Chapter 8 #2
“Philip, can you grab that cauldron on the shelf over there, please? Marian, could you fetch me the bottle of purified water that fell on the floor next to the pile of incense sticks?” He pointed to what he needed. The students quickly grabbed their assigned objects and brought them over.
“Set the cauldron on the floor.” He waited until it was in position. “Marian, pour the entire bottle of water inside the cauldron.”
“Now, Amanda. Do you think the chalk needs to be ground up, or should I drop it directly in as is?”
Amanda’s forehead wrinkled as she considered her options. “As is? That’s how it was used.” She scowled harder. “Don’t you think?”
“It doesn’t matter what I think. It’s your theory. We are now delving into the scientific method of spell construction. For every spell or magical construction, there’s a bit of science involved. There is a little mad scientist in every spell maker.” He grinned.
Laughter filled the room.
Silly kids thought he was making that up. They would learn soon enough if they continued studying spell construction.
“Maybe break it in half and dump half as is, then grind the other half to see if they react differently?” She flashed him an uncertain look from beneath her lashes.
“Excellent scientific methodology. Gather around, class.” He held out a hand. “But not too close. No one should inhale fumes or get wet if it splashes out.”
He was pretty sure that injured students and a possible lawsuit weren’t what Dean Mearson had expected from her rising star when she claimed she wanted him to shake up the department.
Without further warning, Quentin dropped the chalk in the water. The liquid bubbled, and as Amanda had surmised, the water turned a brilliant red, but it emitted gray smoke.
“No sparks,” someone said in the crowd.
“That’s right,” Quentin agreed. “There weren’t any sparks. What does that tell us?”
“That it isn’t proper ritual chalk?” A female student from the back shouted out.
“Possibly, or that it was meant for a different kind of ritual than the one we used it for. It doesn’t have dragon ash, that’s for sure. But what’s the next step in our scientific method?”
The bell rang, and not a single student moved.
“Do it again to verify results.” Amanda’s voice had a firm edge. “If it’s the same, we’ll know it’s made of something other than dragon ash with the demon bone.”
“Now, a vital thing to remember is never to use magic to clean a cauldron. It can react terribly with residue. George, grab another cauldron. Suzie, another bottle of water.”
The items were fetched, and Suzie poured the water into the new cauldron without instructions.
“Good. There is a mortar and pestle on the third shelf if someone can grab them.”
An eager student fetched it and brought it over. Quentin ground up the remaining chalk, not wanting to take up more time explaining grain consistency. He tipped the bowl over and dumped the powder into the cauldron.
Red water and gray smoke.
The same.
“Does anyone know what gray smoke symbolizes?”
“Human bone?” Philip offered.
“Human mixed with something else. In this case, demon bone is most likely due to the red water.” He put the remaining piece of chalk back in the container.
“What do we do now?” Marian pouted.
“I’ll talk to the administration about where the chalk might have come from. How about next time I’ll bring materials from home and show you how to make proper custom chalk?”
A cheer sounded around the room.
Quentin smiled at his chaotic gremlins. “Now off you go to your next class. If any of your teachers give you a hard time, I’ll write you a note for them next class.”
Another cheer sounded before they filed out of the room, leaving Quentin alone with a damaged classroom and worried thoughts to keep him company. He shoved the empty tin in his pocket to deal with later. He’d have to make an appointment with Dean Mearson to find out who had this class before him.
He only made it two steps out the door before he almost ran into Rendell. The department head had a sterner expression than usual. “What happened? An explosion was reported, but when the alarms didn’t go off, I decided to wait until after your class.”
“The chalk I used caused an explosion.” No sense lying about it. The students were probably gossiping about it as they left the classroom.
“Where did you get it? If you made faulty chalk, you could get us sued.”
Quentin wanted to snap at Rendell, but unfortunately, the asshat had a point. “I found it in the teacher’s desk.” He pulled out the chalk box and handed it over. “From our testing, it looks like it might be made at least partially from human bone. I don’t know who had this room before me…”
“Doesn’t matter,” Rendell interrupted. “You are responsible for your students’ safety. Using random materials highlights your incompetence. You should’ve used approved chalk while teaching classes at this university.”
Quentin wanted to argue, but wasn’t Rendell technically correct? He really should’ve gone to the supply room to get proper chalk. It was his laziness that almost cost his students their lives.
Rendell tucked the chalk in his pocket. “I’m going to suspend you until this is investigated. Since you haven’t been here long, you won’t be paid during your leave, and your lab access will be revoked. You have twenty-four hours to clear out your lab.”
“What?” His voice reached an uncomfortable screech that even made him wince. “You can’t do that!”
“I can.” Rendell’s smug smile had Quentin clenching his hand and using every ounce of self-control to resist punching the smug bastard in the face.
“You’ll find we take safety seriously here, and sloppy teaching by an untrained junior professor doesn’t live up to our standards.
I’ll inform Dean Mearson of the event. She’ll make any final decisions, but don’t expect to stay around here for much longer.
” With a final smirk, Rendell turned and walked away.
Asshat.
They might enjoy the reputation for graduating him, but they seemed to have no problem making him academically homeless. He had no idea where to go from here.
Perhaps it was time to return to bounty hunting. He could work off his anger and make some money, as it seemed no more funding would be coming from this college.
With each step, Quentin suspected someone had set him up.
Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do about it.
At least not yet.
Luckily, he’d already moved his stuff out. Psychic instincts for the win.
Fuck their rules. Quentin closed his eyes and teleported away, not caring who saw him. After all, he didn’t work there anymore.