Chapter Seventeen
Before Arthur’s Materials Alchemy class, Rory had lectured him in a series of texts that were rattling around in Arthur’s brain as he walked into the courtyard.
Rory Farrell: What do you mean nothing has worked? What have you tried?
Rory Farrell: We came up with this plan a week ago
Arthur: I feel like it’s important to put in writing that you came up with this plan
Rory Farrell: You don’t have to make out with her in the middle of campus, just do something
Rory Farrell: Talk to her, get close to her, do what you did that night!
It wasn’t worth explaining to Rory all the things he’d tried, but when he looked up at Maggie with that guarded grin on her face and saw the hawthorn petals that were stuck in her hair, he had the half thought that it must be divine intervention.
“Hi, Maggie,” he said when he was close enough to reach out and brush them away.
His voice was quiet as he brought his hand up to her hair, letting his fingers graze her earlobe as he did it.
He tried not to look like he was searching her expression for some sort of recognition, so he kept talking.
“You should have come in and joined us, shown off your materials knowledge.”
If there was anything in Maggie’s expression as he pulled his hand away, it was relief as the petal blew away on the wind. “You know very well I haven’t taken that class in over thirteen years. Your students would put me to shame.”
Arthur shrugged. “I think you probably have many talents I don’t know about.”
Even in the dreary light, Arthur could make out the blush that bloomed on Maggie’s face. He wanted to reach out again and brush her skin, feel the heat in her cheeks. But he didn’t, of course. No matter how much he wanted to. No matter how proud Rory would be.
Maggie cleared her throat. “Dr. Paige is waiting for us.” They walked through the archway that led from the courtyard to the covered pathway connecting Ilex Hall with the rest of campus.
When the grounds came into view, Arthur was pleased to see the grow lights dotting the landscape, nestled into flower beds and hanging from tree branches to combat the hazy gloom produced by the pall.
Maggie seemed to forget their awkward moment when she saw them, her face brightening.
“I hate that we need them,” Maggie said, “but maybe this one small thing isn’t so terrible. ”
A groundskeeper had crafted the clever lights, and Dean Clearwater had shown Arthur the plan earlier in the week.
It had been such a relief to have one less thing eating away at him, especially after he persuaded Dean Clearwater to talk to the administration about providing the lights to local residents.
“The school is going to distribute free lights to anyone within a mile radius who needs them. Hopefully it will stave off some of the ecological impacts of this cloud cover,” he said.
“Maybe you could take a couple home for your balcony?”
They stepped off the main campus walkway to a winding brick pathway that snaked up the hill toward the edge of campus.
Other than Ilex Hall, there were six other buildings on campus, some that were original to the property and some that were built as it transitioned to a college over the past century.
The historical center was in the Annex, one of the original buildings.
It came into view as they followed the path around Ferox Hall.
The squat building was made out of silver shale stone and covered in moss and lichen.
It had an original thatched roof that must need to be rethatched every few years, and it was surrounded by a copse of trees, nearly reclaimed by the Wilds.
It looked like one of the faerie cottages from the old Diadhan poems that Maggie loved so much.
Inside, it felt like someone’s home instead of a university building.
In one room, original furniture—fussy things covered in ornate, lush fabrics and tall, glistening wood cabinets—was arranged as it had been when this was a guesthouse for the main manor.
Arthur felt like he had walked into someone’s grandmother’s house.
Someone’s very rich grandmother, anyway.
They stood in the small entryway, idly looking at the antiques, when a small blond woman wearing a pantsuit came down the crooked staircase at the back of the cottage.
Arthur had gotten so bad at telling how old anyone was, but she seemed a little bit younger than him and Maggie.
“Welcome to the Annex,” she said. “I’m Pearl Paige. ”
“Thank you so much for meeting us on short notice, Dr. Paige.” Arthur held out a hand for her to shake.
“Please, Pearl is fine.” Arthur noticed the slight blush on her cheeks as she talked to him, but he ignored it, even as she stumbled over her words slightly.
He may be Artie among his family and his brother’s friends, but for most of his life, he had been Rowena Taliesin’s son.
And then, in the last five years, people had started to get nervous around him for his own sake as he built a name and reputation for himself in the alchemy world.
It didn’t matter that it had been happening for as long as he could remember, it still made him uncomfortable.
“This is Dr. Maggie Linden,” Arthur said, to give Pearl something and someone else to focus on. Thankfully, it worked. Dr. Paige visibly calmed talking to Maggie.
“I teach in the Linguistics and Incantation Translation Department.” Hawthorn was a small campus, but it wasn’t so small that they knew every professor or researcher who worked there.
“It’s been so long since I came over to the Annex,” Maggie said, and Arthur suspected she was trying to put Dr. Paige at ease.
“I think the last time I was here was when I first started, but that was when your predecessor worked here. Dr. Milliner?”
Dr. Paige nodded in recognition and then settled into a well-rehearsed speech explaining how the Annex functioned as a repository of all things Hawthorn history.
It housed information on the original owners of the manor house from more than a century ago and on the transition of the property from private residence to public college.
The modern records in the building were about Hawthorn’s integral role in the local community in the present day.
“While our antiques often entice visitors”—Dr. Paige mentioned offhand, and Arthur’s gaze darted to Maggie, who seemed to be waiting for him with arched brows as if to say, Who is coming to look at these dusty old things?
He hid a grin behind his hand as Dr. Paige went on—“the main draw is our collection of antique maps and information about Galloway and the Wilds. We serve as a historical record for the town, too.”
She led them out of the main room, with its stuffy furniture, to a wide room off to the side.
This one was bright and had been modernized, unlike other parts of the house.
Instead of smelling like dust, it had the faint scent of disinfectant and paper.
Large metal flat files that went from floor to ceiling lined the walls, along with stacks of filing and storage cabinets.
Dr. Paige tugged her key off her neck, the retractable wire making a zipping sound, and unlocked two of the cases nearest to them.
She slid open one of the drawers, revealing rows of documents in neat folders.
On her other side, she opened one of the flat files at hip level to reveal a yellowing stack of papers as wide and long as a table.
Arthur could just make out topographical notations on the top one.
“The documents are organized chronologically,” Dr. Paige went on, patting her hand on the wide drawer.
“We have records going back about two hundred years, but the vast majority are from about fifty years before the manor was built and onward.” She gestured to filing cabinets on the other side of a long table in the middle of the room.
“Those cabinets over there contain hard copies of periodicals and newspapers, but we also have those recorded on microfiche.” She gestured to a particularly ancient-looking, dusty machine and then squat cabinets in the corner of the room, where the ceiling started to slope downward.
“Those cabinets have town records—deeds, election ballots, that sort of thing—organized by decade.”
“This is an impressive collection,” Maggie said, picking up a corner of the map in the flat file and looking at the one beneath it. Maggie was right. There had to be something here that could help them uncover what was feeding the pall.
“Yes, it was imperative to the first president of the university that the school’s history was preserved, along with its connection to Galloway,” Dr. Paige explained.
“We’re fully staffed by university librarians who float between the Annex and the library throughout the school year.
But, as you know, we’re closing up shop for the summer in a few days, so I’m very happy we could squeeze you in. ”
“We really appreciate it.” Maggie looked eagerly at the document cases.
“Is there anything in particular I can help you find?”
Arthur walked around the room, dropping his head slightly to avoid the sloping roof. “Where would I find information about the original surveys done on the land, from before the manor house was even built? We’re hoping to find maps of the Wilds over time, too.”
She patted the cabinet on her right. “The earliest records are in this cabinet here. You should find the early survey work, and I know there are diaries from naturalists who documented the Wilds in there.”