“That doesn’t sound like the Aahz I know,” I frowned. “I’ve never known him to refuse money. Usually, he wouldn’t even wait for it to be offered . . . not nailing it down would be considered enough of an invitation for him to help himself. Did he give any reason for not accepting the scholarship?”
“No, but it was easy enough to understand at the time. His family had been quite well off, you see, and he had lorded his wealth over the less fortunate as much or more than he had harassed them with his superior abilities. I think he left school because he couldn’t bear to face his old cronies, much less his old victims, in his new cash poor condition. Basically, he was too proud to be a scholarship student after having established himself as a campus aristocrat. Aahzmandius may not refuse money, but I think you’ll find he has an aversion to charity . . . or anything that might be construed as such.”
It all made sense. The portrait he was painting of Aahz, or as he was known here, Aahzmandius, seemed to confirm the Butterfly’s analysis of my old mentor’s financial habits. If he had suffered from embarrassment and seen his plans for the future ruined because of careless money management, it stood to reason that he would respond by becoming ultra conservative if not flat out miserly when it came to accumulating and protecting our cache of hard cash.
“Ah! Here we are.”
I was pulled out of my musings by the record keeper’s exclamation at Gretta’s return. I felt my anticipation rise as he took the offered folder and began perusing its contents. For the first time since arriving on Perv, I was going to have a solid lead on how to find Aahz. Then I noticed he was frowning.