Elodin tried the latch, then turned to the broad-shouldered man, his face going grim. “You locked him in?”
The man stood a full head taller than Elodin and probably weighed twice as much, but the blood drained from his face as the shoeless master glared at him. “Not me, Master Elodin. It’s…”
Elodin cut him off with a sharp gesture. “Unlock it.”
Timothy fumbled with a ring of keys.
Elodin continued to stare him down. “Alder Whin is not to be confined. He may come and go as he pleases. Nothing is to be put in his food unless he specifically asks for it. I am holding you responsible for this, Timothy Generoy.” Elodin poked him in the chest with a long finger. “If I find out that Whin has been sedated or restrained I’ll ride you naked through the streets of Imre like a little pink pony.” He glared. “Go.”
The fellow left as quickly as he could manage without actually breaking into a run.
Elodin turned to me. “You can come in, but don’t make any noises or sudden movements. Don’t talk unless he talks to you. If you do talk, keep your voice low. Understand?”
I nodded and he opened the door.
The room wasn’t what I’d expected. Tall windows let the daylight in, revealing a sizable bed and a table with chairs. The walls, ceiling, and floor were all padded with thick white cloth, muffling even the faint noises from the hallway. The blankets had been pulled off the bed and a thin man of about thirty was bundled up in them, huddled against the wall.
Elodin closed the door and the mousy man flinched a little. “Whin?” he said softly, moving closer. “What happened?”
Alder Whin looked up owlishly. A thin stick of a man, he was bare-chested under the blanket, his hair in wild disarray, his eyes round and wide. He spoke softly, his voice cracking a little. “I was fine. I was doing fine. But all the people talking, dogs, cobblestones…I just can’t be around that right now.”
Whin pressed himself against the wall and the blanket fell off his bony shoulder. I was startled to see a lead guilder around his neck. This man was a full-fledged arcanist.
Elodin nodded. “Why are you on the floor?”
Whin looked over at the bed, panic in his eyes. “I’ll fall,” he said softly, his voice somewhere between horror and embarrassment. “And there are springs and slats. Nails.”
“How are you now?” Elodin asked gently. “Would you like to come back with me?”
“Nooooo.” Whin gave a hopeless, despairing cry, screwing his eyes closed and pulling the blanket closer around himself. His thin, reedy voice made his plea more heart-wrenching than if he’d howled it.
“It’s fine. You can stay,” Elodin said softly. “I’ll be back to visit.”
Whin opened his eyes at this, looking agitated. “Don’t bring thunder,” he said urgently. He reached one thin hand out of his blanket and clutched at Elodin’s shirt. “But I do need a catwhistle and bluedown, and bones too.” His tone was urgent. “Tentbones.”
“I’ll bring them,” Elodin reassured him, gesturing for me to back out of the room. I did.
Elodin closed the door behind us, his expression grim. “Whin knew what he was getting into when he became my giller.” He turned and began to walk down the hall. “You don’t. You don’t know anything about the University. About the risks involved. You think this place is a faerie land, a playground. It’s not.”
“That’s right,” I snapped. “It’s a playground and all the other children are jealous because I got to play ‘get whipped bloody and banned from the Archives’ and they didn’t.”
Elodin stopped walking and turned to look at me. “Fine. Prove me wrong. Prove that you’ve thought this through. Why does a University with under fifteen hundred students need an asylum the size of the royal palace?”
My mind raced. “Most students are from well-to-do families,” I said. “They’ve led easy lives. When forced to…”
“Wrong,” Elodin said dismissively, turning to walk down the hall. “It is because of what we study. Because of the way we train our minds to move.”
“So ciphering and grammar make people crazy,” I said, taking care to phrase it as a statement.
Elodin stopped walking and wrenched open the nearest door. Panicked screaming burst out into the hallway. “…IN ME! THEY’RE IN ME! THEY’RE IN ME! THEY’RE IN ME!” Through the open door I could see a young man thrashing against the leather restraints that bound him to the bed at wrist, waist, neck, and ankle.
“Trigonometry and diagrammed logic don’t do this,” Elodin said, looking me in the eye.
“THEY’RE IN ME! THEY’RE IN ME! THEY’RE IN—” The screaming continued in an unbroken chant, like the endless, mindless barking of a dog at night. “—ME! THEY’RE IN ME! THEY’RE IN ME! THEY’RE—”
Elodin closed the door. Though I could still hear the screaming faintly through the thick door, the near-silence was stunning. “Do you know why they call this place the Rookery?” Elodin asked.
I shook my head.
“Because it’s where you go if you’re a-ravin’.” He smiled a wild smile. He laughed a terrible laugh.
Elodin led me through a long series of hallways to a different wing of the Crockery. Finally we turned a corner and I saw something new: a door made entirely of copper.
Elodin took a key from his pocket and unlocked it. “I like to stop in when I’m back in the neighborhood,” he said casually as he opened the door. “Check my mail. Water the plants and such.”
He pulled off one of his socks, tied a knot in it, and used it to wedge the door open. “It’s a nice place to visit, but, you know…” He tugged on the door, making sure it wouldn’t swing closed. “Not again.”
The first thing I noticed about the room was something strange about the air. At first I thought it might be soundproofed like Alder Whin’s, but looking around I saw the walls and ceilings were bare grey stone. Next I thought the air might be stale, except when I drew a breath I smelled lavender and fresh linen. It was almost like there was a pressure on my ears, as if I were deep underwater, except of course that I wasn’t. I waved a hand in front of me, almost expecting the air to feel different, thicker. It didn’t.
“Pretty irritating, huh?” I turned around to see Elodin watching me. “I’m surprised you noticed, actually. Not many do.”
The room was a definite step above Alder Whin’s. It had a four-post bed with curtains, an overstuffed couch, an empty bookcase, and a large table with several chairs. Most notable were the huge windows looking out over the lawns and gardens. I could see a balcony outside, but there didn’t seem to be any way to get to it.
“Watch this,” Elodin said. He picked up one of the high-backed wooden chairs, lifted it with both hands, spun in a circle, and flung it hard at the window. I cringed, but instead of a terrible crash, there was just a dull splintering of wood. The chair fell to the floor in a ruined tangle of timber and upholstery.