Down a Lost Road Page 11

  I shrugged, copying down his name. “Worth a visit to find out, don’t you think?”

  “Why not? And there’s one other professor I found who was here with Dad. Might see if we can’t meet with both of them. I just hope they’re around for the summer.”

  We piled the books backed onto the shelves, nodded our thanks to the still apathetic secretary, and darted out into the pouring rain. Luckily the School of Literature was close to the student center, just across the mall with its fountain and brick walkways. It occupied the greater part of Gorley Hall, a sprawling hollow building of weathered stone that seemed to go on forever.

  Damian and I had been inside it often enough, but the hallways with their dark wood paneling and worn oriental carpets still brought a halt to our mad dash. As we stood dripping and disheveled in the entryway, I stared toward the staircase, not sure if it was the strength of memory or some sort of foreboding that held me rooted where I was. Against my will a memory flashed through my mind of the last time I had come through those doors. I’d run ahead of Dad, through rain as heavy and bleak as today, and bolted through the door to wait for him. He came up the walk with his umbrella, handsome in a tweed jacket and cap, just like an English gentleman.

  At that moment the door swung open behind us and a young man sauntered in, shaking off his umbrella enthusiastically. I managed to uproot myself enough to jump out of his way.

  “That storm blew up in a hurry, eh?” he said, grinning at us.

  I could only nod. Keep walking, I kept thinking. I couldn’t even imagine how pathetic we looked – Damian, who probably hadn’t slept in a week, and me… I tugged on the hem of the tunic, cheeks burning.

  “At least you had an umbrella,” Damian ventured lightly.

  “True enough!” He peered at us through his thin-rimmed glasses. “Are you two looking for anyone or anything in particular?”

  We exchanged glances. Well, he wasn’t going to go away on his own, so I might as well ply him for info.

  “Yes, actually,” I said. “We were trying to find Dr. Hurtsinger.”

  “And Dr. Balson.”

  “Eh,” he said, giving a little shake of his head. “Well, you’re in luck, partly. Professor Hurtsinger here. Not doctor yet, but almost.”

  “Oh!” I exclaimed. “Guess that was lucky.”

  Then I thought that sounded kind of stupid, and I stared intensely at the floor.

  “I’m Damian,” Damian said, holding out his hand. “And this is my twin, Merelin.”

  He shook our hands warmly, and I mumbled something about being pleased to meet him. An awkward silence followed. I shifted my weight and stared harder at the carpet. Finally Professor Hurtsinger clapped Damian on the shoulder.

  “Guess you two have something you wanted to ask me about? How about we go up to my office where we can sit down?”

  Damian nodded and we followed him to his office in silence. I paused just outside his door, unable to keep myself from gazing farther down the hall. I counted the doors, like I always had, down to the third door from the end, on the left. My heart filled my throat. I didn’t want to see what nameplate was on the door now. It didn’t matter if it didn’t make sense, if hundreds of other professors had come and gone before. That was Dad’s office. They had no right to give it to anyone else.

  My eyes stung with tears, but then Damian’s touch on my shoulder called me back to our task. I swallowed the grief and trailed him into Professor Hurtsinger’s office.

  I could tell he was a new professor. His bookshelves stood only partially filled, and his desk spread out bare and lonely. Unlike Dad’s office he had no pictures or souvenirs anywhere, only an untidy stack of students’ essays sitting precariously on the corner of the desk. Professor Hurtsinger flipped on the light and tossed his satchel on the floor.

  “Here we are! It’s not much, but it’s home.”

  He waved us to a pair of rickety seats in front of the desk, then dropped into his own creaking desk chair and propped his feet on the file cabinet.

  “Now, I don’t often get office visits from your age group, so I’m intrigued to find out what you wanted to see me about.”

  “Professor Hurtsinger, you were a student here, right?” I asked.

  “Indeed. About eight years ago. One of the best decisions of my life. Are you two considering going here for college, perhaps?”

  “Undergraduate?” Damian asked instead.

  “Right, got my bachelor’s in literature here, went on for my doctorate at Toronto. Still working on the never-ending dissertation. Hence the ‘professor-not-doctor’ thing.”

  “Texas to Canada? That must have been a big switch,” I remarked, feeling a little more at ease. Then, abruptly, “Did you ever take a class from Dr. Lindon?”

  He regarded me with sudden curiosity. “He was my advisor. Why?”

  “Did you know him well? I mean, if he was your advisor, you must have known him somewhat, right?”

  “I knew him pretty well. I would have loved to work with him as a peer at this university. He was one of the most fascinating people I have ever known.”

  “Could you say what his specialty was?”

  He leaned forward, staring intently at both of us. “Would you mind giving me some indication why you want to know all this?”

  My gaze flickered to Damian, who nodded subtly.

  “He’s our father,” I said.

  “Oh, good God.” He put his hands to his head. “I’m so sorry. I don’t even know what to tell you.”

  “You could tell us what he did,” Damian said. “We need to know.”

  “Have you heard any word of him? Do you know where he is?”

  “I might,” I said. “But please, Professor Hurtsinger…”

  “Just call me Kurtis.”

  That would just be weird, so I skipped it. “We know he studied and taught literature. But what was his specialty? Or focus, or whatever you call it.”

  Kurtis sat back, folding his hands behind his head. “Mythology. Scandinavian, Greek, even Tolkien’s invented mythology. That was his real passion. He got some static from the other professors for teaching it as a genuine mythology, but he claimed it was as real as any of the others.”

  “Tolkien had a mythology?” I asked, my interest sparked.

  He leaned over and pulled a book off one of his shelves. “The bulk of it you can find here,” he said, handing it to me. “It belonged to your father.”

  I received the worn book almost reverently, running my fingers over the tattered dust jacket. “The Silmarillion,” I read. “The Epic History of the Elves.”

  “Do you know why he was so interested in it?” Damian asked.

  “What do you know about mythology, of whatever sort?”

  “A lot of it is very similar,” I said, absent-minded. “Some are so similar, that you could just change the names and some of the details, and it would be almost the same story.”

  “Exactly. Know of any examples?”

  I thought a moment, then said, “Well, every culture seems to have an account of creation.”

  “The Flood,” Damian added. “I read a bit of Gilgamesh last summer, and there are a bunch of other versions of the same story. And gods or supernatural beings walking on earth with men, things like that.”

  I shivered.

  “Excellent!” Kurtis said. “And Dr. Lindon – your father – wanted to find those similarities, and then from there see if there was an actual historical source for them. Like a common heritage of all mankind that would make them create these similar stories. Tolkien had done something akin to it, at least as far as the first part goes. He found some of the common threads, but then used them to create an additional mythology, a unique mythology for England.”

  “No!” I cried, setting the book down harder than I meant. “Well, maybe that’s what he thought he was doing…but what if he was actually a lot closer to the truth than he realized? Maybe his myth was really almost a piece of history that the world had l
ost…it just wasn’t quite all the way true. He didn’t have all the facts – because they had been lost. And Dad had the missing pieces! He had what Tolkien needed, but needed what Tolkien had. The other half of the puzzle!” I shut my mouth when I saw the expression on Kurtis’s face. “Sorry. I must sound like an idiot.”

  “No, not at all. I’m just curious, because you say your dad had the other pieces. I know he had some revolutionary theories about the ancient myths, but do you really think he had access to some kind of knowledge or facts that Tolkien – or any scholar of mythology – wouldn’t have?”

  I swallowed. “Yes.”

  To my surprise, he didn’t laugh or dismiss my statement. He measured me carefully. After a moment he leaned back, tucking his hands behind his head.

  “Your father really was revolutionary, how he taught. He pursued a sort of cross-disciplinary study, melding history and literature. Not just studying literature in history, or history in literature…but literature, or mythology more particularly, as history. He seemed to think he had good reason for it. We never had a chance for a real discussion about it, though.”

  “Would Dr. Balson know more about his work, do you think?”

  Kurtis straightened up with a frown. “You guys aren’t students here, so you haven’t had any classes with him. Here’s a little heads-up. Balson came to the university the year after your father started teaching, and they never got along. I don’t know why. He isn’t very popular with the students either, whereas most people loved Dr. Lindon. Balson’s the reclusive sort, almost impossible to work with. I just have a bad feeling about it. I don’t think you should talk to him, especially about this.”

  The doorway darkened behind us.

  “What is this, Kurtis? What should they not talk to me about?”

  Chapter 11 – Connections

  Kurtis’s face hardly changed. I studied it closely enough, but all I noticed was a slight tensing of the muscles at his jaw and a hardening of his grey eyes. Damian beside me flinched, but neither of us turned. My mind was racing. I didn’t quite know why, but somehow I felt I should recognize the voice.

  “I’m sorry, Hymie, did we have something to talk about?” Kurtis asked, his voice thin and cold.

  I stared at my hands clenched on my lap, knuckles white.

  “Oh, no. I was just passing by and heard my name. Thought these two might have been looking for me.”

  Damian glanced at me sidelong. I heard Dr. Balson take another step, coming into the room. All the vibrant spirit had gone out of Kurtis’s face, leaving it fixed like a mask, bland and unmoved.

  “I think we’ve got it covered.”

  “But this is really far too intriguing for me to let pass. What could possibly have brought these young people to darken these hallowed halls?”

  He stood between us and the door. I don’t know why I thought of it, or why I was so worried that another professor had joined us. Maybe it was Kurtis’s warning still ringing in my ears, giving voice to the void look on his face. Or the fact that Dr. Balson was so curious about us – overly curious – but at the same time didn’t seem the slightest bit interested in who we were. As if he already knew.

  He took another two steps to stand at the window behind Kurtis’s desk. Finally I could see him. He was tall and gaunt, in a perfectly fitted charcoal grey suit. The only thing that didn’t fit was his skin. It drooped in dark folds on his neck, and creased in wrinkles on his bony hands. That was all I could see, in that moment when he made his crucial mistake and went to the window. He gazed down at the mall, and I didn’t wait to see his face. I sucked in a breath, snatched at Damian’s hand, and bolted out the door.

  I heard the door slam and risked a glance over my shoulder. Damian and Kurtis were both in the hall, Damian hauling back on the doorknob while Kurtis fumbled with his keys. He nearly dropped them when he found his office key, but then he had it twisting in the lock. I pounded on down the hall. Kurtis overtook me and grabbed my arm, directing me to the fire exit. On the stairwell we paused, and I nearly collapsed from the terror.

  “You okay?” Damian asked me. “Who on earth was that?”

  I stared at him grimly. He closed his mouth hard.

  “Oh, no. You don’t think…”

  “Someone mind clueing me in here?” Kurtis interjected. “What was that all about? I hope there’s a good reason why we just locked one of my peers in my office.”

  “Can’t he unlock the door from the inside?”

  “Both sides are locked with a key,” Kurtis said, but he didn’t seem much encouraged by the thought.

  He studied me expectantly, but when something banged upstairs we all jumped.

  “I’ll explain it, but not now. We need to go! Damian, please tell me you drove over here.”

  He shook his head slowly, wide-eyed.

  Kurtis started to glance at his watch but checked himself. “You two won’t be getting anywhere fast if you go on foot. Come on, we can take my car.”

  * * *

  I don’t know how long we’d been driving. Damian sat up front in the passenger seat, and I could hear the low murmur of his voice over the rain pattering on the windshield. I had fallen asleep once we left town – I just couldn’t help it. I felt like I’d gotten jet lag a hundred times over. Now, leaning my head against the window, I tried to concentrate my still groggy thoughts on what Damian and Kurtis were saying.

  “So strange…really not sure…” Damian rubbed his forehead and tilted his head back. “Of course it’s one of those things…can never really be prepared…”

  “Like something….a novel or something. But…convinced, huh?”

  “Can’t explain…otherwise.”

  I sat up, wondering if I had heard them correctly. Kurtis saw me awake in the rearview mirror and smiled.

  “Morning!”

  “You don’t mean that, do you?”

  “No,” Damian laughed. “You only slept about half an hour or so.”

  “Mm.” I yawned. “Where are we?”

  Kurtis shrugged. “I figured I should just drive, just get away from the university. I didn’t really think about where to go.”

  I stared hard at Kurtis’s face in the mirror. I could only see his eyes. I studied them as they peered fixedly out at the road, but they were impossible to read. My gaze shifted down to his hands resting on the steering wheel.

  “You still have it, right?” he asked suddenly, glancing at me in the mirror.

  “Have what?”

  “Pyelthan.”

  I tensed instantly. He still watched me through the rearview, steadily, indifferent. Then his attention turned back to the road, and my hand groped toward the door handle. My thoughts reeled, and so did my stomach.

  “C-can you pull over? I don’t feel good.”

  It was true. I probably could have suffered through it, but I must have appeared ill enough, because Kurtis took one more look at me before slowing and pulling off the road. I stumbled out of the car and Damian jumped out after me. I exchanged a glance with him, then held out my hand as though to ward him off.

  “I’ll be okay…”

  I slid clumsily down the hill and collapsed behind a tree. The ground felt damp under the tree boughs, but I didn’t care. I was shaking uncontrollably, swallowing back the bitterness in my throat. I took a few deep breaths to try to calm myself and collect my thoughts. But they wouldn’t be collected.

  “Damian!”

  I heard him say to Kurtis, “…just make sure she’s all right,” and Kurtis’s quick reply, “Of course!”

  It seemed ages before Damian was crouching beside me. “Mer, you okay? You know we can’t risk Dr. Balson catching us up.”

  “Damian, I never told you about Pyelthan. I told you about the coin, but I never called it by its name. How did Kurtis know?”

  His eyes grew wide, then narrowed as he thought. “I told him most of what you told me. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t seem to know anything about it, but maybe he was just
bluffing me. I should have kept my mouth shut! He seemed trustworthy, but still…” He peered around the brush. “He’s still by the car. What are you thinking?”

  “How much does he know? And how? Mr. Dansy knew it by name, but he also knew about Onethyl and Yatol, I’m sure of it. But Kurtis…I don’t know!” I leaned over my knees with my head in my hands. “Do you think we should run for it?”

  “If we run too far we’ll leave our cover and he’ll see us. He’ll be able to catch us.”

  “What if he’s with Dr. Balson? Or one of them? Where was he taking us, anyway? Let’s just run, Damian. We have to.”

  “All right. You ready? Let’s go!”

  He jumped to his feet and I started to follow him, but my strength failed me. I collapsed back onto the ground, shuddering, furious at myself for my weakness. It felt like a nightmare. Everything did.

  Damian hovered over me, ready to begin our escape as soon as I could gain my feet.

  “I can’t, I can’t.” I reached up to take his hand. “I can’t run anymore. I can’t do this! What am I doing, anyway? I couldn’t think I could do anything…”

  “Oh, Mer, don’t think! Don’t think at all, just get up and let your legs do the rest. You know how to do it. It’s the 800.”

  I glanced up, saw the encouragement in his eyes. I let him help me to my feet, and gave him a slight nod. We turned to run. And ran full into Kurtis.

  Damian had the presence of mind to dart sideways, but I slowed up instead and found Kurtis’s hands gripping my arms.

  “Wait! Look at me, Merelin!”

  Damian came back for me, but Kurtis had let go of me and I felt no need to move. He touched two fingers to his heart and then swept his arm open. I’d seen that salute before. Yatol.

  “Mer!” Damian whispered. “What…”

  “It’s okay, Damian.” To Kurtis, “I’m sorry we tried to run away. It just kind of freaked me out to hear that name. Especially when Ya…when I’ve been warned against speaking it to just anyone.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I just wanted to tell you that I knew, but it was an awkward way to do it.”