Adeline

The night before leaving Palisade for Amalia, my mother came to see me. Not to say goodbye, but to tell me she wouldn’t be at the docks the next morning to say goodbye. There was no way she could miss a meeting with her Consulates for that, so I smiled and said it was fine, and while I agonized over which boots to bring with me, she stood around and said things like, “Aren’t you worried you’ll only get in the way?” and, “What could they possibly want with you?”

Well, I was certain Enforcer Rhian would be happy to see me even if she wouldn't show it, and Councilwoman Adelaide Blanchett wasn’t qualified to judge anyone. She couldn't see anything past her own feet.

Other than what we'd learned in class about the weather in Amalia, I didn't know much about my exotic new destination, so while I had the chance, I asked my mother for information. She clicked her tongue and said, “In the upper echelon, Adeline, Amalia is known for its backwater villages full of superstitious people who believe Partisans are cursed and unholy. You’ll be begging to come home within a week.”

If I didn’t already think she was hoping I'd never return home, I may have thought she was trying to get me to stay. My sister was a more suitable successor, anyway. Not to mention—superstitions? Curses? It all sounded so wonderful, and I couldn’t wait to prove my mother and the people of Amalia wrong.

It was mid-afternoon on that frosty walk with Feargus Finlay, and the city of Jaska was finally in sight. The outer walls were grey, the roads were grey, the peaks of the buildings were grey, and it was nothing like I’d imagined. Cities represented progress, and they were supposed to be vibrant and packed with productive, cheerful people. They were supposed to be filled with cute curio shops and bakeries with their goods on display. I considered the possibility that my perception was being influenced by the sun-goggles, so I raised them, but when that only made things worse, I lowered them again.

“It’s so… functional,” I said. “And all that stone? Well, I’ll bet the architecture is lovely.”

“Don’t worry. It’s a lot more interesting on the inside.” Feargus Finlay patted my shoulder. “Promise.”

“I believe you, but I’m curious: did you mean that literally or figuratively?”

Feargus Finlay nodded, and when we finally stepped through the city gates, I couldn’t believe my eyes.

I lifted my sun-goggles and rested them against my forehead. I’d trade pain for pleasure, because the walls were grey, the streets were grey, and the buildings were grey, but the windows were stained in more colours than I could name. Everywhere I turned, there were glass paintings of birds, and flowers, and the occasional olive-skinned woman with brown hair. I squinted through the sunlight at all of them.

“The stained glass was Alexander's idea a long, long time ago,” Feargus Finlay said. “I thought you might find that interesting.”

“I find it fascinating,” I replied, and then I wondered, “Would you want to live forever? Not tortured like the Anima, but just forever?”

“Aye, sure. I’d get a lot done in forever.”

“I was thinking the same.”

Entering into large groups of people as a telepath was aggravating for most of us, and enough to drive some straight to the asylum. Imagine each individual's thoughts as a bee buzzing around in each ear, and imagine each of those bees buzzing to a different rhythm. The more advanced noise control techniques involved drawing each buzz into the other. The collective buzz was constant, quiet, and there was only one.

I felt better after approximately five minutes, and as we continued our journey through Jaska, I was invigorated by the idea of living in the city. I’d never been shopping, and even though many of the merchants in the market had their signs tucked away somewhere and their stalls covered in unappealing brown tarps, we passed an apothecary, a bookshop, and a store with knick-knacks in the window that seemed interesting. I wasn’t given much allowance to consider spending it on luxuries already, so as we navigated a labyrinth of alleys not too far from the Three Drinks Tavern, I fantasized about simply browsing until I realized—

“Will I be getting paid?” I asked.

“Better than most,” Agent Finlay kept his voice low. “But unless you plan on using my, ‘There must have been a mix-up,’ line the next time you run into a loyalist, you’re technically defected from Palisade now. You have to be careful, my new best friend. Faust has people in all sorts of places. Do you remember everything else we talked about?”

“I think so,” I said.

“Good.” Feargus Finlay grinned. “Because we’re here.”

We stopped in front of a lonely door with a stained-glass goose on the window.

The bees in my head, the butterflies in my belly, the ants in my pants—I was an emotional mess, and it was all so exciting. Feargus Finlay promised he'd be in touch soon, so I waved goodbye to my new best friend, smiled at the goose on the door, and reached for the handle.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

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Through the door with the goose on the window, I hurried down a short corridor until I reached another door with a goose on the window. According to Feargus Finlay, the second door would be locked, so I stored my sun-goggles away in my pocket, and because it was the polite thing to do, I took my hat off, too. The instructions were clear, so I knocked once on the window, paused, knocked twice on the door, paused, and then I knocked once more on the window.

There was a click, and the door opened to a candlelit foyer with two sets of leather chairs on either side and an Amali man in a perfectly tailored pinstripe suit behind the desk ahead. I wondered what his name was, and if he grew up in the city, and if he came from a big family.

The door closed and clicked behind me, and I made a mental note to examine that mechanism more closely at another time.

I approached the desk, smiled, and spoke the pass-phrase according to Feargus Finlay. “What’s good for the goose is good for the gander and vice versa. I’m looking for a job.”

There was a pause while the handsome man appraised me. He quirked an eyebrow. “They’re going to like you.”

“That’s wonderful to hear, but how could you possibly know that? We’ve only just met.”

“We don't have any redheads right now,” he replied. “And you're gorgeous.”

"Thank you.” I flashed the man a Blanchett family smile. "And I think you have a symmetrical face and a lovely complexion, but I’m not here to entertain people with my above average physical appearance. I’m here to work as a bartender.”

After a moment, the man smiled. “Yeah, this should be interesting. Wait here.”

The receptionist disappeared down the corridor to the right.

As the time went on, the insects in my body settled down. The velvety atmosphere was soothing, and my new co-worker seemed so nice. I was eager to get inside. While I waited, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my multi-purpose compact mirror—much like the one I’d given Enforcer Rhian. I peered up my nose for any unwanted guests, checked my teeth, adjusted a few curls, and at the sound of footsteps, closed the compact.

The receptionist turned the corner and returned to his desk. The woman that followed was short and round, and she wore her chestnut hair piled on her head, a pair of wire spectacles, black trousers with suspenders, and a black-and-white checkered blouse. She smiled when she saw me, and I found her rosy cheeks becoming, especially as she didn’t appear to be wearing any makeup.

The woman introduced herself as Tanis, and I introduced myself as Abigail Blaise.

“Blaze?”

“Almost,” I said. “Only, it's with an ‘i’ and an ‘s’. Blaise—it’s Delphi.”

“Is that right?” Tanis replied. “Well, with hair like that, it’s Blaze. Come on, dear, let’s get comfortable.”

Before turning the corner with Tanis, I waved goodbye to the receptionist.

The floor in the lounge was shinier than the one in the lobby, the leather chairs looked more comfortable, and the tables had clear glass surfaces with winding wrought iron bases. There was, of course, the beautiful mahogany bar, where I assumed I’d be working, and in the centre of it all, a circular platform. Growing up, I’d sneak into my mother’s bedroom and borrow her risqué romance novels. I understood on a rudimentary level what a brothel was, but I was quickly learning I couldn’t depend on the stories. I’m not ashamed to admit, I was disappointed when there weren’t any naked people. In fact, there weren’t any people at all, but there were several doors around the room, and Tanis took me through the first one to the left.

After hanging my coat, we settled in the office where there was an organized desk, three potted plants, and the glowing opportunity to enjoy one of those chairs from the lounge. It was an agonizing walk through the snow from the cabin, and I’d finally come to terms with the fact that I’d selected the incorrect pair of boots. I breathed a sigh of relief when I sank into the cushion. My feet throbbed and my legs were numb, and even though I longed to stretch them out, I sat with a straight posture and my knees together, and I smiled through the pain.

Tanis, ignoring her desk, chose the chair beside mine, and she placed her spectacles on her head.

“All right, Miss Blaze. Do you know anything about mixing drinks? Honestly, I was expecting a Strachan.”

“I know almost nothing about mixing drinks,” I said. “But I have a knack for combining substances to achieve desired effects, and I don’t believe mixing beverages is much more complicated than that. Overall, it would be less dangerous.”

“Sounds good,” Tanis said. “We’ll figure it out as we go. Your can-do attitude and sunny disposition will make up for the rest.”

I beamed. “That’s kind of you to say.”

“Sure.” Tanis chuckled. “Anyway, the real reason you’re here—the murders.”

“There have been murders?” I asked. “Here?”

“Not here, but the guards have been investigating a string of suspicious deaths around the city.”

“What makes the deaths suspicious?”

“The victims were strangled with a belt.”

“Oh.” I nodded. “I see.”

“Normally it’d be none of my business,” Tanis continued. “But the victims are all clients.”

“There’s no chance it could be a coincidence, statistically speaking? Given the delightful nature of your business, I’m certain you have plenty of clients. Unless, do you think the murderer is an employee?”

“It could be a coincidence; it could be an employee; it could be another client. I don’t have time to think about it, Abby Blaze. But if there is a connection, or if there’s a reason for the city to think there’s a connection, we need to know before they do.”

“I understand perfectly, and I will do everything I can to learn about the other employees, the victims, and our clients while also mastering the art of bar service.”

It seemed as if Tanis was about to stand. “Wait—Delphi? We’ve never had a Delphi around here. You’re the ones who read minds, right?”

“Well, in a sense, yes. But—“

“Have you been reading mine?”

“Of course not,” I said. “That would be rude.”

It was a misconception that all telepaths had access to all thoughts, at all times. It was far more complicated than that, and besides, most of us had common courtesy and respect for personal boundaries.

Tanis smiled, offered me her hand, and like Feargus Finlay suggested, I matched her strength when we shook. “Welcome to the Goose and the Gander, Abby Blaze. Let's go meet the others.”