel safer and more comfortable than it seemed like I’d felt in a long time.

We were materializing in front of a large desk. A woman who I took to be Chancellor Davies was seated behind it. Behind her and to her right sat a man in a suit.

It was a large, somewhat dimly lit room, with thick curtains on the windows. Everything was plushly upholstered or paneled in wood. There was a separate seating area off to the side, with a huge fire place. Two was sitting in one of the high-backed chairs there, calmly eating a banana.

“Hi, Mack!” she said, as soon as I’d fully materialized.

“Hi, Two.”

“I’m supposed to be in class right now,” she said, a little shakily. There was an oddly triumphant look on her face as she got the sentence out.

“Oh,” I said.

“Miss Mackenzie? I’m Beth Davies, the chancellor,” the woman said. “And I’m so very pleased that Professor Smith managed to find you.”

“Actually, my dear, it was a group of my students who found our wayward student,” Smith said. “I hope that this little incident will do something to mend the perception of delvers among non-human students.”

“It would be nice to have something positive come out of this, yes,” Davies said.

“In any event, dear chancellor, I hope you will excuse me but I really should get back to my office. I have six groups in the maze and nobody is monitoring but a teaching assistant.”

“Of course,” the chancellor said. “You have my gratitude for your role in Miss Mackenzie’s recovery, no matter how small.”

The professor made a low bow and faded out.

“Now, before I say anything else, I’m sure you would rather have this conversation fully dressed,” Davies said. She gestured towards Two. “This young lady was kind enough to bring your clothes from your dorm room.”

“No, I wasn’t. You didn’t tell me to bring her clothes,” Two said. “You told me to bring clothes for her. You did not say they had to be hers.”

I repressed the urge to roll my eyes or groan.

“Whose clothes did you bring, then?” the chancellor asked. She was a little pale. I wondered if her mind was flashing to the fictional depictions of too-literal golems and she was imagining Two taking the nearest suitable garments, regardless of owner.

“Mine,” Two said proudly. “I like them better. She does not have very nice things.”

Chancellor Davies turned towards me, at a loss.

“It’s okay,” I said. “She’s done stuff like this before.”

“Well, in any event, they’re laid out in the washroom over there,” she said, indicating a door recessed in the wall. “Miss Two, if you wouldn’t mind, please go tell your friends that Miss Mackenzie has returned safely.”

“Okay,” Two said, getting up. “I wouldn’t mind.”

She dropped the banana peel in a wastebasket by the desk.

“Take another banana, if you want,” Davies said, holding up the fruit bowl.

“Okay,” Two said, taking the banana from the bowl. Another one appeared in its place.

“Miss Mackenzie?” Davies asked, holding the bowl out.

“No, thank you,” I said. “I’m just going to go get dressed.”

“Bye, Mack!” Two said.

“Bye, Two.”

At least the jeans Two had selected for me this time had nothing stuck to the seat, though bizarrely there were no back pockets. It did have little rhinestones in spiral patterns on the legs, but those weren’t so bad. The shirt had a big butterfly made out of glitter.

Differing styles aside, it seemed like a bad idea for her to keep loaning me clothes like this. I didn’t really like the odds of me managing to get from the administrative building back to Harlowe without losing some of the jewels or wrecking the shirt’s design.

Her jeans seemed to pinch a little bit more than I remembered, or maybe this was just a tighter pair. It seemed unlikely I could have gained enough weight in a week to make a difference, especially since I’d pretty much always been the same size.

There were a pair of butterfly hair-clips with the same blue and green glitter as the one on the shirt, but since Two wasn’t around to insist, I didn’t bother to put them on. I wasn’t exactly sure how to do it properly, anyway.

“I’m sure that feels much… well, a little better,” Davies said, when I came out. I’d had to roll up the legs of the jeans, and the shirt was a bit too long, too. “She’s a bit… different, isn’t she? Miss Two.”

“There’s nothing wrong with her,” I said.

“No, of course not. Please, have a seat. Would you like something to drink? Some food? I can have something sent in.”

“No, thank you,” I said, taking a seat in the plush chair in front of the desk.

“Miss Two was with the first group who showed up, at just past eight,” she said. “They came directly from the healing center, arriving before I’d even finished speaking with the director. I spoke with them, but I’m afraid I didn’t have much to tell them. The others started showing up a little after. We had to move them out of the lobby for safety reasons. At last count, there were over one hundred students protesting for your return.”

“Are you sure all of them were protesting for my return?” I asked.

“What else would they be protesting?”

“Never mind.”

“In any event, I felt it was wiser and safer to speak with you privately first, rather than simply dropping you into the crowd,” Davies said. “That’s why I asked your roommate to wait in here, so that she could let all your friends know you were safe.”

“Why her, in particular?” I asked. It seemed odd to me that Amaranth wouldn’t have insisted on being there. Had Davies picked Two because she was the most tractable?

“There was no shortage of volunteers, but as both your roommate and emergency contact, Miss Two had official status,” Davies said. “When Lynette reported your disappearance, she forwarded the card you’d filled out to change your emergency contacts with a note saying you would not wish us to use your contact of record.”

“Well, she did that much right,” I said.

“Lynette Havilland is a very gifted healer,” Davies said.

I could have said something about healing ability not being a good measure for leadership skills, but it didn’t seem productive. I still wasn’t quite sure why I’d been brought before the chancellor, unless it was simply because this was where the protest was.

“Is Two going to be in trouble?” I asked instead.

“What? Oh, of course not. We try to instill a sense of social consciousness in our students. Sanctioning them for participating in a peaceful protest would seem a little counterproductive,” Davies said. “That, and it always seems to lead to more protests.”

“I meant, for skipping classes,” I said.

“Well, at the rather vocal insistence of a, ah… Miss Stephanie, I think… I’ve taken steps to have Miss Two’s professors excuse her from her classes for the day,” Davies said. “Most professors will probably do the same, and I’m sure we can do something officially to ensure nobody is penalized. Students do disappear rather more permanently from time to time, of course, but in a case when the university itself is at fault…”

“Though fault has yet to be determined in this case,” the man seated behind her quickly said.

“Well, yes, I suppose,” the chancellor said. “This gentleman, Miss Mackenzie, is Leon Arnett, from our legal department.”

I looked at him. “A lawyer?” I asked. He nodded. “Why do you have a lawyer here?” I asked Davies.

“To put it bluntly, you have been wronged,” she said. Arnett cleared his throat, but she held up a hand. “As the highest representative of the institution responsible, it’s my duty to acknowledge that and make some sort of amends. However, I also have a duty to the university. That’s why Leon is here.”

“I’d like to point out that while her regret is no doubt sincere, the chancellor is not empowered to assume responsibility on behalf of the university,” Arnett said.

“Call it a figure of speech,” Davies said. She sighed. “Before I’m slapped with a gag order, Miss Mackenzie, let me just say that I’m deeply sorry for any part the university faculty may have played in your ordeal. We have started an investigation into the healing center’s policies and are issuing a memorandum on the subject of remote magic use.”

“What exactly happened there?” I asked.

“Professor Proust says that ‘infernal interference’ disrupted his spell, but he thought he could ‘power through it’,” Davies said. “I’m sorry to inform you that he did not immediately realize you had left the environs of the healing center, and his subsequent attempt removed your clothing and weapon from the scene.”

“What?” I asked. “He actually kept trying?”

“We’ve circulated a description of your knife and clothes,” Davies said. “I think the odds are very good they’ll turn up within the university grounds. After all, you did.”

“Has anybody stumbled across the bed yet?” I asked.

“Well, ah… no,” the chancellor said. “Not as such.”

“The university is prepared to compensate you for the value of your missing effects,” Arnett said.

“That’s a start,” I said.

“And, of course, we’d be happy to provide you with a temporary replacement so you can meet the weapon policy,” Davies said. “Unless that pitchfork you’re carrying around signifies that you’ve already found a replacement?”

I couldn’t really picture myself carrying the pitchfork around. It was too bulky to take into class and it didn’t really project the sort of image I wanted.

I was definitely not giving it up, though. I felt I needed something to show for my time in the maze, though, and as Smith had said, “finders keepers.” Anyway, it might be worth something. Morally, I couldn’t sell an infernal weapon on the open market, but maybe the diabolism department would buy it from me for study.

“I don’t want to carry a weapon,” I said. “I’m a fierce creature, right?”

“Well, yes, you are technically eligible for that exception,” Davies said.

“Then I want it,” I said. “If I’m going to have people throwing signs at me and warding doors against me because of my race, I might as well get some benefits out of it.”

“We’ll make sure your new ID reflects that status, then,” Davies said.

“And I want it retroactive,” I said. “I got hit with a fifty silver fine for not carrying an accessible weapon, the first weekend here. I want that back.”

“Fifty silver?” Davies repeated.

“That’s the maximum fine,” I said. “And you know, I really think the reason it was that high… and the only reason we were stopped in the first place… is because we were a group of obvious non-humans, on our way to the student union.”

“Well, I think we could agree that fifty silver is a little excessive for a first-time offense and have that ticket canceled,” Davies said.

“Though it should be noted that this is not an admission of bias or responsibility on the university’s part,” Arnett added.

“All things considered, I’d rather have an admission of bias and responsibility than the money,” I said. “Do you have any idea how things really are around here, for the non-human students?”

“While I understand there’s certain… resentments, there’s no policy of harassment or discrimination towards students of any race,” Davies said.

“There doesn’t have to be,” I said. “Everything having to do with race around here is so half-assed. Any intelligent being can attend university, but no efforts are made to actually accommodate us.”

“Well, now, I hardly think that’s fair,” Davies said. “We’ve made a place for students of all races in Harlowe Hall, and appointed a dean to make sure your needs are met.”

“Yeah, you’ve given us a place and appointed a dean, but she seems to think her job is keeping us in our place,” I said. “Like catering in meals instead of addressing the problems in the dining hall. It would be one thing if the meals were more tailored somehow, but do you know what they get for us? Stuff like pizza.”

“Forgive my ignorance, but don’t most people your age like pizza?” Davies asked.

“Humans, not people. Some races can’t eat cheese. Some can’t eat wheat. Some can’t eat any animal products at all. Some of them probably need more meat. Some of them don’t have mouths that are set up for chewing. Can you imagine trying to swallow a piece of pizza whole?” I said. “A mass pizza order’s about the worst thing you could do if you’re trying to accommodate a bunch of different dietary needs. What else do they get? Sub sandwiches… same problem, but at least it’s easier to take one of them apart. Deli trays at least let people build their own, but it’s still pretty hit or miss. I don’t eat the catered food, so I don’t have a lot of examples, but I’m sure it’s all stuff like that.”

“Well, this is rather beyond the scope of what I meant to discuss, but since you’re here and this is on your mind, what would you suggest we do instead?” Davies asked.

“First, make sure the dining hall is accessible to everybody,” I said. “Not just ‘officially’ but in fact. You’ve already got vegetarian options and stuff there, and people can choose what they eat. Take some of the money you’re spending on catering in Harlowe and use it to add more options. More mushrooms. Fresher vegetables. Raw eggs and meat to students who request them… that wouldn’t cost anything, actually, since you’ve already got the items.”

“Raw eggs and meat?” Davies said. “That isn’t safe.”

“For humans,” I said. “Cheese pizza isn’t safe for goblins.”

“Well, this is certainly something to think about,” Davies said.

“And you could get non-human resident advisors,” I said.

“I believe the advisor program recruits from every dorm,” Davies said.

“Like student activities are advertised in every dorm, right? Except they aren’t. The people in charge of things like that forget Harlowe, or don’t think it counts, or are afraid of going near it… and the fact that nothing is ever done about anything like that just makes it seem legitimate,” I said. “You need to make sure the rules are actually being enforced, and that’s not all. Some of the humans are afraid of us, or they don’t consider us people. For me, I can actually understand that… but apparently some people think that way about all non-humans. A bunch of new rules and policies aren’t going to change that.”

“I’m afraid you’re right about that,” Davies said. “So the question is, what would you have us do?”

“This is a school, isn’t it?” I said. “Educate.”

“Well, there are sensitivity programs out there, but they all deal with things like not calling a dwarf ‘Mr. Clan Name’ and not forgetting a gnome is standing there,” she said. “The problem is, there aren’t any that deal with dark elves or goblinoids or… people with extraplanar ancestries.”

“There,” I said. “You’ve identified the problem.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said, ‘you’ve identified the problem’,” I repeated. “So what’s the next step?”

She stared at me in confusion.

“This is a major university,” I said. “You can’t tell me it doesn’t have the resources to create its own… well… resources.”

“I understand you ran for student senate for your floor,” Davies said. “How did that turn out?”

“Tie,” I said. “The vote’s tonight.”

“Forgive my frankness, but I can’t decide if I should hope you win or not,” Davies said.

“I’m not going away, even if I lose,” I said. “This whole stupid thing happened because one person was afraid of me, and another person couldn’t understand that her transgressions were that big a deal. The f… messed up thing is, a few weeks ago I wouldn’t have considered somebody warding against me a big deal, but none of this is happening in isolation. I’ve got friends who look as scary as I am to humans.”

“Well, I honestly wish you luck,” Davies said. She sounded sincere, but her smile had drooped a bit. “However, it would be good for you to bear in mind just how ‘scary’ you are, as you put it. This is part of the reason I wanted to speak to you in private.”

I said nothing, but waited for her to elaborate.

“A crowd of riled up people… non-human or not.. being led by a demon is the sort of thing that can make people justifiably nervous,” she said. “If Professor Smith had delivered you directly into the company outside… well, you seem reasonably calm and in control of yourself. I had to be cautious.”

“What, you thought I might incite a riot?”

“You’d have every right to be angry, but I do have a responsibility to the university,” Davies said. “I’m trying to be forthright with you here, Miss Mackenzie.”

“I prefer Ms. Mackenzie,” I said. “‘Miss’ seems a little degrading.”

“Ms. Mackenzie, then,” Davies said, though it seemed she had to work her mouth or mind around the idea. “I’m trying to be forthright with you. I regret what happened, and promise you a full accounting will be made, but it would be dishonest to pretend I was not apprehensive about your emotional state. Anybody would be upset, but not everybody would have your destructive potential.”

I sighed.

“You’re right,” I said. “But about this ‘full accounting’… I was shot with an arrow in the maze.”

“Yes, Professor Smith mentioned that,” Davies said.

“It was one of his students,” I said. “He didn’t know I was another student, but the whole group was prepared to leave me to die instead of summoning help.”

“Yes, well, unfortunately, by my understanding, they were following the letter of the rules of their exercise,” Davies said. “It’s up to their instructor to exercise whatever leeway he has in their grades, but I don’t believe they can be penalized beyond that.”

“Two of them were talking about killing me when they thought I might have killed a human,” I said.

“Did anybody witness this?” Arnett asked.

“Just the other members of the party,” I said. I sighed. “Look, I know they probably won’t be punished. I just don’t want them getting any medals. I don’t want the headline to be ‘Heroic Student Adventurers Rescue Half-Demon.’”

“I don’t think that will be a problem,” Davies said. I couldn’t imagine it would… it would look better for the university if a professor ended up with the credit. “Is there anything else on your mind?”

“Not off the top of my head,” I said. A tiny little voice in the back of my mind gave me a mental prod. So far, the only mention of money had been for stuff I had actually lost. I’d spent the entire morning wandering around a deadly maze. I could have been turned into a cursed scarecrow thing for all eternity, or until somebody wandered in who didn’t have a cheat sheet. I’d been threatened with death. I felt awkward bringing it up, but I think I was entitled to more than fifty silver and a new knife. “Except, you know… compensation. I think… I think I’m entitled to something. For my suffering.”

“Well, I think that’s Leon’s department,” Davies said.

“Your claim will be submitted to the arbitration committee, pending the resolution of investigations into the events of today,” Arnett said. “Under the terms of the student arbitration agreement, you have the right to forego arbitration and take the matter to court, though you must inform the committee of this in writing no less than thirty days in advance.”

“Thirty days?” I asked. “Just when is this arbitration going to happen?”

“Some time after the investigations have been completed,” Arnett said.

“These things do take time,” Davies said.

“Should I get a lawyer?” I asked. “And will I get the money for my knife and stuff now, or do I have to wait?”

“The arbitration committee will assign you an advocate. Additional legal representation is up to you,” Arnett said. “As for your knife and clothing, the university is prepared to admit responsibility for the loss of your possessions. If you’ll simply present an itemized list of each item and their value, you will receive full compensation in seven to ten business days.”

“You’ll take responsibility for vanishing my stuff, but not for sealing me in a room and dumping me into a deadly dungeon,” I said. “Nice.”

“A hasty judgment benefits nobody,” Davies said. “It’s better to do these things properly.”

“I’d like to see my friends now,” I said.

“Of course,” Davies said. She reached beneath her desk and produced a small card, which she pushed across the table. “Here’s a temporary ID. I’ll send a note to the registrar’s office not to charge you for a new one. We’ll put your weapons exemption in the system today, but give it until Monday until you have a new card made.”

“What about meals?” I asked. “And my room keys.”

“Your senior R.A. will have extra keys,” she said. “And that card’s been tied to your meal plan.”

“The arbitration committee will be sending you some papers to fill out,” Arnett said. “I suggest you be thorough. The more detail you can provide, the faster the matter can be resolved.”

Davies rose.

“Thank you, Leon,” she said. “If you don’t mind waiting here while I escort… Ms. Mackenzie… out, there’s a few things I’d like to discuss with you.”

“I can find my own way,” I said.

“Please, it’s the least I can do,” Davies said.

I found out the real reason when we got outside the double doors of her office. There was a small reception area, decorated in the same fashion but slightly better lit. The receptionist’s desk was vacant.

“I wanted to tell you… you don’t have to include the bit about the students threatening you when you fill out the report,” she said.

“Arnett said ‘be thorough’,” I said.

“This could ruin their lives,” she said.

“They would have done worse to me,” I said. “But you’re not thinking about their lives, you’re thinking about how it reflects on the university.”

“We all have our jobs to do,” she said. “I understand you want what’s coming to you… you deserve it… but you don’t need to go dragging in a lot of extraneous details. I promise you, you can still get the full compensation that you deserve without those parts.”

“You promise me? Can you put that in writing?” I asked.

“Of course not.”

“I’ll think about it,” I said, thinking about it.

I didn’t say anything else, but I didn’t have to think long.

The delvers had all been thinking in terms of human vs. non-human. Justin would have killed me if he thought I’d given a human up to the field, but he wouldn’t concern himself if it was a non-human. They’d all thought very little about the idea of me dying. If they didn’t suffer any consequences for their actions, that would make their impression correct.

If I had the power to do anything about that, I would.

She was always taken by surprise when one of them used their privilege, but she was even more shocked to look up and see not one of the trustees or other high officials, but the tall, ethereally beautiful elven history professor gliding like a storm front across the plush carpeted form.

“Chancellor,” the elven woman said. “I have a serious problem.”

“I’m sorry, Professor… Ariadne,” Davies said. The name came to her about half a second too late. She knew most of the professors by sight or name, though not always both… but there were only a half dozen elven purebloods among the faculty, and no teacher of any breeding who could match Ariadne Einhorn in length of service. “Is this something your department head could help you with? Or the Vice-Chancellor?”

“I have spoken with my department head and I have spoken with Dean Halverson,” Professor Ariadne said, her voice a dangerous purr that seemed to surround the chancellor. “I see no reason to concern myself with a Vice-Chancellor when the Chancellor herself is available.”

“Really, Vice-Chancellor Embries has more to do with the day-to-day affairs of…”

“This is no ‘day-to-day affair’,” Ariadne said. “That abomination you placed in my class incited a walk-out.”

The chancellor carefully folded her fingers on the marble-topped desk in front of her, and put on a placid smile.

What she really wanted was to ask the elven professor what the fucking hell she was talking about, but sadly enough, that wasn’t how chancellors were expected to behave.

One of these days, she thought, this will stop feeling like a role I’m playing and maybe I’ll start feeling like an actual head of a major university.

“I think you overestimate my level of involvement in filling out the rosters for each section,” she said aloud. She gestured to the high-backed leather chair across from her. “Please, sit down and start at the beginning.”

“I prefer to remain standing,” Ariadne said. “I’m referring to the Mackenzie child, this… Ms. Blaise… as she calls herself.”

The name clicked in the chancellor’s head. She’d been hearing that name quite a bit in the past few days. Edmund Embries–the vice-chancellor–possessed the actual executive power, but he made sure the ceremonial head of the university was apprised of important situations and ready to look knowledgeable should they be mentioned in her presence.

“The half-demon,” Davies said, nodding knowingly. “Yes. I rather thought that was who you were talking about.”

“Then why in the world didn’t you say so?”

“Without your roster in front of me, I couldn’t be sure,” Davies said. “A walk-out, you say? Was this something political?”

“It was something diabolical,” Ariadne said.

“What precisely did Miss Mackenzie do?”

Ariadne stared at her, unblinking, for several seconds before she answered.

“Does that actually matter?” she asked.

“Given that you’ve apparently come to me to complain about her behavior, I would say so,” Davies said.

“There’s no need to be flippant, young lady,” Ariadne said. “As it happens, she convinced a good deal of the class to get up and leave. I so completely lost my composure that I had no choice but to cancel my classes for the rest of the day.”

“How, exactly, did she do that?”

“I hardly see how that comes to bear,” Ariadne said. “When your predecessor, Chancellor Havilland, extended an invitation to me…”

“My predecessor was Graham Rodrigues,” Davies said. “Havilland was long before my time.”

“You will kindly note that I did not say immediate predecessor,” Professor Ariadne said, her jaw rigidly clenched. Her words still spilled forth with the same silky smoothness. “When Chancellor Havilland extended an invitation to me, he assured me I would not have to entertain hellspawn in my classroom.”

“That would have to have been over a hundred and fifty years ago,” Davies said. “In the mean time, the campus has moved and the entire college has been rebuilt twice.”

“And in that time, the late chancellor’s promise to me has been honored,” Ariadne said. “Why should this year be any different?”

“Because this year, a half-demon signed up for your class,” Davies said. “I’m very sorry, professor, but I don’t believe anybody has actually been aware of your agreement with Chancellor Havilland for quite some time now. Moreover, we couldn’t legally honor it. Discrimination on the basis of race is one of the big ones, you know. Well, of course you know… it was your ancestors–contemporaries, I mean–who fought most of the early battles there.”

“I can assure you I did not fight for demons,” Ariadne said. “They deserve no rights, and are accorded none.”

“But humans are,” Davies said. “The Dread Tribunal says the human half is entitled to life and liberty unless the demon half does something to forfeit that right.”

“Unless? My dear chancellor, I think you mean until,” Professor Ariadne said. “In the time your university has been in operation, how many students with demonbloods have attended?”

“With appreciable demonic ancestry, that we know of?” Davies said. “Two half-demons and three quarter-demons.”

“And how many of those creatures were eventually destroyed for various crimes?” Ariadne asked.

“Both of the half-demons and two of the quarters,” Davies said. “Though all but one of them graduated first.”

“And the one who did not graduate was responsible for razing the campus once,” Ariadne said.

“My understanding is that the popular account exaggerated his part in the destruction,” Davies said.

“You weren’t there,” Ariadne said. “I watched that thing leading the charge… it was right in the middle of the destruction.”

Davies sighed. She looked around, just to make sure that there were neither reporters nor lawyers lurking in a corner of her admittedly dim office, and made sure that the door was closed.

“Let me level with you, Ariadne… nobody likes having a half-demon on campus,” she said. “I don’t have anything against her personally, and it’s possible that she’s not especially dangerous, but she will make people nervous and if the day ever comes that she goes on a rampage, the media will be going over her past with a divining rod and that means the university’s name will be tied to her.”

“So expel her,” Ariadne said.

“The link would still be there,” Davies said. “And in any event, my hands are tied. Now, if you’d like, we could have Dean Halverson or her advisor talk to her about…”

“Just how long have you been chancellor here, exactly?” Ariadne asked.

“Twenty-three years this autumn,” Davies said.

“The previous chancellors with which I’ve had to deal all had a much firmer grip on things,” the professor said. “You’d better tighten up if you expect to be chancellor for another twenty-three years.”

“Actually, I’m hoping to retire next year,” the chancellor said. “But, really, we do have dispute resolution procedures in place for dealing with…”

“Are you married, Chancellor?” Ariadne asked. “Have you ever been married?”

“Well, no, but I hardly see…”

“Imagine that you had been married once, to a wonderful man… the proverbial love of your life,” Ariadne said. She put her hand on the back of the empty leather chair and pulled it back a bit. “Imagine you came into work every day, and seated in this chair right across from you was the thing that had killed him. Gazing insolently at you. Disrupting your work in every way imaginable. Refusing to let you forget she was there and resisting your every attempt to convince her peacefully to leave.”

“I can see how that would upset you,” Davies said. It was one of the stock phrases her mind kept ready at all times. All too often people would come to her with complaints that she could not act upon, things for which there was no actual remedy. “But, we cannot hold this one student personally responsible for your tragedy.”

“I was promised there would be no hellspawn in my class,” Ariadne said. “Does that word mean nothing to you?”

“If she walked out, perhaps the situation will resolve itself?” Davies suggested.

Ariadne shook her head.

“No,” she said. “There is no chance of that, I’m afraid. The wretched girl made that quite clear. She does not care what I do, she will haunt and harass me until the semester’s end.”

“Now, ‘harass’ is rather a serious word to throw about,” Davies said.

“No more serious than the situation warrants,” Ariadne said.

“What I meant was, it carries legal consequences,” Davies explained.

“I should hope that this harassment will bring consequences,” Ariadne said. “Legal or not… I’ve yet to be particularly impressed by the laws of this Imperial Republic, though I suppose allowances must be made for its youth.”

“Yes, well, let me tell you what I will do for you, Professor,” Davies said. “If you will please refrain from commenting on this in public… especially when it comes to making disparaging statements about those with demon blood in general or Mackenzie in particular and using words like ‘harassment’… then I will see what I can do about moving her to a different class.”

“In other words, I must forfeit my right to speech in exchange for a phantasmal possibility of succor,” Ariadne said.

“If this does not work, I will personally speak to her advisor and we can begin working on the next course of action,” Davies said.

“Which would be?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Davies said.

“I am not mollified, Chancellor,” Ariadne said. “If that monster is in my class on Monday, then we will see if your chancellorship can last another year. I’ve been with the university for quite some time, you know. I have contacts. I have pull.”

Most importantly, Davies knew, she had tenure coming out her androgynous ass. That thought brought something else to her mind.

“You also have quite a lot of leave time accumulated, I’d imagine,” Davies said.

“Given that I’ve been with this university since its founding and am not susceptible to mortal complaints, that’s a fair assumption,” Ariadne said.

“Why don’t you consider using some of it?” Davies said. “You could probably use a bit of a respite, after your ordeal. I’m sure somebody could be found to cover your classes.”

“I do not teach from notes or a textbook,” Ariadne said. “No book written can compare to the living memory of an elf.”

“Of course not,” Davies said. “But for a couple weeks, I’m sure a book would suffice, and if you wished for a longer rest, we could find a more suitable replacement.”

“This is your response?” Ariadne asked. “I come to you with a problem and you propose to get rid of me in lieu of solving it?”

“I’m not getting rid of anybody,” Davies said. “I’m merely suggesting you take some of the leave you’re entitled to.”

“While I have never taken a leave before, I’m certain that some sort of notice must precede it,” Ariadne said.

“Ordinarily,” Davies said, nodding. “But, as you say, you have been with the university for quite some time. We can make exceptions.”

“For this, you can,” Ariadne said. “But you won’t expel a demon.”

“Forgive me for being glib, but I don’t think you would sue the university for expediting your leave,” Davies said.

“I will consider it,” Ariadne said. “But I will not be fooled… I will teach my class on Monday, and I do not want to see this devil child.”

“That’s fine, but if she is…”

“Then you intend to do nothing this weekend,” Ariadne said.

“I will do what I can,” Davies said. “But if she is, please simply make it through the class as best you can, and then begin your leave of absence the next day. I promise you we will have a resolution when you come back.”

Damn, the chancellor thought. I promised something. It was an awful habit for a chancellor to have, and twenty-three years in the post had failed to break her of it.

“I intend to hold you to that promise,” Ariadne said. “I do have a very large amount of leave time coming, and I can promise you I shall not return while that creature is in my class.”

Well, the chancellor thought, that gives me all the incentive I need, doesn’t it?

She smiled and got to her feet.

“Thank you so much for bringing this to my attention,” she said. She reached her hand across the desk. “I promise it will have my full attention.”

“I should hope so,” Ariadne said.