“I’ve checked the treaty,” the dean finally stated quietly in Elvish. “Pittsburgh, including these buildings, will be considered Wind Clan when and if the treaty is declared null and void.”
Forest Moss’ humming faltered slightly but he gave no other indication that he was listening to the conversation. He hadn’t even looked up when the woman entered the room.
“I believe Prince True Flame—” Olivia paused, not sure how to say “trumps” in Elvish, “—is of higher power than the viceroy. He wants Forest Moss close at hand, ready to fight.”
“I understand. What I don’t understand is why you haven’t sought out shelter elsewhere. The enclaves are better suited at hosting domana and sekasha.”
Olivia blushed and focused back on braiding. No one had suggested that to her and she hadn’t thought of it herself. If it was an option, why hadn’t the Wyverns said something sooner? She peeked up at Glaive who was standing quietly within striking range of the dean.
Amazingly, the male took her glance as a demand for information. “Ginger Wine’s is uninhabitable until the support walls are repaired. The viceroy is using Poppymeadow’s. Forge will be staying with his grandson; Iron Mace will also be guarding over the children. The distant voices say that three more Stone Clan domana will arrive shortly with their households. They will be housed at two of the Wind Clan enclaves and that requires all their current guests to be shifted. Forest Moss on Stone and his domi must find other lodgings.”
Olivia hadn’t heard that more domana had arrived in Pittsburgh. She wondered if Forge and Iron Mace were Stone Clan or Wind Clan. She didn’t want to detour the conversation. “Forest Moss needs to be in Oakland but there’s very little in the way of empty houses. It will take time to find something suitable. In the meantime, we need access to restrooms and shelter from the rain.”
“I understand.” The dean’s response annoyed Olivia because it seemed by her tone that she was actually saying “You can’t stay.”
“Your school currently isn’t holding classes,” Olivia snapped.
“The chancellor has decided that we will start fall term on Monday. We have to assume that Tinker domi will not be able to reestablish a connection with Earth. It isn’t even clear how she severed it. To continue as a school, the university must hold classes and give our students the education that they were promised.”
Olivia breathed out her anger. She’d slept an alarming amount yesterday. She didn’t want to be bullied out of a place with electricity and running water when she wasn’t sure of her own health. “I know that there are multiple floors in this building standing empty. There are subjects that you no longer teach, so they are no longer used.”
The dean glanced at Forest Moss. “This is a delicate, historic, iconic building…”
“Then one of your dormitories. They’re probably half empty as it is. You used to be bigger than University of Kansas. Your student population is a fraction of what it used to be and you were on summer break.”
“You have to understand, long before the first Startup, we stopped being able to house our entire student population. The university decided that instead of trying to build more dormitories in an increasingly crowded area that it would guarantee housing only to incoming freshmen. For decades, our upper-level students have lived off campus in apartments. To save costs, they’ve recently started to take over abandoned buildings to operate households modeled after the enclaves. We do not oversee those structures.”
“So you’re saying you don’t have empty buildings?”
The dean controlled a glance to the listening Wyverns. It was nearly unnoticeable, just a flick of the eyes and then her face going tight. The woman wanted to lie but couldn’t. “We might. I am unaware of any but housing is not my responsibility. I would have to look into it.”
“Until then, we could move upstairs to one of the empty floors.”
The dean sat still and poised while considering her options. Finally she accepted defeat with, “I’ll call buildings and grounds. They’ll turn on the lights on one of the empty floors.”
The Wyverns did not like the elevators. There were several, each dedicated to different levels of the tall building. The cars were large and clad in feather-pattern bronze and polished until they gleamed.
The holy warriors eyed the elevator to the twentieth floor like it was a great gaping mouth that was going to swallow them whole.
“Death trap,” one of them murmured.
“It’s like the lift on the gossamers.” Forest Moss walked into the gleaming car. Olivia stepped in after him.
The warriors exchanged glances, sighed, and boarded.
They rode up in silence.
The janitor waited in the twentieth-floor lobby, wiping his greasy hands on a rag. He bobbed, doing a quick bow, and started to edge nervously toward the elevator. “I got all the lights working. Had to fiddle a bit since some of the bulbs were older than I am.”
The dean blocked his escape. “Go downstairs and make sure the rest of their party know how to work the elevators.” When his eyes went wide, she sighed. “No, the others aren’t Wyverns, they’re laedin-caste. Just tell them you’re their escort and don’t let them get off on other floors.”
He got onto the elevator, muttering quietly, “Sure. Sure. Just tell a bunch of sword-happy elves to behave like they’re a bunch of stateside freshmen.”
The dean ignored him and waved a hand toward a big wooden desk that reminded Olivia of the checkout counter of her childhood library. “You can use this floor; it’s been empty since shortly after the first Startup.”
“Is the elevator the only way up?” Olivia didn’t want to be trapped this high if the power gave out.
“There are stairs.” Dean Fisher motioned toward double doors at the end of the hallway. “Students sometimes use the thirty-six flights of stairs for exercise, so don’t be alarmed if you hear someone in the stairway.”
“Exercise?” Olivia couldn’t imagine what the students would be doing on the steps. Surely they didn’t walk up thirty-six floors. Weren’t there machines that let you climb stairs without leaving one spot?
“It’s safer than many of the side streets and alleyways,” the dean said. “We’re close to the Rim even with the enclaves to buffer the city. Our security routinely sweeps all the floors to make sure we don’t get any stray plants or animals.”
The dean indicated the hallway behind the imposing reception desk. “Elvish Studies was going to expand into these offices next year. The restrooms on this floor have been updated, but not much else. I’m afraid that the mass exodus during the first year on Elfhome meant that anything that could be bought easily on Earth was left behind. Feel free to use whatever you find here.”
Dean Fisher moved down the hallway, flipping on lights, opening blinds, and pointing out the restrooms. All of the rooms looked like the occupants had fled in the middle of the night. Papers covered the desktops and floors. Drawers hung open, some empty, others half-full. A cup of coffee sat on one desk, a layer of mold growing on the surface of an ancient pool of liquid.
“All the phones should be hooked up.” Dean Fisher paused to pick up one old-fashioned headset and listened for a tone. “Yes.” She switched to English and held out a card. “These are all my phone numbers. If you need anything during the day, just dial my extension. After office hours, I’m at the second number. That’s my private cell phone number. To dial out, you’ll need to enter ‘9’ first. It’s ancient.” She paused as if realizing that Olivia might not understand the antique system. “Have you ever used a landline?”