Chapter 10 Aurelie #2
taught one class per semester, an intense seminar on early automatons that students only took when they were desperate for
extra credits.
The stairs leading up to his office creaked beneath her slippers. He did have a home, supposedly, and she’d never seen him
on campus at night, but she suspected he might stay over from time to time. The fact that he could even make it up and down
these stairs was impressive, as Aurelie was winded by the time she reached the top.
She knocked on his door, wondering why he bothered to close it with so few people coming here. She was met with silence that
lasted a good three minutes, and she was about to abandon the muffins and head back to her lab when the door inched open,
revealing one enormous eyeball.
“Can I help you?” a gruff voice asked. It took Aurelie a moment to realize he was wearing magnifying glasses similar to her own. She’d never considered how ridiculous she must look in them.
She cleared her throat. “I’m Aurelie Blake, Dean Blake’s niece?”
The eye blinked. “Yes?”
“Erm . . . well, I’ve brought you some muffins. I was hoping I could talk to you for a bit.” She held up the basket, hoping
to entice him to at least open the door farther.
“I’m quite busy,” he said.
“Of course. It’s just that I’m interested in learning about arcane magic and runes, and Professor Booth thought you might
be able to help.”
“Professor Booth?” The old man’s voice brightened considerably. “She mentioned me, specifically?”
Aurelie nodded in encouragement. “She did. She said you’re brilliant. That if anyone could help me, it’s you.”
At that, the door opened wide enough that Aurelie could confirm the professor had two enormous eyeballs. “Do come in,” he
said, motioning for Aurelie to step forward. “It’s a bit of a mess, I’m afraid. I don’t often get visitors here.”
“A bit of a mess” was the understatement of the century. Professor Sheldrake’s office made Aurelie’s lab look minimalist by
comparison. Every inch of available space here was occupied with books, papers, maps, and tools, but also gadgets and gizmos
that Aurelie didn’t have names for. Hanging from the ceiling was what could only be a prototype for a flying machine. A half-assembled
automaton in the shape of a man rested in a broken armchair.
Some children dreamed of tables laden with sweets or vaults full of treasure. Some wandered into a toy shop or a pet store and felt they’d reached the very pinnacle of existence. Up until today, Aurelie had never known that level of joy.
As she turned in a slow circle, her eyes wide with astonishment and glittering with tears, she wondered if she’d finally found
what she’d been missing all along.
“Good heavens, Professor Sheldrake,” she breathed. “You’re an inventor.”
Professor Sheldrake shushed Aurelie loudly as he hurried to close the door behind her. “I’m not an inventor,” he said, back to his gruff self. “I’m a scientist. I conduct experiments. And yes, every now and then I create—inadvertently, mind—something new. Such is the nature of science.”
Aurelie thought about quibbling. What he’d described was an inventor to a T. But she thought better of it, lest he decide
he’d had enough of her and force her to leave. Not yet. Not when she’d just discovered this treasure trove of projects and
ideas. She could spend hours in this room and not cover everything lining the walls and desks. Yes, desks. She counted three,
perhaps four, if one included tables. Which Professor Sheldrake clearly did.
“Professor Booth?” he pressed.
“Yes! She speaks so highly of you.” Aurelie was fairly certain Professor Sheldrake was married, and Professor Booth definitely
had a wife. “A friend of yours, I take it?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t call us friends,” he said, almost coyly. “We’re colleagues. But she’s always been so lovely. She brings me
tea from time to time.” He glanced at the basket hopefully.
“I’m afraid it’s just muffins,” she said. “I’ll bring tea next time.”
“Mm.” The tone implied there likely wouldn’t be a next time, so Aurelie hurried on.
“What about the demons?” she asked, pressing one gentle fingertip to the flying contraption. She was immediately shooed away
by the professor. Now that she could see all of him, she realized he was not as old as he’d been made out to be—eighty, at
most—and if his faculties were misplaced, they were likely to be found in close proximity to Aurelie’s. Either Professor Sheldrake
wasn’t truly mad, or Aurelie was. Both seemed equally likely at the moment.
“The demons, if accidentally conjured, are dealt with.”
She cast him a questioning glance, and he gestured to the corner of the room, where a large barrel of salt sat beside a taxidermied
dog the size of a lion.
It blinked.
“Demons take me!” Aurelie gasped. “Is that thing alive?”
“That thing is named Alastor, and I’ll have you know he’s a purebred Wisterian hound. A bit larger than his littermates, to be sure.
But still within breed standard.”
Aurelie had never seen such an immense animal before. She resolved to give it a wide berth. “That’s . . . convenient.”
“Hardly. He eats like a horse and has to be walked at least an hour a day or he’ll go into a frenzy. But he is excellent with
demons.” The old man patted the dog on the head. It didn’t twitch a whisker. “At any rate,” he said, eyeing the basket of
muffins, “what was all this about arcane magic?”
Aurelie had nearly forgotten her reason for coming here in the first place. Did she dare to tell Professor Sheldrake about her own inventions? He would likely find them amateur and inane compared to his own work. But the very fact that he was here, creating in secrecy, made her want to embrace him.
“Professor Sheldrake, I was wondering, do you have a protégé at the moment?” She handed him the basket of muffins and watched
him make quite a show out of choosing one. “That is, I’m in need of a mentor, and I’m afraid no one else in the science department
shares my particular interests.”
“Mm,” he said, having finally selected his muffin and taken a rather impressive first bite. Small tufts of white hair jutted
out above his ears, though the rest of his pate was completely bald. “No one has asked to study under me in years. A decade,
perhaps. I doubt your professors would give you any credit for it. They might oppose it altogether.”
He set a kettle on a stove Aurelie noticed was very similar to her own and felt another swell of affinity that brought tears
to her eyes. Who would have thought that all this time, the person she’d been searching for was the school hermit? And what,
exactly, did that say about Aurelie?
“We don’t have to tell anyone. I wouldn’t be doing it for credit. I’d simply like to glean any wisdom I can from you.”
He eyed her over his second muffin, still wearing those ridiculous glasses. “Wisdom, eh.”
She reached into her pocket and pulled out the sketch of the door.
She’d brought it with her on a whim, really.
She’d never actually expected to be able to share it.
But this was her chance, possibly her only real chance, to learn more about this project.
If he told her it was impossible or too dangerous, she’d never speak to Everard
again. But if not . . .
With a hope and a prayer and no small amount of fear, she thrust the paper toward him. “Here. I need to build this.”
After a long, silent moment, Professor Sheldrake took the paper from Aurelie and carried it over to an orb-shaped lamp, held
aloft by a bronze cherub. “What’s this? You want to build a portal? Using arcane runes? Do you even know what it leads to?”
A portal? Why did that word feel so much more ominous than door? “Erm, not exactly,” she said, her heart in her throat, half expecting him to ring for the guards.
He stared at her, clearly unimpressed.
Aurelie lifted her chin, hoping to portray more confidence than she felt. “It will help eradicate demons.”
After a heavy silence, he sighed. “Even if that’s true, this is highly illegal. Magic, as I’m sure you know, was outlawed
under King Aciano along with inventing. Besides, these metal plates are so intricate that they would require a master’s skill.
You’d need to enlist a blacksmith’s help, and they’d never do it. Far too risky for them.”
This was why she needed someone to bounce ideas off of! Imagine the time she could have saved herself in the past if she’d
had Professor Sheldrake’s knowledge at her disposal. “What if someone else had already agreed to make the plates? I only need
to assemble them, and of course etch the runes.”
“Mm.” Professor Sheldrake had moved on to his fourth muffin. “Still illegal, but you’re young. Possibly resourceful.” He set the basket of muffins on a table piled with books. “Those runes are a truly archaic form of Elder Vansion, so dated even I may not be able to help with the translation.”
“Is a translation necessary?”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “If you would even consider casting a spell you can’t read, then I’m sure I can be of no use
to you as a mentor. One can’t teach common sense.”
Aurelie winced. “Of course. It was a foolish question. I will translate them faithfully.”
He grunted. “Very well. I’d ask you where these blueprints came from, but I’m fairly certain I don’t wish to know. And since
everyone around here tells me that I’m as good as dead, I don’t suppose I’ll have to live with any adverse consequences for
long. You may use the empty classroom in the basement. No one ever goes there. Mind you, it’s with good reason. It’s dark
and damp and full of spiders.”
Aurelie hadn’t heard anything beyond the implied yes. She nodded eagerly. “Spiders. Right. I don’t mind spiders.” Not true,
but Mephisto would clear those out in no time.
“Alastor is not for hire, so don’t get any ideas where he’s concerned. Your invention, your demon. If anyone asks if I was
aware of your work, I’ll deny it to the grave.”
“I’d expect nothing less.”
Finally, he lowered the spectacles to the tip of his nose and sighed. In reality, his eyes were of perfectly average size.
It was a wonder he didn’t get a headache wearing those glasses all the time. “What is the niece of Dean Blake, arguably the
most provincial in the history of this esteemed institution, doing building an illegal invention.” It wasn’t a question, and
Aurelie couldn’t have answered it even if it was. He studied her for a moment, the way he might a toad.
“This kingdom, for all its faults, has continued to function because the vast majority of its citizens are law-abiding, rule-following, tax-paying sheep. And thank the seven virtues for that, or we’d be overrun with demons.
Until someone breaks the curse on this country of ours, we’re doomed to repeat history, year after year, decade after decade.
We’re no better than these automatons,” he said, gesturing to the half-assembled humanoid.
“I have no doubt that nothing will change in my lifetime. Likely yours either, if I’m being honest.”
Aurelie didn’t let herself think that way, and to hear it laid out so starkly by Professor Sheldrake made her feel smaller
and more alone than ever. Then again, she was used to disappointment. She always managed to find a way to carry on.
“But,” he said, reaching for another muffin, “every now and then, a person comes along who refuses to follow the rules, who
decides that the laws don’t apply to them, that some things are worth fighting for. We call them criminals,” he added flatly.
Aurelie could feel tears welling in her eyes, much to her mortification. “I—”
“I haven’t finished, young lady.” He replaced his glasses and blinked at her owlishly. “Back in the days of my grandfather,
they had a different name for those people. They called them rebels. Radicals. Revolutionaries. They broke societies, started
wars. Sometimes they killed in the name of progress. Most people hated them. Very few celebrated them. But they are the ones
who changed the world.”
A chill ran up the back of Aurelie’s neck.
“So, Miss Blake?” Professor Sheldrake asked, handing her back her sketch. “Which one are you?”