Chương 62: Secant Thoughts

At breakfast I listened to Elica snipping about some girl or another whose existence has scuffed Elica's self-esteem, for reasons I never quite determined. I was only paying half-attention, just enough to read the cadence and contribute an encouraging sound or a relevant question when she slowed down.

"Oh no, what then?"

"Oh, you're not going to let her get away with that, are you?"

"Tsk, what nerve!" I found to my horror that I could run that kind of dialogue on autopilot without actually caring at all what she was saying. Years of training with small talk and casual conversations have trained me these skills thoroughly enough that I don't have to actually care at all. Instead I was surreptitiously watching the A-plot progressing.

Almost all the way across the cafeteria, my brother was sitting in close conference with Delizabeth Capstan, the cheerful and energetic goofball who looked too young to be here and was always saying something outrageous that made her a fan favorite. She also had one of the easiest romance tracks, and was reasonably low-stakes. A great fit for new players on easy difficulties.

But on higher settings her low-conflict storyline could make it hard to train up combat skills for the endgame unless Nathan is also actively pursuing some of the more dynamic plotline romances, like Josse or Clash or Zauria. I'm hoping that he sticks close with Delizabeth "Dizzy" Capstan for at least the first couple of years, but drops her before the story starts forcing him to choose which woman to finish the game with.

Otherwise, I'm going to have to take a very heavy hand to make sure he's tempered and hardened for the endgame, and neither of us will enjoy that. Also, she really is funny, and I'm fond of her, and I think that Nathan deserves to have someone fun and funny right now. They were laughing together, unabashed glee. They would not see me watching, I was using the owl's eyes to pick out details at a distance.

This was Day 2, so she would not be bringing him any of her problems yet, they would just be talking about the ridiculous teacher they had for their math class together. That's how it worked: no matter what, Nathan and Delizabeth had the same math class. Whether he was remedial or valedictorian, she was at the same level and they had the same teacher and the same conversations.

Depending on circumstances, she's either a happy and hapless lass that just can't seem to figure out math and gets held back to his classes, or she's a normal and well-adjusted gal who happens to be a savant-level mathematician to qualify for the same classes as he does. In the same way, he would always be in the same Natural Philosophy class as Filly Coltorn, the same History class as Lachel Freckentop, and so on. Whether he took fencing or not, he's bound to interact heavily with "Clash" Atland.

Fan theories generally treated Geography as being Kurumi Lautan's weakest subject because it's the one she always shares with Nathan- so her schedule is usually all top-shelf master-expert-genius classes, and one ordinary Geography class because most run-throughs don't make Nathan a top-tier genius. Fanfics for Harigold Glitter sometimes portray Kurumi as being weirdly clueless about geography to a hilarious degree.

"Hey, is that the TA from the natural department?" Vancy said, and I blinked my eyes back to a more normal degree of focus. I followed her gaze, and it took me a minute to spot what she had seen: Professor Ryichsur walking over towards our table. He could have just been headed anywhere at all, except that he was making direct eye contact and headed straight for me. Crap. I glanced at my mean-girl gal-pals.

"Hey, I'm gonna take this call. Nobody do anything that I'd want to be there to see until I get back, all right?" I stood and walked, meeting him a decent distance from the table.

"Professor," I said. My tone could not have been any more stiff.

"Do you have time to talk?" he asked, nodding towards the door leading out. I nodded, and followed after him. I started warming air before we stepped outside, it was easier than to try to warm up after I've already hit cold air. The instructor stepped down off the stoop to the ground, and paused.

"Huh," he said.

"Unseasonable."

"It's magic and you're welcome," I said, arms crossed. The door slammed shut behind me, cutting us off from all the noise and stares of the dining hall.

"I want to start by apologizing," he said.

"What I did was pretty nasty to you, and I wouldn't be surprised to find you holding a grudge. I'm sorry. And if I may, I'd like to follow up by explaining?" I held all my thoughts to myself.

"I'll listen to an explanation." He looked frustrated, but he was glaring down towards the ground.

"I didn't think through what it would look like. I mishandled the class badly. I had this ideal in my mind: here we have this famous genius student. Easily she is the most important person in the room. If I don't actively showcase this fact, it's going to feel like I'm ignoring you. I thought... I thought that if we didn't put it out in the open then people would get strange ideas about you being who you are. I was a little, um, star-struck?

And I did not consider until far, far too late that I should definitely have spoken to you about this before I invited everyone to cross-examine you."

"It felt a little like being back on trial," I admitted. And we all know how I feel about being on trial.

"Yeah. And then on top of that... there was my whole tone. In my head it was flippant and carefree, but when I played it back in my mind it started to feel dismissive, or even confrontational."

"Natalie Fucking Harigold?" He winced.

"Yes. Exactly that. I had thought it was going to be a laugh-line. Here she is folks, the one, the only, Natalie Fucking Harigold!!... but instead it came out cheap or even hostile. Confrontational."

"I assure you that everything about that felt, sounded and looked very confrontational."

"Blast. I had been afraid of that, gods damn it all," he muttered.

"I just stood there like a jackass. It took me a half-hour to realize that you were not thriving up there, and that you were in fact very annoyed. You were such a good sport I thought you were having a good time..

but when I was watching you I started picking up which of your expressions were relaxed and which ones were troubled, and I realized how few of one and many of the other, and by the time I realized that I had just stranded you with all these strangers picking at your ideas like chickens after the rain, we were way too deep in to turn around.

It would have made things even more awkward and strained if I jumped in to say 'whoops I just realized that this was a mistake and we should act like this is a normal class again'!"

"Hard disagree," I retorted.

"That would have been better than finishing out the class hour like that."

"Oh," he said, and he looked away again, grinding his teeth.

"Shit. And sorry again. Even when I'm trying not to be a jackass, I keep wearing the jackass's saddle. Anyway, I wanted first to apologize. And also to tell you that it was impetuous ignorance, not malice. And... well, and I want to tell you that you've got a perfect score in my class, for the rest of the year, no questions. If you show up we'd love to have you, if you blow it off I'll understand. If you do drop by there will never be another episode at all like that.

It's my first year teaching, and I'm already learning a lot about why my ideas are not better than what I've seen from every other teacher."

"Thank you," I said. For the apology, and the no-questions-asked A. But the explanation...

"Why did you say you were star-struck?" I asked, a little wary.

"Hah. When I first attended this school, they'd just opened their Developing Theories class based on your work. And as the little prodigy that I was, the very next year I qualified for it. Everyone else there is faculty or post-grad, doctorates all. I was the big success story for the program. And last year when I graduated with a teaching degree I was going to turn right around and start recruiting all the best and brightest out of the advanced Natural classes and send them to Developing. And then, what do I see?

Lo and behold?" He gestured dramatically, Vanna White.

"Herself, the best mind in the world, signing up for my first class as a teacher. I was intimidated! And I behaved badly."

"You were a prodigy when you got here?"

"One of the finest," he said. No false humility. No exaggerated pride. Just calling it like it is.

"And if someone had dragged you up to perform your tricks on the first day of class?" He shrugged.

"I'd have had a stammering nervous breakdown. Best case scenario. And despite that, I assumed you'd be different. So I'm embarrassed that it took me so long to realize, and I'm sorry." I let out a tight breath, and nodded.

"Thank you. And I shall see you later, Professor." Nathan was in the homeroom class before I got there, sitting next to Josse, working on something. She was quickly going to become his confidante and friend, the one that can always be counted on for a favor. Skeici was sitting a little closer today, and she had made an effort to clean up some, brushed her hair out, and maybe applied a bit of makeup even. Good luck girl, my brother is blind to attention from anyone he's not already attracted to.

I walk up the risers and look for a seat. I'm surprised to see that at the back row, in the center, someone is holding a seat for me. Right in my favorite spot. It's the guy that was next to me yesterday, with not enough personal space boundaries. Cool. I'll take the seat, I can intimidate him into leaving me alone after I've sat down.

"Lady Harigold," he said, moving his bag for me to sit down.

"Morning," I said, and dropped to the seat.

"Always mourning for the survivors," he said, with a tip of his head.

"What?"

"Just something they say back home," he said, waving it off.

"Nice exit yesterday." I pulled a book out of my pocket dimension and opened it to my bookmark. He stopped talking and started fiddling in his bag. The teacher pushed the door shut and started calling out names for her roll call. The weirdo next to me answered to Quarl Billiams. I called present when it was my turn, and then went back to my books. I wanted to understand a lot more about how shockwaves propagate through incompressible fluids. It turns out there's a lot of variables at play there.

Not that anyone here has a book that precisely corresponds to what I need, but I gesture for conjured stone and receive both slate and chalk, to make notes and do some calculations. It looks like that water-detonation attack is going to continue to be viable going forward, but it might be less effective in deeper water where the impact has more directions to expand to. Unless I boost my strength more, and can control a bigger singularity, draw more water and set off a bigger explosion.

I needed to run some numbers to see how much is feasible. I also need to keep in mind that I'm discussing explosives used in untested environments. If, for example, I broke out the wall separating those things from Hearstcliff, the tidal wave alone would wipe out the entire city, doom the nation, and eventually destroy the world. So I had to be careful with all these structural demolition charges I was messing with. Quarl cleared his throat. Great. He had something to say to me.

"I just wanted to say-" he balked, and pushed through.

"Thank you for not troubling my family. Most would have accused us or attacked us, under the circumstances."

"Your family? The Billiams family?"

"The Duskare family," he corrected quietly. He means Duskare House, the Great House that held the Protectorate of Stableholt.

"Ah," I said.

"No, I already knew that none of yours were involved."

"Few would have looked for reason to think us innocent, under the circumstances," he repeated.

"Thank you. For your restraint." To clarify: the Duskare family is one of the four Major Houses that make up the Dominionist faction, the main opponents of my father, and his policies, and his entire Development faction. Duskare was close allies with Freckentop, the most staunch enemies my family has. And the Duskare family was also one of the only places that would consider my cross-continental spree-killing rampage an exercise in restraint.

Their main claim to fame and notoriety is the effectiveness of their assassins. Oh, nobody ever calls it that openly. We understand, but it's rude to call one of the great houses a den of killers and sneaks. Their House Crest bears two mottos: "Bold in Action", and "Humble in Words". Sounds very nice, right? What it means in practice is that they will do whatever needs to be done, without ever holding back. But, only in secret, and never to be admitted.

They are killers in the dark, warriors in silence, and Stableholt, their holdings, were right next door to Meadowtam. Yeah, many people would assume that the attack against my family came from that direction. Many would have started a murder spree there instead of looking elsewhere. Fortunately, I already knew about that red herring plotline and all the extra enemies that came with it.

"Restraint," I repeated.

"Sure. You're speaking remarkably openly about this."

"About what?" he said blandly.

"I'm just saying. I saw the reports. I know how this could have gone. And my interest starts with gratitude, but does not end there. All things considered, I feel like I owe you several favors on behalf of my kin."

"Oh," I said. I had to ask I had to ask I had to- "So what kind of admission did you get to Hearstcliff Academy?" He grinned a little coldly.

"House-referred merit," he said. Meaning that his House leadership sponsored him here and had a merit letter redirected for him. The book in front of him was about herbalism and tonics. I took a shot in the dark.

"By any chance, do you know my friend Vancy? I believe you may have met her late yesterday."

"She's got good hands but trouble compensating for drop at long ranges," Quarl said. Coooool. Okay. The guy from the assassin house reads books about poisons and is on the school's target-crossbow team. I can take a hint when it falls on top of me.

"That favor you mentioned," I said, carefully.

"I'd like time to think that over."

"If you didn't I would have insisted," he said, smiling a little sadly. The bells rang. Time for math class. So he's given me a lot to think about. Kurumi Lautan and I were staring at the paperwork between us. She glanced at me, then back down. I glanced at her, and back down. We had both read over this a few times.

"Lady Harigold, forgive me saying so, but this is rather fucked up," she said.

"Yes it is."

"This is only tangentially related to our coursework."

"Is that a trigonometry pun?" She blushed.

"Of course not. I would never. Puns are lowbrow."

"I agree," I said, and let a wicked grin flutter over my lips.

"Co-signed." She actually looked a little mad at that. Look at us nerds, making math jokes at each other.

"This isn't computation or expression!" she protested.

"This is... tomb raiding." She said the words with truly profound distaste.

"And you're not even all that surprised!"

"Well, I did tell you so." She glared. We were huddled over a table at the back of the class room, the whole class was broken into groups of two that would be working on their yearly project together, assigned by the teacher. Some were being asked to calculate the amount of sand on a particular beach, and to show their work. Someone else was assigned to build an equation that would accurately predict weather under specific conditions. Another, to find the legendary Missing Carry in Mavsim's 800 Page Solve.

They looked like they were going to cry. Our assignment was to recover the personal workbooks of Ofxupo and P'gyaqu and Keikthagorus and see if they all got the same answer to Piffle's Riddle. We had until the end of the year.

"Well, the good news is that they are all buried in Hearstcliff, so we won't have to miss any classes for a long trip," I pointed out.

"The bad news is everything else." Kurumi sat with her hands pressed to her mouth.

"You did actually warn me. Lost books. Your brother in geography. And.." she snapped up, pinning me with her eyes.

"You said I'd be student president!"

"Yes," I said.

"Elections start next month. Just be yourself, you're going to win in a landslide." She frowned.

"I can't just take that for granted! Now I'm already getting anxious about this!"

"Right. Be yourself." She glared at me, I smiled back. She kept glaring but went back to the conversation.

"All right. We recover the workbooks. My family has enough money to send in adventurers, good ones. Or to just excavate the entire site of their crypts and sieve the workbooks out of the rubble. A small army, if we need one." She watched my face carefully, already deciphering me. I sometimes get a little annoyed by that. It's like being in a world of mind-readers, everyone knows what I'm about to say before I say it. She was shaking her head.

"You already know that wouldn't work. The adventurers."

"Sorry," I said again.

"Ofxupo and P'gyaqu were both incredibly paranoid about the other one stealing their work. Their crypts are built so that nobody can steal those books and get them out intact. Ingenious mechanisms and traps, conundrums and locks. All self-destructing. They wanted to make sure that only they could read their own work. If anyone tried and failed, that's the end of the book. So: what are the odds that your family's money can buy adventurers that are smarter than Ofxupo and P'gyaqu and Keikthagorus?" She scoffed.

"They're not that smart. Those three could each only figure out one answer to Piffle's Riddle!" I muted a laugh.

"Kurumi, I'm going to call your attention to the fact that almost nobody can work out more than one answer to the Riddle. Certainly no tomb-raider you're going to hire. But in fact, that kind of intellect is exactly what we're going to need."

"Oh," she said, downcast again.

"Wait, does that mean that you and I are going to need to do this?"

"Either that or fail the class," I said. She looked at me like I'd just pulled a dagger and held it to her throat. She was more terrified of that possibility than she was of all the legendary mechanical traps in those crypts, or Keikthagorus's experiments in necromancy.