— Returning the Archives. For this light. Thank you. — Ami reported hoarsely.
Her voice had finally decided it had had enough of Ami's lifestyle and the untreated cold.
— I see. — Finnian smiled with just his eyes, looking at the servicewoman's sleepy face, marked by the imprint of a sofa corner. — What were you reading?
— Something about the Mainland's force fields...
Ami yawned.
— Mmm... Found it boring?
— Not at all... I only fell asleep towards morning.
— What did you dream about?
Finnian looked attentively at the Kantinian, who hadn't expected this turn in the conversation.
...Was they genuinely interested, or was this just… an aspect of Omillian politeness?
"Answer."
— Some... nonsense. — the servicewoman answered uncertainly.
— Nonsense is worth analysing. — the witch advised seriously.
— Why?
— It can be more important than what's found in tablets.
— Still... won't remember. — Ami shrugged sleepily. — Never do...
— Try. If you focus on the feeling of the dream, it will start to surface. It takes patience. It's a whole art, you know.
— Then I'm utterly talentless at this too.
— Stop whining and start working on the method I've given you.
— Understood.
Amelia thought for a moment, trying to recall... but the treacherous, subtle substance had already slipped away home to the light, ethereal worlds, unwilling to linger here.
Understandable. Who wants to hang around on the heavy lower level?
— Still don't remember... — Ami shook her head decisively. — While I was walking, I lost it all completely... Not surprisingly, not mentioning the dream, I wouldn't even find the way back to the Library.
— Don't be evasive. — the witch insisted, accompanying this with an uncomfortably piercing gaze. — You would remember the way at once if you had to.
— True.
Amelia wearily plopped down onto the Head Witch's visitor's chair.
She had to complete the task. Whatever it was. Otherwise, how could she study here? And who else would be interested in... her dreams.
The non-witch stared tensely at the ceiling.
...Here it's opaque... Why? If she had her own office, she'd make it entirely transparent... And certainly with a door to the outside, for more air...
"Ami."
Better yet, completely outdoors.
"Ami."
With four doorways, for a draught...
"Focus."
Right. Ordered to remember. By a boss, in whose department we aren't even enrolled.
"They want to take you on for training."
"Practice makes a witch."
Ah, right! We're a witch!! A witch! A real one! Sort of…
Time to jump and dance... just not under this gaze that pins you to the floor.
...Later.
The no-longer-a-Kantinian was tired and sleepy, like any other light... but life would never be the same. At the very least, it would become more meaningful and wonderful.
And she had to do her utmost to ensure that it was so.
"Try."
Suddenly ready for all the hardships of witch training, she straightened up with enthusiasm, as if at the brief ceremony of her induction into the Kantine Order Department, which she, too, had once seen as liberation from the heavy family routine. And she frowned even more, trying to dredge something else from her unreasonably uncooperative mind.
But it flatly refused to cooperate.
"As always in the most important matters."
...Shut up... It seems... something...
No, like that, on purpose, you can't remember; it's all completely blown away!
But... one scrap of the dream... had still caught on to reality. Pull on it... Carefully.
And after a moment of agonising hazy doubt...
— Mist! — the Archivist breathed out joyfully. — Yes, mist swallowed Kantine entirely... nnnice. It would all be fine. If it weren't so terrifying. I literally… was…
...Voices in the darkness. Strange. Something strange, terribly strange, some strange conversation... In the void.
A murky dream. Not only was it hard to recall, but I didn't want to at all.
She was thoughtfully silent, reluctantly immersing herself in the sensations to extract even more.
— …non-existent... — she continued to voice what surfaced in her memory from nowhere, where a moment ago there was nothing. — Nothing was here... No one was here. I was "no one", too... Always suspected something like that.
She summarised with exaggerated flippancy because she wanted to quickly move away from the difficult and unpleasant question.
— What do you... think about it? — the witch subtly prompted.
— It's... about my city. It's at the very bottom of the swamp of dense ignorance and ossified prejudice… And it should pay for this. I probably would sink it into oblivion if I could... But some people like it. And not everything in this world is about me. Unfortunately.
Amelia, sighing, fell silent, not bothering Finnian by listing the details of her relationship with Kantine. They'd already heard enough. For someone she'd only met a light ago.
...Indifferent parents. Mutual animosity with neighbour's young'uns and adults. Total loneliness. Everywhere. Within the family. In the crowds at festivals.
The Head Witch had already learned all about it, whether they wanted to or not.
It was a sado-masochistic relationship. Kantine wanted to use her, but didn't accept her. And wouldn't let her go.
Other cities also didn't want anything to do with her neither.
Finnian was totally right in the assumption about the hatred dominating all this. But the hatred seemed mutual.
— It's a place for its own people. Not for you. — The Head Witch returned her to this reality in a soft but unyielding tone. — You grew up there, but there's nothing more. You had to go. You shouldn't have clung on…
— But I didn't!
— …to your antipathy, too much. It held you. That's also an attachment. To the urge to fight, to be unique, and to stand out also. You were sturdy enough to perform it.
The Head Witch slowly fed the information, giving time for reflection. And without taking that heavy, probing gaze off her, observing to ensure it happened.
— Yes, but now...
— …Nope. 'Only seems so. — they continued, looking through her as if she were transparent. — You still are. Look. Kantine isn't here. Its ignorance and prejudices no longer have power over you. But you still carry them within you.
— Well... You can't purge Kantine from a Kantinian. — she joked habitually and then, with a strange relief of understanding that was new to her, exhaled after a moment. — Truuuue... It has no power here. And, to my joy, it will now officially renounce me itself. Finally! The dream of a lifetime come true… Would you believe it? I don't. Impossible. It's unbearable to realise – a little more ability – and I'd have been successfully thrown out already. Before my psyche was irreparably broken. And ossified into unteachability. But no. I hid my abilities so carefully… from myself. That everyone believed it. But credit where it's due, people are at least strong in hindsight, and their instincts can't be fooled. You can't fool yourself for long either, though.
— You could. Your whole life. Unpleasant side effect. The city rejected you long ago, in fact. You just had to not stop it spitting you out. Just by being tasteless and indifferent. But you chose resistance.
— I still do. And I can't stop gloating... What a joke and what a disgrace for my family! Yvette tried so hard to fit into "ordinariness" herself and to shove me into it... Until her own nerves gave way. By then, everyone could see it all anyway. You can't hide a tree in an ishitsa. All that effort went down the drain.
Amelia snorted, covering her mouth, seeing her mother's antics, which had so frightened her at the time, in a new comical light.
— Don't waste time and energy on that. Seek freedom instead. — the witch narrowed glowing blue eyes sternly. — Make that your priority.
— Acknowledged. — the Secretary looked away. — All these attempts to pretend to be someone else were so stupid. Truly wasted time for a fake reputation. Although… sometimes it's a survival strategy, you know. Ooh, you haven't lived in Kantine, really; there you're saturated with it from the moment you appear. It's like the air around you.
— Defending yourself is different. You have to be aware and cautious.
— I have to. I haven't fully escaped yet. I have to return to Kantine still. No way back to an old life, but... there's no way forward either. I'm a "witch" who can't do anything. It's all still for nothing.
...Oh, swamp rot... Powerlessness. It's here. And it never left.
All the inspiration – it's temporary. And it leads nowhere…
— Everything will come in time. Trust me. The choice is yours.
— I trust you. Myself, I don't.
— That's why you're studying with me. Keep it up. Until you understand that... fine. When you understand – then you'll understand.
— I'll try. But it won't happen quickly. I've suffered from self-doubt my whole life.
— Stop suffering, start developing.
— I'll do everything possible.
— You can't do the impossible. That's right. Nothing more is required. Off you go. Oh, and as soon as the dream fully resurfaces – discuss it with Kiona. The first dream within these walls is important. That's why we spent so much time on it. You need to understand. To remove the obstacles. Try doing witchery little by little. Try it on everything and everywhere. On the way, at work, at home. Try, but now with the awareness that you can have.
She had to resort to a brief agreement. This merciless, heavy gaze saw right through her and completely killed her usual desire to whine and complain.
— Understood. Going to Kiona, I'll probably be too shy...
— You weren't too shy to come to me. — Finnian remarked mockingly.
— I was driven by harsh necessity. Wounded pride and Kantian uncouthness. An age-old combination.
— Stick with that. — The witch nodded seriously, losing all interest in her and returning his gaze to the scraps of fabric scattered on the desk. — And don't forget to get permission to study from Milo.
It seemed Ami had provided them with an engaging activity for a long time. She smiled to herself contentedly.
Time to go simulate labour activity at her workplace... Working this light with a head full of who-knows-what definitely wouldn't work. She'd have to do the impossible again.
— I'll... do that with great pleasure. — The Kantinian hastened to escape this almost unbearable pressure. — Thanks again for everything... This was... really fascinating.
Covering a yawn from her riotous nightlife, she hurried away.
However, the morning hoarseness had practically gone. Only a slight tickle in her throat remained... Well, well. Excellent news.
The fair-haired, terrifying spirit had scared away the whining and the hopelessness of life and kicked her into action. It had been scary to come here. It was scary to be here. Like at a healer's appointment. But in the end, it was worth it.
"Should visit the Infirmary too."
Later.
"What next then? Jump? Shriek? Everything at once?"
Everything at once. Just not here.
She was still near the educational witch building. But here's a compromise solution. As if with her last strength, but in reality with strength newly acquired for a new life, she heads off to work with a skip in her step.
...A witch! Just imagine... Exhilarating!
And somehow incredible... Still can't believe it.
The way back to the old life is closed forever! Another wearisome half-life of training, and the way forward will open too. This Templar will be little worse than the rest here... Probably.
She'll have to. She must do this. No retreat.
Her psyche is counting on her. It won't forgive failure.
Amelia skipped along the road to work, trying to burn off some of the excitement through activity so it wouldn't tear her apart.
The dawn was quite gloomy, but her soul was light. For the first time in a long time.
...A witch! A witch. A witch. A witch!
Despite a sleep filled with nightmares on the chic Witchium sofa, the Secretary had even slept quite well. It seemed she hadn't slept this well even at home. Maybe she should come to the Archives to sleep. Or move in altogether. There were so many unread things there.
"Nothing wrong with dreaming."
As it turned out, exactly. The dream of a lifetime had just come true. Something that seemed impossible had, it turns out, always belonged to her. She just didn't know.
"This is all too good to be true."
There's no disagreeing with that. Such a life is for bright and beautiful people, not for her. There's only a small hope... that it is precisely from such a life that ordinary people turn into bright and beautiful ones. It's like being born again. However...
...So many swamp-lost cycles with no idea that the dream was right there!.. A mockery! And what an elaborate one...
Exhausted from jumping for joy and involuntarily, smoothly transitioning into her usual second, annoyingly complaining phase of her bipolar perception of the world, Ami wearily crawled inside the Truth Station building.
And sleepily trudged towards Milo's office.
Luckily for her, they simply and without comment removed the seal and silently departed. Apparently, they were in a hurry. Too busy to be curious or make jokes.
Just perfect.
"Don't be grumpy."
Sighing, the Secretary looked for a lamp in the dark corner, not really hoping it hadn't been shattered by her kick yesterday.
Lucky her, though. The sturdy Omillian rascal was intact.
Amelia confidently placed it on the table and, concentrating as much as possible, passed a tense hand over it... The ghoul didn't react at all.
"As expected."
"Don't pick on her. It's too early to reap the harvest; we haven't really planted anything yet."
"Oh, come on. A laughing stock for the gnats. She's no witch."
Right. You! Yes, you specifically, of all the voices. Get out of here; go argue with Finnian. They said "witch", so witch... They say you have to learn, so you will.
Only fools argue with them. If you can't trust them, who can you trust in this life. No one more worthy or convincing has come along so far.
However, the stimulating dope had worn off; her already meagre strength was again running low. And along with this final, crushing, hopeless disappointment, an even greater sleepiness overcame Amelia.
...What's the point of all this if there's still no way out?...
Everything that had been clear a moment ago was becoming confusing again.
Hanging her head, she coughed dejectedly, obediently crawled to her workplace, wearily sank down at the table, and laid her heavy head on her arms.
Working in this state became physically impossible...
...But the situation might be temporarily fixed by coffee! Coffee!..
The not-so-young non-witch opened one eye with interest.
Exactly... Where she should start is by learning to heat her own coffee. What could be more interesting... We already know how to gather and grind the beans. All that's left... Quick, to the coffee table!
"Let's drain our strength with stimulants to a negative balance."
You're right, but I don't care anymore. I just want to feel a little better.
The Secretary struggled to open her overworked eyes, which were starting to burn at any attempt to use them. She was just deadly sleepy.
At that moment, a faint rustle was heard outside the window.
...Damn it.
"The fact that you've become a witch doesn't exempt you from having to continue living your ordinary life."
That's the problem, yeah... But it was, at least, worth it.
— Ami. I'm here for the reports.
— Ah... Donny.
Ami shifted her gaze to the cubbyhole window and realised that she was probably starting to crash after the sleepless night.
In the bright window was... Blue. A deep blue colour. And it was Donny.
— Did I disturb you? — came muffled from somewhere far away.
— Yes... I was very busy... hypnotising my coffee cup.
— What's wrong with it?
— There's no coffee in it. And it has not a shred of remorse about it... And how am I supposed to work?
— Why stare at it? The coffee won't appear in it from staring. Or... is that a hint?
— It's a huge request. And payment for my labour. These are our current rates now. Help me, please.
— Agreed. You look very miserable. Give me the cup.
— See... Cup-hypno-witchery worked. Thank you. What in return?
— Rayleen's reports from the day before yesterday... Although, no... Actually, everything they've submitted in the last three lights.
— Goooood... Already waking up and running to look.
The exchange of tablets for coffee suddenly seemed more interesting. And, consequently, happened much faster than it would have without it. Luckily for Ami, there was a little coffee left in the pot. Donny brought it, warming the contents of the cup as they walked.
Not a trace of strain showed on the Truth officer's face. They rather looked distracted and thoughtful.
...Their mind was somewhere far away, but it didn't stop them from heating the coffee... Envy. So much envy...
"We're supposed to have practice. Lots of practice."
"Yes. Like they had. And stop whining."
"Envy and hatred ideally are pointers. But in your case, even neutrality would be good."
Oh, so many smart ones all of a sudden. So why are we so sad?
We're surrounded here by smart and talented people... who lived and developed here peacefully while I was stagnating in my Kantine. Some pointers they are. I don't know how to deal with this.
"With Kiona's help. And you have... a visitor here."
— What's your... interest in Rayleen's cases? — Amelia addressed the material interlocutor.
— Personally? None at all. — Donny joked with careless irritation. — Milo asked me to get involved in their cases.
— Bog those cases. Get involved in coffee-drinking and biscuit-eating. — the Secretary suggested. — From city trips, choose visits to Glaphy's. They're an agreeable person.
"Sound advice straight from the darkness of the cubbyhole."
It's all I have.
— Glaphy is a local treasure, really... — the Omillian agreed. — And it's not just about the biscuits. I don't turn my nose up at other sweets either.
— There you go. You'll surpass Rayleen. More interesting than those tedious reports... without any particularly interesting conclusions, by the way. Poor Rayleen has worn herself out lately. It's hard to blame them when Milo's thrown a whole mountain of cases onto them.
— How do you... — Donny frowned in bewilderment but then, understanding, drawled with a chuckle. — Aaah... I keep forgetting you read everything.
— Uh-huh... I read almost everything... — Amelia yawned widely, tiredly. — Soon I'll be able to publish the Omill Gazette... Even without using internal information... I think I'll have plenty of other material.
— Not a bad start... for taking over the Mainland.
— Right. Then I'll want information on what's happening in all the cities... Across the whole Mainland... As soon as I get some sleep. I can't process it all now anyway.
— And then your head will burst. From greed.
— Yes, probably so...
— Maybe I don't need to read anymore myself? You can tell me?
— If you trust my "selection", then why not... I lied to you a bit. There is something interesting... for me. From the warehouse reports. A trail theoretically leading to Kantine...
— Homesick?
— Bogs forbid! No, of course... However, I'm starting to think. My city appears before me in a new, interesting light, you know? And it wouldn't be a bad idea to reconsider some things and get to know some things better... I'd bring the results here; they'd be treated... a little more attentively here. I'll ask Lucy, though... Yes. They'll have noticed an awful lot there, for sure. And they'll tell me.
— I doubt it. — Donny doubted. — Lucy was never interested in cases even here. I mean, they knew what went where. But nothing more. They'd quickly sort everything, reading the spines and skimming. And they never made a mistake. That was their undeniable talent. It never occurred to them to delve into all this.
"Besides work, they have normal human interests and a life."
Something like that, yes. Something like that.
— Knowing everything about everything without delving into anything?! Definitely a talent... I couldn't do that. You also orient yourself very quickly. A very lively, sharp mind.
— Thanks. But I'm not as great as Lucy in this, that's for sure.
— Me neither, obviously... Thank you so much for the coffee! And for making my life easier.
— You're welcome. — Donny cheerfully took leave. — Won't disturb your plan to take over the Mainland.
— You probably won't like the outcome... Oh well. — the Kantinian smiled warmly at the now empty window.
...To work, girls.
Sighing, the Secretary took a large gulp of the aromatic drink, surveying the shelves... and mentally beginning to mark them out in colour sectors.
Unexpected, yes.
Well. Which one of you internal chatterboxes will now say that Amelia is incapable of productive work, even when not in shape and not in the right place? That's what I thought.
After all, this "unsuitable place" gave her the opportunity to be in Omill. And to eventually reach the Witchium. She should help it too.
Right. Now take the fabric and sketch out a rough plan.
This was the perfect time to do it. Finnian had taken on the burden of restoring mother's notes. And they had also, in fact, lightened the impending return home in the hopeless form it had existed before. It wouldn't be the same. Even if she had to go back for a while... It wouldn't be a life sentence.
Sneezing, Amelia continued drawing the layout plan. The cold was starting to annoy her. However, the Secretary was now plagued not only by a cold.
— Ami.
Were they coming in an endless stream today? Or had she fallen asleep on the job again, and time had flown by without her? Hard to tell...
— Yeees?
The very sound of the answer betrayed not a great desire to help the responsive Omillians in return, which for a moment made the Selva outside hesitate.
— Are you... busy?
— Yes, Talla... working on the plan to take over the Mainland. Just don't tell Kiona's staff; you'll be left without a Secretary.
— I won't tell. If you give me the latest report on traffic on the tract.
— Deal.
Ami casually reached for her cup to take a life-saving sip of coffee.
The drink had gone cold. It seemed some time had indeed passed; the question was only how – sitting asleep or working on the plan to modernise the Archive.
"What difference does it make?"
Right. The work somehow gets done. And if you don't think about how, it gets done much faster.
During her archival work, an interesting fact had emerged.
If you don't think about the search, the documents are found much faster. Maybe no modernisation was needed at all... Actually, looking back, Ami's effectiveness always increased dramatically when she forgot to engage her head. In her case, that appendage was a vestigial part that hindered more than helped.
It's important to know such things to apply them in practice.
— Here are your documents.
— Thanks. Good luck with your Mainland takeover.
— Thanks... That'll all come later. I'm tired just from making the plan.
Ami was about to habitually exploit Talla to reheat her coffee but remembered her desire to become a strong, independent witch.
"Maybe next time?"
No.
The Kantinian resolutely wrapped her hands around the cup, trying to focus on the sensation of warmth in the middle of the vessel.
She sat like that for a while. Then a little longer. Then she took a test sip. Cold... Not surprising.
"Maybe... the powers are weak, and I need to warm it more?"
Fine.
And she "warmed" it some more. Took a sip. Ugh.
"The bitter taste of defeat."
"And cold."
Very funny.
"Amusing to watch you puff yourself up."
"You are not a witch. Admit it. Finnian was mistaken."
You're all rather talkative today... Think that because I'm in bad shape, you can run wild? No way. Time to quieten you down somehow.
We have more interesting things to do than listen to a bunch of critical failures. Colouring little flags for the tablets... making my room, which has been a bit brighter recently, and my life a bit more colourful. And lots of other things...
Ami yawned, which turned into a cough.
...Very interesting activities, but... somehow I feel lazy. Everything feels lazy... General lethargy and sleep deprivation can't just be dismissed.
"That's what we're saying, you lazy redhead."
...What is this...
"...lack of free resources for self-regulation, if that's what you mean."
Yes. Thanks.
Sighing, the non-witch downed her disappointingly cold coffee in one gulp.
— Ami...
Oh, gnats...
However, there is a positive side to this. The matter had found her itself. In the form of Milo.
So much the better! She wouldn't have to invent a new excuse to shirk her own idea.
— ...take these tablets and help carry more from my office. How are your progress?
— With what? Oh, never mind... Any progress – none. — the Secretary exhaled gloomily, taking the tablets and sullenly stacking them on the table.
— You look tired. Another binge last night? — the boss commented half-jokingly, casting a quick glance at the subordinate.
Well, well, they noticed. In the dark. In passing. How "flattering"... Ghoul.
— Can't hide anything from you, can I? — the Secretary sighed. — Even in the dark. Yes. Night-time adventures. Part of the time, my companion was a not-young but handsome person. Terrifying to the point of hiccups, to be honest...
— How intriguing.
— You started it.
— Prefer older types?
— Not at all. I prefer types much younger than me, actually... But that's not the point right now. I was at Finnian's yesterday.
Milo raised his eyes to her in surprise.
— What?! Oh, great… Why?!
— Trying to find additional materials on what you, in my opinion, unfairly ignored as "mystical nonsense".
— You mean those symbols? They're not ignored. We'll get to them later. As for visiting Finnian... You seem intact. But I can fix that. So you don't distract neighbouring departments with nonsense. And without my permission. Well, then... We'll await the official complaint from the Witchium.
The Station Chief sighed resignedly and made a tired gesture to follow them.
Ami left her cosy dark spot with some regret and, squinting with her sore eyes upon exiting into the Hall, obediently followed her boss.
— Actually, the "nonsense" did interest them. Just so you know. — she objected, slightly through clenched teeth. — And they'll be expecting official permission from you. Yes, yes. So I can come and study at the Witchium. In my free time.
Milo stopped dead before the entrance to the office.
— What for? Don't tell me... Nooo! No. — They frowned incredulously, looking at the Secretary.
— What "no"?.. Why "no"? Well, they'll teach me bad things. And that's good. I really want to be like Finnian when I grow up.
— In character, maybe you will. In another Aeon or two... But actually, seriously, you know, their... teaching methods are rather controversial.
— In what way?
— Well, they... how can I explain this... They prefer to place responsibility for… absolutely everything on people. And leave them alone with their difficulties. Even in cases where they find it very hard to cope on their own. Or when it's patently obvious that they won't be able to do everything they expect of them.
...And how much help do you offer, dear? More than I can carry in one go I suppose.
— Well, they... believe in people? More than people believe in themselves? We'll see, right? Anyway, it's interesting. And it makes not only my stay here but also my entire existence more meaningful. Which wasn't the case at all before.
Milo grunted noncommittally, and, easily dealing with the entrance curtain, the boss and subordinate found themselves in the office.
— Still hard to believe.
— Should I bring a signed certificate?
— Bring it... although, no, it's fine. What difference would it make... So all that coffee-warming was for nothing? Or were you pretending to avoid some of your duties?
— You personally never warmed it once! Instead, on top of everything else, you dumped a heap of tedious duties on unprepared me. Well, yes, yes, I signed up for it and all that...
Ami's gaze fell on the office windows, paralysing her already barely alive mental activity this light.
They have a beautiful view here... Pleasantly rounded, like all Omillian kottis, but differing from others in size and the oblong shape of the warehouse buildings against the backdrop of the city. The forest is blueing in the distance. Lovely. The small amount of foliage on the trees and the transparent air of this season made the picture deeper.
Amelia could look at this... All working light. Why did the window belong to the ghoul who doesn't appreciate it at all?
"You need your own."
A stack of tablets was thrust into her hands, innocently reminding her why she was here.
With Milo's help, of course. The Chief had grabbed their share too, and they headed back to the cubbyhole.
— Suppose you do learn. What then? Become the Chief here instead of Sandra?
The Head Truth Officer snorted cheerfully. Ami also chuckled gloomily in response.
— Yes. I'll have big windows with a nice view. And you'll warm my coffee.
— Oh no... I'd rather retire then. Wander in the forest, you know, gather herbs and berries... It's long overdue. It's dreary enough as it is. And with you on duty, such a vaudeville would start... My nerves and health are more precious.
"Getting your own back, swamp-dweller."
— Oh, come on. Is it really that bad? — the Archivist lazily steered the conversation onto a more serious track.
She had no energy left to banter with the Chief.
— Yes and no... — he shrugged thoughtfully. — We've sort of worked together. Not without effort on my part, to be honest... But without any open conflict. So it seems. Your ideas and decisions are inexplicable from a common-sense perspective and rather impulsive. But I, as a good Chief, must be able to work with everyone. And how should I know? Maybe for Kantine such behaviour is normal.
— No. Especially for Kantine – no. Our people value subservience. I have a heap of disciplinary sanctions not only for breaking routine but also for subordination. In that respect, I'm the worst local specimen, let me tell you. That's why they sent me here. To get rid of me. And they won't miss me.
— I see. Can't negotiate with your people. Can't with you either. And if you were a level higher, in line with your ambitions, working with you would be... very, very difficult. Who knows what fate would ultimately befall the department you'd be running? Take that as you will, but that's my humble opinion.
"Nothing humble about it, you hat-wearing ghoul, but let's leave that on your conscience."
"At least they're finally being honest. Not saying one thing and thinking another, as usual."
Yes, they're not a great Chief, but still better than my Kantinian ones.
Slightly taken aback by the tired frankness of the usually diplomatic Chief, Amelia tried to smooth over the brewing conflict by putting on her most indifferent expression.
"Thank you for your opinion, it's important to us."
— I warned you at the very beginning about the consequences. And I'm not here for long.
— I'm not complaining... On the contrary, I'm saying it's fine. You're managing. You're clearly interested in the Station's overall processes. Everything's in its place. I didn't make a mistake.
"There he go again. Patting himself on the back at our expense."
Ah, let the ghoul have them. When there's a reason for magnanimity, there's nothing left to divide with mortals.
The Witchium had already started building part of our bright future. All that remained was to gradually purge herself of the poisonous remnants of doubt. And not absorb new ones here.
They entered the Archive, and the Secretary, with an imperious chin gesture, indicated the far corner by the window. The tablets were to be placed there, as the table was occupied with the scheme, paints, and scraps. And, again, luckily, free of her mother's notes. The appearance of work activity was almost undisturbed.
— There couldn't have been a big mistake on your part, because my Kantinian Chief, as always, thoroughly and proactively messed things up. — the Archivist stated conciliatorily. — However, I must note that I am still... inefficient in this workplace.
Milo involuntarily chuckled at the unexpected turn of the conversation and made a grim gesture for her to continue.
— You don't see the enormous effort all this costs me. In the long run, that promises big complications... Which I hope I won't have to work through. There's no efficiency here. Much of it is rather forced and born of desperation. Whereas Lucy fits in perfectly here, yes. You actually have a wonderfully balanced department. Had.
— I'm also waiting for a swift return and exchange. For the common good, if it comes to that. '— The boss exhaled wearily. — I'm not used to discussing the decisions of my superiors... But I'm not ready for bigger complications than those that already exist.
They turned to leave.
— Don't forget about the consent for the Witchium. — the Kantinian reminded them. — Although, honestly, I don't believe it myself... But I won't argue with Finnian. If they claim I'm a coffee tray, I'll spend the rest of my life with a coffee pot on my head. And have a complex about the small area of my uneven skull.
Milo, with a smirk, froze in the doorway and grimaced sceptically.
— Such loyalty to a Chief not from your own department... But you know... This whole thing is still dubious. I've never seen adults being taught.
— Me neither. But they're optimistic and, by the way, even planning to write a dissertation.
— Chancer. That sounds like them. However, there's a grain of truth in it... Finnian has a lot of experience, and in such matters, they rarely make mistakes. — The Chief decisively put the final point in the conversation, leaving the dark cubbyhole.
...Fine... Fine...
Amelia exhaled forcefully and shook her hands in the air.
Not the most pleasant conversation... And... talking won't help the matter.
The tablets won't sort themselves; the new catalogue won't colour itself... Back to work.
And then everything will somehow draw itself... Probably.
Somehow enduring the sleepy light, the Secretary, stupefied by overexertion, left work.
It would be good to go to the Archives again. Or, finally, to Kiona for some healing herbs for this stubborn cold.
But there was something else she couldn't just ignore. She was simply unbearably sleepy. Unfortunately, Ami was no longer capable of speaking or reading.
All light, the symbols from the reports had merged into a single heap, refusing to be understood. And not only because of some remaining translation difficulties, to the Kantinian's chagrin. In this state, she probably wouldn't understand her native language either.
However, on the way home, with the cool, fresh air, the sleepiness suddenly, as it often does, began to wear off... Gradually disappearing almost completely. As if it hadn't been there all light. Only the burning in her eyes and the unpleasantly hot heaviness in her head remained. By evening, she always felt better.
...How, by the gnats, does this work?! Why not the other way around?
"Your body saves energy for mind-numbingly tedious work. What's not to understand?"
Well, then... Might as well take a walk.
Her gaze automatically fixed on the beautiful mountain, purplish-reddish at the end of the cold season. This gloomy season transformed everything amazingly.
The sky gradually changed from light violet to grey-violet; the vegetation changed colour; her mood changed so that she wanted to walk and walk until she was completely away from where she was... and where the remnants of her melancholy remained.
Completely forgetting the unbearable desire to sleep that had so heavily and irresistibly pulled her head to the table all light, Amelia was already trudging along, going wherever her eyes led, unconsciously humming some silly song like "Begone, the thrill; hello, the Hill" in her mind, setting it to all sorts of stupid little melodies.
Her legs carried her away from work and closer to saving nature, higher up away from problems, ignoring the slightly hindering, persistent feeling of some deafness and the cool breeze provoking her cold.
Her head hummed something, periodically coughing; her nose "ran"; her hands were tucked into the sleeves of her drape to warm up a little; everyone was having fun.
Everyone was busy with their own affairs. Amelia reached the flat area at the top, stopped, and looked around.
It was getting dark. The city, illuminated by colourful mushrooms, the cosy light of kotti windows, and outdoor lanterns, looked as endearing as ever. Nothing new here.
But in this regard, she didn't want any news either.
The silly little tune, independently and regardless of her will, upon seeing all this magnificence, changed to a beautiful song and began to sing itself a little louder.
Tears immediately sprang to her eyes, a lump to her throat... As usual.
But suddenly... the wanderer stopped short, feeling a disturbing sense of presence...
Coughing nervously, she broke off the song, wiped away her tears, and spun around sharply.
...No one was there...
Clearing her throat, she continued singing... but much more quietly. Feeling as if the air around had suddenly become thick... And then something suddenly touched her cheek!
Gasping, the Kantinian flinched in fright.
"The wind."
"You know it's not."
...Shut up. It's not helping.
She felt deeply uneasy.
...Time to go down, home! Get warm and sleep! Sleep is good, sleep is long... In her now slightly more organised home, yes...
Stumbling, not watching her path, Amelia practically ran down the mountain through bushes and stones. Fear was growing.
Having covered the distance from the forest to the outskirts of Omill, she found herself within the city limits with relief. As if the presence of human bustle could somehow help her break contact with something... otherworldly. Something she was simply not ready for at the moment... And it was unclear if she ever would be.
The Kantinian outsider walked quickly to her kotti.
But upon entering it, she realised she was mistaken in thinking her dwelling was safe. The presence was clearly felt here too. Here she was as vulnerable as on the mountain.
...As everywhere... Every light of her life. Not safe. Nowhere is safe. Never were...
Usually this feeling was in the background and less disturbing.
But now... She didn't feel like sleeping at all anymore.
"Maybe... go somewhere to sit? A café?..."
"No. With what funds? Never made it to the forest. It would be wiser to just lie down and try to sleep."
"Or at least calm down."
Quiet, quiet, people.
"What nonsense anyway. An immaterial thing can't do any harm."
"Except... frightening you to death."
It seems... that's already happening... Something is here. It came for me. From the outside...
In a naive and instinctive attempt to hide under the blankets, the Kantinian practically dived under them, covering her head. And froze.
Only her heavy breathing refused to be quieter.
...How... scary... Wh... what if it's really here? Right now. Standing. Right in the middle of the kotti. Staring at her, heavy and intent... Or is it... near the bed?!
...Don't talk nonsense...
"Why don't you check?"
No way! What would we... see there... The standard Omillian kotti! Maybe a bit untidy... But...
"With a hunting spirit in the middle."
...Shut up... There's nothing. There wasn't, isn't, and won't be...
I really want to sleep, but now I can't. My head is already burning. Where is that sleep that tormented me so mercilessly in the cubbyhole?! If only we could swap these states... I need to sleep now! Not all of this...
She started shivering... From... the cold? But we're in outdoor clothes.
...Something touched the blanket from above!..
Her heart was ready to, and already had, pierce her ribcage or leap out of her ears.
...Death?..
"Don't be stupid. Nothing's here. You imagined it."
...Oh, really! That felt quite real. The main thing is not to cough, so as not to give yourself away. Maybe the spirit will leave on its own...
The shivering gave way to a blazing fever, but she had to endure it, as it was still too scary to stick her head out from under the blankets... As if blankets could help.
The integrity of the life-saving shelter had to be breached anyway, moving a corner aside to breathe. Vulnerability? But suffocating isn't fun either. The main thing is to try not to look at the tiny exposed piece of kotti space.
...What if through that gap... IT looks in...
Terrified and trying half the night to calm herself, Ami started to fall asleep several times but would jerk awake, wearily and irritably noting how the tiny patch of sky visible between the blanket and the door curtain was getting lighter.
Sleep only came with dawn, along with weakness and dizziness.