The Paladin Prophecy

THE DEAD KID

In addition to the soda fountain and the student union food court, there were four other restaurants on campus, including a formal dining room that required reservations and a coat and tie, for parental visits or faculty consultations, and a grillroom in the field house for team meals before or after games and practices. The cafeteria, by far the largest eatery, occupied most of the ground floor of a building near the student union and offered a perpetual buffet from 6:00 a.m. to midnight every day of the week. The fourth restaurant, where his roommates took Will for his first dinner, was the Rathskeller.

Down a flight of weather-beaten stone stairs, the restaurant was situated in the basement of Royster Hall, the oldest building on campus. A wooden sign, carved in a Gothic font from the Pinocchio era, swung above the door: THE RATHSKELLER ESTABLISHED 1915.

Inside was a surprisingly warm and intimate cellar space, divided by brick arches, with fireplaces at either end. The room was filled with long tables and dark hardwood benches. There was sawdust on the floor and brass lanterns with fake flickering candles on the tables. The ends of enormous barrels studded the walls, stamped with insignias of old Milwaukee breweries. Will’s roommates explained that the Rathskeller had been the faculty lounge back when the Center first opened, a gastronomic temple dedicated to Wisconsin’s dominant Germanic cuisine.

The only menus were large rectangular blackboards fastened to the walls above the fireplaces. Written in chalk were strange words like Kielbasa, Sauerbraten, Spätzle mit Schweinshaxe, Weisswurst, Bratkartoffeln, Hasenpfeffer, Spargelzeit.

The others ordered for Will, who kept his mouth shut and watched his new roommates interact. Clever and nimble, Ajay directed the conversation and kept the tone light. Nick tossed jokes around like water balloons, sabotaging any topic that turned too serious. Elise hung back but joined Nick in firing barbed shots at the others, playfully, and at anyone outside their group who came up in conversation, not so playfully. Both specialized in keeping others off balance. Will couldn’t tell if that was their way to conceal vulnerability, or if they were a bit mean-spirited.

All of which left Brooke stuck as the grown-up, herding the others back onto polite social ground when they crossed the line. Which they did constantly, if for no other reason than to provoke Brooke into correcting them.

Their food arrived, served by two cheerful, plump ladies in Bavarian-themed uniforms, and Will got a bigger surprise. It was a fantastic meal. The platters were piled high with five kinds of sausage, smothered in sauerkraut. There was a gigantic bowl of creamy potato salad that perfectly complemented the meat, and sharp, crisp pickle spears and jars of different mustards that redefined the word mustard; one was like velvet, another tart and spiked with spices, a third sweet as honey but hot enough to fire a blast wave through his sinuses. To wash it all down were pitchers of cold, fizzy apple cider, which the friends poured into big frosted mugs.

Ajay mentioned Will’s dismay at the rule against texting, and everyone expressed how difficult they’d found it at first to adapt. Well, almost everyone.

“Never got into texting,” said Nick.

“How could you?” said Elise. “It requires knowing how to spell.”

“Go ahead, laugh, nerdlings,” said Nick. “There’s not even going to be texting in the near future. Which I know ’cause I happen to be sitting on the sickest, most awesome idea for a social network site ever.”

“Pray tell,” said Ajay.

Nick lowered his voice and drew them in. “I take all the best parts of YouTube, Twitter, and Facebook, and combine them into a whole new service called … YouTwit-face.”

They laughed so hard Ajay snorted cider out his nose, which set off an even bigger laugh.

“May I propose a round of toasts,” said Ajay, lifting his glass. “To our new companion: May the winds of fortune guide you, Will. May you sail a gentle sea. And may it always be the other guy who says, ‘This drink’s on me.’ ”

They laughed, then Brooke held up her glass and said, “Will, may you have all the happiness and luck that life can hold. And at the end of all your rainbows, may you find a pot of gold.”

The others clapped. Nick stood up with his glass raised.

“Health and long life to you, young dude,” said Nick. “Stay happy and well fed … and may you be half an hour in heaven before the Devil knows you’re dead!”

They laughed again. It was Elise’s turn, but she didn’t stand or raise her mug or even look at Will. She rubbed her index finger around the edge of her glass until it sent an eerie, piercing note through the room. With the note hanging in the air, Elise shifted her eyes to meet Will’s, with an intensity every bit as penetrating as the note. Her mesmerizing green eyes drilled into him.

“Never forget to remember,” said Elise, barely above a whisper, “the things that make you glad. And always remember to forget … the things that make you sad.”

Will turned away. She looked straight into me. I felt it. Nick isn’t exaggerating; she’s got some witchy way of seeing about her.

The happy mood at the table crashed.

“For goodness’ sake, woman,” said Ajay. “Do you have to turn every happy occasion into a werewolf movie? Warn him about the full moon while you’re at it.”

The others laughed, but Elise looked deadly serious. Trying to shake off a shadow, Will thought. Something she’d seen, felt, or remembered had disturbed her. Will let his intuition chase the idea, but he hit a wall. He couldn’t read Elise at all.

“Hello,” said Nick, miming answering a phone. “Suicide Prevention Hotline, can you please hold?”

Brooke shot a look at Nick: Don’t go there. Nick protested, then got her point, and smacked himself on the head. They all looked subdued. No one would meet Will’s eye.

“Okay, what’s this about?” asked Will.

“What’s what about?” asked Nick.

“Nick, you’re a terrible liar. Whatever you all just flashed on that killed the mood.”

“It doesn’t have anything to do with you,” said Brooke.

“Then why not tell it to me?”

“Because, well, obviously,” said Ajay, “we’d rather not talk about it, old boy.”

They all seemed to be waiting for Brooke to make the decision. A moment later she said matter-of-factly, “We had another roommate last year. And he died.”

Will let that sink in.

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