Calyn stared at Chatter. Chatter stared back. They blinked an eye. Calyn pointed and laughed.

“I win!” she said.

Chatter looked over at Trish and signed, ‘She won.’

The three of them were in the back of Alsom’s milk wagon.

‘You’re very kind,’ Trish signed back.

‘You can play too,’ Chatter signed.

Trish turned her head away.

Alsom cleared his throat. He was driving the wagon and seemed a little uncomfortable with his daughter playing with a demon. “Be nice to our guests now, ye hear? Dedicated expects us to give ‘em some fine hospitality.”

Chatter nudged Trish to get her attention, then translated this to Trish before saying, signing as they did, “Thank you, Alsom, but I’m having a wonderful time with your daughter. She has a very strong spirit! You should be proud.”

Trish prodded Chatter, then signed, ‘Don’t talk about spirits out here. I don’t think it’ll go over well.’

‘Like you know anything about country folk.’

Alsom said, “Well! Well, I suppose I should be proud, comin’ from a weirdwarden. That’s a mighty fine compliment, goodsir.”

Chatter signed that to Trish along with ‘told you so’ and said, “Ah, you flatter me, but I am only a contracted laborer. Trish here is the weirden.”

“Weirdin’?” Alsom asked. “Is she doin’ it now?”

Chatter paused before signing it to Trish, being sure to spell out Alsom’s pronunciation of weirding.

‘Accent?’ Trish asked.

‘Yes,’ Chatter signed, and added, ‘I think our little portmanteau of weirden hasn’t made it out into the countryside yet. Should I explain, Warden?’

Trish nodded, curious. She’d never met anyone unfamiliar with weirdens before.

Chatter said, “You’ve noticed I act as Trish’s interpreter, yes?”

Calyn said, “Is that what all the-“ she flailed her hands, “is?”

“Precisely.”

“How come she doesn’t just talk?” Calyn asked.

Trish snorted. ‘She’s so blunt. It’s adorable.’

Alsom said, “Calyn! That’s very rude.”

Chatter said, “It’s a fair enough question, goodsir. She doesn’t talk because she is deaf. About half the weirdwarden are. I’m how she hears and speaks.”

Trish signed, ‘Don’t get full of yourself.’

Chatter added, “Well, most of the time.” They smiled cheekily at Trish, who rolled her eyes fondly.

“Well I’ll be!” Alsom exclaimed. “Half! Why is that?”

Chatter said, “No one knows for sure. Some say, when a sense is missing, the weirding sense can become very powerful. But others say that weirding is just living in the spaces that don’t usually get lived in, and that’s easier to do when you don’t live like most folks.”

‘Please. I’m just that special,’ Trish signed jokingly.

“Weirdwardens all know Selton Sign Language or have contracts who do. And since weirdwarden is a mouthful, or rather, a handful,” they demonstrated the sign again, slower, “we shorten it down to one motion that means weirdwarden,” they demonstrated the portmanteau slowly, “but translates in the spoken word to weirden. So if you ever hear me say weirden, that’s all I mean.”

“But what if she is weirdin’?” Calyn asked.

Chatter smiled. Their smile was a little unnerving, on account of too many teeth. “You’ll be able to tell if things are getting weird, believe me.”

“Are ye weird?” Calyn asked.

‘Most definitely,’ Trish signed, amused.

Chatter said, “Why do you ask?”

“Cause ye got five eyes an’ red fur an’ pointy teeth an’ horsey ears an’ hooves an’ all.”

“I see. Yes, you’re right. I am weird.”

She evaluated them. “Weird’s not so bad,” she decided.

Trish beamed.

Calyn continued, “We met a weird man yestermorn.”

Alsom said, sharply, “We’re not talkin’ bout him right now, dear.”

Calyn frowned. “Yes, Pa.”

Chatter and Trish exchanged looks.

Trish signed, ‘I don’t think she knows he’s dead. I suppose they’re trying to keep it a secret.’

Chatter signed, ‘We might have a problem when we get there, then.’

Trish nodded, then turned away to think on it. She fell asleep after a few minutes. It had been an early morning on not much sleep.

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It was getting dark by the time they arrived in Galesvryg. Alsom took them straight to the Reeve’s house, which was on the outskirts of the little town.

“Ye’ll be stayin’ with the Reeve,” he said, pulling up in front of the house.

Chatter carefully eased the sleeping Calyn off of them, where she had been snuggled into their fur, and signed this to Trish.

Trish signed, ‘Perfect. That gives us a chance to look at the body tonight.’

Chatter gave her a look. ‘Surely that can wait until the morning. You’re exhausted and you haven’t eaten since breakfast.’

‘I slept on the train and in the wagon. But…’ she hesitated, ‘Yes, fine, we’ll have a small snack, if we can impose on our hosts.’

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Flip answered the door with a bustle of hospitality. “Oh, welcome, welcome-“

He stopped and stared at Chatter.

Chatter swept into a bow and began signing as they spoke. “Greetings, honored host. I am Chatter, but for the purpose of this trip, I am merely an interpreter for Warden Trish. Please speak directly to her.”

Flip recovered and turned to Trish. “Oh, of course. Forgive my rudeness, Warden. I meant no disrespect. It’s just been so long since we’ve had a weirden I’d forgotten about the contracts. I’m Flip. Reeve Brody’s my husband.”

‘It’s forgiven and forgotten,’ Trish signed. ‘Thank you for taking us into your home in such a trying time.’

Alsom grunted as he got the last of the bags off the wagon. “There we are. I think that’s all. We’ll jest be off then, Warden, thankee.”

Trish signed, ‘Thank you for the ride, Alsom. And Calyn, thank you for being such good company! Are you sure there’s nothing we can do to repay you for your kindness?’

Alsom waved a hand. “Please, Warden, it was nothin’.”

Flip said, ‘Alsom, are you staying somewhere in town? We can’t have you going all the way back home at this time of day. We might be a bit cramped here but-“

Alsom smiled. “Don’t ye worry bout it, Flip. The Dedicated’s offered us to stay over.”

He tipped his hat, hopped on the cart, and with a slow clip clop, the donkey towed its passengers away.

Chatter said, “Where can we put our bags?”

Flip held up a hand. “Oh no, please. Allow me to move them for you. Why don’t you go on in? Brody’s just inside fussing over snack plates. I’m sure you must be hungry.”

‘The best hosts are mind-readers,’ Trish signed. ‘We would be most grateful. Thank you.’

Trish entered the house. It was lit through by crystal lamps that hummed quietly with magic. She was surprised by how modern it was, after being confronted by the donkey-drawn milk wagon. There was the family room immediately to the right, and the kitchen was plainly visible through a door in its far wall. She smelled something amazing and led Chatter inside.

Reeve Brody looked up from where he sat at the table.

“Warden, welcome-“ he froze when Chatter entered the kitchen.

Trish, her eyes focused on the plates of food, missed his reaction, leaving the introductions to Chatter. She quickly took a seat and started to eat. She groaned in delight.

‘This is above and beyond,’ she signed, looking up. She slowed eating when she realized Chatter hadn’t taken a seat yet and Brody sat rigid across the table from her.

Trish frowned. ‘Is there something wrong?’ she asked.

Brody said something, then looked frustrated when she said nothing. Chatter moved so Trish could see them both but stopped when Brody pointed at them. They didn’t translate, their shoulders raised, ears flat, and their body stiff with tension.

Trish rapped on the table. Both looked at her. She waved between them and pointed at her ears before signing, ‘If there’s a problem here, tell me about it before it gets worse.’

She pointed at Brody. ‘You first. Reeve Brody, I presume?’

Chatter began interpreting again.

Brody said, “I understand that demons are a fact of life in the city, Warden, but out here people don’t understand. You need to send it away.”

Chatter hesitated, then added, ‘I don’t think he knows how rude such a request is. He’s clearly unsettled by me. But I must stay with you.’

They signed again, agitated, ‘I must!’

Trish signed, ‘Be easy, Chatterwell. I won’t dismiss you so easily. Clear?’

Chatter signed, ‘Clear.’ Their body language relaxed.

Trish turned to Brody, fixing her attention on him so she made it clear who she was addressing. ‘I don’t need them to understand for me to be effective,’ Trish said. ‘But I do need Chatter. They allow me to effectively communicate in a timely and mana responsible way. In case you didn’t realize, let me gently remind you that I am deaf, Reeve.’

“You could write on paper. We could all write on paper,” he said, studiously avoiding eye contact with Chatter. Easier said than done sometimes.

‘What are the literacy rates out here?’ Trish asked pointedly.

Brody shook his head. “Anything is better than another weird thing, Warden. If you’re not careful, this… demon might be blamed.”

‘If you truly believe you don’t need more weird, you shouldn’t have called in a weirden,’ Trish said.

Brody sighed, burying his face in his hands. “You weren’t exactly my idea, Warden. I wanted a hunter.”

Trish snorted. ‘You wanted a mundane hunter with traps. Instead you got a weird deaf girl with a demon. And I wanted someone who knew what they were getting into. Instead I got you. I think we might be in the same boat.’

Brody’s lips quirked up. “When you put it like that…”

They looked at each other in a moment of shared humor.

Trish, not unsympathetic, signed, ‘Can you work with what you’ve got, Reeve? I think I can.’

He looked at Chatter in trepidation. “I’ll try. I guess we’ll see.”

Trish nodded. ‘We will see. In fact, let’s go see now.’ She polished off the last bite of salami.

“See what now?”

She stood up and stretched. ‘The body, of course. Thank you for the food.’

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The oil lamplight was steadier than candle flame, but Trish still squinted. They were in the morgue, a small hut on the top of a rocky scree far enough from the town to make people less nervous about the living dead. Brody did have a key to it after all. The body was laying on one of the two slabs carved through with preservation and clarity runes. They were reasonable quality, but a crystal light would still short them out. Trish thought it was funny how she’d never noticed how good the electrical lighting in Selton morgues were until she found herself in one without it.

As Trish pulled on her gloves, she sniffed the air and made a face. She checked the runes that prevented the corpse from smelling of corpse, but they were functioning.

She signed, ‘Where is that spoiled milk smell coming from? I’m sure it’s not the body.’

Brody, lurking by the door with his arms folded tight over his chest, said shortly, “Ask Alsom.”

Trish gave him a puzzled look. ‘Okay then. Are you ready?’

Brody snapped, “Kid, I’ve been on the job twenty years. Course I’m ready.”

Chatter paused. “Are you sure you want me to say that?”

Brody glanced at them. His annoyance faded to caution as he looked at the demon. As fresh-faced as she was, weird as she was, the kid was a Warden. Some respect was owed.

He uncrossed his arms with a sigh and said, “No. I’m sorry. This is difficult for me. Please tell her I’m ready when she is.”

Trish nodded. She pulled the sheet down in a precise but gentle movement.

There lay Pol, still in his milk-stained clothes. The runes did their work keeping the effects of time from eating away at him, so Trish was clearly able to see the blood on his ears and the black spiderwebbing around his shut eyes. She gently raised his eyelids, leaning over him to look into his eyes.

She stepped back, looking at Brody. ‘You didn’t need me to confirm this death. You already know what’s caused this. I’m here because I’m deaf, yes?’

His jaw tightened. “Yes,” he admitted.

‘How is it that you’re familiar with the marks of a banshee?’

“It happened before. Twenty years ago. Give or take.”

She nodded. ‘I’ll need that story soon. But not at night. And definitely not tonight. We should return to the house quickly. It wouldn’t be good for you two to be caught outside.’

Trish turned back to Pol. She took one last look at his white milky eyes before shutting them. She peered at his ears, noting the blood stains running out and down his neck. Then she put a hand on his head, bowed her head, and stood in silent witness of his death.

When she was finished, she pulled the sheet back over the top of his head, pulled off her gloves, and put them into a small drawbag embroidered with a ‘D’. This she handed to Chatter, who held it in their hand for a moment and then didn’t in the next.

She turned to Brody. ‘You’ve told everyone to stay indoors past midnight?’

His face twisted. “No. They usually do anyway and… I don’t want a panic.”

She signed, ‘I disagree with your decision. I think what you’re doing is reckless. I think you’re lucky this poor fool thought he could go out under a sliver of a moon, because now you know what’s potentially waiting for the full moon in two weeks.’

Brody bristled.

Trish continued, ‘But ultimately that’s not my concern. I’m here for the weird. Mundanes aren’t within my jurisdiction.’

“Good,” Brody said. “I don’t need you scaring people.”

She looked at him steadily. ‘Know this: if I determine that the people of this town are acting to disrupt the natural order of the weird, then a response is my prerogative.”

Brody squared his jaw. “I won’t let it come to that, Warden.”

Trish looked solemn. ‘I hope not.’

----------------------------------------

Flip showed Trish and Chatter to a bedroom across the hall from the master bedroom upstairs. Trish tapped the rune by the door, illuminating the room with clumps of crystal scattered around, some on shelves, others suspended from the ceiling, and more lining the floor along the wall. In the warm bright glow, Trish looked at the shelves with books ranging from children’s to adults, the stuffed animals on the bed, and the painted vines and animals on the wall.

She signed, ‘You have a child?’

Chatter dropped the bags at the foot of the bed then signed.

Flip smiled. “Rill. He’s staying with my parents in Selton for the week. Well, I say he’s staying with them, but I believe he’s mostly with his friends and only going home to eat, sleep, and bathe. You know how it is with university kids.”

Trish nodded and looked at the stuffed animals with a smile.

Chatter flung themselves into an armchair in the corner of the room, signing as they said, “How convenient. Now you don’t have to worry about your child dying.”

Trish wasn’t looking. She was picking stuffed animals off the bed with a smile.

Flip heard though. He winced. “I- yes.” He looked out the window at the lights of the village. “How convenient for us.”