Influence (4 page)

Sully moved
away from Robe. ‘I’m bringing this conversation to a close Robert, apart from
anything else, this is not covered in the curriculum and you have dominated today’s
class, it’s not fair to the other students. If you want to talk about it
another time out of class we’ll arrange a session, but that’s it for today.’

Lizzie was
impressed how Sully had handled the situation, how he had remained calm but at
the same time had allowed Robe to vent his point.

What
remained of the class time was devoted to exam preparation, covering topics
likely to appear. Robe did not contribute any further to the class and when the
bell rang he shot out of his seat hooking one hand around the strap of his
backpack sending it into a wide arc before catching up to him as he disappeared
round the door.

‘That’s us
for today people, thank you for your attention and contribution, I’ll see you
all next week when we’ll be talking more about the exam and remember…’ Sully
cocked his head waiting for the class to fulfil their part in his weekly
repertoire.

‘Knowledge
is power,’ the students completed, in a not very synchronised drone.

Philosophy
was the one subject Lizzie elected that was not available at her old school.
She had been so excited when the information had come through from Queen’s
showing her a sample timetable and a list of subjects she could choose from.
The list was made up, in the main, of the usual subjects which were
transferable from her previous studies, but there was the addition of all sorts
of other classes she couldn’t believe were open to her. She understood that by
selecting one of these she was effectively starting from scratch, but a gap in
her timetable and the temptation of taking something completely different was
too much, and the box next to A level philosophy was ticked. The challenging
but interesting coursework, and the fact that she was one of only five students
in the class contributed to double philosophy being her favourite part of the
academic week. However it was her philosophy teacher that took centre stage as
the overriding factor in her newly found favourite subject.

Dr Brian
Sullivan, or Sully as he insisted his students call him, was quite unlike any
teacher she had come across before. She would admit that it didn’t hurt that he
was relatively young, Lizzie guessed at thirty six or thirty seven, witty, and rather
handsome, but it was his air of knowledge and confidence, without being
patronising or unapproachable, that made him so intriguing.

One of the
unique selling points of Queen’s Grove House was that, despite a smaller than
most compliment of teachers, they offered completely unrestricted access to the
curriculum. There was a startling array of subjects open to study, and since the
teachers at Queen’s were unqualified to teach many of the more obscure subjects
they relied on stipendiary lecturers to fill gaps. Dr Sullivan was a lecturer
of social sciences and at least half of his time was spent teaching at Oxford
University with the remainder of his time taken up with other teaching
positions and the continuance of his own studies and writing.

Lizzie
could scarcely believe she was being taught by an Oxford professor. At every
opportunity she would bombard Sully with questions on the University.

The few
remaining students left leaving Lizzie with Sully who was busy pushing desks
into their previous positions. Lizzie glanced at him, her eyebrows raised in
surprise and curiosity.

‘What was
that about?’ she took the other end of a desk and helped lift it back into
place.

‘You mean
with Robert? He’s a…,’ Sully paused searching for a tactful word ‘
special
boy is Robert.’

‘Yeah, I
get that, but he’s always so placid, what got him so riled today? I mean you
guys can go at it pretty good sometimes but I’ve never seen him like that. And I
wish I understood what the hell you guys were going on about, seriously,
whoosh.’ Lizzie brushed a flat hand in the air to indicate it had all gone over
her head. ‘That’s not going to be in the exam is it?’

‘Nietzsche’s
Will to Power? No, don’t worry. Robert gets worked up sometimes when things
fall into grey areas, or where there are alternate, equally plausible,
arguments on the same point. He
was
especially vociferous today, I think
it’s how his brain works.’ Sully sat on one of the desks his eyes pointing up
in thought. ‘Give him a logical problem and he’ll solve it without effort, but
give him an abstract concept to consider and you can see instantly how
uncomfortable he becomes. He’s so used to having things come so easily to him
that when he’s faced with something his mind can’t process his frustration
manifests itself as stress, and sometimes, as you saw today, anger.’

‘Why would
he have taken philosophy if he was going to struggle with it, I mean why did he
not just stick to the subjects he’s comfortable with?’ said Lizzie.

‘Boredom,
maybe. Perhaps he’s genuinely interested but I suspect he had just wanted a
challenge. I think if he’d taken Art instead and he’d been asked to critique a
painting, to express the feeling and emotive nature of it he would struggle in
a similar fashion.’

‘So he’s
struggling in philosophy?’

‘God no,’ a
small laugh escaped Sully’s mouth. ‘Don’t get me wrong, he finds it difficult
to wrap his head around certain things, but he’ll still ace this class. It’s a
stick on A; he’s just finding that it’s not coming to him as easily as
everything else.’

‘Imagine
having to work for an A,’ said Lizzie. ‘Poor Robe, I must remember to console
him.’ Sully chuckled.

‘How are
you getting on? You’re doing well in my class, I think you’re capable of an A
too, but how’s everything else?’ Sully stroked his stubbled chin subconsciously.

‘Too soon
to tell,’ Lizzie sighed a little as she said it revealing her stress. ‘I guess
I’m a tiny bit like Robe myself, some subjects are easy enough, and others make
my brain dribble out of my ears.’

‘What do
you need for Oxford?’ Sully was well aware of Lizzie’s dream and always had his
proverbial fingers crossed for her.

‘Minimum of
three As’

‘And how
likely is that?’

‘Well if
the prelims are anything to go by I’ll be working at McDonalds this time next
year.’ Sully smiled at her.

‘Grab the
other side,’ he said sliding off the desk and Lizzie took an end. ‘If anyone is
capable of pulling it out the bag Miss Dean, it’s you. Keep working hard and
I’m certain I’ll be seeing you around campus next year.’

‘I hope
so.’

‘So why
were you so late today?’ he asked.

‘Pallister
pounced on me. He was giving me the usual speech about how I dress.’

‘Ah yes,
Hugo Pallister and his dress code. Don’t take it personally, I get it from him
too.’

‘Really?’
Lizzie took in what Sully was wearing, jeans and a short sleeved shirt, nothing
controversial.

‘He thinks
all teachers should be wearing suits and ties. But do me a favour Lizzie, if you
ever see me in one of Hugo’s bad seventies numbers just go ahead and blow my
brains out will you please.’ Lizzie laughed and confirmed she would.

‘I guess
Robe is the only one who gets away with dress code infringements here,’ said
Lizzie.

‘Yes, well
apart from his dressing gown being a psychological crutch for him, I can’t see
old Hugo giving Robert a hard time about it. Small schools like these need star
pupils like Robert, he single handedly pulls the school’s grade average up with
his straight As, making Queen’s a more appealing prospect for parents looking
to send their kids here. I suspect if Robert wandered in wearing high heels and
a hockey mask it would be overlooked.’

‘Heading
home, Liz?’ Vic sheepishly hung his head around the door.

‘Yeah, just
give me two minutes.’ Vic ducked back around the door as Lizzie slid her end of
the desk into place.

‘So you’re
making friends at last? I see the Adams family have latched on to you.’ Lizzie
smiled.

‘It’s a
start,’ she said, ‘and they’re nice guys. If I’m honest I’m really grateful to
them. I thought I could manage this year without having to make new friends,
but it turns out a year’s longer than you think.’ Lizzie took her bag and
jacket from the back of her chair.

‘No man is
an island Lizzie. See you next time.’ Sully shot her a wink and Lizzie shuffled
off to catch up with Vic.

Robe seemed to be in better
spirits when Lizzie found the boys at the front door of the school. They exited
out onto the main drive which seemed, as always, as if it had been transformed
into a catwalk for shiny four wheel drive vehicles. Lines of ridiculously
oversized cars flanked the drive where bored looking parents opened doors for
their children. Lizzie doubted if any of these off road vehicles had ever had
to tackle anything more taxing than the half mile of gravel that constituted
their owner’s driveways challenged.

Lizzie,
Robe and Vic made their way out of the school grounds. Their friendship had
developed from this daily walk, it was the one thing they had in common. Lizzie
stayed around half a mile along the Bloxham Road from the school and the boys
lived a further half mile in towards the centre of town. The boy’s route didn’t
exactly pass by Lizzie’s front door but it was close enough that she didn’t
feel guilty that they insisted on walking her home most days. The quickest route
was to follow the main road from the school back towards town, but there was
only the merest suggestion of a pavement adjacent to, what was, a very busy
stretch of road and Lizzie had almost lost an elbow a couple of times. The boys
had shown her, what they claimed was, a short cut through a small stretch of
wood. Lizzie knew fine well the way was longer, and on a wet day longer still
due to the slippery footing that left you spattered in mud. Still it was safer,
rather peaceful and, on a day like this, really quite beautiful. Lizzie had
considered asking Robe about his attitude in class, but decided not to. Sully’s
explanation felt right and she didn’t want to send him back into a petulant
sulk. ‘So what are you two love Gods up to this evening? Lizzie asked. Vic’s
face lit up.

‘A, D and
D,’ he answered enthusiastically.

‘What, what
and what?

‘Advanced
Dungeons and Dragons,’ said Robe, somehow under the impression this qualified
as an explanation.

‘Yeah,
you’re gonna have to expand there boys.’

‘It’s a
role-playing game, set in a fantasy world, I guess you’ve never played, but you
should, you’d love it,’ said Vic.

‘I’m sure I
would, I must get round to that sometime.’

‘You should
come round tonight, I have a new scenario all made up, it’ll be great,’ said
Vic who either didn’t pick up on, or decided to ignore, Lizzie’s sarcasm.

‘Perhaps
another night Vic, I’ve got a date with the books.’

‘So you
will
play some other time?’ said Vic with a face like Christmas morning. Lizzie felt
the sting of checkmate but agreed to an undefined future obligation. They
reached Lizzie’s door and said their goodbyes, Vic asked, as they walked off:

‘Are you in
tomorrow?’

‘No, I only
have the one class and it’s personal study now anyway, so I thought I might
head into Oxford for the day, stick my nose in the books there.’ The boys
departed leaving Lizzie to hope they might just forget about her acceptance to join
their geeky game.

The
creature entered the dark room and waited. The body of the monk now occupied
was stronger than that of the old man it had previously worn, but it was none
the less fragile, cumbersome and stifling. It yearned to be free of it, to
return to the dark, to his realm.

Time, the
creature considered, is a strange concept when all you know is the infinite
black, but since it had been ripped and wrenched from its world it could not
help but wonder how long it would be required to remain. It stood in the room,
in the dark and waited.

The one
responsible for its presence in this world entered, lit a solitary candle and
sat, placing his feet on the desk in front of him. ‘The third Lockwood scroll,
what of it Serf?’

‘I do not
bear pleasing news,’ said the Serf. In the place the creature had been drawn
from titles and names were meaningless, but this… Summoner, as he entitled
himself, insisted on this term of servitude.

‘Then you
are as useful as the new bag of flesh which facilitates your existence in this
world. What did we learn?’ The candle flame flickered and strained to make
impact against the surrounding darkness causing shadows to dart in all
directions.

‘The Bodleians
have moved the scroll, I know not when or where to.’

‘That is
hardly news spirit, we know the society placed the scroll there, we must assume
they were aware of our interest.’ The Summoner held his chin in his hand
contemplating the next move.

‘Knowledge
of my intent in that place was confirmed by an inconvenience.’

‘I gathered
that Serf, judging by the change in… attire.’ The Summoner swept a hand up and
down examining the new body.

‘The monk,
or what passes for a monk in this time, was sent to discover my task.’

‘Yes I am
sure modern day makes for a very different breed of pious enthusiast than what
you’re used to. What happened?’

‘Progress
was slow, the monk intervened. The old man had to die. It was unavoidable.’ The
Summoner exhaled heavily.

‘Murder is
somewhat frowned upon in this day and age creature, did I not make myself clear
when I sent you there? When a corpse is found it tends to lead to complications
you could scarcely fathom, I trust you removed the body as I instructed if such
circumstances transpired?’

‘Unavoidable,
and yes the instructions were followed,’ The Serf said, slower and louder, his
rage simmering close to the surface. The Summoner looked into the face of the
Serf seeing no emotion but sensing the mounting anger. 

The candle
projected the Serf’s flickering shadow, but rather than the silhouette of the
monk, some elongated hideous form was cast against the wall which seemed to
move when the body casting the shadow did not.

‘Yes, well.
The body?

‘Is in the
old man’s vehicle.’

‘Well, the
absence of a body will delay the interference of the authorities for a while
but disposing of the body and the vehicle will be your next task’

‘My next
task? I have fulfilled my obligation to you, I have obeyed have I not? I have
completed the instruction given?’ The Serf’s voice grew louder still.

‘No, your
task, demon, was to locate the third scroll and you have failed,’ The Summoner’s
temper now flared. ‘When the scroll is in my possession I will then, and not
before, consider your contract fulfilled. You are bound to me and there is much
work to be done so save your complaints they will see you released no sooner.’

‘Master,’
the Serf lowered his head in subjugation, his fury buried. The Summoner stood
and walked around the small room thinking.

‘Death is
an inevitable consequence of our work Serf, and you will be required to deliver
more yet. In fact I know where next it will be required. You have my word
though, we will soon be in possession of what we need and you may return to
whatever putrid hell I dragged you from.’