Chapter Sixteen #2
Maggie almost convinced herself that ending her class fifteen minutes early was a gift to her students—a little extra time for them to cram for another class, finish last-minute coursework, or just rest—but truthfully, it gave Maggie time to snoop before she had to meet Taliesin.
When she was sure that none of her students had any pre-finals questions, she said hasty goodbyes and left for the south staircase.
Ilex Hall had its quirks since it began its life as a manor house, built at the edge of the Wilds by an eccentric architect and philanthropist when Galloway was nothing more than a few farms. He had intentionally built the manor to be an observation point for the Wilds, with wide, tall windows on the upper floors and covered brick walkways that dipped into the edge of the forest. In the center of the building was a large courtyard, where plants found within the Wilds were once cultivated and observed.
Now the courtyards and gardens on campus doubled as teaching plots for the Botany and Mycology Department.
Some of them were still relegated as observational plots for local flora, but the courtyard in Ilex Hall, due to its proximity to the alchemy labs, was full to bursting with plants that could be used in the decoctions added to chalk to enhance runes.
Vervain and yew were for many things but primarily warding spellwork that repelled or banished fantasmia; wormwood and mugwort were for scrying and other, murkier divination spells; mountain laurel and wild aster were frequently employed as a calming decoction for spellwork with unfavorable astrology or other sticky details.
They could reduce the likelihood of a pall, and early career alchemists often relied on them.
If only Taliesin still had his chalk training wheels on.
The northern staircase was still cordoned off since it had been contaminated with pall slime, meaning students and faculty were crowded in the southern staircase in between each class.
It also meant that Maggie would be on the wrong side of the building to Taliesin’s Materials Alchemy lab, so she decided to cut through the courtyard.
The path coiled through the courtyard like a nautilus, converging on a small, flowering hawthorn tree in the center.
The beds were neat and orderly, with the electric green of new spring growth and blooms bursting forth in pinks, whites, and purples.
The campus gardeners, worried about the gloom cast by the pall and the reduced sunlight, had installed small lights shaped like wide leaves to help the plants grow.
The lights vined through the courtyard garden like a lucent pothos, creating a dazzling array that seemed to have grown overnight.
The strangely festive, twinkling glow left Maggie breathless.
Maggie cut through the garden on stepping stones, brushing her hand across a soft reaching sweet fern, until she stood outside Taliesin’s class.
Materials Alchemy had been relocated from a third-floor lab to this cramped classroom tucked off the courtyard near the northern staircase.
Even though the room was small, it had tall windows and a back door that opened to the garden.
Most professors who taught in that classroom kept the door open since the room was so small and stuffy, letting in a little bit of cool, fresh air.
She was pleased to find that Taliesin had done the same.
Through the open door, Maggie had a view of about half the students and Taliesin by the chalkboard.
She knew it was the same class that had experienced the pall, and she recognized most of the students, if not from her own classes, then from helping them down the stairs to safety that day.
Materials Alchemy had a reputation for being a chore of a class.
At Hawthorn, it was previously taught by an ancient professor who had finally retired last spring.
The coursework consisted of basic lessons on the transformation of organic and inorganic materials, an essential building block for many complicated spells.
Maggie was surprised when Taliesin was hired specifically to teach it.
He taught three Materials Alchemy labs and then two other slightly more advanced intro courses.
She would have expected such a famous visiting scholar to teach more advanced, niche topics, but this was just another way that Taliesin surprised her.
Maggie pulled her sweater tighter over her shoulders as she peeked through the door of Taliesin’s class.
Up at the front of the room, she saw a different version of him than any she had met so far.
Taliesin bounded around from the chalkboard to the lectern to directly in front of his students’ desks without any of the awkwardness she had seen on the auditorium stage.
He was energetic. Enthusiastic. On the board, he had drawn an example of a complicated rune.
Maggie’s materials alchemy was rusty, but it looked like the conversion of iron into copper.
Maggie didn’t hear the question Taliesin asked or his student’s answer, but she saw the triumphant grin on his face as he exclaimed, “Yes, exactly!” and turned to make a note on the chalkboard in scratchy handwriting.
His students now chattered over each other, and Maggie braced herself for Taliesin to lose his cool, but he didn’t.
“One at a time!” he urged calmly, and the chatter stopped.
The students shouted out ideas, one at a time as Taliesin had requested, and he marked them on the board, nodding or gently correcting, steering the discussion effortlessly.
Of the students Maggie could see, they all watched him with rapt attention, and most joined in the discussion and took notes. Gods above, is he a good teacher, too?
Maggie would have liked to blame his students’ enthusiasm on Taliesin’s fame, but students could usually see right through that, especially after the first few classes.
It was very clear to her that he was good at this and that he liked it, too.
And though they certainly had differences in opinion about the how, it was obvious that Taliesin loved his job in much the same way that Maggie did.
Abruptly, Taliesin looked up at the clock in the room, which was inconveniently right above the doorway Maggie peeked through.
She didn’t have time to duck out of view and instead offered up a sheepish half wave.
Taliesin gave her a wry grin before saying to his class, “Time’s up!
Bring this same energy to your final and you’ll all do fine. ”
He paused and then added, “I know some of you might have tried to find me during office hours last week. I was ill and missed them, I’m sorry about that—if you tried to come talk to me, shoot me an email and we’ll set up a one-on-one.”
Maggie didn’t know how he would have time for that, but she had no doubt that he’d scrounge some up.
He began erasing the chalkboard as his students filed out, some of them lining up to talk to Taliesin.
The rest left through the courtyard, cutting a faster path to some of the dorms on the south side of campus.
She smiled warmly and waved hello as they passed while she waited for Taliesin to finish talking to his students.
Unlike Maggie, he didn’t rush out of his room to join her, but she did catch him sneaking glances at her. She tried to appear busy, spending far more time looking at the new garden lights than necessary.
Maggie’s stomach fluttered every time she caught Taliesin looking at her with those kind brown eyes, a light, dizzy sensation that unsettled her.
She had felt it last night, with their legs twined together in the window seat at Willoughby’s, as he’d listened to her so intently while she’d told him some version of the truth about her first year in Galloway.
She wasn’t even sure why she’d told him any of it, only that she wanted to share a piece of herself after he’d shared so much of himself.
But now, the fluttering feeling curdled slightly.
It all reminded her too much of her ex, of Evan, of the way they’d cast hurried glances at each other over textbooks, across labs, like they were the only two people in the world.
The final time her eyes met Taliesin’s, he gave her one of those smiles that crinkled the corners of his eyes.
It was too much, and Maggie was desperate to keep it from happening again.