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Hamish swallowed Lilith's potion and gasped as the memories hit. His life's forgotten and deleted scenes played in his mind. Much of it was garbage but there were other memories, too. Sharper moments he could only appreciate from his current vantage point.
When he was three his nanny had explained that it was kind to give people the answers they wanted whenever he could. His parents came into the nursery that afternoon. Mother asked if he'd missed them, and he said yes like a good boy. It wasn't true, but it was kind.
His grandfather's study. At 14 he'd thought taking up cigars while undergoing chemotherapy was suicidal, selfish, or idiotic. Now he knew that smell was marijuana and the old man must have been in incredible pain.
Vera Stone had been vice-chancellor his junior year. Younger. Hair worn pulled back. To him she'd seemed like a nameless office drone during the meeting.
His father was as agitated as his upbringing would allow. "Hamish received all A's last semester after I called and explained the situation. I don't see the problem doing the same this semester. The girl's still dead."
Hamish slunk lower in the chair and tried to disappear into his hoodie. "The girl." "The waitress." "Hamish's townie fling." They didn't understand who Cassie was or who she'd been to him. All they knew was she'd hit a tree while driving his car an estimated 155 miles an hour. Estimated because that was the top speed of his BMW. Estimated because he was still alive and no one quite knew how he could have survived being ejected through the windshield at that speed. Estimated because of the force required for a tree trunk to peel open the side of the car from bumper to driver's seat.
Vera settled her glasses on the end of her nose then turned to her computer, punched some buttons and made a series of faces all of which Hamish suspected meant he was getting kicked out of pre-law. It didn't matter. Long the road, short the life. Even if he got into law school he wouldn't survive to graduate. Magic and fatalism went hand in hand.
Vera turned back to face them and gave a studied sympathetic head tilt. "It's not just his grades. His bar exam pre-test score is significantly lower than that of his peers at the same point in their studies. If we make an exception and allow him to continue with the program..." Poignant pause. Contrived pause. Damn she was good. "Well, there are worse fates than a state law school."
The elder Dukes turned away from the horror of her statement and towards each other.
"I have a suggestion," Vera offered.
They leaned towards her and Hamish shrank from the tawdriness of it all.
"Why don't you two go to take a breath? Go get a cup of coffee or a glass of wine, and I'll spend the time with your son and see if I can get his priorities in order."
His parents nodded and stood, and Hamish relaxed a fraction. The nannies had always known how to make them happy enough to leave him alone. The soft click of the door closing behind them marked the start of the real meeting.
Vera steepled her hands under her chin. "So tell me why you wanted to be a lawyer." Her hands dropped to the desk and swiped sideways.
"I didn't. It was my father's decision. The most profitable slumlords handle their own evictions and collection suits." Past Hamish had been surprised by his own honesty. Current Hamish suspected those oddly moving hands had been casting a spell to cut through to the truth.
"Your career plan is to be a slumlord?"
"No. It's my father's plan for me."
"What's your plan?"
"My grandfather gave me an apartment building when I was 18. The income is enough to live on. I'll sell Father's properties as soon as I inherit them."
Vera rubbed her temples. "So your future income is not a problem. Good. Then your choice of degrees is nearly limitless."
Hamish sat a little straighter in his chair. "Not really. Not if I want family harmony. I need one that sounds respectable."
Vera waited for him to continue, and Hamish waited for her to fill the silence and hand him the answer. He broke first. "It would be best if I finished undergrad on time. What degree can I finish with just one more year at Belgrave?"
"Are you trying for an MBA when you finish here?"
Hamish shook his head "Too much math. I'll get some sort of masters, possibly a doctorate. As long as there's a plan for some collection of letters to add to my signature my parents will settle for it."
"If you're going to be doing that much additional schooling you should choose a topic that interests you." She turned back to her computer and scrolled his transcript. "In a year you could have a degree in folklore without attending summer school."
"Summer school is fine. In fact an excuse to avoid everyone from that part of my life would be welcome. The degree name is a problem. Do you have any suggestions that are less patchouli scented?"
She stared at him for a moment the turned her chair around so she could pull a book from the low shelf behind her desk. The sound of turning pages soothed him in a way a keyboard never would.
"Mr. Duke, you're going to be an epistemologist."
"And what is that?"
"It a folklore degree blended with classes from the education and philosophy departments then buffed to a high shine with old money."
He shifted in the chair, but whether he was more or less comfortable because of her directness he wasn't sure. "BS or BA?"
The faintest flicker of a smile slipped over her lips as the unspoken BS pun crossed both their minds. "Since you'll be getting a doctorate eventually your undergraduate degree in philosophy is just a formality."
Past Hamish leaned towards her to discuss course schedules and graduate programs. Present Hamish pressed his back against the glass of the window and tried to make sense of it before the next memory could force its way forward.
Vera had saved him from his parents' scrutiny and their business all those years ago. She'd also set the framework that had let him fumble and stall for the last seven years. Left alone he'd probably have found his way down to the basement, read the journals, and been a better knight. Epistemology taught him skepticism and to seek more than a single source. It gave him an excuse to seek the limits of knowledge rather than the core.
He'd abandoned Norwich for grad school, justifying the quest for new knowledge as superior to covering the same ground generations of Tundras before him had patrolled.
Had she known then what she was doing or who he was? Did she remember that meeting now?
He didn't have time to find the answer before the next memory stole the breath from his chest. Vera again.