The Odin Inheritance (The Pessarine Chronicles Book 1) Read online

  I shook my head. “No,” I said and held up a hand to cut off her protests. “I was glad to help. Keep your money.” I pulled the glass box off the desk and held it out to her. “Here’s your… erm… spare part?” I said.

  “Do you have these things in England?” she asked, taking the glass container from me and sliding it into her reticule.

  “Perhaps,” I said, “but I’ve never seen them. I’m not really sure what that little box does, if I’m honest.” I stretched, and joints popped as the muscles pulled them. “Surely it’s too late for you to head back to your lodgings,” I said. “May I suggest you sleep here?” I indicated the rug. “I can grab the cot from the hall closet, and I have an extra blanket you could use.”

  Sophie looked uncertain. “I do not think that would be appropriate,” she began.

  “Much of what happened this past hour or so has been less than appropriate. I’d feel better if you spent the night here.” Her description of what had happened to her Enhanced friends made me concerned for her safety. Perhaps once they saw she was back to normal she’d no longer need to fear them, but then again, perhaps not.

  Sophie considered for a moment and nodded. “I will help you get the cot. In the morning, we will think of what to tell Madame Gildersleeve, yes?”

  I smiled and shrugged. “Should be easy enough.”

  Chapter Five

  The rest of the week passed in a blur. Sophie went back to work, prepared with the tale that she’d been helping me with translating a French mathematics text. Gildersleeve was so glad to have her best employee back to work with two hands she didn’t bother asking why Sophie had spent the night in my room, which was fine with us.

  I spent the majority of my waking moments after that continuing my preparation for my final examinations in the Mathematics Tripos and thereby the completion of my studies at Towson. As a woman, I couldn’t earn an actual degree, much to my great consternation, but I still wanted to place at the wrangler level. To be sure I’d score high enough I worked with my tutor, attended classes, and did a great deal of math homework. When I needed a break, I dreamed up new mini-mechanical devices, often creating them at my desk in my room at Towson from materials found or purchased in Cambridge or elsewhere. I also worked on my aeronaut navigation devices, and when I could, I met with a General Sciences professor for private tutorials on the newest theories and studies of physics, meteorology, and astronomy.

  Sophie came to see me briefly each day, and a true friendship began to develop between us. She asked about my mechanical devices, so I showed her my various inventions and talked about how I constructed them. I asked about what France was like, and she told me about the village in the Loire Valley she’d grown up in. It sounded quaint and friendly and she spoke warmly of her parents and siblings. I wondered what had prompted Sophie to move from such a loving place to England, where her Enhancement was a source of mistrust and derision.

  I tried to convince her to move into the servant’s housing at Towson House, since I worried her steel-eyed former friends would do her harm. She shrugged off my concerns.

  “They only get very insistent when one is injured, you see,” Sophie explained. “I am no longer broken, so they do not concern themselves with me anymore. They have not even been around where I live for the past few days. It has been very quiet.”

  “That’s as may be,” I said, “but won’t they try to drag you to this awful doctor for him to examine you or something?” I clasped my hands in my lap tightly, trying to contain my agitation on her behalf. “Since your arm is of French manufacture, isn’t it possible they’ll want to…” I swallowed, “...take it apart and see how it works?”

  She shook her head decisively. “No. My Enhancement is minor, for the most part. Its basic construction and wiring diagrams are well known, even if the technicians here refuse to consult them. I am of no value from a mechanical point of view.” She put a hand on my clasped hands in reassurance. “I appreciate your concern, but I am fine where I am.”

  That ended my attempts to get her to move into Towson House, but not my concerns for her safety.

  My various activities, therefore, left little time for actual aeronautics, so I didn’t see my fellow crewmates from the Bosch, and spent no time that week at the Icarus Club, the ‘home away from home’ for the members of Cambridge’s Icarus Squadron. The fear and worry I’d experienced from the unexpected events in Penzance had faded somewhat, but I was still uncertain what to do about the whole affair. Not seeing the Bosch crew made the issue moot, at least for a bit, and dropping wholeheartedly into my mathematics studies pushed it out of my mind most of the time.

  Saturday arrived. As was my usual habit, I ate breakfast and made my way to the Faraday Library to spend the day working on the assignments for the upcoming week. My long-time tutor Dr. Maitland, a venerable member of the mathematics and sciences faculty, pulled no punches on the workload he assigned me despite my being a member of the fairer sex. Therefore, when I wasn’t floating across England in the Bosch on a weekend, the Faraday’s long wooden tables and dark reference shelves became my home.

  Mr. Avery, the Faraday librarian, knew me and my habits well. That morning he welcomed me into his book-filled sanctum with a smile and the small box of books he held for me behind his desk, since students were not allowed to take books from the library. Other students—exclusively male—trickled in around me in various states of awareness depending on how they’d spent the previous night. Those who had overindulged moved slowly as if the air touching their skin was excruciating. Those who hadn’t, moved with the somnambulant air of the not-quite awake.

  I took up my usual spot on the left-hand side of the middle table of the room, pushing my box of books to the right of my seat. I pulled a phosphorite lamp close to illuminate my work area and touched its glass globe to turn it on. Its circle of warm light enveloped me as I sat down, pulled my things from my bookbag, set out my papers and began to work.

  As often happened when I was absorbed with my calculations, the library around me faded from my attention. The sounds of my fellow students as they snuffled and shifted seeped from my notice. The numbers dancing in my equations occupied my whole mind. While they did so, the world I inhabited was ordered and… while not predictable per se, at least it operated according to set rules I knew well. In recent days, my life had been decidedly peculiar. It was a relief to immerse myself in my usual routine.

  I relaxed into the work and tackled my assignments in a state of satisfied industry. Hours flew by unheeded.

  I’d come to the second to last problem in my last mathematics assignment when something, or rather someone, interrupted my work. “Excuse me, fraulein,” came a male, German-accented voice behind me.

  I turned around in my chair and peered up at a man I didn’t know. Handsome in an exotic way, the man was tall, thin, dark-haired, and grey-eyed, with a small patch of dark hair in a diamond shape in the cleft of his chin. Everything about him was very, very German. In fact, I was surprised to see he wore full-length trousers with his grey suit coat and stiff collared shirt, since the lilt of his voice made me think of Matterhorns and lederhosen.

  “Yes?” I asked, curious despite myself.

  “I wonder,” he asked in a stage whisper, “do you know where I could find a librarian? There are none at the reference desk.”

  I looked around. The reference desk of the library did indeed seem to be empty. In fact, the German and I were the only ones in the reading room. How odd. Where had everyone gone? I wondered.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. I indicated the books in front of me on the table. “I was very absorbed in my studies and didn’t see where he went.”

  “Oh,” the German said, an embarrassed look coming over his angular features. “I did not mean to interrupt your work.” He peered at the pages I’d filled with equations and his eyebrows went up in surprise. “How interesting. You study mathematics?”

  “I do.”

  “Don’t most c
ollege ladies in England study at university to become governesses? Do you require that level of calculus to instruct children in the nursery?”

  I bristled but did my best to hide my irritation. “I am not training to become a governess,” I explained. “I enjoy the sciences and have an aptitude for mathematics. Therefore, I study them.”

  “But you cannot pursue those professions as a woman,” he said, confusion crossing his face. “Why study them in depth?”

  “Why not?” I responded. What he said was true – in England, at least. I’d have a better chance at an academic career in France if I wanted one, which I didn’t. “You don’t think there is value in careful study for its own sake?”

  “Of course there is value in such study, but the value increases if use can be made of the knowledge gained,” he said with a shrug, “and unless doing high level mathematics is required of Englishwomen as wives, such study on your part seems frivolous.”

  I gave up my efforts at remaining polite in the content of my speech but maintained an even tone as I responded to him. “You know nothing of me or my life, sir. I dare say if I were a male student you’d not feel the need to be so rude, nor would you be so audacious as to suggest my course of study was a waste of time,” I said, my gentle tone in direct contrast with the meaning of my words. “Tell me – is boorish behavior the hallmark of all German nationals, or unique to you alone? Were you transferred here because your colleagues back home grew tired of your rude comments or is Cambridge especially cursed, somehow?”

  “Ah,” he said, genuine surprise crossing his features at what I’d said. He looked at the floor for a moment before meeting my eyes apologetically. “I am very sorry. I did not mean to offend. Sometimes what I say in English doesn’t come out exactly as I intend. I did not know that Englishwomen could be ardent scholars of such… masculine material. It seemed unusual.”

  I narrowed my eyes speculatively at the man, not sure whether to believe him or not. “I do not believe gender determines intellect, or that certain subjects are masculine or feminine,” I said, “though there are others who do. Is that the philosophy of German scholars?”

  “There are differences of opinions on the matter in Germany, as there are here,” he said. “But,” he looked around, “…is this not the Physics library? I know Dr. Oberlin, the head of the department, disapproves of women at this university. I am surprised he allows you to study here.”

  The German fellow seemed to be remarkably well informed, I noticed. He’d met the one professor in the sciences department who did believe gender determined intellect. In fact, Dr. Silas Oberlin thought that women were less intelligent than men simply because they were women, despite mounting evidence to the contrary. Sadly, the mounting evidence only served to make Oberlin even more intractable in his views.

  I took in a deep breath and let it out before I spoke. “Dr. Oberlin does not command all aspects of university life and facilities,” I said with some asperity, “though he certainly acts like he does.”

  “I agree,” the young man said. “You stand as the proof that he does not.”

  I cleared my throat. The sooner I passed this fellow off to Mr. Avery, the happier I’d be. “You were looking for the librarian?” I inquired. “His name is Mr. Avery.”

  The man nodded. “Ja. I’m trying to start on my own research, which I can’t do without this Mr. Avery. I’m new to Cambridge, you see. I am Dr. Oberlin’s newest student.”

  That explains it, I thought; this fellow is a misogynist in training. I put down my pen and stood up, pushing my chair back from the table. “Let’s see if we can find Mr. Avery so you can get to work.”

  The young man looked alarmed. “Bitte no, Fraulein,” he said, holding up his hands, “I have troubled you enough. I don’t want you to—“

  I waved off his concern. “It’s no trouble. I needed a bit of a break anyway.” I pushed my chair back under the table and then motioned for him to follow me. “Come on. Mr. Avery doesn’t go far.”

  He followed. “Danke. I’m Augustus Laufeson – I just transferred from the University of Halle-Wittenberg.”

  “This way, Mr. Laufeson,” I said. We walked to the end of the reading room where the reference desk sat, unoccupied. I looked to the left and right and noticed the office door on the left hand wall was ajar. I pulled out the small pocket watch from my vest pocket. It read four o’clock. Thankfully, I spent enough time in the library that I knew Mr. Avery’s habits well.

  “Mr. Laufeson,” I said, indicating the open door on the left, “it would seem that Mr. Avery is on a tea break. Give him a few minutes and he should be back at the reference desk.”

  “Tea break?”

  I nodded. “It’s tea time. You’ll note that you and I are the only students here at the moment,” I said, indicating the empty reading room around us. Books sat open and unattended at various tables around the room. “The other students have gone off to procure their own tea.” I turned and headed back to my spot in the reading room.

  “Why haven’t you done as they did?” Laufeson asked, following me at a distance. “Do you not drink tea?”

  “I lost track of time,” I called back. Since we were alone in the reading room, I didn’t have to whisper. “Happens a lot when I’m studying,” I explained. I could do with a cup of tea and a scone, I thought with a pang. My stomach rumbled at the thought of food. Too bad I have too much work to do.

  Mr. Laufeson took several quick steps so he walked even with me, then pursed his thin lips together for a moment, thinking. “Do you know the library well enough to help me find books? You did say you needed a break.”

  Arriving at my study table I turned to the German man and shook my head. “Women are only allowed in the reading room,” I said.

  The German indicated the books on the table where I’d been working. “Then where did these come from?”

  “Mr. Avery retrieves the books I request. He keeps them in a special bin behind the desk, along with the other books used by female students. When I come to the library, he assigns me to a desk and I work there until I’m finished or the library closes.”

  Mr. Laufeson looked unpleasantly surprised by my explanation. “They allow you to attend classes, but not to retrieve your own books?”

  “If you know about Dr. Oberlin’s feelings on the matter, you can hardly find that a revelation,” I said. “There are too many dark corners where ladies might find themselves ‘with a gentleman and unchaperoned’ is what we’re told,” I said. I didn’t believe that was the reason, but I didn’t say that. I thought it was just another odd rule Oberlin and Cambridge used to remind women they didn’t quite belong at the fabled university, just like the one that refused women an actual Cambridge degree after four years of study. It was annoying, but Mr. Avery really was a dear in his efforts to get the books we ladies asked for. Therefore, I kept my feelings on the issue to myself and appreciated Mr. Avery’s assistance.

  “But you and I are alone and unchaperoned in this reading room,” he countered, “and there is no taboo about that?”

  I turned from the table and stared at him for a moment. “Ah,” I said, discomfited by his observation. “Yes. Well, presumably the reading room is public enough that my unchaperoned status will not lead to any… erm… difficult situations. Mr. Avery has also left the door to the staff room open. Were you to make an advance of some kind, he’s only a shout away.”

  Mr. Laufeson took a small step toward me. “I see,” he said, nodding thoughtfully. “What sort of advance would make you inclined to shout, I wonder,” he whispered, a hint of mischief in his voice.

  “Best not to find out, I think, Mr. Laufeson,” I responded, my voice frosty. Who does this fellow think he is? “I’m a scholar first and foremost. Surely you don’t want your library privileges revoked.” I knew I intended to keep mine, no matter what.

  He took another small step forward. The combined scents of rosemary and clove drifted toward me as he brought his face close to mine
. It was an oddly familiar scent that made me uneasy, but I didn’t know why.

  “You are an attractive woman, Miss Trevelyan,” he said, his voice smooth and seductive. “I’d like to get to know you better. Surely you and I could go somewhere and chat?”

  There was a warmth to his tone that took a little of the edge off my uneasiness, but something deep in my mind screamed a warning about the man. Had I told him my name, or not? I wondered, but couldn’t remember, which bothered me. The dark grey of his eyes was cold and calculating, in direct contrast with the warmth of his words. The look on his face reminded me of a cat anticipating a quick but deadly game with the mouse he’d just caught.

  “I don’t think so, Mr. Laufeson,” I said, taking a step back and turning so I could sit down, hoping the odd fellow would leave me alone. Had his request for assistance just been an excuse to insult and then flirt with me? It certainly seemed that way. Best to cut him off here and now.

  “I have no desire to get to know you better.” I cleared my throat. “I’m sure Mr. Avery will assist you with what you need. Good afternoon, Mr. Laufeson,” I said over my shoulder. I pulled my chair out from the table and moved to resume my studying, a clear dismissal of the man and his rudeness. I hoped the fellow would just go away.

  Mr. Laufeson spoke a few words in a language I didn’t recognize. Distrust and unease drained from my mind like water down a drain. I stopped, stalled by his words. I felt so… strange. What’s happening?

  I felt a hand on my left sleeve near my wrist, attempting to draw me away from the table. “Oh,” Mr. Laufeson said softly, “I think you should make the time, don’t you? You want to make the time. You’d like to come with me.”

  I struggled to speak as his words snaked into my mind and settled like fog into my thoughts. Laufeson moved his fingers so they touched my skin and spoke more words I didn’t understand. Disorientation bloomed and the room spun around me. Strands of black desire tugged at the edges of my thoughts. His hand on my wrist became the center of my attention. The incomprehensible words he’d spoken echoed back and forth between us seductively. I wanted to go with him and damn the consequences… but something in the primitive, animal part of my mind maintained a drumbeat of alarm. My heartbeat pulsed in my ears in panicked distress. I opened my mouth to speak – to say yes despite everything—