Sub-lets in Hell, chapter 10 (Patreon)

Here we are. Expect at least one more before the end of the month, but for now please enjoy this one:

I put the finishing touches on the brushwork, checking it carefully for any errors or little blobs of ink that might dry unevenly in the shifting morning breeze. There was nothing; it looked good.

I stepped back and almost ran into the fidgeting guard, who was watching me more than he was our surroundings. That, I couldn't help with wards. At least not yet.

"Watch the fence, not me."

The sentry recoiled as if I'd hit him... or was going to eat him. "Yes Ma'am!"

I put the mesh over my work carefully, ensuring no dirt or sand could scour it away and that any random shots or other firepower aimed in its direction would have to work to get there. Once it was set, and the other stuff added, I wouldn't need to worry about it.

Assuming there were people around a few thousand years from now, I fully expected archeologists to encounter this small tower and wonder what the hell it was used for, and why it was still here.

Would humanity remember this, if they survived? Or would it be a footnote that most people didn't know anything about, like Troy or the druids? I guess it didn't matter; I'd be long dead and gone regardless, off to my final 'reward'.

Even so, some of the things I'd done, some of what I'd built - like this tower - would remain. Even if no one remembered me, there would be proof of my existence. Assuming the demons didn't turn it all around somehow and raze the planet free of life.

I didn't do any of this, then and now, for recognition, but knowing that something I made would outlast me, that people would be saved due to my actions, warmed my heart a bit. Not enough to offset everything, of course, but it was something.

There, this part was complete. It was now time to go if I was going to make it to class on time. I'd made it to roll, but I'd had to cut my jog short to do this. I still wasn't sure when was best to do this.

I didn't want to do it during the middle of the day, but five in the morning wasn't really cutting it either. Then again, I was too lazy to do it after work....

I ran into Clay at the front door; he handed me a cup of coffee. "Well?"

"I got one tower half done. It's going to take a bit longer than I hoped. I also came up with a bit more I could add."

Clay nodded sagely as he took a sip: "That's how it always works. Get halfway done, and there are fifty more things you can think of to do."

Right. Of course he'd say that. "You could help, you know."

Clay made a show of warding me off with his coffee. "All you, Alice. You know I've got no head for that magic stuff. I could probably benefit from classes, come to think of it."

"Don't even think of it; you're a graduate, the same as me. You could do it if you tried."

Clay stopped dead in the hall and fixed me with a serious look. "Alice... Snow... I don't know if you've noticed, but most of us aren't geniuses for that crap. We can't do what you do. Even for the best of us I've seen, the runes you use? The spells you think and write up? Not normal. That shit would take most of us years to figure out. Hell, looking at the one you showed me a day ago makes my eyes swim."

I sipped in contemplation. French vanilla, and still just shy of scalding, nice. I guess it was true most of us didn't have their demon teaching them magic and spells. "It's not that hard. It's mainly experience."

Clay knew; learn or die, the motto we lived by.

"Right, we use what works, and that stuff works for you. Just saying, I wouldn't really be helpful in the situation you find yourself in. I can maybe copy the work, but I can't innovate it... and the vitality you use? Somehow, you're a powerhouse. I've got some, but not that much."

Clay left it unsaid, but I could hear the 'and no one else I know does either' in there. Genius, he said, but genius always has other, more physical factors.

The early students were waiting in front of my door; I shoo'd them out of the way and unlocked it.

Clay followed me into my classroom. That was fine, I supposed; he didn't have a class just yet, but the students were giving him looks.  

Rather than say anything, he took a look at the chalkboard, shook his head, and walked out. Okay then.

I set my books down and settled in; the joy of doing something first thing in the morning was that not only was it done, but I didn't have to wait on people. The possible downside was having them wait on me, but we'd dodged that bullet for now.

The last of my minions... er students trickled in and sat, rushing to get down before the first bell. The bell rang, of course. Time marched on unless I stopped it. Which was an interesting idea. Slowing or stopping time when I wasn't in immediate mortal danger; I wonder what good I could do with that?

Food for later thought. I sipped my gift of coffee and cast around my small kingdom. "If you've got written work, bring it up yourself. Single file, in a line, you all know the drill. If you don't, wait at your desk and I'll get to you."

Listening to people butcher ancient and mostly dead languages never got old... except when it got old.

The would-be troops were orderly; they all got in line and efficiently walked in, slapping papers and notebooks down then peeling off to either side and going back to their seats. Every paper or notebook had a name, which was a handy bonus, and one that from my own school experience was not a given.

I set them all side by side on the desk; I could keep my coffee in hand and mark with the other. Let's see... a mistake there, a faulty line there, a misspelling on that one...

I loved my red pen. Nothing like a red mark here or there to say "You screwed up."

I sipped and reached, my pen moving. I didn't need to look up. "As you can see, the correct runes and circles are written on the chalkboard behind me. If your memory is good, you can make the corrections yourselves while I work."

I didn't hear too many trying to make those corrections, but I'm sure they were burning a hole in the board with their eyes, trying to figure it out.

Right, there. Not too many errors this time. Barely one per paper, for those that used paper. The corrections overwrote the stuff in a way that would make it sure to fail if anyone tried to power it. I'd have to make sure they burned the things after, or accidents could happen. After I was sure they were proficient, of course.

I swept the papers up and started the tedious process of handing them back, replacing my now nearly empty coffee cup on my desk. "Alright, when I point to one of you verbal lovers, I want you to recite the words to your spell, as correctly as possible."

The fun part. Well, for now.

It went about as expected; they were awful. I didn't expect miracles before these people got too far into the language classes, but wow, it was horrible.

After each rendition, I said the spell myself. Flawlessly, of course. Then I had them go through it again. For most, it took a few more corrections, but by the end of class, I was confident they could at least recite it and not embarrass both themselves and me.

Next week, I'd have them try it under fire. No warning, of course, but I'd give them a hint. "Alright, be sure to practice and keep it up. I'll be testing you all on this at some point, soon. Both the pronunciation and your artistry. You do not want to fail to live up to my standards."

If they didn't live up to my standards, I'd be talking to their drill sergeants. If I was feeling vindictive, I'd add Karen to that mix; she'd hear anyway, but if she heard it directly from me, she'd feel obligated to take steps.

My answer was some muttered "yes, ma'am", scraping chairs, and pounding feet.

I knew, of course, I got it. I'd been on the other end of this equation, and been in an absolute rush to get out of here. None of us wanted to be here.

I'd need to reinforce what it was all for again - next week. When I tested them under fire.

When were their language classes? We'd started ours fairly early on, cause three months wasn't nearly long enough. Maybe I should check on that while I have time. To the teacher's lounge! Whoosh, and away!

Okay, I was super glad I only said that in my head. Something was seriously wrong with me. I was also glad that Clay was busy; his classroom door was closed, and I could still hear him yelling through it.

I wasn't going to ask why this was happening after the bell. Maybe Clay was having his own wake up call. A little earlier than me, but I could see it.

The teacher's lounge was where I'd left it, of course. The teachers were all elsewhere, because of course they were. They never were where I'd like them to be, and that was probably something that I should address as well. Where were all the teachers actually going between classes, and why wasn't it here? Was there some hangout place that wasn't here that I didn't know about yet? Was this another elaborate haze, somehow?

The lone teacher here was someone I hadn't met yet. I only knew her from her file, and she was teaching military history, according to the file I'd been shown.

I hadn't been taught military history in basic when I was here. The other problem, an issue I'd realized before but shelved, now coming back to haunt me, is that no one here except Karen was the same; all the older teachers and instructors had left.

Well, Karen and Drill sergeant Jenkins. That man was a machine, and would outlive and outwork us all. The dude was like eighty and still going!

He just grinned at us as we passed now, and while Clay grinned back, bold as brass. I was fairly sure the man was half demon somehow. Grex just laughed at me. We both knew that humans could be every bit as demonic as the real thing after all; it just wasn't polite to say it, for either party.

Demons didn't like being compared to us in any event; being compared to us and possibly coming up short in the evil department? Absolutely incensed them. Incensed them to the point where it would invariably make them try harder, if my experts were to be believed.

Enough of that. The woman, just shy of middle age and tipping a touch over onto the cute side with her puffy cheeks and button nose, watched my approach warily. Her eyes might have even darted to the closed door once or twice. I didn't hold that against her.

"Hello."

"Hello."

"I don't believe we've met; I'm Alice."

The woman stared at my offered hand and did not take it. Fine.

"I'm Betty."

At least she responded. I let my hand drop. "If you don't mind me asking, what do you do here, Betty? I thought I'd met everyone."

"Administration."

So she was a secretary. A very in shape secretary, which meant she'd served somewhere, probably.

"Cool. I teach." Smooth, of course, she knew I was here as a teacher! I was freaking in the teachers lounge! Real Smooth.

She confirmed how smooth I was: "I know."

Right, not awkward at all.

I'd try again; maybe it was me. "So, I've been meaning to ask. Where are all the teachers going? I would think they'd all be hanging out here, but that doesn't seem to be the case."

The response was immediate. "The teachers have class after you do. Well, most of them anyway, so of course they wouldn't be here. When they are free, they tend to go outside the tower itself, to other places. For reasons."

Right, it wasn't me at all - it was definitely her. For one, I knew the teachers did hang out in here; I'd seen them here before just fine. Either the day or the time was an anomaly for some reason.

"Fine, then I'll ask you," I was beyond caring what this person's problem was. "How far along are the language classes? Did they start day one?"

They had when I was in basic here, but one could never be too sure.

Betty shrugged. "I don't know. I work in administration."

Betty was pretty useless. "If you work in administration, why are you here?"

"Orders to tell all the instructors that this lounge is closed today for renovations."

She slowly brought her coffee to her lips and took a sip, never breaking eye contact.

The coffee machine was empty; that was as good an indicator as anything else. "What renovations."

Betty shrugged again, one bounce of her shoulders and no more. "I don't know, I work in administration, not maintenance."

I swear....

"Right. Enjoy your day."

It was pointless to talk to some people; I'd never met anyone more infuriating than the average summoner before. Betty was a first.

Time to resort to that awful tool of communication, my phone. I normally hated people who walked along halls and streets with their noses stuck in their phone, but this was different. That's right, different.

I texted Karen, asking her where the language teachers might be at this hour.

Her response was nearly immediate, and her answer was the coffee shop... or cafe. Could it be a cafe on a military base? I thought that a place needed to be a little... fru fru, a little pretentious to be a cafe, whether they pulled it off or not. This place, by virtue of where it was, could only be as down to earth as possible.

One could not put on airs in front of a series of drill sergeants. It just wouldn't work.

I had some time before my next class. Another text fired off to Karen, asking her how she knew, and I focused on walking. If I didn't get there soon, those teachers will probably leave for greener pastures.

The answer was a typical one: Karen simply wrote back: "I have my ways." Which I took to mean she was watching through cameras somehow. Either that or she had some actual spies watching us. Which, I wouldn't put past her.

Oh, another question, so another text: "What is Betty's damage?"

The answer? "It's complicated. Long story short, she had a bad deployment."

What else was new? Everyone had a bad deployment. I guess I could check later and see if enough was redacted to give me the real story. If I cared enough, later. If I needed more nightmare fuel.

The sun hit my eyes like a sledgehammer might; I blinked the pain out and ignored the prickling heat. Should I jog or preserve at least some of my dignity?

Hell with it, I was a summoner, and I needed to be there now. A run was called for.

People got out of my way, scattering like birds in the park as the rambunctious dog came bounding in. No one called me on it, of course.

The coffee shop - or cafe, whichever, was right where I left it, and I could see a few of the teachers I knew through the windows, hanging out with some people I didn't know, who also seemed to have a bit of the teacher look to them.

Right, another question to Karen. I slowed down as I hit the door. There was only one customer entrance, so they couldn't escape me now, and it was safe to slow down. "What is getting redone in the lounge?"

Karen didn't immediately answer this one, so I moved on.

Doctors Cope and Messai had straightened up, and they had been trying to get up. Instead the resorted to standing there awkwardly, doctor Messai still slightly hunched over.

There were another four people here, and I didn't know any of them. "Good morning. I'm known as Alice, and you seem to be teachers. Can I interest you in introducing yourselves?"

One stood up and offered his hand immediately. "Mike Baker, professor of history."

Hm, he was wearing a suit shirt and light slacks... not a blazer with elbow patches in sight. Even better, while he was a bit on the older side, he was rocking both well enough.

The second one to reach his feet was a swarthy gentleman who looked younger than Mike. "Zahir Choudhury, professor. I teach Latin here."

I shook his offered hand and looked left; the lone woman was there, and she wasn't going to stand up, it seemed. She did offer a hand, though, so that was enough. "Lisa Aetern. Teacher, of course."

Clear as mud. The last man, an older gentleman, that I should know if he'd spent his career here, or even a few years of it. "Oliver Wentz. Professor, and I teach world politics."

World politics? Was that a whistle for something else? I could imagine it being a C.I.A. word salad front. Though he was a little... fat to be C.I.A., wasn't he? I couldn't remember going over world politics during my own time in basic. Or seeing this guy before.

I could ask Karen later, if I wanted. She'd at least tell me to stop asking, which would be answer enough.

I turned back to Zahir. "I think you might be who I'm looking for. Mind if I sit down and pick your brain?"

Zahir smiled, a little nervously. "Sure?"

"I believe I'll stay too," Mike said. "I teach a smattering of odd words, here and there." He sat next to a man who was clearly his friend. His smile was far more genuine.

The others also sat, or stayed seated, which was a bit surprising to me. I thought they would all take the chance to leave.

Whatever, it wasn't like they couldn't know. We were literally going to be talking shop. "Right, well, what I just want to cover is how far along you are in your language work, and whcih languages you're working on. Latin of course, but Etruscan? Arabic?"

"And ancient Greek and Hebrew," Zahir answered. Between Mike and I, we're covering it all. At the most common instances of it. Students are being encouraged to study as much as possible on their own time for best results. I assume you're doing much the same? If you're Alice, we've both been hearing some stories...."

Time to interrupt. "Only good things, I hope."

Zahir paused, and Mike held up a hand, palm flat, and waffled it. Whatever, I'd take it.

"I'm trying to. I want to focus on practical magic, so I'm working on Latin mixed with a few other things," I couldn't really tell them the influence my Latin had, but I'm sure they knew. "And I was wondering how badly I was rushing things, or if you were already covering that stuff."

"We get started early, but we're just now covering nouns and the rules regarding those," Zahir replied. "That said, you don't need full understanding to say or write the words just yet. Not for them. That does raise some interest, however."

Then he cut loose with a question in Latin itself. Asking how much I understood and how long I'd been studying.

Nothing to do for that but answer. I didn't think I scuffed it too badly; some practice with Grex undoubtedly helped.

Parroting worked if all you wanted was to use stuff other people made for the rest of your life - but if you wanted to make your own, you needed to understand what you were writing. My goal was to go beyond my own training and have everyone I taught able to form their own stuff, straight out of basic.

Well, if they wanted to, of course. I'd lead them to that water; whether they drank was on them. I know I'd wanted it.

Zahir answered my answer in English: "Your Latin is passable. More than passable, actually. I'd think I was conversing with an undergrad or a scholar."

"Thank you. I've worked on it somewhat. Comes with the territory, and it does come in very handy for people in our line of work. That's why I'm pushing for as close to full understanding as basic will allow."

I was under no illusions; three months wasn't nearly enough time. I had needed the time on the police force to learn more and hone my languages. The people going directly to the fronts after basic? They were still just as screwed. They might be just a little bit less screwed.

Every little bit helped, I hoped. I knew we were, between all us teachers, pulling the newbies in far too many ways as things stood. I just didn't know the solution for it.

"Well, let's talk about it then," Zahir replied. "We've got time. How can we better help you reach your goal? Our job in teaching any languages here in the first place is to get our draftees to that level."

Glad this Zahir saw things my way. From the nod, Mike did too.

The other teachers stayed silent. Lisa even left without so much as a goodbye. I didn't mind.