faderift | open

[No, that was his education before the University--but before Val can respond to that, she's asked a question that makes his nose wrinkle.]

Where else should I be?

[ A look. ]

Your university.

[Oh. Val makes a dismissive gesture.]

I have long preferred field work to anything in the classroom. Indeed I am ill-suited for it. And in any case, the real work is here, is it not? The work that makes the difference. Prior to our involvement with the Inquisition, my friends and I had already heard tell of its exploits and its involvement. What true soul would turn down the chance to be involved with such an organization, as one that might claim to have saved all of Thedas?

Uh huh.

[ Bullshit. ]

[Wow excuse.]

I sense unfounded skepticism. But I tell you, that is the truth of it. You can ask Freddie or Jehan and they will confirm it as true.

Your friends, who've got vested interests in keeping all your secrets? Thanks, they sound reliable.

They are, extremely. Sound and reliable witnesses both. Jeannot is much blessed and sanctified, too. He scarcely can lie. And Freddie is honest to a fault. Sometimes in deeply cutting ways.

Must I produce some other character witnesses to satisfy you? And why would I do that?

I don't believe you'd willingly leave your precious university behind. Not without something else driving you.

Oh, if that is your point of contention, you might write to the University directly and ask for the mailing address of Professor Perreault. My first fellow. I drove him to early retirement. The last I heard, he was taking rest in a large garden and had screaming fits if someone said the words "field research" and "extended sabbatical" in his presence.

A funny man. Hair like a horse-bristle brush.

[ Kitty doesn't know what a sabbatical is and now she assumes from the term "field research" that he also works in agriculture. ]

What's that got to do with my question?

Well, if you could maneuver around the screaming, he would tell you that I have done everything in my power to be away from the University. Since about my fifth year there, I would say.

What? Then why the hell are you constantly drumming on about how grand it is and how everyone's got to see it and all that?

Because it is! It is the finest university in all of Thedas. There is none that could hold even a candle to it. And I spent many happy years there--indeed, some of my happiest--and I believe, truly, that everyone should see it.

But I love my research too well to be confined by classrooms and corridors. A book is a marvelous thing. One learns much from it, and there are many that I love, more than I love most people. But a book, she is static. She cannot change. The world, it is ever changing. No classroom can contain it, and looking upon it from a window, or upon the page of a book, it is like eating a boiled pigeon and saying it is as good as duck confit.

Duck coffee?

[ Ew, what? But she shakes her head, because that isn't what's important here. ]

So then why aren't you telling other people to go out and learn from experience?

Confit.

[--A smooth correction that will be totally lost on Kitty since it sounds exactly the same as the the first time he said it.]

And of course I would tell people to learn from experience! But they should still see and experience the University. Why would I tell them to stay away? They might be of those peculiar sort that adore classroom work. They may need to have their lives changed, utterly, just as mine was.

Or maybe they'll go there and find that their ideas get shut down and stifled.

You are oddly pessimistic about an institution that you refuse to visit.

[ She widens her eyes at him in an expression of exasperation. ]

I've gone to school. I had schooling all the way from when I was seven till when I was thirteen. And you know what I got out of that education? Rapped knuckles and a whole lot of please put your hand down, Miss Joneses and please stop asking questions Miss Joneses. And I know how to sew and make a proper shepherd's pie. And I can read, 'cause I was one of the few selected to learn that skill. And that's it.

[Val's eyebrows raise. But he lets her get through it, like the gentleman he is not, really.]

And what country is it, that you are from?

[ With a little sigh - ]

Nowhere you'd know.

[ And she lifts her hand briefly to display the speck of green embedded in it. ]

[What! Val gives a short laugh.]

Then your preemptive measurement of our University against your schools is an even greater offense. How can you!

People are people, there and here.

[ She shakes her head. ]

And you told me that to get there, you need a recommendation. My social better would have to vouch for me. If it's a place that's worried about social standing, then it's a place that wants to enforce the social order. And if it wants to enforce the social order, then it won't like me one bit. Did you ever consider that perhaps you oughtn't be vouching for me?

You remind me of a friend of mine. She is a painter, and for her washes, she does these with a wide brush, so that it takes but four strokes to cover a small canvas. But you wield the wide brush of assumption.

There may be some who play at society, who would be available to recommend. I do not associate with them. It is those with vested interest in the University that give those recommendations. True souls do exit among them, who seek only to find potential. Cleverness, wit, talent--all of these might ensure a recommendation.

[And--]

Should I not be vouching for you?

[ Instead of touching that first bit, she challenges: ]

Why would you? You don't know me. You don't know if I'm dangerous or dishonest. You don't know if I'm intent on stealing the artefacts they keep there, or defacing books, or taking them to resell elsewhere.

[Okay, but--]

Would you?

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