18. Chapter 18 The Corridor
Corvath was sitting against the wall twenty feet ahead, tail curled around his paws, watching Lucien approach.
"You're smiling," Corvath said. "That's unusual after a professor pulls you aside. Should I be concerned or impressed?"
"Neither." Lucien stopped beside him. "She wanted to talk about the dining hall incident with the rich moron I sent airborne."
"Of course she did." Corvath stood and stretched, front legs extended, back arching, a display of feline maintenance that he never rushed. "And what was the professor's assessment of your performance this morning?"
"Frustrated. She listed every incident since the semester started.
Told me she went to a hearing for me, defended me against her better judgment, and days later I'm choking students in public.
" He started walking. Corvath fell into step with his ankle.
"She said she may not always be able to protect me. "
"How selfless. Did she also compliment your technique?"
"She told me to get out of her classroom and stop getting into trouble."
"Sound advice. You won't follow it, I’m sure. You do know you could squash this situation with Valt if you would just vaporize him into thin air. No one would know but you. That’s a splendid plan."
"I’m trying to be nice in this life. That wouldn’t be nice. It isn’t a bad idea. I’m just not going to resort to vaporization just yet."
Corvath’s tail flicked. “Pity.”
They walked. The corridor stretched toward the main hall, mostly empty. The class-change traffic had cleared, and the hallway held a pleasant silence.
Ormon came around the corner from the opposite direction.
He had Ollie on his shoulder, the otter draped across the broad surface with the boneless ease of an animal that had turned being carried into a lifestyle.
Ormon filled the corridor with big shoulders and big hands that made his book bag look undersized.
He had dark skin, close-cropped black hair, the round face and broad nose that Lucien remembered from the dungeon practice sessions.
He wasn't tall—Lucien's height or just under—but he was built heavier than his personality.
He looked like he should be loud. He never was.
He was smiling before he'd finished processing the encounter, the default friendliness he'd carried since Lucien met him.
"Hey," Ormon said. His voice carried without effort. "Lucien. Good to see you."
"Ormon." Lucien stopped. "It's been a while."
"It has." He shifted his bag on the shoulder that didn't have an otter on it. "I was in Kess's class just now."
"I noticed."
"That was..." Ormon searched for the right word without hurrying. "Impressive isn't right. Impressive implies it looked hard. It didn't look hard."
"It wasn't. Valt is a weakling."
"Yeah." He nodded once. "That's the part people are going to talk about. His attacks didn’t faze you at all. You looked bored."
He said it with no judgment in it. He'd been the same in the dungeon after the crimson strike that Lucien surprised everyone with.
"How's everything been?" Lucien asked. "I haven't seen you much since the dungeon."
"Good. Quiet, mostly. Rask has us doing interval runs on the east track and my legs hate me for it, but the core work is coming along." He scratched Ollie behind one ear without looking, the gesture worn smooth by years. "You?"
"The usual. Classes, incidents, getting lectured by faculty. Causing as much trouble as I can."
"I heard about the dining hall this morning."
"Word travels."
"It does when you throw somebody six feet." Ormon said it straight, no opinion attached. "Valt had it coming, from what I heard."
"He said some things he shouldn’t have said. The result was… flight."
"Then that's that." His shrug moved Ollie, and the otter adjusted on his shoulder, the two of them running on physics they'd worked out years ago.
Ollie opened his eyes. The otter blinked once at Lucien, dark round eyes tracking downward to Corvath. His head tilted. His nose twitched.
Corvath fixed on Ollie with the particular attention he gave things he was evaluating.
"The otter is communicating with me," Corvath said.
"What’s he saying?" Lucien said.
"Familiar telepathy. He told me that he hoped my morning was pleasant." Corvath sat, his posture shifting into something more upright. "Ollie asked me why I choose to go to the effort of walking when I could just ride on you. Not a bad idea actually. Why must I labor myself so hard?"
Ormon was already nodding. He'd heard Ollie through the bond before Corvath finished translating.
"That sounds like him. He can be kind of lazy. We’re working on it," Ormon said.
"I have informed him that I will consider his advice and determine if it is my best course of action. I told him that it would be a bumpy ride on your shoulder. I prefer not to alter the alignment of my spine." Corvath lifted his chin a fraction. "He says he understands."
"He probably just said okay," Ormon said.
"He said he understands. The nuance is mine to supply."
Ollie sent something else. Corvath's ears rotated forward.
"He wants to know about my passage network," Corvath said. "He says he's noticed me entering walls."
"You've been entering walls?" Ormon asked.
"I've been utilizing the maintenance infrastructure that the academy has conveniently provided for creatures of my caliber. The walls are incidental." He addressed Lucien but his attention stayed on the otter. "I've mapped routes through the ceilings and ventilation channels across three floors."
Ormon glanced at Ollie. The otter's eyes were open now, fully, the sleepy disinterest gone. He looked like an animal that had been paying attention the entire time.
"Ollie gets into things," Ormon said, plain and without drama. "Pipes, mostly. Drainage channels. He likes water, and the academy has water running under pretty much everything."
Corvath went still.
"He's been in the drainage system," Corvath said. The theatrical delivery was gone. He said it flatly but he was clearly intrigued.
"Since the first week," Ormon said. "I stopped asking where he goes during class. He always comes back wet."
Corvath's tail had unwound from his paws. It sat flat on the stone behind him, the tip moving in small, controlled flicks.
"The otter has been mapping the system below the academy," Corvath said, turning to Lucien. "While I have been mapping the system above it."
Corvath turned back to Ollie. The otter sat on Ormon's shoulder, brown fur sleek, dark eyes steady, holding the cat's gaze without any of the theatrics Corvath brought to everything. They looked at each other across a gap that had just closed.
"He says he knows where the main water line connects to the eastern cistern," Corvath translated. The amused tolerance in his voice was gone. "He says there are three junction points below the Concourse that don't appear on any visible plans. He discovered them by following the current."
"He followed the current through the pipes?" Lucien asked.
"He's an otter," Ormon said. "Following water is what he does."
Corvath stood. The movement was precise, the casual loaf replaced by the upright posture of a cat conducting business.
"Ormon." He addressed the dwarf directly, formally.
"I would like to take Ollie to see my passage network.
The ventilation system connects to the drainage infrastructure at multiple points that I have identified but not explored, because they involve water and I find water disagreeable for the most part. "
"Sure," Ormon said.
"This is a professional consultation. I am proposing an exchange of intelligence between two operators who have been working the same building from opposite ends.
Between the ventilation network above and the drainage system below, we would have comprehensive coverage of the academy's secondary infrastructure. "
"Sounds good. He could use a pal," Ormon said casually.
"The scope of this alliance must not be overstated."
"Okay."
Corvath blinked. He had prepared for negotiation and received none.
"Will our new partnership be agreeable to you, Ormon?" he asked.
Ormon tilted his head toward Ollie. The otter was already flowing down Ormon's arm, liquid and unhurried, transitioning between surfaces with the ease of an animal built for water and tolerating land as a courtesy.
He dropped to the floor, shook once, and sat beside Corvath.
Sitting, Ollie was shorter, sleeker, about half Corvath's mass.
He looked up at the cat without concern.
"Yeah, that sounds great," Ormon confirmed.
Corvath glanced down at the otter beside him, then at Ormon, then at Lucien.
"We will return… eventually," Corvath said. He turned to Ollie. "Follow me. Stay close. The first passage entrance is behind the baseboard at the end of this corridor, and I will not slow my pace for sightseers."
He turned and walked. Ollie followed, low to the stone, in a gait that wasted nothing.
The otter was faster than he looked. They reached the end of the corridor, and Corvath paused at a section of baseboard that looked identical to every other section, nudged it with his head, and disappeared into a gap that shouldn't have been wide enough for a cat his size.
Ollie poured in after him. The baseboard settled back into place.
The corridor was quiet.
Lucien looked at Ormon. Ormon looked at the baseboard.
Ormon scratched the back of his head. "He doesn't usually go places with other animals. Ollie, I mean. He's polite, but he keeps to himself."
"Corvath doesn't usually invite company. I think this is a good thing. Corvath has been complaining about boredom."
Ormon's laugh filled the corridor, bigger than his voice, bouncing off stone walls. "I think they're going to be friends."
"Don't tell Corvath that. He'll insist it's a professional alliance. Let him figure it out on his own."
"Right." Ormon adjusted his bag. The smile was still there, easy and automatic. "See you in Hestwick's class?"
"Unfortunately."
Ormon laughed again, shorter, and walked toward the main hall. His footsteps were quiet for someone his size.
Lucien stood alone in the corridor, and somewhere inside the walls, a cat was giving an otter a tour of the infrastructure and calling it reconnaissance.
He adjusted his bag and walked onward.