6

Following Freddie's gaze to a shallow alcove, you see the statue of a robed woman: St. Claudine. A couple of feet high and carved in unpainted granite, it looks out of place beside the swans and other finery, but the lamp beside it illuminates a faint sparkle amongst the gray that gives it an ethereal look.

The three of you contemplate the statue. "It's beautiful," Delacroix says under their breath. Is there a shadow of darker stone where tears have tracked? Surely not. Anything visible would just be a trick of the light.

Freddie looks the statue up and down with triumphant scorn. Delacroix looks doubtful now, in the presence of the statue itself.

You hear the muffled noise of students leaving the banquet hall, and footsteps approaching the lounge. Before you can be discovered, you drag Freddie and Delacroix out.

Once you're safely in the hallway, Delacroix turns to you. "Well?"

Convincing Delacroix that there is nothing strange about the statue may be a challenge, but at least you have Freddie to assist you.

"The accounts are from when people were more credulous," you say. "But they're just stories."

"But—" Delacroix says.

"It's not such a bad thing," you say. "People's accounts tell us a lot about the attitudes of their time. Even if it's not magical, it's interesting."

Freddie nods. "Anthropologically, you could probably write an essay about the way the stories have spread over time."

Delacroix's shoulders slump, and they scowl. "You don't know what you're talking about," they snap, and they stalk off. Freddie pinches the bridge of her nose with a sigh.

"It's a shame they're so obsessed about this idea of magic," she says. "They're clearly smart. I don't get why they refuses to be rational."

You walk to the top of the stairs, where Freddie leans over the stone rail and watches the stream of students emerging from the banquet hall.

"You know, I've been accepted into the Birchmeier Society," she says. "Maybe I can put in a word for you? I bet you'd do well with us."

You read about the Birchmeier Society in the college prospectus: a group for academic high-achievers with niche interests. With her drive for learning, no doubt Freddie got in easily despite her poor background.

Freddie jostles you on the shoulder. "I reckon you'd fit in all right," she says.

While you're standing there, the warning bell for the end of lunch rings. You follow Freddie downstairs to class.

Two Weeks Pass