Selenne.
Her name was still there in the morning, which was more than could be said for his clear head.
That lasted until the second bell. Kaleran spent the first two hours of the day proving to himself that he had no need to ask her anything. He combed the boy's record for any mention of the standing, a note, a question, a stray requisition, and found none. The registry of provisional instruments held a single entry, three lines long, stamped rejected. One precedent is an anecdote with a seal on it.
Nothing he found explained the boy.
Before he could argue himself out of the rest, he signed a routine request for the cohort's recent practical results and wrote a second note, two lines, to Magister Selenne, asking for a word before her afternoon class. The runner at his door took both and went.
