The night wind finally pushed aside the already crooked entrance drape hanging from its flimsy fabric loop, allowing gusts of dust-laden air to wander freely through the dwelling.
The luminaries were rising, and through the doorway, a patch of sky was visible.
What a madly beautiful colour it was this light. A dense, berry-red near the horizon, shifting to a fruity yellow higher up, still crowned by the lingering deep violet.
…Exquisite.
Ami gazed for a moment. It must look utterly epic from the Mountain.
A light breeze chased dust along the path outside, periodically sweeping some inside.
What a soothing picture. It seemed she was alive.
Whether that was good or bad news was a separate question, better not to think about it much, lest it summon the headache again.
This was fiiiine. Just be. Just watch the beauty of the world with spots dancing before your eyes. Just hear the morning calm and the ringing in your ears.
Be a beholder of it all. Or you will be punished.
It was a good excuse to do nothing. To admire this fantastic city through the uncovered doorway. To feel the freshness of the crisp, cold, fragrant air. Not to dwell on doing something with the floors. They would get dirty again in a moment.
It was charming as it was. The only thing she felt was a bright surge of gratitude.
The Kantinian coughed, sending a sharp pang through her head.
Her current state was miles better than yesterday's, though. Life went on.
She just needed to sort out a few… problematic details. And heal the bruises.
Ami sat amidst the draperies and rags that had finally slipped off her during the night, looking at her bed.
She ought to deal with the damp cloak, blanket, and under-blanket before they started to reek. Or… was that smell already there?.. Not sure. Didn't matter.
No time or will for a proper wash and tidy yet. So… she had to improvise. And the fact that she'd woken up quite early gave her room to manoeuvre.
Even if she had a free day… theoretically… she didn't want to stay home this light.
And there was a plan for a short walk with beneficial activities.
Somewhere nearby was a little stream with a brisk current. To stick to her old washing scheme, she should tie the drapes to branches of the nearest bush and wait, fervently hoping the current wouldn't carry them off. Then untie them, bring them back home and… figure out where to hang them dry. Probably back on bushes and trees near the kotti.
Should've done that straight away… but enough of these "ifs". She hadn't because, at that level of might, she couldn't.
So. Up. Up-up-up. No time to chill. Literally.
Ami sprang to her feet. Ouch.
Shining stars danced around her head with renewed enthusiasm. Matched to her own. Shifting from despairing inertia to even pointless activity always gave a lift.
The Kantinian shuffled a bit but strode purposefully towards the washbasin, opened the sluice gate, bent over the water niche, and splashed her face and neck. She shivered instantly.
Omill's water travelled through veins of piping under the city and arrived at the kotti at street temperature. Like the air here. Cold was everywhere.
Thank the suns she'd slept in her clothes and had no desire to change. It was her usual practice, though.
Even if her house had been warmer in her homeland and the water, being drawn from indoors, didn't turn every dawn into an extreme sport.
With one caveat – someone had had to haul that water to the trough.
Here, it came by itself right to the kotti. And slowly drained away if you closed the sluice. No need to empty it specially. It just sank into the sand. And that was a miracle.
A pity she wasn't a witch and couldn't quickly warm the water before washing. And many other things. So many problems in her life stemmed from lacking the gift… But no time to mourn what couldn't be fixed. She should fix the things she could.
The cold water and the beauties of this place made her feel refreshed, invigorated, renewed. Omill itself was looking after her and supporting her.
What more could she ask?
Amelia coughed again.
…For warm water. And a gift.
Go-go. Time to bundle all the dirty laundry and every scrap of cord she possessed and send it off to wash itself. This servicewoman had no time to lose.
Ami quickly found cords amidst the heaps dumped from her packs yesterday, straightened the top drape that had slipped overnight, winced as scratches prickled, impatiently tied back her hair, scooped up the slightly dried, hardened pile from the bed, and carried her battered belongings out into the street.
Nothing hindered her, since she practically had no curtain anymore.
She briskly assessed the doorway to gauge the problem.
Ripped high up… Almost at the fastening point. A quick mend wasn't on the cards. Couldn't just tie it up slapdash. The only option was a big knot here, in the middle, to secure it somehow… And tie this corner to the side vine… All temporary, of course, until the next gust.
The Kantinian dumped her burden on the ground, clumsily secured the entrance drape, and sighed guiltily.
Sorry, curtain. I'll mend you properly. Promise. But for now… Where was that stream?
Amelia set off searching.
Omillian air blew the last dregs of nausea and defeatism from her head. A walk was good, revitalising. Exhaling the gloom, inhaling the optimism.
Things could be worse, much worse now.
Yes, her position here was precarious. The job was temporary, not what she'd expected from moving abroad, her mental state wildly unstable. Emotional waves were crashing over her, curtains were tearing, tablets were shattering. And so on.
But if you looked at Ami's life, you could conclude that a "reliably stable state" probably wasn't on the cards.
And if this "reliably stable state" were measured by Kantine standards… it could be lethal. That kind of stagnation would scramble her wits faster than her current instability. It was precisely that she had fled, coming to this charming corner of the Mainland.
…Sooo charming. Look at these kotties, these coffee bushes and that Forest in the distance. Brilliant.
Everyone knew life was the sort of thing that warped your mind regardless. No one came here and left undeformed and unchanged. Not even those who lived only brief moments. And extra suffering came from trying to resist this ever-shifting world and cling to your vision of things with a death grip. Where the only solid ground was yourself.
Ami's luggage was suffering that brought more suffering. It was poor ground to take root.
If you lost, it meant that experience was already written in the book of your life. Hence, necessary for the plot. So let the privy forces rule her life while she tried to do some washing.
Securely tying the washing to a tree by the finally located stream would definitely do the trick. Location found, laundry matters practically set adrift. The rest wasn't her problem now.
And as she returned home for her light bag, the door drape was hastily knotted to a vine twining round the kotti. Her head was almost clear, her mood improved, and she was even hungry. And craving coffee. All the good news at once.
"Yay, our old beloved friend appetite has returned!"
Yesss! Let's run to work. And grab something tasty on the way.
"A coffee-run?"
A coffee-run.
After a recent symbolic death, the thirst for life, food, and impressions had woken with doubled force. Perhaps that's what these little cleansing "death" procedures were for.
If it wasn't for intoxication. Not very cleansing. Must find another way. It was mortifying. Shouldn't be *that* painful. Definitely should do some "research". Probably, these painful procedures wouldn't be necessary once she learned not to pollute her inner world to the point of spiritual "blindness". Needed to look for possible alternatives. Later.
Anyway. Tears washed away a kind of cover from the eyes, flushing out shards of old pain. And the world afterwards seemed brighter and sharper.
It was good to be alive. In Omill. Again.
And to seize everything possible from life here was a necessity. Eat and drink all the local deliciousness you could devour. Use your scratched, aching head properly. It was easy, when her stomach had already negotiated with her legs about detouring towards the most enticing smell again.
Ami hadn't noticed she'd drifted slightly off her usual route to work and stepped thoughtfully inside the irresistibly alluring trap of promising aromas.
Before her head could interfere, her legs triumphantly delivered her stomach inside the cafe-kotti. But without head supervision, they failed to account for obstacles. Drawn by the aromas, the servicewoman nearly bowled over someone happily leaving the place with nice-smelling treats.
"Oh! So sorry!" her official community-representing head kicked in. "That smell steals your will and pulls you inside."
"Same happened to me!" the nice-looking Selva flashed a charming smile.
…Ooof. It almost blinded! What a wonder of the Mainland…
"Focus. Why are we here?"
There she stood, amidst all this sensory luxury, a feast for the senses. Under a dome of hypnotic patterns on the cosily uneven, giant coffee-cup-like inner clay surface of the kotti. Close to the most splendid things on the Mainland. Multicoloured fruit-and-berry cocktails and fresh, flattened grain delights studded with flowers, berries, and nuts – a visual pleasure even before the agony of choice.
…Well… Flat biscuits. Coffee with spicy seasonal flowers. Some local dried sweet fruits… and no funds again… Swamp it.
A timid thought about utter insolvency crept into her command centre but was hastily banished to avoid spreading panic among the populace celebrating the new light.
…Manage somehow. As usual…
"Don't whinge. Surely something remained in the pouch. Couldn't be empty. The Universe would never leave us without flat biscuits in a difficult moment when support was needed."
But it is! Ale drowned not only our strengths. The price was big.
"Check it. There must be something."
I… Ouch! Scratches snagged unpleasantly on the bag fabric.
A couple of leftover seeds… Treasures with no market value, precious only to Ami.
What sprouts would come from this fuzzy monster? The unqualified but born plant-grower remembered a climbing base with bizarre yellow-red sharp leaves and multicoloured round fruits. The seeds were beautiful red, fuzzy, oblong.
Shame on her as a Kantinian, but she couldn't recall the plant's name. Truth was, she never remembered names. Didn't stop the seeds and plants being beautiful. So… Was she ready to part with them?
Amelia hesitated, staring at the seed.
The big question was, would they accept it as payment? Most of these coffee witches were into gardening for generations. Many ingredients were grown in their own gardens.
But as far as she recalled, this species was decorative. As well as herself.
Ami had a special fondness for ornamental plants. Dreadfully impractical, but so beautiful. Probably, she felt a spiritual kinship with these undervalued beings, useless for Kantine practicality… And these seeds were all she had left.
Nae. They had to stay. In any case.
Amelia quickly hid the seeds back in her belt pouch.
"Come on. Is there something else?.."
Let's check… Hey. What is this?.. Nuts?!.. Where from?.. Surely they're not…
…Turns out there had been night foraging recently… Fancy that…
And the nuts… were actually fine. Nice, fresh, edible and everything. At least one pleasant consequence from that mostly destructive catastrophe. If only it always worked like that.
And this… what? Blue… blood on our hands? Oh, no. Not blood. But horror-horror. Squashed berries mixed with clayey earth. Well… Bag to the wash too. Desperately sorry about the berries. Luckily mother's notes and other un-washable things weren't in here that light.
"Forget about it. You can always try eating the mush straight from the bag like you always do. We have something better. We have a Temple employee's ID card that can feed us once a light!"
Oh, right! Totally forgot about it! Used to coping on my own.
"Adjust yourself to it."
Right. And the water pouch… was mostly unscathed… Great.
Amelia quickly closed the bag with its semi-dried, red-purple innards; pulled out the embroidered food bag with a lilac-red corner from dried berry juice from a side pocket of the bag, and strode decisively towards the counter.
Good thing Omillian coffee makers didn't practise the Kantinian-style intrusive attention and didn't stare expectantly at customers. They calmly minded their business until people were ready.
There was a lot to do indeed. Preparing, grinding, dissolving, wiping the counter, jars, crockery, reading, humming, drawing… Swamp gnats, so many interesting things to do!
The woman clattered neatly with grinding and heating vessels, spice jars, mortar and pestle. The incredible aromas intensified to near will-and-thought-stealing levels. What marvellous witchery.
The templar wished she could know how it felt to be someone who dealt with it every light. But she was on the other side of the counter, confusedly showing her ID.
"I don't know what smells so mind-blowingly good here…" she began. "But I ended up here against my will. I'm showing my ID not because I suspect any restricted components, but because, being corrupt already, I just want to confiscate some."
The café owner smiled.
"I am glad to cooperate with our Temples. What do you want… to confiscate?"
"Something interesting coffee-wise... to your taste. Preferably similar to whatever smells so great here."
"Aha… I see. The young man before you asked for a Creamy Void."
Amelia nodded vigorously.
"Sounds great. I arrived from Kantine recently. Ready to try everything here."
The owner of this witchy place clapped her hands briskly and busied herself with the order.
"What brought you to Omill?"
"The Universe," Ami managed to reply, blissfully smiling, immersed in smells and sensations. "And the service."
"Are you an exile?" the Omillian shook her head sympathetically.
"No. Sadly. I wish I were."
"But you seem settled in well."
"And in three mediums, they'll yank me out. I settled here well indeed. And hate to head back home to rot further. Feels like Kantine's not my climate. I'm like a plant that was brought there accidentally on travellers' clothes. It's much more comfortable here in Omill."
"It's a pity indeed you have no time to root here properly… Give me your water bag… There. Here's your beverage." The coffee witch suddenly gave her a rather mischievous smile. "And the additional biscuits… so you don't accidentally eat Rayleen's on the way. Take this bag of flatties for her. To the Station. Do you know her?"
"I do."
"Tell her to drop by Glaphy sometime, say I've got things to add… in person."
"I will! Thank you so much!"
"Come again."
"I will!"
Ami left, happy as the previous customer, carrying her treats carefully and joyfully, like the greatest treasure, already anticipating sipping her awesomely named coffee from her water pouch on her way to the job.
Her job in Omill! Temporary, but more than nothing. Better hurry "to live". She should start drinking the coffee right now. To not postpone happiness. No time to lose.
Especially since there'd be more coffee at work. What a festival of life!
Even if her hands were already shaking. The previous light's problems were almost forgotten. If she didn't touch anything or use her pockets.
Didn't matter. The cafe-kotti had satiated her with its therapeutic aromas. And she was happy. The smell from the food bag teased her appetite. Impossible to resist… Or Amelia couldn't manage it. It couldn't be delayed either.
She quickly pulled out a treat and took the first bite.
…Heavenly luminaries.
Whether it was from hunger, due to the "new life" beginning, the coffee-witch's skills or something, it was indescribably tasty! Woods and berries, freshness, pleasure, joy of life, and a sense of its purpose in a flat grainy form…
The old Omillian was right to bribe her with an additional sack of biscuits.
Ami took another bite. Thank you, Omill! You couldn't find something like this in Kantine.
But… Best not to think about that now. Better focus on the sensations to feed the weary soul, not on premature regrets and Ami's traditional existential gloom, which tasted bitter.
Yes, the big picture showed that her life was a swamp and pleasures were temporary small crumbs of happiness. But freezing on a tiny pebble wasn't the answer at all. To hop from one to another. That was the point of it.
…Speaking of which…
The way to work went near the Temple Infirmary anyway.
But she had a little time. And he was probably asleep. Amelia herself certainly would be at this time, if not for duty.
She'd… Leave the biscuits on the bedside stand. Like Omillians left food and sweets in special places to honour ancestral spirits.
…In gratitude. For colouring life in hypnotically unsettling, yet beautiful shades. Yes.
Was it even wise? No.
It depended on your mental fortitude to endure pain or ability to skim the surface, ignoring potential consequences. And Ami's nerves weren't made of clay.
She knew who she was. A psycho who might only interest desperate ones. He was clearly not desperate at all. But she also knew her presence here was temporary.
Her time was little not only before work. It would be of short duration being in Omill, too. There was a very, very small chance… Almost non-existent. But. They'd decided not to postpone their life, right?
The servicewoman, in grim determination, dashed into the Infirmary.
And found Kele sitting on the bed. At this hour! Dreadful waste of scarce free time. Like buying an ale with your last funds. Oh, no. It was different.
"Run before he sees us?"
Too late. He did.
"Ahem. Trouble sleeping?" she quickly blurted the daftest possible question.
"Ami-the-Obvious."
"No. Should I be?" the Selva asked in return.
"I'd be sleeping. If it's no duty time. I'd be sleeping instead of duty too if I could."
"Sorry to disappoint. Duty isn't such stress for me much, I love my work and wake up easily. And I've lain in enough for a whole great cycle ahead here. Why do you want me to pretend I'm asleep?"
Ami sighed with feigned disappointment, puffing out her lips.
"Wanted to sneak you some flatties. Here."
"Thank you. It's risky leaving them unattended while Daiami is on her watch prowling these shadows. Likely, I'd wake up never knowing there'd been any. Smell nice. I'm afraid I'm almost out of free space in my food bag."
"Are you?"
Amelia felt a pang of jealousy immediately. Someone had already beaten her to the gift-giving. Predictable. Must be heaps of visitors bearing offerings.
"Aye. But it shouldn't stop you. It's never enough biscuits and there's nothing to do here anyway just to read, watch the landscape through the window and eat."
"You'll be rolled out of here by the end of your sick leave. Should end it before the catastrophe."
"I will. I don't complain though. Eating sweets and listening to gossip from visitors. Then take another sick leave for treating obesity. What's with the hands?"
"Observant bog-dweller."
Amelia tried to hide her damaged limbs instinctively even knowing it was too late.
"Clumsy wood-walking."
"Tried to repeat my feat to get a sick leave too?"
Kele raised an eyebrow charmingly, curious. Ami waved him off.
"Not likely. I'm nowhere near your league… Just practising."
"Right. No need to go to extremes straight off."
"I agree. So… Off to earn a ticking-off from Milo. Not a grand adventure, but if there's nothing else... Aiming for a ticking-off from Sandra, no less."
Ami pulled a face.
"It takes serious effort to get her attention, you know. Never managed it myself."
"I have no choice. If other adventures don't seem to be on the horizon. I don't have your luck."
"Luck! Do you think falling in a hole then lying on an Infirmary bed is an interesting adventure? Not exactly thrilling either."
"Rotting from the boredom in a dark gloomy den is much worse… Luckily it won't be long till I go to rot in my hometown."
"What a fascinating life you live… Good luck out there."
"Tell me about it… Good luck to you too!"
She waved a hand and, bursting out of the Temple's healing quarters, raced towards the Station, trying to overtake the feelings that were overwhelming her and get rid of them.
…If her hand scratches had puzzled the Selva, it meant she hadn't visited the Temples that wondrous, singing, drunk light. Good.
…Never, never again… Quiet, everyone! No thoughtful comments.
No point in ruining such a lovely slice of life.
Before entering the work kotti, she turned to admire the Temple Square. It looked gorgeous and dazzling against the backdrop of the distant Mountain.
She had to sit on the top of it again before leaving the city.
She flew inside the Station.
The smell was here, but the coffee time was over.
And the person she needed was by the coffee table.
"Rayleen!" she called with more enthusiasm than the occasion warranted, startling the servicewoman, who froze mid-sip, cup in hand. "You're just who I need!"
Rayleen raised an eyebrow in surprise. Ami shook the bag meant for the Omillian woman by way of explanation.
"Really?"
"Glaphy sends some reminders. Says she's got more to add verbally… But all in person."
"Oh, it's so sweet! Literally. How did you carry it without eating it en route?"
"She gave me additional ones."
"How thoughtful she is. As always. You visited Glaphy's. Becoming a seasoned Omillian."
"Still can't make coffee myself, though… Any left in the pot?"
"Aye, a dribble. Saved it for you."
"A dribble is exactly what I need. Thanks. Ah… can you warm it for me?"
"Course. Just hand over the flatties."
Trusting Ami quickly shoved the bag into the officer's hands.
"Oof!" she smacked her forehead. "My cup's in the den! I'll dash off to Milo and ask him to unseal the entrance. Will you wait?"
"I will."
The Omillian shrugged, thoughtfully biting into a retrieved biscuit.
And Ami enthusiastically raced to Milo's office. She'd been dashing about all morning, but it didn't tire her.
Despite the dregs of nausea, she had masses of energy and optimism. A pleasant, long-forgotten, rare state.
The Archivist made the boss's office entrance drape vibrate vigorously and, finding herself inside, didn't bother feigning guilt.
It would've looked unnatural anyway.
"Hello, Milo! Unseal my archive, please."
"Sprightly this light. Glad you're back to normal. Seeing you yesterday, I thought we'd have to send you off sick too."
"No way. I'm Kantinian. Thick, but hardy." she snorted, shifting impatiently.
"Such zeal." the Chief smiled wryly. "Can't wait to get stuck into documents?"
"My coffee mug's locked in there. Sorry to disappoint."
"Ah, that sounds actually plausible. Grab these ones."
The Chief pointed to a stack of tablets.
"Grabbing."
They left the office.
Rayleen was still by the coffee spot, sipping her aromatic drink and clutching the bag tightly. Her serious, almost indifferent expression had softened into something… dreamier? For a moment. Or was Ami imagining it? Regardless, shouldn't keep her waiting.
Milo smiled warmly at Rayleen and made a couple of swift gestures over the entrance drape. Ami lunged forward… and the air was knocked from her lungs by a powerful blow, she flew back, documents scattering everywhere…
The next moment she was lying on the floor. At some distance. Gasping bewilderedly, trying to suck in some air. Through the sudden darkness thickening in the Hall, she saw two indistinct shapes leaning over her.
…The picture began to clear, but the sound didn't return. Rayleen and Milo were saying something, but none of it reached her ears.
…That monstrous thud had stolen everything.
"…always in such a flaming hurry." Milo's voice finally whispered faintly from somewhere far beyond the deafening roar.
Her hearing was slowly returning.
Seemed she'd rushed in before Milo finished disarming the protection. Something similar had happened to her in Witchery.
Rayleen snapped her fingers.
"…Can you hear it? How are you?" her voice echoed weakly through the roar.
"Fine..." came a reflexive whispering response from somewhere near Ami.
…Had she said it? Oooof!..
Her own voice, even the quiet one, sounded monstrously loud, echoing in her head, piercing her brain with sharp pain.
The Kantinian grabbed her head and curled up on the floor.
Everything dissolved into pain stabbing her temples.
…Make it stop… Don't know how… But make it stop…
Some time passed, and the pain began to recede. The external world slowly reclaimed its place. Light, colours, sounds. The feel of the hard floor under her.
Everything began to exist again. The roar faded with the pain.
Ami opened her eyes.
What were those shadows flitting across the floor before her eyes again? Was it the same people?
She cautiously moved her hands from her head and looked carefully at the concerned faces of the coworkers.
Rayleen was making swift gestures over her. First aid.
"Better now? More… 'fine'?" the Chief clarified.
Milo's voice did sound almost normal now, surrounded only by a faint hum.
"Even finer." the Secretary confirmed, weakly waving a hand.
She cautiously sat up via her side, trying not to move her head. As if yesterday's hangover wasn't enough.
"Fancy that." the Chief breathed out and shook his head. "Such a rush for a mug… Ami, you've got a serious coffee addiction. Have to send you to Kantine early."
"Not in this state…" Amelia tried to joke, exhaling painfully and grabbing her head again. "Or questions might arise about what you did to me here…"
"She has a point." Rayleen agreed. "Try proving we didn't send you on dangerous missions."
"They know her too well to think she won't keep trying to off herself on something the moment she's out of her workplace."
"It's no fun right now!" Ami began to get angry, and the ringing intensified.
Tears of frustration sprang to her eyes.
"Not for me neither." Milo replied glumly, shrugging. "A work injury is no laughing matter. Just blathering nonsense when nervous… Don't know what to say."
The Archivist wiped away her tears irritably. But the others that followed seemed determined to flow. Seemed quite a few, mixed with resentment at life, had accumulated recently.
The Chief stood up awkwardly, unsure what else to say or do to fix things without worsening them, and went to gather the scattered tablets.
"Ami. Still want coffee or some water?" Rayleen asked. "I'll fetch your mug if it's the case."
"Coffee. Th… thanks." Amelia exhaled noisily again, trying to calm down. "My troubles… from greed… Can't handle this much coffee… And the Universe gently reminds me of it. Let's see what wallops me this time… for ignoring the first sign."
She waved at Milo looking at her to signal it was fine, and he, shaking his head with a lost expression, stood and headed to her cubby with the documents.
"Hand tremors. Possibly headaches." Rayleen answered. "And… Don't be cross with Milo."
"I'm not cross." Ami snorted sadly. "Just everything piled up these last days. And then he goes and…!"
"Yeah, he can be awkward… But he didn't mean to hurt you."
The Truthful one went to the Archive and returned with the cup.
"Coffee for the afflicted!" she proclaimed and shook the coffee pouch retrieved from under the table briskly. "Make you a fresh one. Famous family recipe, better than those dregs… Won't take a tick. Those leftovers wouldn't have been enough anyway."
Ami sniffed again, got up, transferred herself to the bench, and decided to focus on the coffee-making process to learn, distract herself, and thus fully calm down.
Rayleen unclipped her belt pouch, loosened the drawstring, poured a measure of something spicy into the coffee grinder, completely burying the green beans.
After pounding the mixture a fixed number of times, she nodded in satisfaction, tipped the contents into Ami's cup, tossed in a couple more beans held back for a moment, and poured water from the cask. Then, sitting beside Ami, the Omillian closed her eyes in concentration.
The whole ritual was mesmerising.
Ami, forgetting all grievances and sorrows, hadn't uttered a word nor barely moved throughout, spellbound. She understood this was part of Rayleen's coffee witchery.
After a while, the section witch opened her eyes and carefully handed Ami her warm cup of mysterious witchery brew.
"Here you are. It should perk you up. We're all so busy… don't notice how hard it is for you here, drowning and flailing in parts of life that seem puddles to us."
Ami shook her head cautiously.
"Actually, no! The whole time I've been here, everyone's been incredibly kind and understanding. Like never in my whole life."
Ami took a sip and squeezed her eyes shut with pleasure.
Not only was it invigoratingly spicy, but she distinctly felt living, effervescent energy pouring into her with that gulp, tickling her from the inside, making her smile involuntarily. The roar left her head, the world sharpening and brightening.
Her cup held something miraculous, and she'd remember it for a long time for sure.
…If this light continued like this, Amelia genuinely might not survive, expiring from an overdose of admiration and joy in coffee form.
"Thaaaank you!" the revived Kantinian smiled warmly at her saviour Rayleen, her gaze now clear.
"You're welcome. Get yourself together, no rush. This brew dislikes haste."
The other woman nodded, understanding, stood briskly, clipped her pouches back on, took her cup, and walked gracefully to the second level.
Ami leaned her back against the rough clay wall to sip slowly and with some comfort. Ouch. The pain from bruises and scratches, no longer muffled, returned.
Finished with her coffee, she stood and headed to the Archive.
Approaching the entrance drape, she passed through it with trepidation and bated breath…
No repulsion this time. Good.
But a different kind of shock awaited.
…The Secretary beheld the aftermath of her debauched existence. Shattered tablets dramatically adorned the table, lit by a considerately kindled lamp.
Milo was already gone. No snide comments while he wrestled with his own tactlessness and the stupid incident… Fine.
Ami looked at the shards.
Three casualties. Best hope they weren't urgently needed by anyone but Davin.
Either way, something must be done. She couldn't re-burn them herself for obvious reasons. Lacking witchery skills bugged her more lately than ever.
She could only rewrite them in juice onto cloth. But their filing system didn't accommodate rolled documents like Kantine's.
Oh well. She had to persuade Milo to ask someone to re-burn these tablets. Or devise another fix.
It was pointless now to grieve her failed never-would-be-witch life or the shattered tablets.
Could… try gluing them though. Tomorrow. Yes. And not have to ask anyone.
"Aye, but where to get glue here."
I think the Markets here have almost everything. It's a trading centre of the Mainland.
"But the prices. For someone who has no funds especially."
It'd sort itself. Coffee and tasty bits had materialised this morning.
For now, they needed to shelve the undamaged items from their chaotic sprees and mindless rushing.
Amelia walked to the shelves, bent towards the lower levels, trying to locate the slot for a document… and was surprised to find the nausea gone.
Marvellous.
It was a good time to think about how to impose order here. How to make an informational space of this mess. And make visual search more or less convenient. Better more. Because "less" – was what they had now. In these uniformly monotonous masses of documents. Couldn't quickly locate even the approximate area without counting shelves now. Such a stupid waste of time!..
…All of this was a stupid waste of time. Their precious time here, which was limited! Should they go walking in the city and have fun until they were thrown out of their job since they would be thrown out of here anyway?
"No. We should prolong our time here. If we don't want to find ourselves in Kantine faster than it could be."
Urgh! No… Right. They should invent something. Now… What if… What if they painted the shelves? Colour-coded the start and end of certain sections?..
Lucy wouldn't approve such radical changes to her familiar workspace, of course. If she'd worked here cycles without modernising, it suited her fine. Or she had oceans of patience. Didn't matter.
"Can we make the changes temporary?"
I think we can… What if she used washable paints? Of course, they might seep into the clay... Should also think how to solve the problem less radically.
What if… they drew a layout map on cloth, coloured it and used it as flags? Not bad too.
This navigation must be visible in this gloom without a lamp. Or she should bring a usual one from the Market.
Dyed fabric scraps, pinned to the shelves, removed before Lucy's return. And the map of them. Neat. Needed to sketch a colour-coded plan on cloth for clarity.
Colour-code sectors. Shelves. And somehow separately mark cases or reports with dots. And every person should have their own colour. Could group them.
Moki, Donny, and Rayleen dealt with the public. They'd be black, blue, white.
Forceful solutions for Elsu, Davin, Calvin. Occasionally Laivy. That could be red, orange, yellow, brown.
You couldn't go wrong with marking Elsu "red", like the opening hue in tales of such heroines, because her working with the civilian population would be like "Wham! Right, patch it up quick, spill the beans straight, no fibs or slander… Chop-chop, if you want your bones intact. I'm epic Elsu the Formidable."
And who in their right mind would argue with enormous Elsu.
"Hey. Anyone alive in there?"
"Speak of the swamper."
"Oh, hey, Elsu!" the Secretary chuckled nervously. "Semi-alive are here this light. At your service. Make a wish."
"Wish all Omill's doorways were taller. And wider from this light on, so I wouldn't have to crawl in doubled over ever again."
"Gnats. You know, I can't manage that quickly. Beating and upholstering all will take some time."
"I'll beat them down with my head faster and problem solved. You look a bit beat. Still trying to make friends with the tablets?"
"Aye! What else can I do, with my high level of inner discontent and low external appeal?"
"Your appeal worries you only as long as you find yourself uninteresting. Need of approval and support from outside creates instability and severely limits your spiritual autonomy."
…What?
Ami involuntarily leaned closer to the window, peering out slightly to see if the giant woman was serious or joking. Couldn't tell from her expression, though. She could joke with that stony face.
Elsu was clearly in a philosophical mood this light. A second Omillian mountain might compose philosophical tracts too.
"Can't argue with that."
Cheap advice from a self-sufficient mountain of muscle with a radiant, white-skinned face of cold Northern beauty.
"Take this off my hands, please." the giantess sighed. "Oh. It won't fit through the window in one go… This pile is from all our office. Suppose I'll better bring it in through the door."
Ami approached the entrance only to see the mountain of flesh bring in a mountain of clay. Bog damn, it'd take ages to sort!
"Elsu… Put it over there, please, in that corner… Ta."
…There was no way out of this swampy mess. There was just no way out…
The giant Omillian shrugged and left. And Ami was left here pondering.
Facing the looming system reform of cataloguing and sheer laziness, sorting anything felt unbearable.
"Fat chance of thinking here now."
Right. Not when another local sweetheart was queuing at her window.
Ami smiled warmly, aware it probably wasn't visible in the cubby's depths.
"Hey, Davin, sorry about yesterday!"
"Ah, nonsense. I'm no stranger to a night out myself, as I said, in my youth… best forgotten. Right. Good to see you fine."
"And good to see no one here was in the area where Ami climbed the mushroom."
"Or just politely silent?"
"Aye, so it seems, thanks! What can I do for you?"
"I palmed off some tablets I needed onto Elsu's pile as she headed your way."
"Great. Big search but less tablets."
"What d'you want back?.."
The evening came quickly. What a joy… to go to your messed-up home from your messed-up job.
"Walking the streets again? Or to the Mountain?"
"To the washing drapes she goes."
Right! Almost forgot about them! Should do it briskly…
"Ami."
"Now what!"
"What?!"
…Lavy! In a light. No way. Insta-panic.
"It's not a light, it's evening. You're easily scared. By anything unusual."
"Give me Faella's, Elsu's, and Kele's recent woodland escapades."
"I don't want to. I want out of here to nip off and fetch laundry from the stream… Before it floats away."
Laivy grimaced gloomily.
"No way. You owe me, dear. The Chief's sending me into the woods tonight. And he says you planted the idea."
"Of course he does, the rotten ooze-eater… Look. I didn't mean to. I was planning to go there myself."
Laivy eyed her sceptically.
"Nothing better to do, huh? Fancy coming along then!"
"Happily! But who'd let me? Milo strictly forbade it."
"It'd be your off-time… foraging. And walking with a… friend."
Ami smirked doubtfully.
"Friend, you say? You'll regret it."
"I believe so. And I'm not hauling you out of holes if you can't see at night."
"I see. Wait for me. Still need my laundry from the stream. And not giving you these documents, you have no time to work now anyway."
"What a bog ghoul! Go, catch your lower drapes before they float too far. Wait for you at dusk."
Amelia rushed to Milo's office and then to the stream, hoping she would find her drapes fast. It took some time, but washed items hastily flung over nearby bushes and trees of her kotti, and Ami finally could head out on night patrol with Omill's grimmest, formidable templar. Her… "friend". Sounded odd but great.
They headed into the night.
"Why no mud-striders?" Laivy inquired.
"Eh?"
"Boots with sticks. Like mine. Look."
Ami only now noticed the other servicewoman wasn't wearing regular stiff boots, but high ones with clay plates strapped on, studded with sharp spikes.
"They look great! I need to acquire some!"
"Do it. Without boots like this, you'll lag hopelessly in the woods. Even faster, seeing as you Kantinians aren't exactly woodsy."
"We compensate by being very hardy in general. You southern softies'd struggle to keep up regardless."
"Well, we'll see, we'll see."
Naturally, the skilled Omillian bog-dweller moved through the Forest swiftly like any Selva. But pride wouldn't let Ami concede and she strained every muscle not to fall behind.
Which utterly drained her.
Dragging herself home on her last legs, the Kantinian groaned and whimpered with exhaustion, carefully crawled under the door drape on all fours, kicked off her muddy boots and instantly collapsed onto her floor pallet, not bothering to burrow into the rags.
The patrol yielded nothing but improved camaraderie.
Laivy was visibly impressed that Ami bogged down in mud but kept following, never stopping. These two could match stubbornness. Before parting, the dour Selva even enthusiastically clapped her comrade on the shoulder.
And Ami dreamt all night of wandering through the woods…
Which, of course, did not aid restful sleep. Waking with the sensation of tripping and jerking awake bodily every moment was as exhausting as the hike itself.