Jane could have found her way to Gribblers with her eyes closed by the mouthwatering smells of spices and cooking meat that drifted along the street, allowed to escape by the open front of the shop and carried on the fresh, early morning air. A small crowd had already gathered in front of it and she waited near the back as the people in front were served. An elderly woman with a lacy shawl around her shoulders glanced sideways at Jane as she took her place beside her. A pair of sharp, grey eyes frowned disapprovingly as they scanned Jane's faded, second hand clothes and then the woman turned to look directly ahead as if Jane would just evaporate into the air if she ignored her hard enough.

The butcher, Mister Gribbler himself Jane assumed, was a cheerful looking broad bellied man wearing a bloodstained apron who took the time to chat with each customer as he served them. Further back in the shop, two assistants were hard at work, one chopping up a side of pork with a large cleaver while the other was kneading a pile of mince and plopping lumps of it into premade pie cases. Behind them was a large iron oven from which so much heat was radiating that Jane could feel it on her face from five metres away.

"You got any fresh pork pies yet?" asked the man standing closest to the serving counter.

"How the pies coming, Tom?" called back Gribbler without turning his head.

The man kneading the mince opened the front of the oven. A wave of heat washed out, carrying with it a scent of cooking pie crust that drove Jane's hunger all the way up to eleven. All of a sudden she wanted one of those pies so much that she would have snatched one from a baby. Well, she wouldn't, but almost. Suddenly muesli seemed drab and watery in comparison and she marvelled that she'd been starting her day with it for the past fifteen years when she could have been eating a freshly cooked pork pie fresh out of the oven.

"Five minutes," called back Tom, closing the oven again.

"You want to wait five minutes?" Gribbler asked the customer, "or you want one of yesterday's cold ones?"

"I'll wait," the man replied. Several of the other customers evidently felt the same way because they moved a little to the side allowing other customers to reach the serving counter.

By the time Jane reached the counter the pies were ready. She lifted the middle of her skirt a few inches to create a fold for Gribbler to drop her order into, then held it with one hand while she fished in her pouch for a few copper coins. She counted out five pennies which she dropped into Gribbler's huge, meaty hand while trying as politely as possible to avoid being drawn into a conversation with him. Then she shouldered her way through more recently arrived customers and headed back to the registry office.

The clerks greeted her enthusiastically while at the same time keeping their voices hushed and glancing nervously at the door to Trabe's office. Philip dropped his roast chestnuts into a desk drawer, smiling as he thanked her. "Are you going to be going round Gribblers every morning?" he asked hopefully.

"If Trabe doesn't like you leaving the office he probably won't like me doing it either," replied Jane. "I'll eat before I come in, like you do."

Philip nodded with disappointment. "Where are you staying?" he asked.

"I haven't found a place yet. I'm new in town."

"I know a few good places. I could show you around after we close up tonight."

Jane could tell that the clerk was trying to come on to her and she really didn't want to become entangled with a personal relationship so her first reaction was to turn him down, but then she reconsidered. She really did need a guide in this new city, and being seen in the company of a long time resident might help her evade detection by the priests who would be keeping an eye out for new arrivals. And besides, he wasn't bad looking and seemed nice. She decided to sound him out. "What would your wife think?" she asked. "Being seen in public with a strange woman?"

Philip sat straighter and his smile broadened. "The young lady my parents had picked out for me turned out not to..." He glanced around at the other clerks, who were all listening with rapt attention. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "She turned out not to be a virgin. Quite the scandal."

"You must have been horrified," said Jane, struggling to keep the pride from showing on her face as she remembered the debauched behaviour of the other students back in her college days.

"Well, the marriage was out of the question after that, of course. I mean, I may only be the third son but I'm still a member of the Marbury family and we are expected to rise above the promiscuous habits of the lower classes. They have no choice but to breed like rabbits to replace those killed by orcs but we of the inner city are of a different breed, as you are yourself, I can see. May I ask what family you belong to?"

Jane almost said Harper but caught herself just in time. "I'd rather not say," she said, dropping her eyes as if in sudden shame. "I had to leave my family. My father was... Was violent. Violent towards me. I had to run away. I've been running ever since." She looked back up to meet his eyes. "I know he's still looking for me. If he finds me..."

"He won't find out from us," said Philip, looking around at the other clerks. "Right, lads?"

"Right!" the nearest one said around a mouthful of hot pork pie, and the others were nodding as well.

"My biggest fear is that he'll hear that there's a woman with exceptional memory working in this city," Jane continued. "He has contacts all over the country. If word gets out about... About what I can do, it's only a matter of time before he finds out."

"You can trust us," said the other clerk, brushing crumbs from his tunic. "Not a word to anyone. You're safe here. You're one of us now."

Jane felt a warm glow of gratitude flowing through her, but she wondered how they'd react if they learned that it was the priests she was really hiding from. So don't let them find out, she told herself. Be careful. Don't make any mistakes and do what you came here to do. Speaking of which...

"I'd better get back to work," she said, hooking a thumb back at the door to Trabe's office. "Before he fires me for talking when I'm supposed to be working." She nodded her gratitude to the clerks before turning and walking away. Behind her, the men began talking to each other in low, excited voices.

☆☆☆

Jane had photographed five more maps when Trabe opened the door and walked in. He watched as she rolled a map back up and replaced it on the shelf from which she'd found it and took down the next one. As she opened it out on the table he came to stand beside her.

"Ah, the Tanner farm," he said, helping her to place the paperweights on the corners. "A flash flood washed away the boundary fence a few years back. When he put it back his neighbour, Brad Washbourne, claimed he'd stolen half an acre of his land. We had to use that very map to settle the dispute."

He pointed at the relevant fence, a faded grey line between two fields at the edge of the map. There was some crabby writing beside it stating that there were eleven rods between it and a ditch that ran parallel to it. How long is a rod? she wondered. She vaguely remembered it from a television quiz show but she couldn't remember what the answer had been.

"Did he get in trouble for trying to swindle his neighbour?" she asked.

"He claimed it was an honest mistake and no-one could prove otherwise. He has, shall we say, a certain reputation, though. He were trying to pull a fast one and everyone knew it." He paused, staring at the opposite wall as if trying to find the best way to say something. "I can only pay you five shillings a week," he said at last. "And we're going to have to go on checking your work for a while, until we're sure you never make mistakes. Mistakes lead to litigation, you see, and you really don't want to find yourself landed with a heavy fine. I'm guessing you don't have a lot of money and debtors' prison is bad. Very bad. Bad for anyone let alone a woman of your, er, physical charms. I've heard stories. I'm sure you have too." Jane nodded. "It's to protect you, you see," Trabe continued. "I wouldn't like to see something like that happening to you."

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

To protect yourself more like, she thought. She didn't think she'd be the only one facing a heavy fine. She made herself smile, though. "Thank you for your consideration," she said. "Five shillings is fine. I'm very grateful." She had no idea whether five shillings was generous or not but she was beginning to get an idea for how far money went in this world and she was pretty sure she could survive on that much. The idea wasn't to get rich, after all. The idea was to topple a false god and being short of money while she did it made her feel worthy and pious. The great prophets of the bible had done their work in rags and sandals after all, and she was certain that she would, one day, be counted among the greatest of them.

You get paid at the end of every Friday," he said, "but the first week you'll only get two shillings because you started on a Wednesday." He looked at her to see how she took that. Jane thought it should have earned her three shillings but she decided not to argue the point and just nodded.

Trabe nodded back with satisfaction, then glanced down at the map again. "Well, I'll leave it to you then," he said. "Keep up the good work." He then left, closing the door behind him, and Jane got back to work.

☆☆☆

Philip popped into the back room a few hours later to tell her that it was time for their ten minute lunch break, but apart from that Jane was undisturbed. She sat for a few minutes every hour when the ache in her back grew too great, and when the loneliness began to gnaw at her she had her head phone play one of the audiobooks she had recorded to make the time pass faster. It should be safe enough, she thought. Another person would need to have his head almost touching hers to hear the tiny sounds coming from the speakers buried in the bones beside her ears.

She'd made good use of her audiobooks since coming out of hypersleep, as well as her large collection of classical and gospel music, and when she eventually needed a rest from them there were still the chess and mahjong games she liked to play against her head phone, the board visible only to her displayed against her visual field. Together, they allowed her to endure the solitude and the tedium of photographing one map after another until the light shining in through the window began to dim and Trabe came in to tell her that it was time to go home.

She wasn't surprised to find Philip waiting for her by the door. "You still need help finding a place to live?" he asked. "I can show you a couple of places. Reasonable prices and located on busy roads. No need to go down dingy backstreets to get to them."

"Is that a problem here, in the inner districts?" asked Jane. "I thought this was where the rich people lived."

"It is, which is why the thieves and the burglars come here. The toffs themselves are safe, of course. Their mansions are built like fortresses and whenever they go outside they take a whole bunch of bodyguards with them. People like you and me have to be careful, though. Best to stay on the busy main streets, if you can. Problem is, most of the boarding houses on the main streets are expensive but I know a couple that charge reasonable rates. The Running Queen for instance, or the Silver Whistle."

Why not? thought Jane. "Okay," she said, therefore. "Lead on."

The sun was down but an angry red sky lit up the city as they walked the smooth stone slabs of the pavement. Beside them, brightly decorated carriages clattered along the cobblestoned roadway, passengers glancing curiously at them as they passed by. "May I ask where you live?" asked Jane.

"In the family mansion," Philip replied. "The Marbury mansion, on Villiers Street. Down there." He pointed ahead, to where another street branched off to the right. "I still have my own rooms there, until my family find a suitable match for me. Something to make a beneficial alliance with another wealthy family. After that, of course, I'll be expected to find lodgings of my own, but the dowry will pay for that. Even so, I'll probably have to find somewhere small and cheap. Just big enough for us and three or four servants."

"How will you survive such hardship?" asked Jane, looking away to keep him from seeing the smile on her face.

"You're mocking me," Philip accused in a hurt tone of voice.

"Sorry." She looked back at him to see him smiling at her, which made Jane's heart flutter a little. Don't be a fool, she warned herself. You're here on serious business, the most serious business of all. Don't allow yourself to be distracted. It wouldn't hurt to make friends, though, so long as she was careful not to let it go too far. As Philip himself had said, his wife would be chosen for him by his parents. He and Jane had no future together.

The Running Queen seemed nice and the smallest room they had was just barely within her budget but she checked out the Silver Whistle as well just in case it was better. The smallest room they had was twice the size of the one in the Running Queen but cost only six pence a week more. Those six pennies would put a serious strain on her finances but the size of the room tempted her, as did the fact that the window overlooked the gardens of three noble estates. The room in the Running Queen only gave a view over a cemetery, every grave of which was marked with the star of VIX. That was what decided it for her. The gravestones would remind her why she was here, while a more pleasant view might tempt her mind away to more frivolous matters. The true God has sent me a sign, she thought as they retraced their steps back to the first boarding house. He is guiding my every step. The thought gave her a thrill of religious rapture.

She longed to tell Philip about the true God and about Jesus and the Bible, but if he repeated the tales to his friends and they told their friends in turn and so on, it would only be a matter of time before word got to the priests and they would send policemen to arrest her. I have to be patient, she told herself as she and Philip walked the darkening streets of the city. The time will come when I can preach the true word of God to these unfortunate people. Until then I must wait. God has all eternity in which to work His plan.

Arriving back at The Running Queen she was relieved to find that the smallest room was still available and she paid the four shillings weekly rent to the man behind the reception desk, receiving a large brass key in return. "Thank you," she said to Philip. "You've been very kind. I'm very grateful to you."

"Glad to help," Philip replied, raising a hand to his head and nodding to her. It was a gesture Jane had seen performed by others of the upper class. If they were wearing a hat they would briefly lift it from their head before nodding. Jane made the gesture she'd seen women make in return, a very slight curtsy, while hoping it didn't mean anything inappropriate. Maybe only wives made that return gesture to their husbands, or family members. I have to learn the rules of etiquette, she realised, before I make a fool of myself.

Philip accepted the return gesture, though, and turned to leave. Jane gave a sigh of relief, then began climbing the stairs to her room, at the very top of the boarding house.

☆☆☆

The next day, back in the registry office, Jane unrolled the third map of the day and held it down with paperweights on the corners. She stepped back, looked at it, photographed it, and then began removing the weights again to roll it up, but then she paused. Something about the map had caught her eye. She stepped back again to take another look.

It was the Elmhardy farm, she saw. Most of it was the usual fields, trees and ditches but there was a square marked near the edge that was shaded with diagonal lines. She hadn't seen anything like it on any other map she'd seen so far. As far as she could tell, it signified an area about thirty metres square.

There was a paragraph of handwritten text next to it. She photographed it separately, magnified it and then had the head phone turn the writing into neatly typed text. She read it with growing excitement. Suitable for grazing only. Cannot be ploughed because of a layer of devil rock, made by the Old Ones, six inches below the ground.

Devil rock? Could that be what they called plasteel? If so, that might be what she'd come here to find, the doors covering Randall's underground satellite dish. Or it might have been a car park. Plasteel had been used for lots of things back in her day and although it would have been unusual to make a car park out of plasteel, it wasn't entirely unheard of. She would have to keep looking, she knew. See how many such areas there were in the lands surrounding the city. If there were only a few such places they could investigate them one at a time, rule them out until there was only one left.

She felt her body quivering with excitement. Only her third day at the records office and she might already have found the instrument of God's resurgence. She couldn't wait to get back to the Interesting Weasel and tell the others. Tonight, she told herself firmly. She couldn't leave until the end of the day. She had gathered that employees in this society had virtually no rights. They could be fired for any reason, or just on a whim, and there was nothing the unfortunate individual could do but hope to find employment elsewhere. She didn't dare risk losing her job here until she'd finished photographing all the maps, so she had to be a model employee and that meant performing whatever duties Trabe found for her without complaint. Photographing maps the rest of the time and not leaving until everyone else left at six o clock.

She sighed with impatience, but nothing could dampen her mood right now. She had her head phone play one of her favourite pieces of music, therefore, before rolling up the map. She didn't replace it where she'd found it, though, but leaned it against the wall beside the window where she'd be able to find it again. Then she fetched the next one and unrolled it on the table.