"So the student was beaten unconscious...by a passive?" said Harper, almost disbelievingly. "Has the servant been identified yet?"

Seated in the lounge with Professor Bryan, sharing a glass of brandy, the professor was mulling over the recent news about Bronley with a sober expression. Judging from what Ophelia had told him yesterday, he had an idea of who the perpetrator was.

Professor William J. Bryan swilled his brandy and sighed, stroking his short black goatee with his free hand. He was just as shocked as the rest of the faculty, but not entirely surprised. After the incident in the cafeteria, something was bound to happen to that Bronley kid.



Sipping his brandy, William looked at Harper with his yellowish green eyes.

"Within an inch of his life! No one has been sourced yet, but they are working on it. That, I can assure you!" Huffing, he shook his head.

"It was bound to happen. Something, was bound to happen."

"Yes, I agree, it was inevitable," said Harper broodingly, staring into his brandy. Of course he knew who had done it. Who else would have dared? She had loved that boy...

"But he should have been better guarded," he added fiercely. "All of them should have been. Headmistress Servalis tried to get them into counseling, as I understand it, but they all refused, to a man..."

William nodded and sipped at his drink again.

"Indeed they did, indeed they did. Pride Harper, its pride. What galdori need's counseling for the death of a mere passive? That's how they see it." Sniffing, he ran a hand over his smooth, shiny bald head.

"Bloody pride. I would have gone to the counseling. What these students need is a new outlook. It's okay to care about something other than yourselves!"

Nodding soberly, Harper set down his glass.

"I'm glad you think so, William," he said quietly. "There's not many who'd admit it. I'm not sure where to go from here, myself. Now the students feel justified even more in hating them. Teachers, too."

He shook his head. "Drives me a bit mad," he admitted, with a wry grin. "I was hoping that this tragedy would lead to positive change, but it only seems to have given birth to more tragedy."

Mimicking Harpers own movement, William placed his own glass on the table and fished in his coat pocket, pulling out two thin cigars and a tinder box.

"Cigar?" He offered to the professor. Biting the end off his own, he put it in his mouth and quickly lit it. Leaning back, puffing, he looked at the rising smoke.

"What they need is a public address. Someone needs to point out that one wrong was indeed as bad as the other, and that its okay to think that. Perhaps, also, there needs to be talks with the passives. Some how I don't think they are going to just return to normal duties with out blinking an eye." He cocked his head.

"What do you think?"

Harper eyed the cigar like an old enemy before relinquishing and lighting it on the incense brazier. Devlin liked to show off, lighting his pipe with his finger, but Harper was a traditionalist; some things weren't worth the use of magic, even very simple spells.

"I think the Headmistress has been planning something," said the professor, "but who knows when that will happen. She's giving the wound time to heal. Thoughtful of her, but less effective." He puffed on the cigar without tasting it. "Seems to be the general theme for her entire reign so far, doesn't it? Then, it's only been a month."

Leaning back in his armchair, Harper closed his eyes thoughtfully, attempting to drive away the distracting equations and formulas floating around in his head. "The servants have returned to work," he said, "or so Baldeves tells me. That's the passive fellow I worked with last semester. But it's been insane, apparently. They're scared to go about during the day, so they're scampering about during the wee hours, trying to get everything done while the students are asleep."

William scoffed and puffed on his cigar. Personally, he'd not seen much of anything from the headmistress, save that terribly controversial speech at the middle of Intas. The woman was not backwards about speaking her mind, to be sure.



Shaking his head, Williams took the cigar from his mouth and ashed it in a small glass container on the coffee table, picking up his brandy with his free hand. Sitting back, sipping the alcohol, he made a tsk through his teeth.

"That's not right, not right at all. The passive's can't be left to sneak around like that. Makes for too many mistakes, too many rumors." Looking at Moore, he frowned.

"Perhaps Ophelia should be approached about this matter, to get the ball rolling so to speak?"

"I'm not sure I'm quite the man to speak with her," said Harper, grimly, recalling last night's meeting. "I'll talk to Professor Devlin about it. I believe they used to be friends - maybe she'd be more open to criticism from him."

"Indeed Harper, I think your right. I seem to recall someone saying those two were chummy back in the day. Maybe it would be an idea to speak to Devlin then?" He puffed the cigar thoughtfully. Personally he would rather talk to Devlin than Ophelia. She had a tenancy to talk you out of whatever it was you wanted to talk about before you even said it. Sharp woman.

"I wonder how Professor Lux's tour went, myself," said Harper, chuckling. "Last night he mentioned he'd agreed to give her one. He looked like he'd seen a ghost."

William took the cigar from his mouth and shuddered a little.

"Clocks, can you blame him? Lux is so...stiff. I'd be scared to give that ice queen a tour." Sipping his brandy, he scoffed.

"When does she start her classes, incidently?"

"Soon, I think. Whenever Devlin goes on his next little trip..."

Harper had been wondering for some time what Devlin was up to in Vienda, but knew better than to ask. His partner was rather temperamental about discussing his personal affairs; he remembered with a wince the verbal beating he'd received when he'd once inquired about her...

"My students would be terrified to get her, or so they tell me," he added. "I haven't yet spoken with her, beyond meeting her when she touched down. Don't see what all the fuss is about, really. My grandmother was Hoxian. Beyond being a little strict..." He shrugged. Actually, he now remembered being on the disagreeable end of her boot several times.

"But listen, William, I'd best be going. It's getting quite late and I have some papers to grade." He stood, setting down his empty glass and straightening his waistcoat. "I will speak to Professor Devlin. Something's got to be said, after all."

"Ah Hoxians. Never had the pleasure myself, but I've heard many things." He leaned right back, cigar in mouth, arms over the back of the chair.

"I'll get going soon as I finish this smoke. And let me know how it goes with Devlin. I hope the man has the gaul to speak to her about it. Can't go unsaid, just cant." Sighing, he raised his glass to the red haired man.

"It's been good catching up my good man! We must do this more often, and less often in the aftermath of a tragedy."