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The towers and squares of the old university were built on a gently-sloping shelf well above the general level of the cavern floor. Here, the ceiling was low - no more than two hundred feet clear of the tallest of the spires. The pools and weirs of an underground river - carefully tamed into serenity by a masterpiece of Goblin engineering - wended its way between the buildings, filled with tiny slivery fish and dotted with the small boats that students and tourists could hire by the hour. The whole situation exhuded a strong sense of peace and solitude, ideal for contemplation and study, which was no doubt what the original designers were striving for. I walked with Doonira across the stone-paved quadrangle which formed one of the oldest parts of the establishment: unchanged for a thousand years, so it was said, except for the attentions of the gardeners on the trimmed and topiary'd fungi which decorated the urns and beds. On the far side, we made our way out though the main gates, which stood wide open at this hour, where Doonira waved to the ancient porter in his office. "Good evening, Doctor Quaig," came the porter's voice, "And you too, Mister Gask." Some people around here have very long memories. The place we settled on was a rambling bistro on several levels which had been fashionable when I was studying here. It was still popular with the students now, it seemed, thronging with groups and couples all talking at high volume and spending their parents' money like there was no tomorrow. Despite the crowd, we managed to snag a quiet table in a dark corner where smiling and friendly young waiter - no doubt a moonlighting student hoping to augment his financial position with a good tip - hurried up to present us with menus and to take our order. I decided upon a bottle of a dry white wine and two glasses; not particularly my taste, but it was one I remembered that Doonira used to like. I also ordered food, enough for three, probably. I had worked up quite an appetite. The booze and comestibles arrived quickly, which was just what I needed; I don't think Doonira was even aware of what was on the table in front of her. Between mouthfuls, I talked for a long time while being lightly grilled on all sides by the beautiful Doctor Quaig. She ate a little - I made sure of it - and I kept her wineglass topped up while the pages of the notebook on the table slowly filled with scribbles and annotations. Finally the fountain of questions ran dry. She sat, sunk in quiet thought for a few minutes with her mind's eye elsewhere. I toyed with the last of the wine in my glass and waited patiently. Finally, her attention returned to the here-and-now and her gaze fastened on me. "You can see I desperately need your help," I said sincerely, "And right away." "So, you want me to drop everything and follow you on some kind of mission? A quest, probably a wild goose chase? After all these years?" she said suspiciously, adding when I didn't react, "You're serious about this, aren't you?" I put down the wine glass and leaned forward over the table. "Yes," I said earnestly, "You know you want to, really. And you would kick yourself for a decade if you didn't let me talk you into it." Doonira looked at me for a long moment. Perhaps I knew her better than she thought. "Two hours," she said finally, "To put my affairs in order. Cancel some tutorials, delegate some lectures. Pack a few things." She picked up her own glass, inspected the contents critically, then drained the last of her wine. "Then," she said wryly, clearly aware of the irony of the situation, "I'll be ready to run away with you."
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Part 13