Lecture Room, Richards Wing, Clairvoyant Building
It was very cold in Brunnhold; it was not so cold inside the buildings, at least, for which Nkemi was grateful. She imagined that students could not learn very well if they were too preoccupied with being cold. She wore her favorite orange scarf wrapped tightly around her head, tucked into itself, and a thick gold-colored sweater, which was very warm and somewhat too long. She wore also the warmest pants she had brought from Thul Ka, which had already proven too thin for the weather – especially as Nkemi had woken again this morning to see a thin dusting of white snow, clinging briefly to the ground. She was glad that she had bought the heavy boots which had been recommended to her; at least her feet had not gotten wet walking through the campus.
Professor Andressa Jacquemoud stood on the other side of the table, all her gleaming red hair piled up in a bun secured with sticks; Nkemi admired it, though she thought the professor robes of Brunnhold sad and a little dull in comparison in Thul’Amat. Andressa smiled at Nkemi, and winked at her; Nkemi grinned back, cheerfully. She had not been sure what to expect in this professor, who had done her graduate studies at Thul’Amat, and was a contemporary of Nkemi’s mentor. She had found her warm and friendly, and much more excited by Nkemi’s own work than she had expected. Nkemi had written tentatively, unsure if Professor Ruedka’s note had even reached Brunnhold, and received back a lengthy, enthusiastic missive, and a request that she come and give a presentation in Brunnhold.
“Good afternoon, students!” Andressa did not quite raise her voice, but it had the sharp crack of authority in it, and all of the students fell silent; the room turned towards the front, conversations dying out, notebooks shifted against desks. Nkemi looked wide-eyed up at the room of students. It was not so intimidating as it had been to cast before her tseruh committee, but she could not think of having had such an audience before – especially not with all their pale faces, and so much bright red hair.
Andressa smiled. “As you know, we are fortunate enough to have a special visitor today. Please welcome Junior Subprefect Nkemi pezre Nkese of the Windward Market district of Thul Ka,” she smiled over the table at Nkemi. “She is currently on secondment to the Seventen, with a posting in Vienda, and has been kind enough to visit us for this demonstration.”
Nkemi grinned back, and grinned up at the room of students. She bowed, deeply; she felt the warmth of the title all through her, lifting her spirits. She felt grateful, too; a little pulse of it went through her field. Andressa was already smiling; Nkemi felt her return the pulse, her more powerful field of soft clairvoyant mona comfortably caprising Nkemi.
There was a polite scattering of applause.
“Subprefect Nkemi,” Andressa continued, “will be demonstrating for us today a version of her honors project from her studies at Thul’Amat. I shall let her make further introductions.”
Nkemi bowed again, more lightly this time. “Thank you, Professor Jacquemond,” she said, politely. The name was pronounced very differently from how it was written; Nkemi rolled the consonants carefully through her mouth, the vowels as soft and lilting as ever. She grinned at the class. “I am very pleased to be able to share this project with you.”
Nkemi took a deep breath. “There are many challenges which we face in clairvoyant conversation,” Nkemi said with a little grin, her hands settling behind her back. She found what she thought of as her prefect posture, drawing herself up to every inch of her slight height. She looked around the classroom, curiously, her eyes settling first on this student, then on that, and never quite lost her smile.
“One is the difficulty of interpreting that which it is we see,” Nkemi continued. “We search for information in a sentient mind; even when we frame our question well, and the mona respond, it can be difficult to convey that which we find,” she grinned. “My project focuses on the transmission of information through the medium of static casting,” Nkemi explained, “with a specific case study: the creation of a map from the scryer to the witness.”
Nkemi glanced down at the table in front of her. She took a deep breath. She did not think of other maps, of casting alone over a map of Thul Ka, with too many emotions to name swirling like colors through her heart. She did not think of casting in Thul’Amat before serious, set frowns of professors and other students alike. She looked up at the classroom, instead, at the bright, curious faces before her, and grinned a little wider.
“I think it best if I make a demonstration,” Nkemi said, cheerfully.
"Mr. Swinton?" Andressa ased, raising her eyebrows at the student in the front row. "Unless you've changed your mind about assisting, Nicholas?" The student rose.
"Mr. Swenton,” Nkemi explained, “will be the witness for the spell. He shall choose now another location in the building, and wait there for several minutes,” Nkemi grinned, a little sheepish. “Then he shall return, to tell us whether the map was correct. After, I should be very glad to take questions about this spell, or anything else you may wish to ask!”
Nijoles bowed, a faint smirk on his face. Andressa had said that she did not think he would make it easy; Nkemi was not sorry for this. It seemed to her a good opportunity to practice the casting of the spell; it was not so easy, always, to find proper maps.
Nijoles left, then.
Nkemi waited a few moments, and, slowly, stepped into the circle. She knelt, and took a deep breath, focusing her gaze solidly on the map. She began to cast, then. Her tone was friendly; she called upon the mona respectfully, but cheerfully too, enthusiastically. She began with the clairvoyant component of the spell, reaching out for Nijoles’s mind; her field flexed etheric in the air around her, the clairvoyant particles blanket-soft.
Nkemi found the connection, and held on, transmitting her request for information to the mona with easy, well-practiced words. The request faded into the leybridge; now Nkemi dipped two fingers into the ink, and set them lightly on her location in the map, their classroom marked with a small pencil x.
Nkemi breathed steadily through the static cast, mingling clairvoyant and static conversation as she wove. The softness around her became warm; she felt it draped over her shoulders, wrapping around her, comfortably.
The ink beneath Nkemi’s fingertips began to move. It trickled out, slowly, tracing a long thin line through the paper; it crept forward, out of the classroom, and turned down the hall; it turned, again, and again, and, went down a mapped staircase onto the next floor; it wound about through the halls, and settled in a small alcove at the far end, drawing a long, thin line between them, broken here or there, but easily traceable. Nkemi curled the spell, studying the map before her. She lifted her fingers up; there was no trace of ink left upon them.
Nkemi rose, then, and looked down at the map. She grinned up at the classroom of students before her.
Andressa led the applause; she spent a few moments discussing the spell, asking one or two students to recall and explain the meaning of several clauses.
The door opened, then, and Nijoles entered, smirking.
Nkemi grinned at him. “Welcome back, Mr. Swenton,” she bowed, carefully, and gestured him to the map.
Nijoles came forward, and glanced down at the map. His eyebrows rose; his eyes went slightly wide. “That’s right!” He said, surprised. “But I went downstairs – I didn’t think – “ he flushed, abruptly, coloring in all the space between pale freckles.
“Thank you, Mr. Swenton,” Andressa said with a grin. “You may take your seat.” She gestured him back to it.
Nkemi had grinned down at the map, as he spoke, and then shone her smile back up at the classroom.
“All right, students,” Andressa was still grinning as well. “Any questions for Subprefect Nkemi?”