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Chapter 7: The University Meeting

I didn't know that Simoun's powers could extend to even getting me out of class. It was a Tuesday. I was about to get to my anthropology class when I got called to the Dean's Office. My classmates oohed and sniggered at this; I didn't want to know why. They knew I had a job but I didn't want to tell them anything much about it.

My stomach was in knots as I went to the desk. The lady there met me with a smile. "Miss Thenardier? Just a message for you. From Mister Simoun."

"What does he have to say?" I asked, wondering what he wanted now.

"He says you have to be at Conference Room 2 of the main building of the University of - by eleven in the morning." She checked her watch. "Oh dear. You only have an hour..."

I shouldered my bag. "Thank you Ma'am, but I guess I have to go." I had never run so fast across the campus before, to get all the way to the train station just outside. Fortunately I still had a spare ticket, from the time I'd taken the train with Marius to get to school.

Oh Marius. Where was he today? I sighed on thinking of my destination; it was where Cosette studied. But perhaps there was a chance that I'd see the others too, those who were on campus at least. If there was no way I'd make it back to my afternoon classes, I'd go early to the Musain and ask Mister Fauchelevent if I could borrow the computer there.

I'd been on the campus of University of - before, when I was applying for a place there. It was far bigger than where I'd gone to school. I might have gotten lost if the main building had not been so obviously easy to find; it was the only one that looked out of place in all that modern concrete. When I stepped in the building, I shivered; the air felt old, far too old. It was like something out of the frightening stories that Grantaire had mentioned once when he was sober; like too many eyes were watching. Of course many of the others had laughed at this story, and Joly had even said that it was nothing more than bad air, or residual energy. It should have been harmless, right?

There were eyes watching me though, from the top of the stairs on the third floor. Father Camorra was at the top of the stairway. He was looking at me, but I could tell he was pretending to listen to Father Sibyla and two other priests. One looked congenial with a rather handsome nose. The other was sallow, quiet and deep eyed.

"And there's Simoun's assistant. You're late, Miss Eponine," Father Camorra said to me.

I had no watch, so I had no way of knowing if he was right or not. "I came all the way from class," I said.

"Class? Ah yes, you don't study here," Father Sibyla said, peering at me over his glasses.

The nicer looking priest eyed me. "Do you have friends who study here, Eponine?"

"A few. Mostly medical students, but there's one from the Arts and Letters," I said, not sure what to say since he was talking to me that way. "Not sure if you know them Father..."

"I'm Father Irene, and here is the Reverend Father Salvi. You might have read some of his homilies online," the priest said, smiling at his colleague.

I didn't know anything of Father Salvi but I could tell he was important. His hand was cold when I shook it. "If Mr. Simoun is inside, I'd better go to him," I said.

"That's very American, talking about her boss that way," I heard Father Irene say before I entered the conference room. The truth was, I didn't know my employer's last name. No one told me, and it was understood that no one ought to ask.

Besides, as soon as I got in, I had work to do: a projector to help set up, a presentation to edit, and print outs to give to every priest and administrator in the room. From what I could tell, it was going to be a discussion on some educational policy. I thought I was done with it after giving out the handouts, but suddenly Simoun pressed something in my hand. "Go into the next room and turn it on," he said before half-shoving me to the door.

I wondered what it was and I unclenched my hand. It was a tiny recorder. Where was the microphone? Well I knew better than to ask in that company. The room next to this conference area was a tiny sort of office. I left the recorder on a ledge and went back towards the conference room...in time to see Basilio walking up the hall, holding a folder.

He stopped when he saw me. "Aren't you-"

"Supposed to be in class?" I finished. "I could ask the same for you."

"We got let out early, I have to help settle this for Isagani. And you?" he asked.

"Have an errand. For work actually."

He paused. "Simoun?"

"How did you know-" I asked, just as the door opened. Simoun stood there, his eyes narrowed at me before he looked at Basilio. "I didn't know you two were friends," he said.

"Sir I didn't..." I said before realizing it wouldn't be a good idea to ask how he knew Basilio. I stood up straight. "I did what you told me to do Sir."

Basilio stepped forward. "Is Father Irene there?"

"He is in a meeting," Simoun said gruffly. He looked at Basilio. "How is everything over in Sapang, with the Taleses?"

Tales. Juli's surname. Did Simoun know what I didn't know about my friend? I saw that Basilio had turned very pale. "It's still rather complicated."

"Come with me for a moment. Now," Simoun said, grabbing Basilio by the arm to drag him to the men's room. He looked at me and gestured to the door. "Get back inside the meeting, now. Take notes."

The meeting must have been one in a series; there were a number of arguments there that I did not understand, but had been clearly taken up before. Apparently there was an issue of the tuition hike as well as the formation of a student charter. Not all the priests were for it, though Father Irene presented both sides of the arguments (or sounded like it). I did write down a little of what was going on, but I was wondering what Simoun wanted with Basilio. Some medical favour, maybe? It didn't look it, judging by the way Simoun looked when he rejoined the meeting. He reminded me of my father after a good deal had been closed (nice way of putting it) at the old inn.

In the middle of everything, Father Camorra slammed his fist on the table. "Don't these students think that they already have enough rights and freedom given to them? Why must they go through all the trouble of drafting an already redundant charter?" he bellowed, nearly making me drop my pen. "Already being enrolled in the university is a blessing in itself. If we grant them more liberties, they will soon be contradicting the very things we teach them in the classroom and going the way of other universities such as-."

Another priest named Father Fernandez cleared his throat. "You do not have faith in our formation programs? Giving them more license in student activities will not necessarily undo all our teaching, academic and values alike. A charter may guide them in what they can do and cannot do in terms of student activities and organizations, and even with campus journalism-"

"Don't they have a Student Council for that?"

Father Sibyla rubbed his temples. "The council still has yet to present a revised proposal for a charter. In the meantime, there is this petition signed by a certain group of students-" He frowned as Father Irene snatched it out of his hand.

"Radicals. Allow that charter, we'll be seeing those leftist groups here soon enough..." Father Salvi suddenly said.

"Some familiar names here. There's Combeferre, a known agitator. His friend Joly, and another, Basilio. The latter being mostly harmless from what I hear. Tadeo and Pecson too. And of course we have Isagani. One of your pupils?" Father Irene said, eyeing Father Fernandez.

The other priest nodded slowly. "A brilliant boy. He means well, he's passionate about things."

"And there's even talk of soliciting support from outside the university," Father Sibyla muttered. I lowered my eyes; I knew who he was talking about. It was just as well, since at that point someone asked Simoun what he thought.

Simoun ran a long finger over the tops of his blue glasses. "If it's student activities that they want to protect and excel in, then by all means yes. It's what we look for nowadays in companies and corporations-leadership experience."

Some of the priests nodded, while Father Camorra, Father SIbyla and Father Irene stared at Simoun as if he'd grown an extra head. "You will allow them to be rebellious?" Father Irene asked.

"No, no. Of course the charter does not necessarily mean they will be simply free to associate and print things as they wish." His smile was like that of some snake in a graphic novel I'd seen. "They are of course still subject to a variety of rules, and I believe in need of faculty advisers?"

"The charter wants to do away with it," Father Sibyla said.

"Keep it in. Give incentives for the faculty to moderate the organizations, and added privileges to groups that will accept moderators," Simoun said. "You can even make it part of the yearly accreditation."

"Yearly accreditation? They have to undergo that?" Father Salvi asked.

"Yes; but a select few groups have an accreditation period extending for up to two years," Father Sibyla said. He put the idea down on his tablet. "Now on to other matters..."

I almost forgot to take down minutes for a while there. Even so all I managed were a few hurried notes; maybe Simoun would let me reconstruct it from the recording later? The meeting went on, including into the topic that Simoun was really more interested about, funding for new computers and books in the library; ironically I would never have been allowed in that same library without a letter. It was past one in the afternoon when the meeting finally ended, and they all went to lunch.

I had retrieved the recorder from the other room when Simoun motioned to me. "There is lunch downstairs. You should have some before going to your afternoon classes."

"I'm afraid it's a bit late for that," I said. I would never make it back in time.

"I will make an excuse letter for you," Simoun said as he signed for me to follow him to where there was a buffet table. His smile was kind, but I had no way of knowing if it reached his eyes. "So how are you acquainted with Basilio?"

I shrugged. Why did he want to know the whole story? "He's going out with a friend of mine."

"Ah, Miss de Dios. I hope she's well," Simoun said with a smile.

"You know Juli too?" I clapped my hand over my mouth, wondering what had made me blurt this out.

Simoun's eyes narrowed as he picked up a plate. "I've met her father." His tone was enough to tell me not to ask any further. He loaded up some salad on his plate before clearing his throat. "I saw that you were also acquainted with the assistants of Mr. Ybanez and Mr. Pasta."

Who was he talking about? "Who do you mean?"

Simoun laughed but there was nothing merry in it. "Marius Pontmercy and Antoine Enjolras. You arrived at the press conference with the latter." He eschewed the rice in favour of some bread and butter, as well as some fish. How on earth could he afford to skip all this good food? "Are the two acquainted with Makaraig?" he asked more seriously.

"More of Enjolras than Marius. Marius isn't around very much," I said. Marius wasn't around much anyway, and I really didn't want Simoun knowing too much about him. What if it all got back to Mister Fauchelevent and Cosette?

Simoun nodded as he surveyed the dessert plate and then stepped away from the buffet table. "Are they often involved with Makaraig's projects?"

"I don't know."

"It would be good for you to find out," Simoun said in an undertone. He used his free hand to adjust his glasses. "You ought to remind Basilio to pay more attention to his studies. I'd hate to see a good doctor in training go to waste. Can I count on you to do something?"

"I guess so."

I knew Simoun was looking me in the eye, behind those eerie glasses. "You have to inform the authorities if Makaraig and his friends are up to something dangerous."

"Dangerous?" Something rose in my throat as I remembered the night out with Courfeyrac and the rest in Makati. How did he know? I nearly dropped my plate but I caught it in time.

Simoun cuffed my arm. "Are you that naive, Miss Thenardier? Or do you not notice what goes on in your own neighbourhood?"

"I mind my own business."

"Then it's time that you were educated about it," he snarled. "Going to that fancy university of yours is blinding you to reality, like all the rest of them. I thought you were smarter than that."

"You know where I came from, Sir. I don't think that makes me blind to reality," I said, trying to keep my voice level. Simoun had practically plucked me out of the street, at my father's bidding. Of course I knew everything that was wrong with life outside school.

"You are blind to what has to be done about it," Simoun retorted. He checked his phone for a few moments. "I will need you after your classes tomorrow. Makati office."

It was enough to make slump. Juli had promised me another free meal tomorrow night as it was Miss Fantine's birthday. "Maybe I could advance the work? I think I might be a little busy tomorrow night, please," I asked.

"It cannot be done. Do not be late," Simoun said sternly before going off to talk to Father Fernandez. No doubt they would be speaking about Isagani , and maybe about what else he knew.

I set my plate down on a table and ran into a nearby bathroom and nearly gagged at the stench of the urinal there. I was in the wrong room but I didn't care. I got my phone out and began looking through the numbers there. Someone had to know.

Not Juli. Definitely not Basilio. I knew I had to protect Marius, so he was out of the question. Isagani and Enjolras might have believed me, but I had no way of contacting them, or many of the others. Paulita didn't seem the sort to care.

The one who had the best right of it was Makaraig. I sent him a message, wondering what he would now do about it.