“It’s silly, but . . . Well, Aahz, back when he was my teacher, wouldn’t shake hands with me once I became his apprentice. When we first met and after we became partners it was okay, but not while I was his student. I don’t shake hands with apprentices he used to say . . . only louder. I hadn’t realized I had picked it up until just now. Sorry, Gretta. Nothing personal.”
“Of course . . . Aahzmandius!”
The record keeper seemed suddenly excited.
“Excuse me?” I said, puzzled.
“Gretta, this won’t require a file search after all. Bring me the file on Aahzmandius . . . it will be in the dropout file . . . three or four centuries back if I recall correctly.” Once the apprentice had scampered off, the record keeper returned his attention to me once more. “I’m sorry, Mr. Skeeve. I just managed to recall the individual you’re looking for. Refusing to shake hands with apprentices was the tipoff. It was one of his least objectionable quirks. Aahzmandius! After all these years I can still remember him.”
After searching so long I was reluctant to believe my luck.
“Are you sure we’re talking about the same person? Aahz?”
“Oh my, yes. That’s why the name rang a bell. Aahz was the nickname Aahzmandius would use when he was exercising his dubious love of practical jokes . . . or doing anything else he didn’t want reflected on his permanent record, for that matter. There was a time when that name would strike terror into the hearts of any under-classman on campus.”
“I take it he wasn’t a particularly good student?” I said, trying to hide my grin.