The large wooden door creaked open as Lawrence completed the ward removal. I could see that it was sealed with a key, one that he was holding in his hand. Without the key, the lock would probably trigger some secondary effect that I didn’t want to be around for. Then I wouldn’t want to be near the ward at all.

Behind the door, a large lecture hall loomed with floor-to-ceiling windows that were not a part of the outside structure, but the light shone through. Sconces sat lit, permanently affixed with a dab of magical power that only needed to be topped up every ten years.

“He held his last class here, he was doing a seminar for some of us that wanted to get into magical law enforcement after we were done, and, well that was the last time any of us saw him,” Lawrence said.

My old bones felt the vibrant magic in this room as I searched with my soul vision for something relevant to the case.

“Hold on, hold on, there’s magical law enforcement?” I said.

“We don’t really do much with them, he was usually the one that gave the introductions. You can’t just have liches running wild, present company excluded,” Isis said.

“Of course, just the same way that you can’t have half-fae goddesses running wild,” I said with a wry smile.

The layers of seating around the lecture hall centered on a central podium and a large, well the best way to describe it would be to say that someone had laid down mats there in the style of a dojo. I ran my fingers along the edge of the mat.

“He has us fight each other- with kid gloves the whole time. It was effective. I got a lot better,” He said, with an air of reverence.

“You liked him.”

“I saw him as a mentor. He, well I hadn’t had many black teachers until I came to Quatrefoil… and,” he said.

“Oh honey, it’s okay. I understand,” I did a circuit of the mats.

“It’s warded to prevent the students from killing themselves,” Isis said from behind me.

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I hadn’t noticed her slinking up. I wasn’t focused on her, but there was a knot of soul energy left.

“He made the wards here, did he?”

“How did you?”

“His signature is on it, like a stamp saying, this is the sender, only his soul… I wasn’t able to see it when I viewed his body,” I said.

Lawrence gasped.

“Can you teach this? I’ve never heard of this… type of magic,” he said.

“If they hire me and I accept,” I said, moving to the all-wooden podium.

“This is from Africa,” Isis said running her hands over it.

“Sangoma…” her shadow whispered.

“A sangoma woman from Nigeria made it for the school, yes. She was a good friend.”

It felt ancient like it almost had a soul of its own. One couldn’t be too careful around old magic, especially fae magic. That was usually very peculiar.

“He spent enough time here that I can get a sense of him,” I said.

I finally had a view of the soul he could’ve left behind. I looked to see if either of my companions had noticed anything.

“Professor… Sangoma,” I said, sounding it out, “What is your specialty? I should have asked already, but I didn’t think to.”

“Ah. I'll tell you what. I will reveal that at the faculty party next week, although it will be a somber affair,” she said, “I don’t know what we’re going to be doing, whether you sign up or not, but I’ll leave that as a tantalizing nugget for you to glean later.”

“Does the professor have an office?” I asked.

Lawrence pointed to a door off to the side, closer to the entrance.

“We warded it as well.”

“Show me then if you would,” I said, following his lead.

—-

“What do the professors do during the off season? Generally?” I said

“I go back to mother Africa to recharge, him?” She gestured to the door, “He told me recently that he picked up odd magical jobs over the summers.”

“Are these regulated?” I said.

A click and a pop later and Lawrence has the door open.

“We are on the honors system. He knows that he is under heavy scrutiny in general because of his position.”

Lawrence stood to the side after testing a foot inside the room.

Well, perhaps his notes will have a clue as to who was powerful enough to kill a professional mage’s soul so thoroughly.