“Your request is denied.”

I sagged back in the chair in surprise—not so much at the denial, but rather at the flatness of it. Kelly, on the other hand, hissed in something more like shock, something not just a lot more surprised than me but also hurt and angry because of it.

“I can give you,” James said with atypical flatness, “some measure of explanation. I cannot, however, give you more than that; not by any disrespect of mine, but by the necessity of the public welfare, which sometimes cannot be served in knowledge so well as it can be served without.”

“We’re listening,” I said immediately. Even as I straightened again in my chair, I was reaching up to put my hand on Kelly’s, and we both squeezed at the same time for very different reasons.

Kelly’s hand tightened painfully around my shoulder before she realized she was hurting me. I knew, knew without a shadow of a doubt, that she’d been about to say something, which was why I’d preempted her so emphatically. But I also knew that doing so was hurtful, which was why I’d put my own hand on top of hers and I kept my hand there—and therefore also hers, as feather-gentle as the weight of mine might have been—as she reflexively tried to pull away.

If James was going to give us as much explanation as he could, I was determined that he would have our attention. We could always get mad at him afterwards.

“As a prefatory matter: there will, in the near future, be a… substantial degree of attention descending upon our village.” James’s voice was still closer to level than genial, and his smile was thin. Between those and the momentary pause, I felt like that was his equivalent of pacing and tearing out his hair. “You are a person of interest in some of that attention, though not, I wish to be emphatically clear, a suspect in any wrongdoing. We will not entertain any notion that your life be disrupted, much less trammeled, by the events which I anticipate will unfold.”

“But other people,” I said slowly, “will raise the idea. Whatever the things going on are, the things you’re not telling me about—ah.” It was clear, even obvious, as I started to talk through it. “You’re not telling me about them because if I have no idea what’s going on, I have an absolute, unimpeachable defense.”

“It’s truly a pleasure welcoming you into my world,” James said with a more genuine smile. “I believe that you will master yourself before long, and long before your traumas threaten to break you; and with your having done so, I will have the joy of seeing Alqar shaken for your presence.”

“That’s… a lot.” I didn’t know what else to say, so I spent a long moment in silence. It really was a lot; I felt like there were at least five different things that I could have objected to in what he’d said, but they were all fighting for the focus of my mind’s eye and none of them were able to win out over the others. “But you said that was prefatory. Implying that the whole thing with wanting me not to catch the wrong kind of attention or know the wrong kinds of secrets is just… context.”

That tugged the corner of James’s smile upwards into an obviously deliberate hint of a smirk. “It is my formal responsibility as Clerk Administrator to attend to two aspects of the organization and operation of Kibosh which touch upon your request. The first is the professional duties and development of Kelly Avara, whose charge you are. First Friend Avara.”

Kelly’s body language shifted, though all I could actually tell of it was through her hand on my shoulder. Stiffening, I guessed, and meeting James’s eyes, but I couldn’t be sure.

James gave her a moment, a moment that I suspected was a trap—it wasn’t the moment for her to talk. “The Village of Kibosh is aware that you are proceeding as per your understanding of the best path for your charge. We remind you, nonetheless, that Sophie is subsuming her traumas into a professional drive forwards in a way that may not be sustainable. Your Skills, experiences, and personal inclination towards fixation have left you in a position ill-suited to advocate for her slowing down.”

“Does the Village of Kibosh,” Kelly asked colorlessly, “have any specific instructions?”

“The Village,” James said, “does not have any instructions per consensus.” His smile didn’t shift, nor did his voice change, but something about his body language suggested a wink. “Several individuals have suggested that Miss Nadash may find a collaboration enjoyable and productive.”

“Senior Librarian Zqar should learn to back off.” Kelly’s voice was tightly controlled, not showing any of the hurt or grievance that I knew was there, but there was a note of relief as well. “Sophie’s been clear that she doesn’t want to bring her stories into Yelem right now, and that’s her prerogative.”

“She does have an absolute right to refuse to disclose her reasons,” James agreed, nodding. “I will not suggest otherwise. Still, if you both will forgive a moment of informality and frankness?” He waited for us to both nod, and nod we did. “Sophie, you are consistently avoiding any thought of your home, and everyone sees it. Which means nobody is talking with you about recipes and cooking; it means that Tayir isn’t going to ask you about techniques and materials; it means that Veil isn’t pushing you about your theology or your particular relationship with divinity, and both personally and professionally, they want to.”

I winced. The divinity stuff wasn’t even something I was keeping close to the chest for any particular reason; I just… needed some time to think it through. Time I hadn’t been taking, because I’d been… avoidant, which James was absolutely right to call me out on. And Kelly had, because it was how she was, just encouraged me to drive forwards and let the momentum keep me going, hadn’t she?

“So, to reiterate, Miss Avara.” He locked gazes with me, despite notionally talking to Kelly. “Sophie may find collaboration with certain individuals enjoyable and productive, and by doing so, she may come more to terms with her origins and history. I do not speak of her having any form of obligation to provide aid—but to share interests and passions with another is to have a subject through which one might bond with them, and Sophie has actively avoided doing so.”

“And I’d learn just as much, or more, as I’m teaching,” I said quietly, feeling the flush burn in my face. “In subjects I like. Fuck. I didn’t even stop to think about why Keldren hasn’t asked me about chemistry stuff. I mean, I assumed Rafa knows everything I could possibly ask, but…”

“Miss Nadash has developed some friendships.” James was back to that genial smile, but it was made entirely out of tempered steel, unyielding in its firmness. His attention was firmly locked on Kelly, now, which might have meant that I’d spoken out of turn by some sort of social or professional rules I wasn’t aware of, but the smile… probably meant that it wasn’t a big deal.

“She has,” Kelly agreed, voice much less tight than a few moments ago.

“They are few, and they are narrow even where they are beginning to deepen—and she is deeply reserved even with those she considers friends. We do not consider her social integration to be as far along as either of you appear to, though we are, quite frankly, astonished at the rate of her progress.

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“You are exceeding even the unreasonable expectations that the Village of Kibosh holds of you, First Friend Avara, however Gods-blessed and brilliant your charge may be.” James nodded at Kelly, inclining his head in a gesture of recognition. “But Sophie is not a city-born woman in need of adjusting to a different way of life within a society nonetheless familiar for all its strangeness; she is a Traveler, and though she may be clever and studious, she would be ill-served by this proposal. And thus, our… recommendations.”

“There’s more to this, isn’t there?” I’d expected Kelly’s voice to be wounded and angry, but instead, she was contemplative, intrigued, like there was a mystery to be hunted down. “What you’re talking about isn’t just something that’s not time-sensitive, it’s the one component that doesn’t pose an ethical risk.”

“Alchemist Nadash.” James made a miniscule gesture of acknowledgement and respect to Kelly, otherwise ignoring her as he directed his attention to me.

It didn’t pass my attention that the miniscule gesture had my First Friend visibly preening.

“Clerk Administrator Morei.” I nodded at him. “What am I doing wrong?”

“Nothing.” He smiled at me as I blinked in surprise. “Oh, certainly there are minor things here and there, but in the grand scheme of things? I have full confidence in you.”

“I can hear the but coming.”

“The Village of Kibosh,” he said, clasping his hands together in a this is now more formal gesture, “has observed that you seek to delve deeper into the narrow realm of your recent rediscovery.”

I nodded. “The plan is—will have been, probably—to find a way to chain-create those flexible mana batteries using the divine orbs to create a self-perpetuating battery-making machine.” I paused, processing what I’d just said. “For the purposes of experimentation,” I amended hastily, “in accordance with what were probably going to be narrow conditions laid down by the Gods involved.”

“The Village would not, in the regular course of affairs, see fit to interfere with such a thing; no consensus could so hold, as Cleric Veil would correctly object.”

“Because it’s too tied to divinity,” I agreed, “and they would see a rule against it as being an act of, I dunno, heresy?”

“Blasphemy,” James corrected me with that gloriously genial voice. “That said, such a thing would be not only novel but reflective of your genuinely novel approach to divinity. As such, the Village of Kibosh requests and requires—” Kelly hissed at that, but the Clerk Administrator carried on— “that you desist in that notion.”

“The right to freely strive—”

“We will provide you with forty-nine such batteries,” he said, cutting off Kelly’s angry response, “and for a full season, ensure that they are recharged each afternoon.”

“What.”

James ignored the shocked outburst, whose tone told me a lot about how much the village was offering as their bribe. “This is not an exchange, Sophie. The Village requests and requires, and in turn the Village undertakes that you will not be hindered by our intrusion upon your right, as Miss Avara correctly names it, to strive.”

“And you’ll want me to endorse this,” I murmured in thought to James’s pleased nod. “Because it’s not an exchange; it can’t be, because if it were, you’d be buying me off, and that would have… policy implications. Ones that I don’t understand.”

“Three crises are erupting at the same time. This is not the first time, but we have far less information about what these are than we typically have. I will not abide the complications that would arise of your wonderfully heterodox outlook on the Gods becoming a matter of policy argument. It is improper that such a thing might happen in your first year; let the involvement of other Clerks in your endeavors keep itself, as propriety demands, to the future.”

“So what do you want me to do? Presumably not twiddle my thumbs. You wouldn’t be offering me those batteries if that was the idea.”

“Engage in your research, by all means.” James waved a hand in a motion that was almost perfectly casual, correctly interpreting my question as being scoped to my professional life. “Collaborate with those who approach you, whom you wish to work with. I am informed that you have some notion of practical applications of those flexible-output means of mana storage; proceed along those lines by mundane means.”

“Some of those things might be new.” I raised an eyebrow at him skeptically. “Am I going to get so much less attention bringing something into this world that’s never been seen before than I would working with a few Gods here and there?”

“In these forms,” James said by way of response, spinning a piece of paper to face me, “I make note that the Gods are not named, only addressed by deed and epithet.”

I blinked at the seeming subject change. “Well, yeah. I… feel like that would be rude. I mean, there’s a lot of them, and most of them are Tricksters. I don’t want to inflict their sense of humor on you? And I did get asked not to do literally, exactly what I’d be doing by invoking them by name, by implicitly offering them guest-right.”

“And indeed, for a Traveler to bring an invention from their home is expected; for it to be something of some use, not unusual—notice, it might draw, but not to the point of scrutiny. Those who inquire would be contented to know that a Traveler resides here, who brought some small knowledge from afar, and that she dwells within the frameworks of their expectation.”

“Ah,” I breathed, thinking hard. James, you insufferable teacher-through-angles. The people who inquired needed to see something new, or they’d suspect malfeasance or something being hidden—but it couldn’t be too surprising, not on a meta level. “Because what isn’t expected, what everyone gets so surprised by,” I mused, “is the Gods thing. And Spark, but mostly the Gods. Despite how natural it feels to me, because that’s just… how it is, the connection is from the divine to a person, and it’s not like distance should break it.”

He nodded. “When the tale of your arrival enters the Knowledge, a year and a day after your arrival in Shem, you will have been the first to serve as an anchor for the manifestation of more than one God who dwells not on the world of Yelem. And so it is a coincidence most convenient that the public good—and the avoidance of this confrontation—is served by the same advice which will most benefit your personal and professional growth. And if, after these forms which I shall submit upon your departure are filed, the acknowledgements of your patent filing receive a post-hoc update which contains a set of names? Such a thing is irrelevant to the function, and thus has no urgency.”

And these things are as visible as the relationship between a woman and her Divine Flame is not, Spark observed as my eyes went wide in shock. James was giving me permission to do exactly what I had deliberately not done, and had just committed to going very much around the letter of the rule to do, and why—

“Who is coming,” Kelly asked quietly, “that you’re so afraid of, James? We all know that you’ll violate policy at the drop of a hat and then file the Clerical Override forms, the judge me, oh my peers forms, like they’re a religious obligation.”

“Which they are, for those of us who look to Basathon over such Gods as are akin to Shei Maham.” James’s lips quirked in a genuine, if momentary, smile.

“So who’s coming that you’re trying to get us to lay low? If it was just the Queen, just the Five Pillars themselves with every Immortal of Shem backing them up, you’d pick a fight. You’d defy the Scimitar of the Sands if he tried to sunder Sophie from her Gods without her consent. So who’s coming, and why are they going to be here? And why do you want that and Sophie’s Tricksters around? Are they—they’re reinforcements, aren’t they, you’re trying to recruit—”

“It’s worse than you thought, James.” I spun around, startled—Captain Meredith Morei stood at the door, unsmiling and without a trace of her usual sardonic humor. “I was wrong, you were right. I called in a favor, you actually lowballed what’s coming. And we don’t find out on the record for five days, which is two days before they’re here. We’re getting two half-step divinities to reinforce Vois-In-Dappled-Shade, not one. It’s at the request of the Elector of Writ, and one of them is Nameless.”

“Shred my records and burn their scraps,” James swore, and I lost my shit in the least appropriate fit of giggles of all time.