The Budding Metalinguist

XLVII

Lillian knocked cautiously on the door of the DIAO. She didn't exactly need to knock; it was propped open neatly with a doorstop, so all she had to do was walk in. The general lack of security surprised her, especially given that Dakota had broken into the DIAO just a month ago to steal his key. She carefully stepped inside, trying not to touch the door, and began walking slowly down the hall towards the conference room. When she reached the end of the hall, she noticed that the conference room door was open, and stepped casually inside.

The conference room was deserted. Or, at least, nearly so. Galena sat in the Director's chair at the far end of the table. At the near end, in the spot Lillian usually occupied, was a tall blonde girl, probably about twenty years old, with a round nose and bright blue eyes. Lillian recognized her vaguely as that girl with the entertaining backpack, who she had occasionally seen around the thaumaturgy building. She smiled and cocked her head when she noticed Lillian.

"Lillian," Galena called. "Sit down." She edged out one of the chairs near her using her foot. Lillian complied, sinking into the cushion.

"Who are you?" the girl with the entertaining backpack wondered.

"Lillian," she answered automatically, without explanation.

"Lillian is collaborating in our investigation," Galena cut in. "I requested that she be here for this interview."

"All right," the blonde girl agreed readily. "Are you ready to start, then?"

Galena responded with an affirmative, and the girl briefly introduced herself. "I'm Ingrid Howell. I'm a sophomore thaumaturgy major at UOD. I'm nineteen, and I'm from Portland."

"Thanks," Galena answered, taking notes on a blank sheet.

"Why did you want to interview me?" Ingrid asked harmlessly. Lillian could see from her eyes that this was no harmless question. Ingrid was the kind of person who was skilled at getting any information she needed. The question was carefully considered and phrased to maximize the chance of Galena answering.

Galena diverted her attention from her notes. "A man disappeared a few weeks ago. We have reason to believe that his disappearance may have been related to the activities of people knowledgeable about the Thaumatogenesis. His name was Rolf Howell." Lillian could hear Ingrid sucking in a breath. "He specifically told me that his parents' names were Greta and Robert, like yours. I thought you might be able to shed some light on it."

Ingrid leaned forward and laid her arms on the table. "I have a brother. His name's Devon. We talked last week, he's completely fine. He was on the news last week, you know. That big ice storm up near Spokane."

Galena nodded in acknowledgement; she clearly knew already that Devon was a storm fighter. "Have you ever met anyone named Rolf? Ever heard the name?"

Ingrid shook her head. "My parents liked the name," she suggested. "But they changed their mind after Sierra was born."

"Do you know anything about what your parents were doing in early 1990?" Galena prompted.

Ingrid began thinking. "Sierra was born in 1994. My parents would have been married for about two years..." She considered. "They would have still been living with my grandparents." She shrugged. "I'm pretty sure my mom got her first job around 1991, so they really would just have been staying at home."

"Hmm," Galena responded shortly. She seemed disappointed. "I just wanted to ask a couple more things, ask if you've seen anyone. We're looking for a young man with dark hair and a beanie, and also probably purple eyes."

Ingrid seemed to contemplate this. Lillian's heart was racing, but even her nerves didn't stop her from evaluating what was going on in Ingrid's head. "I don't know of any young men that fit that description," Ingrid answered.

Lillian relaxed. For once, Dakota's status as a professor was doing him a favor. Ingrid would be likely to think of any other student as a "young man", but Dakota, being a professor, didn't fit the bill.

Galena indicated her face. "The other person we're looking for is an older woman. She looks a bit like me, but she has green eyes." It was obvious that Galena was trying to hide that Ashley was her mother.

Again, Ingrid shook her head. "No, I haven't seen someone like that."

"Thanks," Galena said finally, still disappointed. "I'll let you know if there's anything else we need to talk about."

"No problem," Ingrid answered. She swung her backpack over her shoulder and strode quickly out the door.

❦

"I'm sorry, I don't eat eggrolls," Dakota explained. He purposefully didn't try to sound sorry.

"You didn't say anything about that earlier," Dr. Hests replied crossly. "Now I'm supposed to eat the entire platter by myself?"

Dakota shrugged ambivalently and returned to perusing the menu. Dr. Hests brought up her work at the lab again, and although it was vaguely interesting to Dakota, he responded with engaging and interesting conversation and prompts. The entire time, he kept his gaze militantly focused on the menu. Every so often, he flipped it around or turned to a new page. When the waiter returned, he took a further two minutes to decide on his order, while continuing the conversation with Dr. Hests.

"I thought you said you had dietary restrictions," Dr. Hests finally broke in after the waiter had left.

Dakota shrugged again. "Thai food is fine."

She looked annoyed by the apparent contradiction with the eggrolls, but decided to let it go. She continued the conversation about her findings in the lab, and Dakota took the opportunity to fiddle with the napkin in his lap. She ignored him militantly.

"We found that if someone knows the specific time of the thaumaturgy and has an example of something traceable that the thaumaturge in question has performed, it's possible to determine the exact thaumaturgy that they've been using," Dr. Hests explained, excitement in her eyes. At that moment, the waiter returned with both meals. Dakota carefully made room for his on the table, making sure the waiter could set it down with enough space.

Only seconds after the waiter left, Dakota sighed. "I forgot to ask for peanut sauce," he realized, turning to Dr. Hests. "Would you mind asking the waiter if he would bring some?"

Dr. Hests scoffed, but rose from her seat and began striding in the general direction of the kitchen. As soon as she was gone, Dakota reached into his jacket and pulled out a round, zippered case. From the inside, he produced a pair of mirrors taped together at the back. With his palms resting on the frames and his fingers careful not to touch them, he dropped the contraption over his dinner. The bowl passed straight through, the mirrors landing on the table with a solid thunk. Carefully, he lifted the bowl, pulled out the mirrors, and returned them to the case.

Then he raised his fork and dug in.