Fenae (part 29): That Time-Stopper Boy.

Franek ran through Rejtély’s many Gothic hallways with deep concern, both Mechteld and his parents trailing behind him. Coirym had been missing for almost a week, and rumors were spreading just now that he was dragged into the school; supposedly hidden in the janitor lounge this morning. In need of answers more than ever before, he had to see how his mentor fared. To do that, he had to get past the enchanted door and risk it shouting a secret about him; something he had dreaded because of how eagerly Mechteld had been hoping to have this happen for months now.

The door itself seemed normal enough. It was old oakwood with iron hinges, set within the same masoned stone as the other doors in Rejtély. The only hint that this door was what the students called a “cringe portal” was the small cherub-like gargoyle hidden in the upper arch of the doorpost. It waited with sadistic glee for an unauthorised person to barely even scrape the doorknob. Next to the door was a simple sign that read “Faculty Personnel only.”

Franek looked at the door with hesitation. Looking back over his shoulder, he noticed Mechteld holding her breath and both his parents poorly hiding their unwillingness to get close to the door as well. This only confirmed to Franek that he was indeed wise to shun the cringe portals. Luckily for him, the door creaked open from the inside and a blue-capped head poked through, already mid-sigh. Upon seeing the clutter of people in front of the door, he quickly slid past to face them and closed the door behind him. Franek noticed the gargoyle’s grin slacken as the janitor passed beneath it, radiating disappointment at the missed chance to spring its trap.

“No students in the janitor lounge,” said the lanky janitor; not unkindly, but as if quoting a truth that had outlived several headmasters. He stood tall and straight for an old man. Several deep scars in his wrinkled face, including a chipped upper lip and a hairless streak in his stubbled jaw, suggested that this man was — at least at some point — not some pushover.

Franek, still unwilling to sneak in and risk touching the door himself, decided to try persuasion. “Uhm… could you ask for an exception? Professor Coirym is my assigned mentor.”

“Your mentor?” the janitor gruffed.

Franek nodded.

“Then it’s a definite no.”

Mathias stepped forward. “Well, I presume you can at least ask your superior, seeing this is not the typical nosy student. He may be an exception, or the big man might support your decision. Either way, we can all say that you tried. Could you do that for us?”

The janitor sighed and murmured something into his portophone, then rolled on the heels of his feet as he awaited a response. Something equally unintelligible whispered back from the plastic box, and the janitor replied. This time, Franek could discern a “yeah, I don’t think so, but it’s your call.”

Some static followed, then a single word was uttered, and the janitor opened the door for Franek. Mechteld followed him, but she was stopped immediately. “Pa pa pah, we are still not done with cleaning up after you, little miss moss mismanagement. Out.”

She toyed with the idea of trying to pity her way in, mostly to avoid the awkward silence of standing next to Franek’s parents, but the lanky man in the doorway and his stubbled grimace unnerved her somewhat. She opted to wait for him instead. Aynala and Mathias decided to give Franek some time alone as well, and when the door closed, they aimed their attention at Mechteld.

“So, has Fran been getting you into much trouble?” Aynala asked with a smile.

“What? W-Well no, I don’t think so,” Mechteld hastily disclaimed.

“Really?” Aynala asked with honest surprise. “Because your mother and I nearly got expelled three or four times, and we were certain the legacy would continue with you two.”

And so, within one casual conversation, a dumbfounded Mechteld completely rediscovered her parents through an avalanche of anecdotes that had been carefully withheld from her until now.

Franek, meanwhile, was guided to a simple, yet old and sturdy-looking desk.

On that desk lay his mentor, perched in sunlight with eyes closed, flower petals around him and a pillow underneath his head. Coirym himself, on the other hand, looked far less peaceful. In the quick glance that Franek dared to steal, he saw Coirym wrapped in hasty bandages, under which his skin seemed to sway loosely within his torn clothing without discernible shape. On his stomach was a breathing ball of red fur, trailing drool down the Lisovvy’s indistinguishable mess of a torso. Behind the desk sat the Chief of Cleanliness and Order, a rare sight to the students, holding a wet towel to Coirym’s fractured forehead. He looked strangely relaxed.

“What h-happened?” Franek stammered.

“He went into the cavern woods, I suspect to haggle with our most gracious Lady of Life.” He spoke with some sarcasm in his tone. “He was found by one of my boys; they brought him right to me.”

“Should he not go to the medical ward?”

“Ha! Well, they don’t treat Lisovvy.” With a wry smile, he leaned back in his chair and looked out the window. Seemingly searching for the two yellow orbs that trailed the cavern walls, the CCO revealed his musings: “No, our good friend here needs a botanist. Well, what he really needs is a cornucopia snail, but I’m not sending anyone into the forest until it behaves again.”

Picture of Rosetta, the Cornucopia snail whose mucus revolutionized stem cell research. Taken with digital camera. Artist unknown, (year 27 of the 5th era).

Franek, startled by this reveal, caught himself staring at Coirym’s fractured forehead. Indeed, instead of blood or sinew, he saw what looked like roots and mycelium underneath the skin that, upon closer inspection, had not torn; it looked broken like bark on an old tree.

“Thankfully, I have some five botanists to boss around at my leisure!” the CCO snickered. “It won’t be pretty though; you’ll wish to miss it. He begins to smell like rotten wood and sprouts mushrooms in places best forgotten. When he’s shed his bark and grown a new shoulder in a week or three, I’ll wake him up to tell him of your visit.”

The CCO turned his head towards the entrance that opened, revealing a stumpy man with round glasses and a neatly maintained goatee. Before he could set a single foot inside the janitor lounge, he saw the wide smile on the face of his boss and froze. The CCO pointed at him and spoke. “Ah, Baillard! You’re my nurse today. Fetch me a damp bucket with fresh moss from the topside and bring me a hand rake. Oh, and one of those medical drip devices from the medical lounge with… Well, I think three litres of tree sap would suffice.”

The janitor, his uniform still tucked under his arm, simply nodded and went back the way he came. The CCO then shot a glance at Franek as he turned back to face his patient. “So, you are the time-stopper boy.”

Franek nodded.

“Well,” the CCO proclaimed as he took the towel with a deep frown, wetting it again in a bucket next to his desk. “I don’t know what you hope to learn in this school of independent magic, but at least our good liaison has managed to show you what happens when you disobey your patron.”