Nina raised her big dark eyes at the woman with a slight frown. It was a gesture of two thoughts. Did she not know about Nina’s constant clashes with the Nazi-affiliated Black Sun Order — the very organization that spent its time and funds to locate and procure religious and historical relics important mostly as objects of occult practices?
“I know a little more than the average person, professor. As you might know, because why else would you show up at my home, asking for help? I am mainly a historian, but I have had first-hand experience with some strange practices, yes. Why?” Nina asked. She would not admit it, but she was somewhat excited by the inquiry and intended to do a full background search on her esteemed female guest.
But she did not have to. The tall thin woman with the ash blond hair leaned slightly forward and locked her fingers in front of her on the counter. Her voice was thick and low, but for some reason, soothing. She sounded as wise as she looked and by the way she conducted herself Nina could tell that Professor Kulich was a refined woman, a lady. She imagined the professor to have a title one day, like ‘Dame.’
“Dr. Gould… Nina… I am currently involved in a covert project on ancient magical artefacts.” She sighed and rolled her eyes, “God, I hate the word ‘magic’, but it is just so much more convenient than ‘scientifically plausible once we have the physics to prove it’.”
Nina laughed. The professor smiled and shook her head in serene amusement.
“I know. I know all too well. I have also come to that conclusion, Professor,” Nina chuckled.
“Petra. Please call me Petra,” Professor Kulich nudged.
“Petra. My own conclusions came to that very opinion, you know. These ancient cultures and their miracles, their shamanic magic and rites all worked because, not only were they psychic, but they seemed to have known things about the earth and its elements to such an extent that they could employ natural laws of science to produce these miraculous things,” Nina said in a low tone. In the rage of the thunder and rain outside the soft lamp light just on the other side of the kitchen counter and the smell of fresh muffins she was warming up gave the place a suited atmosphere of quiet philosophy on obscure subjects.
“This is true, my dear Nina. And it is exactly that working logic, that open-mindedness of yours that I need. I have approached two other historians, but they were very set in their ways, older people who were far more rigid in their beliefs than to be swayed by the evidence they might find while with me on my chase, you see?” Petra coaxed, accepting her fresh warm blue berry muffin from the historian.
“On your chase?” Nina asked. Her tummy tingled as she said it… in the good way.
“Yes, after my week in the Amazon, where I will be gathering up my final records and talking to one more tribal chief, I am off to my home in the Czech Republic to collect some documents left to me by my brother,” she explained as she took a hearty bite out of the moist baked goods the cooking staff of Wrichtishousis offered. “You see,” she continued with a mouth full of muffin through which she attempted to speak as properly as possible. Nina found it quite endearing. “I am a professor of Anthropology. Much as I know about cultures and religious practices, superstitions and such, I am not quite up to date with the history of these places I visit. That is where I need someone with the know-how of where and how all the tribes or nationalities came to be where they are today, how the progression through wars and legislation had brought them to the areas they now occupy.”
“How would that help you with the magic of their relics?” Nina asked. She had not eaten any of her muffin. It was too early to eat, but she did not want to seem un-social. Her dainty fingertips played with the domed crust of the muffin instead.
“I just need to know what happened in certain places so that I would know why I find there what I find there,” Petra explained with a strained voice, uncertain if her weak command of proper English was getting her actual point across. “Ugh, I don’t know if I say this right.”
“Oh, no worries,” Nina smiled, “I get it. You need a historical advisor to fill in the blanks of the documents you are to peruse, right?”
Petra Kulich nodded eagerly. She had only understood about half of that sentence properly, but she knew Nina was willing to help her for more reasons than the money. The latter was never a problem. With Professor Kulich’s family history, money was never an issue, yet she knew most of the historians she had considered employing before choosing Dr. Nina Gould would have asked too many questions or would have leaked her family’s identity before long. This little energetic woman was her choice of advisor. Decision made.
“Alright, so tell me what the documents are about and when you would like me to commence my involvement,” Nina urged. She picked off little pieces of the muffin and nibbled on them. It was clear to Professor Kulich that she had found her assistant. The petite pretty woman in her thirties struck her as a credible professional, but also as a logical and emotional judge of character which could come in handy once they were in Eastern Europe. The petite Scottish historian would keep her grounded, no doubt ask questions to make sure Petra did not get lost in the myth and magic of whatever she would discover. She did not want to tell Nina too much about the excursion, but she had to tell her enough to prepare her for the kind of historical line they would have to keep keenly in their focus.
“I shall contact you at the end of the week,” Petra Kulich replied as she dabbed up the remaining crumbs of the delicious muffin on her plate with her fingertip. “It pertains to the World War II secret SS occupation of Chateau Zbiroh. Are you familiar with it?” Professor Kulich asked. She knew that Nina, an expert on recent history of Germany would be familiar with the tales of Nazi doings during the Second World War, but she was not one for assumptions, so she asked.
“I have heard of the SS operation where they evicted the owners of the Czech castle to hide treasures and, from what I recall, they used the natural stone deposits under the chateau to distort radio signals… or something like that?” Nina reported. She had in fact learned about the small part of Nazi history a long time ago, but as any professional, she was not an encyclopedia on legs and even doctors and professors needed to touch up on their knowledge every now and then — something this professor took into account.
Unlike Nina’s old nemesis and superior at the University, Professor Matlock, Professor Kulich too into account that academics were forever scholars, supposed to learn continuously instead of attaining tenure or reputation and then stagnate in their knowledge until they keeled over and dropped dead as white grey old fools rigid in their ways and teachings.
“I see you have heard of it. Good. While I am in South America I trust you will reacquaint yourself with the details of the castle so that you would be well prepared once we make our journey to the Czech Republic,” she stated as she rose from her seat. She looked out the window where the daylight had now been born from the black of night to the grey paleness of morning light.
“I trust you have your passport in order?” she asked Nina with an inquisitive look.
“Always, Professor,” Nina reassured her with a smile and a pat on the arm as she walked her to the security guard who was waiting at the end of the hallway to accompany her out.
The two women shook hands.
“Thank you so much for agreeing to accompany me on this very important journey, Dr. Gould. You will be duly compensated… financially and culturally,” Professor Kulich smiled at the door.
“Oh I am really looking forward to it. I hear the goulash and beer is legendary!” Nina jested, and they both laughed heartily before the professor left.
When the door closed and the cordial chattering grew quiet on the other side of it, Nina experienced the oddest feeling. She was so alone — so utterly alone, yet she was excited for the coming adventure. For once she would not have her life in peril. She did not need the money, but for a change she would be earning her own again as opposed to using the monthly funds she received from Dave Purdue’s accountants. Not that she complained, but it was nice to earn her own money, giving her some elusive sense of worth.