Month 11, Day 30, 7:00 AM

Marie

On the ground floor of a sharply narrow, three story building—which was little more than three large rooms stacked one on top of each other and sandwiched between larger buildings—rested the office of the August Agency. At an ebonized oak table in that office, sitting on a plain wooden stool with her feet almost dangling, and in front of cheap wooden partition, Marie waited for clients.

Marie dyed her black hair with a still blacker dye, making the shoulder length sheet of smooth straight hair appear like dark and shimmering-like crow feathers. She painted her lips lampblack and her eyelids a dark charcoal. She carefully lined her eyes with black cosmetic pencil, and she kept her nails painted with a shiny black lacquer.

Marie also dressed in black clothes: her long-sleeved knee-length dress was as black as she could afford. She wore tall black oilcloth boots that covered her legs up to the knee. Altogether, this overwhelmingly black aesthetic set off her otherwise warm skin color; giving her a near bone-white appearance.

Surely, this obsession with black would represent a depressed soul.

However, aside from looking like the least welcoming girl in all of Gilbratha, Marie cultivated positive personality. For instance, she would smile at all the potential clients. She would greet the prospective client’s warmly.

For her, this wasn’t all that different than the day-time work at the massage parlor, except, first, she was working in Verdant Stag territory and not over in the Morrows’, and, second, she didn’t get the occasional sense that a patron was interested in her. Ick.

Marie also had a few items that she kept as a secretary here that she didn’t at the Massage Parlor. She kept an account book (also black) on the table, with a crow feather quill resting in a bottle of iron gall. She also kept a clean stack of white paper for correspondence, and receipts, if the need arose. And, finally, She had a metal box in the corner, where she would be particularly careful to take the client’s money and keep it safe from Mr. Poe - the thaumaturge, investigator, and owner of the August Agency. He would otherwise spend it needlessly on books and helping poor people.

She also had a thick book she was currently reading: Prim’s Primer, Vol. 1. It was big, and heavy, and bit of a lift for a girl who was perennially a head shorter than girls her own age. Poe had directed her to study the book when no clients were in the office, which was most of her day, and they had a lesson every lunch and dinner. He said it was to make her a better employee, because it had lessons on writing, geometry, life drawing, music, and abstract board games. She wasn’t sure why the last two mattered, but he insisted these were necessary and useful skills she could not do without.

So, when the middle-aged gentlemen entered the office only moments after it opened, Marie smiled and put aside the Primer.

“Good morning sir! Welcome to The August Agency ! How can I help you today?”

Dark complexion with a hint grey hair at his temples and subtle wrinkles at his eyes, the man wore the distinctive hobbed boots that clearly showed that he was a copper of some sort. Marie did not know the uniforms well enough to say what his rank was, but she always felt a little uneasy around coppers. This one stopped and stood entirely still as soon as he saw her. For an uncomfortable moment, his eyes bore into her.

“Who are you?” He demanded.

“Marie.”

“Has anyone told you that you look like Siobhan Naught?”

“No.” Marie lost her smile. The copper kept looking, but must have decided not to press the issue.

“Quite right, too young, and too pale. Looks like Mr. Poe got himself a secretary.”

“Can I help you?”

“Mr. Poe in? I’ll just walk on back, shall I?” And the fellow walked around the partition. Marie thought that was a little presumptuous, but perhaps Frank Poe knew him. Frank certainly had contacts with the Westbays and law enforcement.

She heard their conversation perfectly clearly. The partition didn’t even go all the way to the ceiling.

“Good Morning Frank. It’s been a busy night, and I was wondering if you want to do a little divination job for us? We’re paying 20 Gold for a solid lead, and 5 gold if you’ll just come out and consult with any scrying aid you can give us.”

On the other side of the partition Marie gasped. Twenty gold! that was almost a three full months’ rent. Then she thought about it; the pay was a fraction of the full reward for Naught. Cheapskates.

“Calder. No divination.” Frank replied. “No scrying. Don’t you remember? Gives me a headache. I told you the last time you were here.” Marie suppressed an eye roll. Of course the copper doesn’t remember, Marie thought. Very few people could remember the details of a conversation with Frank Poe. She was an exception, but she didn’t know why.

Poe explained his curse to her once, at least as well as he understood it. People would remember him, but not remember meeting him.

“Well, ok, a job then. The Raven Queen — Siobhan Naught — made an appearance down from here; she was seen at a warehouse the Stags were setting up. I’ve been authorized to pay local diviners to come down and see if they can tell us anything about her.”

“I’m not a diviner; I’m a detective.” Frank protested.

She’d had enough of that. Frank needed work. She needed him to work. They almost hadn’t made rent last month, and Marie had to pay some of her completely-legitimate-and-not-at-all-embezzled funds to the landlord’s drop box. Marie stood up and stalked around the partition into Frank’s office.

His office behind the partition was its usual mess. Books overflowed the shelves which went from floor to ceiling on all four sides, including in front of the windows. His writing desk had books piled on and around it, both for lack of space on the shelves and because Frank tended to pull a book off the shelf then set it on the floor after he looked at it. There were some cushioned armchairs in front of the desk, but Frank sat in a plain wooden ladder-back chair across from the standing officer.

Frank himself was quite striking, with short reddish-brown tea colored hair, and mismatching eye color: one orange, one blue. This was aside from his clothes. As usual, Frank dressed in a brightly-colored suit decorated with an open pattern of yellow, red, and orange flowers and a lemon-yellow shirt. People should recall Frank Poe on the sheer volume of color he wore, but Marie knew otherwise. Still, none of that would matter if he didn’t take on work.

“Frank Poe.” She scolded him. “You will take this fine officers’s case, or I will quit. And then no one will remember you.”

Frank raised his eyebrows at her tiny black-trimmed fury. The officer seemed bemused.

“Fine.” Frank turned to the officer. “Leave your information with Marie here. Make sure you get a receipt.”

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As Marie lead Calder back around the partition, he was already beginning to show the signs of the curse taking hold. At first, he just seemed distracted.

“Wait here for a moment.” Marie told him, while she drafted up a receipt. By that point, the curse had taken full effect. There was a confused look in his face; like he’d walked into a room to pick up something, but had forgotten why he’d come in the room at all. Just as she finished, the officer finally began speaking.

“So,” the officer began, “My name is Lieutenant Robards, I was wondering if I could commission some work from Mr. Poe. Is he in?”

“You’ve already asked that.” Marie replied.

“I have?”

“Yes. Please read this receipt.” She handed him the receipt. He read the receipt, and his face seemed to lose its confusion. As he was reminded in the note, he remembered the conversation with Poe.

“Of course. This must happen to everyone? How do you cope?”

“It’s never affected me.” Marie replied.

“Right. Well, remind Frank that I need him down to the station in about an hour to help with the divination.”

As the copper was on his way out, another man swept into the room. Much too clean to be a local, too practically dressed to be a noble, and too arrogant to be a clerk or some sort of copper. He seemed likely to be a Thaumaturge. He had black hair, tied at the nape of his neck, and a slightly unkempt beard. Marie greeted and smiled at this man too. She was the best secretary.

The dark-haired man gazed over his severe nose, and haughtily scrutinized her carefully. He raised one eyebrow. Marie’s smile grew brittle.

“This … office, is where I would find the best non-prognos diviner and detective in the city?”

“Yes, sir!” Marie replied.

“Who told you a fool thing like that?” Called the voice of Frank Poe over the partition.

“Perhaps I’ve come to the wrong investigator …”

“No sir! Frank Poe is the best!”

Silent, the black haired man examined her. He seemingly reviewed the all-black attire, her thin arms and legs, black hair, and her oaky-brown eyes.

“You wouldn’t happen to be the Raven Queen?”

“Not the Raven Queen sir!”

“I see.” The man replied quietly.

“Would you like an appointment, sir?” Marie asked.

“Don’t be ridiculous Marie! Send Professor Lacer back here immediately!” Frank called. As far as Marie knew, Frank couldn’t see anything from the other part of the one-room office except his bookcases and the back of the partition.

This Professor Lacer carefully examined Marie for another moment, and then stepped around the partition.

He must have cast some sort of spell, because she didn’t hear his conversation with Frank.

After a few minutes, he stepped back around the partition.

“Sir, did Mr. Poe agree to take your case?”

“No so much a case, as an errand.”

“I don’t suppose you talked about the fee?”

“I will compensate him fairly. You need not worry.”

Marie felt herself flush. It was always difficult to explain the next part, especially when the client was as arrogant as this Professor seemed to be.

“Professor, sir, Mr. Poe is a powerful diviner but there is a side effect to his power; clients find that they forget that they’ve met him. I must insist that we put your agreement with him in writing.”

“I am well aware of his ‘curse.’ He was a student, and very nearly received his Master’s certificate at the University. It will not effect me. Nevertheless …” Lacer carefully took paper from the table, held it in his left hand for a moment, a glittering gem and beast core in his right, and after a moment of concentration passed her a receipt. On it was written: Commission to The August Agency - discover a method to contact Siobhan Naught and arrange a meeting. Pay commensurate with difficulty. - Lacer

“Thank you for your patronage!” Marie smiled brightly. She’d had actively-cast magic explained to her before, but this was nothing like what she’d seen before; where was his circle? Components? Mille, a friend of hers and, well, a prostitute, had once shown her a glamorizing spell. Now, Marie wondered if she’d understood how magic was done at all. Lacer strode out.

Marie carefully took her copy of the receipts, noted them in her black book, and then put the copies receipts in a mostly empty box next to the table. If past practice was any consideration, Poe would be leaving soon to start work. She’d honestly never seen him cast a spell, but he was undeniably good at the tasks he set himself to. She’d never seen him fail in an investigation. Not that there were many.

Just as Poe rounded the partition, a short haired blond woman, perhaps only four or five years older than Marie, entered. She had the clear eyes and haughty look, but not the clothes, for a full journeyman Thaumaturge. Probably, Marie guessed, an apprentice or student at the University.

Marie smiled again, and tried her greeting. This was an unusually busy morning! If she could keep Poe on task, this might be the most work he’d had in weeks.

Poe, however, seemed unable to keep himself from giving a bad impression.

“I suppose you are here at the behest of a professor?” Poe snapped.

“I am, … yes, my advisor sent me to …” The blond was slightly off her stride, a furrow of surprise creased her face for a microsecond. Marie also noticed that she looked exhausted, like she’d spent most of the night awake.

“Ask me to work on divining the location of the Siobhan Naught, or otherwise get in contact with her?” Poe barreled on through the conversation without letting the woman finish. The blond’s composure was definitely cracked by Poe’s certainty.

“Well, yes. We think that …”

“She can be contacted through the Verdant Stag, because she fought for them last night and was seen with Lord Stag.”

“Uh. Yes.”

“Fine. Give your name to Marie.” Frank waved his hand in Marie’s general direction. He put on his smoked orange colored glasses to hide his heterochromia, then deftly shrugged on a calf-length blue coat embroidered with orange, black, and silver koi and walked most of the way through the slightly ajar door. He turned, just as he went to close it. “Or don’t. If you want to remain secretive about it, I don’t know. But, if Marie doesn’t give you a receipt, you’ll forget we spoke.” He sucked in a breath through his nose. “And that will be awkward in a couple of days when you come back and ask for me to do the same thing.” With this, he pulled the door closed.

Marie smiled as sweetly as she could at the blond woman. But, internally, Marie was horrified. There was no way this apprentice would continue with the commission after that display of rudeness. The blond, however, stared at the door for a moment and then turned to Marie. Marie looked expectantly at the blond. The blond looked back. Marie raised an eyebrow. The blond sighed.

“You are wearing a lot of black.”

“Yes.” Marie replied. The blond smoothed her brow with her hand.

“Has anyone asked if you …”

“No.”

“Okaay. I guess you aren’t old enough anyway … I am … here to ask if Mr. Poe can take up a commission. Is he available?”

“You just saw … missed him.” Maybe she could recover this disaster. Marie glared at the closed door. Poe was always doing that!

“It’s a confidential commission, so … can I get an appointment?”

“Ah.” Marie had seen the curse work quickly, but that was unbelievably quick. “You just gave us the commission … Don’t you remember?”

“I … I did?”

“Yes. You did.” Marie cheerfully weathered the apprentice’s skeptical glare.

“Ok. Let’s say that I did. You would be able to tell me what commission was.” The blond seemed sure that she would triumph in this obvious ruse to trick her. Marie rolled her eyes and took up the challenge.

“You are here for Mr. Poe to investigate how to contact Siobhan Naught?”

“That’s … that’s right.” She must have been more used to mind-altering spells or something, because she rebounded quickly. “Ok. So, what now?” The blond slouched a bit in defeat.

“I’ll give you a receipt. Two Crowns per day plus expenses. How can I contact you?”

“I’ll return in a week, and you can tell me Mr. Poe’s progress.”

“Can you pay a week’s retainer?”

The blond nodded, and paid Marie the 14 Gold.

Marie took another clean sheet of paper and wrote out a receipt with the details, which she gave to the apprentice before she left. Marie put half the money in the lock box and kept the other half.

Marie hoped Mr. Poe knew what he was doing. Naught was a dangerous criminal after all.