“We have a spare cat,” Oxford said, on the verge of actually smiling in triumph, the bastard. “A cat without a human partner. We just have to convince him…”
“You are not taking my Professor of Time Mechanics out of this college in the first week of semester,” roared Melusine. “There is a schedule.”
“You want to pair me with Boswell?” Ruthven said quietly. “Why didn’t you mention this before?”
He felt ambushed. And stupid. He’d thought that Oxford wanted him here for moral support, not shark chum.
Oxford didn’t seem bothered by Ruthven’s distress. Thoroughly warmed up now, as if he finally remembered he should be wheedling instead of standing around like a decorative lamp, he leaned over his mother’s desk. “Don’t you think it would be good for the students to see that the college prioritises the safety and wellbeing of our travellers?” Oxford wheedled at Melusine. “I’m sure it’s the sort of thing the rest Board would approve. Optics and all that..” He gave her an earnest, pointed look.
Melusine looked furious. “Did Celeste put you up to this?”
“Of course not,” Oxford said, a little too quickly. “All my own idea.”
His mother gave him an entirely scornful look. “Since when do you have ideas, Clement?”
“It’s Cressida Church,” Oxford said, putting on a plaintive voice that made Ruthven (and Melusine too, probably) want to punch him. “The Lost Traveller. Cressida and Boswell were icons. They’re legendary. Imagine the story if we finally bring her home. Imagine the prestige. Imagine all the alumni donations.”
Melusine hesitated. “I’m listening.”
Oxford widened his pretty blue eyes and leaned in with a smoothness that might be charming if Ruthven wasn’t extremely pissed off at him right now. “If Professor Boswell agrees to do this, will you at least think about adding a new team to the schedule? For one glorious, reasonably priced rescue mission?”
Melusine tapped her long red nails on her desk. Of course, she had long red fingernails. She had probably murdered someone with them earlier today during her fifteen-minute compulsory recreation break. “Come back to me with Professor Boswell’s enthusiastic consent, a completed leave of absence form, a pre-arranged substitute lecturer, and a comprehensive budget for this little outing you have in mind. And I will consider passing it up to the Dean in time for next quarter. That’s our Dean,” she added crisply. “Not any other Deans of other Colleges we might mention.”
Ruthven was confused, but that seemed to mean something to the other two people in the room.
“Thank you,” said Oxford, looking both over and underwhelmed. “Uh, is that really the best you can do?”
Next quarter was eight weeks away. Academia did not like to be rushed.
“Leave my office immediately,” said Melusine.
“Right you are, Mum.”
“Thank you,” added Ruthven, who felt like he was about to be sick.
Melusine softened for a moment. “If you’re not up to travelling again, don’t let him push you into it, Eliott.”
Now he was offended coming and going. “It’s not that I’m not up to it,” Ruthven said hotly. “I didn’t know it was on the table.”
Oh, hell. He wasn’t up to it, though, was he?
Melusine was already looking away, typing quickly to demonstrate just how disinterested she was in this meeting. “No, that’s it, that’s all the empathy you get from me this year. Consider it your Secret Santa gift. Get lost, both of you.”
Ruthven was left feeling unsettled, which was standard after any kind of interaction with Melusine from Admin.
Being furious with Oxford, though, that was a new and entirely unwelcome feeling.
“I can’t believe you did that,” Ruthven said as he strode away from Admin, trying to keep up with Oxford’s long legs. It was so frustrating when the person you were annoyed at could easily walk faster than you. It made flouncing away so much harder.
“But this is perfect,” Oxford said earnestly. “It’s a good start, at least. That gives us weeks to work on Professor Boswell.”
“What about me?”
“What about you?”
“I don’t want another cat,” Ruthven raged, letting his bubbling fury overspill. “You don’t know what it’s like to lose your partner. To nearly not make it home at all. I don’t want to travel again. Why would I?”
The thought of it was revolting. Aesop was his partner. She was the best cat in the world, and she was gone. Nothing was bringing her back. No one had spotted her in a lost piece of film footage.
Oxford looked taken aback, and a little upset. As if he had offered Ruthven flowers and chocolates, and Ruthven had kicked him in the knee. “But I thought…”
“Just because I make the occasional sad face while thinking about the past does not mean you can pity me!” Ruthven roared. And now he was the person yelling on the quad, in full view of curious students and co-workers. A full circuit of embarrassment. “I’m not convinced it was Cressida, anyway. I think you all had a collective hallucination about some long-dead sound engineer with a blonde bob.”
“Her hair was more of a…”
“Why are you so set on this?” Ruthven challenged. “What’s in it for you?” He hadn’t realised Oxford even knew Cressida that well. He certainly hadn’t. They were only in their second year of undergrad when she was lost, and they hadn’t exactly run in the same circles.
(Except, of course, that as the son of a Founder, Oxford always seemed to know everyone on campus).
“It’s important,” said Oxford, looking bemused.
“So important that you didn’t even ask me if I was ready to travel in time again?”
“I didn’t think.”
“Clearly.” Ruthven was calming down now, which only meant that the humiliation of having made a scene was beginning to fold around him like a blanket of mortification. “Don’t follow me,” he warned. “I’m done with this.” He turned on his heel and walked quickly in the direction of the Media Archive. There, at least, he could be alone.
