Coffee Stained Pages
Part 1
Lilla Somn

Cover designer Lilla Somn

© Lilla Somn, 2025

© Lilla Somn, cover design, 2025

ISBN 978-5-0067-1889-0 (т. 1)

ISBN 978-5-0067-1890-6

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

Light 1. Ami in the hole

Ami walked to the edge of the forest, thoughtful.

The day was gloomy, but inside, it seemed, a luminary of hope began to rise. An annoyed kantinian waved it away.

“Please roll back into the swamp. And don’t show your face again. How many times have you done this suddenly, when it seemed that I was going to succeed? How many times have I had this vain hope”…

…However, the news was interesting…

The Temples of Prime, Omill, Kantine and Zeth exchanged service people.

“To improve networking and simplify interactions,” is written in the general message. Well… A very vague formulation, what can one say.

But you don’t give a damn if you’ve been chosen to represent the Kantine Department.

And we have to go to Omill! Not bad! To put it mildly…

And it’s absolutely awesome when you are ready to go literally anywhere, just not to stay here.

What does Ami remember about Omill from her last business trip?

It’s a pretty quiet and nice place, there’s not much lawlessness and the Temple staff is small. They are mainly involved in logistics, checking and accounting for cargo passing through town and patrolling the local woods to see if anyone has got lost or into trouble…

Something like that. Sounds a bit boring. But truly anything is more fun than the usual local land disputes and accounting for food shipments in caravans.

…Exchange of service people, hmm.

Some of these poor losers will end up here. Although for many, this is not such a big problem. There is even such a concept as the ‘simple life’, which people from all over the Mainland come to Kantine in search of.

To live freely, to build one’s own big house in the middle of vast fields. To work for oneself on one’s own plot of land, to be dependent on no one, to grow one’s own food, to eat heartily, to admire nature at sunset, to sleep well after a hard day. To communicate with ordinary people, simple, straightforward hard workers, nothing extra…

At least that’s what it looked like in theory.

Ami’s life did not resemble this bookish idyll at all. She avoided construction sites, harvesting and socialising. Maybe that’s why life here has never been “easy” for her.

Perhaps for some people, it was a good idea to calm down after an eventful life. But for the young, active Ami who was born here and had already had enough of this “simplicity” and predictable regularity, this was the real “complexity”.

In addition to external conflicts, it was torn apart by numerous internal ones. Excessive “peace” also does terrible things to people. Especially those who are not yet ready for it. Those who have not yet had enough of all the worries that distract those who are not yet ready to calm down and watch the chthonic monsters that live there begin to emerge from the depths of their souls…

Probably, Ami’s “replacement”, who will arrive from Omill, will be somewhat similar to Ami herself, who loves courier work, does not disdain operational work and knows not only her native language.

However, it is not difficult to learn the most popular languages: Kantinian, Omillian, Zetish and Primish. They are grammarly so close to each other that it is unclear how learning languages could even become a problem for someone.

Only if this one doesn’t want to. Or a group of people, not finding other, more constructive points of contact, decides to form a “commune of the chosen ones” on this basis.

So… Primish language is the closest to Kantinian. The language of the persecuted witches has not deviated much from the original. The differences were only in a number of words – their pronunciation and use. And they are just as big as in other languages, and not as big as the Kantinians wanted to show with all their appearances, demonstrating that they do not understand the speech of strangers at all.

“Can’t these clayheads speak normally! Why distort our words so stupidly? Sounds like a moron.” – was the aunt’s vivid indignation.

At a young age, as was her sad habit, the addicted Amelia was unable to choose one language and had begun to study them all at once. The textbooks were hard to find, but nothing is impossible if you set your mind to it. You can find it even in the shed of your house.

So, with youthful enthusiasm, Amelia set about studying everything she could get her hands on, and soon began to confuse languages, unconsciously switching from one to the other, causing another barrage of ridicule.

Even not mentioning this, Ami was already considered quite strange.

But the purpose was to make some efforts to end up speaking only Kantinian. She wanted to see the whole Mainland.

It is true that her pronunciation of non-native languages left much to be desired, as she taught them from old, half-decayed books that she was only able to find in the city Archives thanks to her perseverance.

And… with a huge help of notes from mother found in the barn. Which she was generally forbidden to approach. But once again her persistence paid off.

Then… another difficulty arose. Well, where without it. There was nowhere and no one to practise on.

For obvious reasons, aliens rarely appeared in Kantine, which was unfriendly to neighbouring witch cities. So Amelia had to grow up, enter the service of the Kantine Department of the Order, and give herself the opportunity to continue her own education. She acted as a courier between the towns, accompanying the trade caravans, and asking them for some assistance.

She was in the service of all kinds of business trips. It was the only one of her initiatives that her Department was enthusiastic about.

But still, it was beyond their comprehension. How could anyone want to tear themselves away from their native fields, drag themselves through hunger and lack of comfort to gnats knows where? Then they waste precious time on such nonsense as studying those idiotic, distorted dialects of those filthy “for-the-next-eternity-not-to-see-their-faces” witches. There were few. To be more precise, there were practically no such people willing.

And now… Well. Theoretically. Sort of… Kinda…

For Ami, there is the opportunity to go for half a big cycle with joy, envy and curiosity to have a close look at the life of such interesting and attractive “filthy witches” and to improve her language skills in Omill.

The vagabond always carried a few dried beans and a few trinkets from her travels to remind her that her way of life wasn’t the only way. There are other ways. More interesting, more joyful, more meaningful.

Somewhere, even if it is hard to find now, there is freedom and fresh new knowledge. And the main thing is not to stop jumping.

One day you can reach it by pumping your muscles. Or you can grow into it. Or you can accept failure, but first do your best.

“Yes. It doesn’t hurt to dream… It hurts a lot to fall back from a cloud. Nothing will work out again. It’s obvious. How many times has it happened that everything is going to get better, and… the bag is full of holes and gnat swamps. And no improvement of the situation at all… Our fate is still a sadistic humorist”.

Dreaming is good in this case.

Especially when life has squeezed you so tight that you can’t even move, and there’s nothing left but to dream. And if you really want to dream…

Then why not talk about Prime right away.

…Prime.

Ami closed her eyes.

The chic, charming city seemed like the ideal place to start a new life.

There is always a whiff of something that will provide her with a meaningful, promising and interesting existence and a worthy future.

The prospects are vast, like the unforgettable view from the cliff on which the city was built, of the endless Ocean and the equally endless and beautiful bottomless sky above. All this gave an exhilarating sense of freedom and unlimited possibilities in this incredible corner of the Continent. It is said that in the cold season, when there’s no clouds and no fog. From this height of a Mountain Prime you could see the Continent from the Wastelands almost all the way to Zeth, and even draw a map of it… Many who were able to catch this rare moment probably did.

To see the rest, one had to descend from these dizzy heights and go into the Northern Wastes beyond the high hills to Youlle or the Elven Forest. Then walk to Zeth and look over Mount Omill, go through the Great Forest.

But even if you don’t go far, Prime is a place where you can get a lot of information about anything in the Mainland without leaving the city. Practically, we can say that this is such an awesome enormous Archive.

It is not established with certainty who was more hungry for knowledge – the Prime academic witches or Ami, but the first ones, unlike her, had exactly what everyone needed. Information, which they painstakingly gathered from all possible sources and poured into the Prime Central Archive in deliciously wide streams and the Royal and University Libraries.

Knowledge here was truly power and wealth. Prime was not only a place to obtain information of a scientific, technical and magical nature, but also a large Market for trading information from all over the Mainland.

This was done by large, almost monarchical organisations like the VST Agency, as well as influential scientists and royal families, small offices and private intelligence agencies. Everyone who could was trying to find something, to find out something, to make a discovery, to profit from something… Of course, this was not without its intrigues and rivalries among the competitors.

Primers are obsessed with knowledge and information, and as it turned out, it was a valuable resource, thanks to which the city lived and prospered.

…Even for Amelia, who had no practical use for it, whose ever-hungry, inquisitive mind was in desperate need of new stimulation and nourishment, this approach was close at hand. Prime is the perfect place for people like her.

A city of ageless students. Ami walked for a long time between the buildings of the educational institutions, mingling with the crowds of students, anxiously hurrying somewhere, imagining that she was also hurrying somewhere, alone. For something meaningful and interesting… What can you get now if you go into one of those carved towers, get a stack of tablets full of tasty knowledge and disappear from this world, swept away by an exciting stream of new, tasty information. Like a speck of dust in the rays of light passing through those beautiful, infinitely varied, multicoloured windows of which there were so many in this City…

…The Kantinian sighed dreamily.

This is life! Damn it. Somewhere… Where she is not.

Well… Let’s return to some positive and pleasant thoughts, if there are any.

About food. Food for a stomach, not just food for thoughts. Food is fine, you can’t go wrong with it.

Prime includes chic restaurants and refectories. Local magical fruit dishes, famous for strange and unusual combinations, refined and simple, traditional and regularly appearing innovative, which were an eternal reason to snort for those who preferred simple and satisfying vegetable dishes from the Kantine. If Ami had enough dried herbs and grains to trade, and enough time to try everything… she would probably go mad with happiness, because there would be no more pipe dreams in her life.

Eating and wandering around the city had always been her favourite pastimes.

Here, the pleasure was multiplied tenfold. An incredibly bizarre architecture, Om houses that could hardly be mistaken for dwellings, a fairy-tale city that could already boast of magnificent views beyondeven on the approaches to the city, with a huge number of coloured stripes of fabric and ribbons stretching across the streets, fluorescent plants of different colours and glowing witch lanterns that looked absolutely fantastic at sunset, attacking the visual receptors with a rainbow of coloured pebbles on the paved paths. Incredibly beautiful stained-glass windows and shining glaze covering the buildings complete the picture perfectly.

An enchanting, hypnotic sight that for a long time took away the will and the desire to live… somewhere else.

The Om houses themselves and their interiors were the main source of pride for those who owned them. Everyone tried to build something fundamentally new and different from their neighbours. As a result, the shapes varied – from buildings that looked more like strange vegetables or local sweets, to transparent structures, looked like the crystals of the Zeth Mountains, they all attracted the eye for a long time. Witches could take some liberties with reality.

All this was already amazing, even if one had never seen one of the bright and abundant local festivals with all kinds of entertainment and delicacies…

Ami sighed enviously.

…Prime also meant for her five unsuccessful attempts to settle there, the complete collapse of all hopes for the aforementioned bright future and a dull resignation to the dark present…

“I’m going to sit here, in this beautiful place near my personal swamp, and I’m not going anywhere. I’ve had enough of this…”

Ami reached her only true love in these places – the soothing green edge.

…When she was a teenager, her parents threatened her to be taken to the edge of the forest and given to the elves, if she continued to be naughty. When she grew up, she did not stop being naughty. And also began to come to the Forest herself, hoping that the elves would take her.

Of course, no miracle happened. Again.

But Ami found a wonderful place for herself, which helped her a lot to come to her senses and calm down.

Thoughtfully, Kantinian sat down on the log, slided down to a comfortable half-lying position, and exhaled, staring at the sky and the treetops…

…This place consoled her every time she came here with confused feelings, it was the only being that understood her, giving her, if not rest and inspiration, then mind saving indifference to the world.

…which helped her not to go mad after each successive failure…

She had already internally agreed to this swamp, a “pit” with slippery slopes, having decided in some kind of humble detachment that if she sits here until the end of her days, then so be it.

Without wasting any more strength and nerves, she will do it with maximum indifference.

She will not struggle to climb and slide down again.

…Everything is pointless. Everything is meaningless…

Everything in this life.

And Ami gave up her long-held idea of running away from here, and let herself be drawn into a boring daily routine in the form of her relatives, into plans to renovate their shared house. They lived with their whole large, unfriendly family, according to the bad old Kantine tradition.

And… That’s it. Sometimes it’s just simple like that and there’s nothing else.

…And it was definitely the Bottom…

Now Amelia knew what it looked like. And could examine its slippery, viscous base in detail. Feel with her cheek the wet, viscous cold of despair slowly seeping into her core…

For there she lay, face down, turning away from the hideous, eternally inaccessible light of hope shining from above.

…Remarkable cosmetic procedures, you know. Quite effective.

Nothing is scary or unnerving. The frost is an excellent painkiller. Her life is over.

The body moves, breathes and fusses, but there is a grave cold and stillness inside it. Everyone’s gone. To a better place. Empty body, empty mind. No more bold ideas. No more tries. It has not led to good results.

What’s left will perform tasks and do what is necessary, but no more.

So Ami has escaped. Mentally.

“Wake her up when it’s over’.

This breakdown came after her failed attempt to get a job in Prime.

Was it her fault? Yes and no. If she had witchcraft skills, things could be different, she could be a student or a service woman in any witch city she likes.

She wouldn’t even have to escape her hometown. She would have simply been thrown out of here by her neighbours and relatives. And they would even give us some food for the journey. Exile would at least be an unequivocal, direct and explicit rejection. No half measures, no manipulations.

They just go. There’s not that awkward case when nobody’s interested in your presence, but nobody wants you to leave. Your relatives and homeland suddenly desperately need you. You might be useful in different weird ways. To look better against your background at least.

Since time immemorial, all Kantinians with witchcraft gifts have been banished.

“Don’t expect any good from a witch,” they said.

Well. Ami would expect. She was jealous of the exiled witches.

It could be like an endless holiday. You were kicked outside the Kantine and there’s no choice – stay in the familiar warmth of your swamp or get out – but one – where to go next.

Most chose obvious Prime to develop their skills and find a new place in their suddenly broadened horizons.

Exiled ones became the very witches, whose services proud Kantinians used in critical cases, forgetting about their dislikes and beliefs, their “unshakable’ traditions that were the bedrock of family and society.

Yeah. Comfort is much more important.

Ami could be one of the fortunate few… no, she couldn’t. Don’t believe the ones who tell you you can do everything. No you can’t.

Because life is life and everything’s not that optimistic and joyful as it first seemed, that’s what you learn when you grow up.

Without work, there is nothing to do in any big city. If you do not benefit the place and its inhabitants, no one will register you as a citizen or give you temporary accommodation.

Parasites are not welcomed anywhere. And as an ignoramus, you will soon find yourself back in the Kantine, again and again, and there is enough work for everyone, plenty of agrarian jobs in one of the largest city-states.

(and the most boring. According to Ami).

Of course, there are other options… Zeth, Lim and… just a deep Forest. Here, without human society as the main source of constant stress, everything gets easier.

The outcast feels kind of loved and supported here. Finally. Don’t know why, but it’s fine not knowing, it’s just fine here.

All these jumps, antics and attempts to escape or settle down somewhere else now look simply ridiculous. It’s good to be here. Sociophobic Amelia had troubles with people. And people are in every city. And so the problems are.

It won’t magically get better anywhere except in the forest, of course. She knew it somewhere deep inside. Everything will be the same in Omill and everywhere else.

She will bring herself and her depression everywhere. It will never be easier anywhere she goes.

New attempts to catch on and adapt, new awkward situations that contribute to uniformly covering oneself with shame from head to toe. Not as plentiful as on the first visits… but still in a fairly thick layer.

There’s no magic land and no perfect people. She will always be just a rejected weirdo everywhere. For everyone. Because it is how it is.

That’s why the main skill is to choose yourself, no matter what. Be the closest to yourself, because there is no one closer.

At least this thing is under control. So. One can come to terms with all this.

At least she has a home. At least she has a job. At least she’s an adult and can already argue a lot. And if she tries (to bite her tongue sometimes basically), she could even be finally accepted by family and neighbours.

And this seems to suit everyone. Her relatives have the workforce, and Ami has some stability. And she’s not disgracing herself more than usual here. It happens in old familiar ways.

So be it. She is still a Kantinian and values comfort and safety too. More than any abstract things.

Is this adulthood? Hmm. A frightening prospect, if you look at the local adults, faded from hard work and monotonous life.

That’s why this damned medium-urgent appointment to Omill looks double tempting, even if it contradicts a previously made “mature” decision…

What did she feel when the opportunity she was looking for came to her and poked her into her hands?

Grief. The most real grief. Intense bitterness and all-consuming resentment.

And now, more than anything else, she would like to throw this unsolicited handout from fate back into her maliciously laughing face.

“Take it and choke. Why even bother?! Why now?! I accepted my way and my life. I’m weak and tired. And desireless. There’s no joy or passion in it anymore… It’s pure mockery.”

But… Don’t be so bitter. Maybe we shouldn’t. It’s a… small mockery, you know. Just for half a large cycle…

…That’s enough to make gnats laugh!..

What can be accomplished in half a cycle?!

“Ah… really. What? Well… for example…

You could come back to admire the wonderful giant landmark mushrooms, lovingly grown in the city by witches, softly shimmering in different colours at sunset.

Drink refreshing drinks with local water…”

Yesss… By the way, the difference is striking! Sacred water, revered even by elves we have never seen, gives to all omillian dishes and drinks a special, unique fresh and slightly sweet taste. You won’t find anything like this anywhere, not joking.

“That’s my point.”

…May it all fly away to bog with gnats and swampers, anyway…

“Hold your gnats, Amelia. Do you remember that amazing huge lake?”

Of course she did. One can never forget such magnificence.

A huge pool of delicious life-giving water near the mountain. It inevitably made this city the capital of drinks and a place of pilgrimage for all those who tried once and became obsessed with Omill’s coffee.

Of course, the famous Omill green and ground coloured coffee was delivered to all the cities of the Mainland… But it lost a huge share of its flavour bouquet and witchiness, being served not fresh, just picked, not with local water and not according to any old selva recipe. And, on her own behalf, Ami would add that without being drunk at a street table in one of the many coffee shops in Omill under a huge landmark mushroom decorated with coloured lanterns. And also without local sweets – pressed from wild nuts, cereals, and berries.

…And let it all fall into the swamps…

“Ami? Can I talk to Ami, please?”

…Eat all the six-mouthed monsters…

“I already got the point. Stop it. How about… admiring the dark-skinned, smiling, joyful and slightly arrogant selvas?”

They are good looking ones. And, as if this were not enough, they are great singers and dancers, weavers, coffee makers… all of them are witches. It’s not a reason to go there, it’s a reason for envy, actually.

The internal dialogue was displaced by Ami’s memories.

These witch people didn’t live or come to Kantine often. The Kantinian still remembers how surprised and enchanted she was the first time seeing a living selva. It was rude to stare, but book pictures didn’t give any idea of what the selvas were really like. It’s… Like the difference between a map and a landscape.

Well, ghouls are with this damned appointment. Let it be.

Who is she trying to cheat? She will gladly get away from here again. Even being indifferent and powerless. Even if it’s not for a long time.

She will just go, just because. Whatever. Even for appearance’s sake. Just go there and come back with a dejected look: “I didn’t succeed again. It is fine.”

It’s not her coveted Prime, but at least it’s something.

…Damn Mother Universe with her stupid manner of care, feeding us not with something “tasty” we want, but something that corresponds to her perverted ideas about “healthy”…

…but “it is fine” again.

So, as it seems, despite the violent internal protests and seething hatred, there were obviously many good reasons for going to Omill.

What made Ami especially happy was that she would supposedly leave Kantine before the start of the Fertility Festival, hated to the point of gnashing teeth.

She almost forgot about it. Then… It was worth a lot!

It was even possible to simply go to Omill under this pretext and quickly come back here after that to continue to rot here.

At least minus one time of stupid songs, forced fun, accelerated by ale, unfunny jokes and inappropriate and unpleasant signs of attention and literally sickening round dances!

Good good. What could be better for the psyche than the absence of odes to one’s own unwanted fertility. This place already has enough of all types of fools.

“It’s not the city’s fault that you feel bad here. And not people. They get along well with each other. It’s like you’re something foreign here.” – she reminded herself. – “And not everything is black and white. This city has its own virtues. Here, in the Mainland’s food capital, you can be sure of tasty, nutritious food in abundance, quiet sunsets, walks in the Forest and flowery streets.”

Alrighty, but in order to try to avoid one day of fertility, one could agree to almost anything. Now we have no doubts.

Yes, it’s a big holiday for the locals. Many people look forward to it, and decorate their houses with bouquets of beautiful leaves and carved fruits, and prepare special foods and drinks. They get beautiful tablecloths and draperies, and dress themselves up too. Almost everyone here enjoys the lively jamboree, even people from neighbouring towns come to see it. Ami saw enough.

What kind of allergy is it? What’s so terrible about it? Why was she clinging to it now, when it was just happening in her head? Why not just walk by indifferently if you’re not really interested? Otherwise it means you’re still “interested”, you know, but in a perverted way. What is she resisting? Why?

No answers. But she can’t deny her eagerness to stay away from these pleasures. And she’s a great master of playing dead.

If something is systematically imposed on her, she will do her best to systematically avoid it.

Additional reason to escape the Fertility Festival is that those days made their mother nervous too. And even more withdrawn. This was something they had in common, but it didn’t bring them together at all.

Every big cycle Yvette simply locked herself in her room with a supply of food, tea, and… a hygiene bucket. And no amount of screams, threats, or persuasion from her relatives could lure her out of there.

However, persuasion-threats-screams were another holiday tradition, repeated from cycle to cycle, as stable as the very presence of a swamp holiday.

No one planned to stop it. Everyone seemed to love this boggy theatre.

Even the dialogues have not changed over time. Immortal recognized classic. And nobody ever got tired of this unfresh scenario.

The mother was asked not to disgrace herself in front of her neighbours. She answered in a calm voice that she would not disgrace herself, since from here she would not be able to greatly harm everyone who congratulated her on her still fertile age and the ability to reproduce further. She only went out at night to empty the bucket and threatened to douse its contents on anyone who interfered with her self-isolation.

Ami winced.

Every cycle of her life she felt as if she had already been doused from this same bucket. Desire to quickly remove herself far far away from home and the glorious traditions, ancestral memory and great city became almost invincible again. To find herself as far as possible from the concentration of those toxic things that already killed her morale.

Far away from the comfort of home. From the family bonds. From the mother with this permanent verbal and non-verbal hygiene bucket. Great.

On the other hand Amelia couldn’t say she doesn’t understand mother’s behaviour. It was probably painful for the older failed tramp to see her mistakes and especially one read-headed ridiculous reflection. No matter how hard she tried to forget who she was before, she wasn’t successful.

One can’t cheat one’s soul. She had to look. She had to look at all of them. Her past mistakes. Amelia was one of three. Mother made them systematically. For what’s sake? One never knows.

Maybe she believed that this would transform her from a fractious tramp into a respectable citizen. Maybe she wanted to be accepted in the house of her husband and in the city in general. But she didn’t succeed either.

And with new hope she switched to the desire to see her daughters become respectable plant growers and mistresses of the house and fields, she had never become herself.

Quite a dysfunctional family. Though… not everyone here was a failure.

Ami’s sisters were much more promising individuals. They fit well here.

Aunt Tata took her part in raising strong in body and spirit peasant women and hard workers.

For some reason this not-magic didn’t work with Ami. A bad seed. You can’t slap genes with a slipper, the mother should only be displeased with herself.

Can’t say Tata abandoned the attempts. Although nothing could be cut out of the grown-out part, persistent methodical attempts to tear it into shreds and sew it together in a new way were periodically renewed.

That’s why Ami tried to show herself as little as possible. Not to catch the eye of her family became her main goal, and she reached it by disappearing at work, in the Archive or, if she was really lucky, on a business trip.

And at her favourite secluded edge of the Forest, of course.

Under this delightful starry sky, among the trees and on the moss-smelling earth. Where one can stop to pretend “normal”, or try to hide away from everyone or to please someone if they got “caught”.

Isn’t it a wonder… This is probably only possible in communication with nature.

Everything is easier here. Just wander aimlessly and sing along with the voices in your head. The Forest will take you as you are, alive or dead, it doesn’t demand you to change, to “make an effort” and “stop being a bungler”, to behave, to be “as you should be” so that “it wouldn’t be ashamed in front of the sky” or something.

The Forest smelled wonderful and looked great. Maybe they must move to a Forest some day. It has food and answers to almost everything. Perhaps they would do it in the end, because none of the other cities like her either.

Or they can travel to the Ocean! Some maps say there’s a real unimaginably huge Ocean on the other side of the Forest! Imagine!

No, you can’t. Boundless spaces are hard to imagine. You have to see it for yourself.

Great thing is to look for elves who rush around here on their unknown business also. Ami’s never seen them ever in her life, but would really like to…

Well. Coming back to now. Still anxious. Why?

My eternally alert anxious mind, pray tell me what else you have in store? Let’s pour it out.

“Ok… What if… someone else is sent to Omill instead of us?”

Ha-ha. And ha. Who? There are no other weak-minded people in the area.

Everyone has business in their houses and plots, fields, families. No one wants to mess with these “helpless, clueless, stupid” witches. Nobody wants to adapt to new people, new language, new circumstances, new everything, no one wants to look ridiculous, feel the lack of the usual and necessary and the abundance of the incomprehensible. It’s a daily basis just for us.

It works here and there because nobody bothers to tell us what’s wrong, they need us to guess. So it’s a daily occurrence that we say and do something weird. It’s a daily basis of us suddenly becoming annoying troublemakers, even if we didn’t mean it, and most of the time we didn’t mean it, and having no clue what part of what you say or do is a trigger. A knowledge could at least be useful for analysis.

But even asking and analysing didn’t help and just made things worse. It’s a strange world. But maybe it’s a cursed gift to be a stranger anywhere in it.

Maybe.

So… Although her candidacy had not yet been officially approved, it was clear from the faces of our colleagues that they were relieved that it almost happened. In this situation, Ami was the invincible Stella the Clayhand. With whom no one fights. What’s next?

“Suns will rise.”

Wait? Really? Aye.

The first night lights appeared above the edge of the forest. If you sit a little longer, you can see how shining stars float into the sky on trails with a haze between them.

Perhaps it’s better this way… she doesn’t want to come home. She’s barely managed to calm down. And too weak to repel the attacks of her nosy loving family.

The fugitive didn’t want to listen again and again to the story about the complications with the roof repair due to her developed egoism and the lack of her not so skillful hands, la-di-da… If she is sent somewhere again, then most likely she wouldn’t return to the beginning of a new stage of (useless) construction and so on, and so on…

One answer to all of this is diligent passive-aggressively shirking. What? What did they expect from a careless mistress?

She was perfectly happy with the look and size of the house and her room. Enlarging the house and expanding their family would be extremely undesirable for many reasons. This family is already big enough to be disastrously annoying. And the house itself was sound and only needed cosmetic repairs.

Also there are much more interesting things in this life than getting bogged down in unnecessary things. So, whoever requires it… let them do this useless work.

And Amelia will wait until everyone falls asleep. It’s a good thing that Kantinians traditionally go to bed early, because the next morning most of them had a new day of work in the fields and gathering in the woods.

On the other hand, Ami’s habits did not exempt her from getting up early for work with everyone else. May the ghouls in the swamps gnaw at those who devised this routine so deadly to the body. And it’s not the first time she has anxious insomnia.

And not the last. She will survive anyway. Just like she did before.

Until she wouldn’t. Then she just wouldn’t. Why try to fight the inevitable?

Next one.

“Our superiors decide that the witches have come up with yet another stupidity, and they shouldn’t pay attention to this, nor to follow their lead… Or they will suddenly find out that there are not enough people here in the Department. And they desperately need this useless one. Or the Omillians will finally understand that working with an ignoramus is of no interest to them…”

Amelia didn’t answer, smirking vindictively at invisible Fate, demonstrating with her whole appearance that nothing would be able to disappoint her anymore.

It was simply ineffective and pointless to panic and freak out when you were already at the very bottom of your life’s expectations.

Instead, you need to keep your mind and hands busy. By starting to pack things, for example. It feels like escaping, it’s calming, and that’s exactly what we need. Even if the authorities don’t plan us to move to Omill tomorrow. Anyway, it’s time to finally go home and have some sleep.

The servicewoman stood up abruptly and reluctantly walked towards her dwelling. All the moons were hidden by clouds, and it was difficult to see the path, but the road was so familiar to her that she could walk there with her eyes closed if she wanted.

Literally. She tried. I only tripped a couple of times. She saw well in the dark.

Although, of course…

…The witch could now illuminate her way. Or stay away from these places.

The Kantinian quickly reached the partly undesired destination and quietly slipped inside. Luckily, there was no one in the corridor.

The tramp exhaled with relief.

She hurried into her room, hastily closing the door behind her.

The apathy that had become habitual in recent cycles was replaced by a weak but noticeable, somewhat malicious and gambling enthusiasm.

Let’s gooo! Now we’re talking.

Not hoping, not planning this time, just packing a bag full of our favourite things.

The unfortunate plant grower jumped to her feet a little energetically, glanced around the room eagerly and began to hum softly, unconsciously.

Interesting… She didn’t make it anywhere out of the Forest for a long time. She doesn’t sing in captivity.

Freedom seemed so close and almost tangible. But it was not the first time that she had been misled by her feelings and that her desires had been mistaken for reality.

Amelia quickly shook off the darkest storm cloud of depression that was creeping back into her soul.

Don’t get distracted… What to take and what to leave? Hm.

…The dictionary is definitely going in the bag first.

The avid bookworm picked up a large, tattered bundle of roughly stitched cloth. She turned it over respectfully, as if weighing it.

It had once belonged to her mother. Back when, according to unconfirmed rumours, she was still a normal person and not a swamp ghoul who had replaced her later. It is not clear where she got the copy, but you will not find a better source of information in Kantine. In fact, it was priceless. Any similar literature stored in the local Archives was almost completely useless. It is difficult to say why this was the case and what dominated these works – the number of errors or irrelevant topics.

This rare, valuable copy will come in handy. Because no matter how much you learn a language, you will still fall into a stupor when you need to say something immediately. Mean words quickly flee the battlefield.

And these ones are captured in the book. They have to serve and simply have no choice. And that’s why they will always come to the rescue.

Come on, good old tattered fellow… it’s not your fault that your ex is a grumpy fury. You are very useful and you will not bear collective responsibility.

Ok then. Who’s next?

Favourite shoes and clothes, of course. All travellers’ first friends. They’re comfortable and practical, even if they have holes in them and are sewn and glued over and over where possible. They’re in.

In our clothes bags. Which are also spacious and light, handy for any hike.

And an old, trusted, no less beloved blanket. It comes in handy anytime, anywhere. Even for sitting at rest stops.

This and that, we don’t take much… Don’t think we’ll stay long there.

But… have the feeling we’re missing something important.

Food. We need food!

The most important and enjoyable part of any event. This little journey is no exception.

Rarely would any Kantinian disagree with it, and in at least one thing Ami agreed with her compatriots. An absolutely sincere love of food.

So it was absolutely necessary to think about what hearty dried food she could steal from the family pantry. And put it in her omillian food bags.

Food bags are critical. She hasn’t learnt to wrap food and even drinks in big leaves like the graceful Selvas do.

But it is fiiine. That is not the only thing she will never be able to compare with the Selvas.

Ami took from the drawer the beautiful embroidered bags she had brought from the last Omill trip. It seemed they still had the smell of small flatbreads and takeaway pies. But no. They could only contain the spirit of Omill’s coffeehouses.

Hmm… It’s such a heartwarming memory… Especially in these dull Lands.

What else? Water bags. Of course.

Coffee-coffee-coffee… And our favourite shell cup, made from the shell of a local nut.

Did we leave our cup at work? Oh no… Let’s not forget it tomorrow. We need to make a mark on our hand…

No, we don’t! Luckily it’s here. On a table, behind the usual clutter. Waiting for something. And it looks like it’s getting ready too. Brilliant.

Come on, beauty. We’re going for a walk. Far away from here. Once again. I’m not leaving without you, you know that. Soon we will both be filled with exotic, delicious drinks.

Quick dopamine is a nice compensation for the bitterness of another fruitless movement to crawl out of this hole. Good, good…

What else?

Our typical travel checklist is somewhere at the bottom of this mess. Somewhere here, in the chaos of our life. Too tired to look for it, as always. So organised. Internal chaos often turns into external mess, there is nothing you can do about it.

There’s a writing tissue, stick and and some juice sticking out of the habitual tabletop clusterflip… Hm. Great. A cheerful company of writing instruments and materials is always welcome. Especially when your own memory isn’t too keen on keeping you company.

Amelia quickly walked back to the table and sharply pulled several pieces out of a pile of cut-up writing cloth. And of course what was on the top is immediately scattered on the floor.

Shhh… No noise, no noise…

Ami angrily picked up the out-of-control paper cutter and shook her finger at it. But it wasn’t the only troublemaker. The scraps of writing cloth, already covered with drawings, also ended up on the floor. Pieces of a unique map of the Continent made by mother. Her own work, torn and trampled by her own hands…

How symbolic.

Ami winced as if from a sudden spasm. The eternal victim of her own curiosity, she didn’t even want to recall the very episode, and quickly suppressed the feelings of guilt and anger and shoved them into a travel bag along with the pieces of the map.

…Maybe we can do something about that in the end, you know. If Ivette’s too weak to finish her own job.

For the Lands of Normality lie beyond and above the fertility-specialised Kantine. And there, with the proper sources of varied information, we could surely find the knowledge and materials to restore this undervalued treasure. And to reunite these disparate pieces of the former mother’s personality.

Or even, joking aside, we’ll be able to add something to it. Not in a negative way.

Perhaps Ami the Misfortune could still fulfil her mother’s wishes and live up to her hopes. But not by becoming a decent plant breeder, but by becoming a decent researcher. Of course, she is a far cry from her mother, but considering how tightly the “advanced” Yvette is mired in her problems, she has long since ceased to be a worthy rival. And even the desire to compare herself to her has completely disappeared.

Given that Amelia is going to be an employee of the Omill Department of Truth, there must be a way to gain access to the Omill Temple Archives. Perhaps there’s some sort of simplified access procedure.

It should not be as difficult to access as, say, Central Prime Archives. In theory.

If she stays in Omill and is not sent back, of course. If it is sent to Omill at all.

“So many ‘ifs’. Here we are again, feeding our depression and feelings of rejection. Enough of that. It’s not relevant. What’s next?”

Sleep. Sleep is next. Everything is packed except the food.

Ami doesn’t have many things. She doesn’t need much. Only the most comfortable. A big travel bag is ready and other things wait for her return.

And she always returns.

Ami clicked her tongue in annoyance, remembering the old “resentment” towards the beautiful and inaccessible cities that did not accept her the first, nor the second, nor the third time.

It is fiiine.

She has to get used to rejection and ghosting, they have been her best and most trusted friends for as long as she can remember. It’s time to accept them and stop ignoring their unseen daily presence.

…Mimicking, sarcastic remarks… silent ignoring or smirking… She’s had enough of that in her whole dung life. At home, among siblings and others, at work… Big gulps of it, in full abundance, everything you want from this set, Ami, everything is for you…

The Kantinian growled softly from the anger that had surged up and plopped down on the couch with a pile of unpacked things in her hands.

…Wouldn’t it be better to crawl somewhere and never come out again, never come in contact with anyone or anything?..

Yes. If only everything was that simple. Anyway, everything is pointless. Everything…

“We’re being unproductive again.”

Definitely… It’s better not to think about it now.

It’s no more but a story. The ridiculous story of one stupid life.

“Surely there are many much more interesting thoughts in that head.”

Right. Some can be rejected, even if they are not just plain weirdos like us, but outstanding people, which the VST agents definitely are. Or, maybe even, they were rejected because of being eminent. Remember that strange case when our Department compromised its principles by asking the VST to send no less than one of their witch agents. It was a big deal of great importance.

But of course something went wrong and the investigation was inconclusive. Which says nothing about the professional qualities of the agent himself or the level of competence of the VST as an organisation.

One can only imagine the level of “assistance” the locals provide to the “metropolitan upstarts”. This makes any complex investigation doubly difficult. If not triple…

…Contempt, devaluation, small-minded pride and arrogance.

An inexplicable fear of the incomprehensible and unexplored. Energy saving mode for limited minds. Why learn when you can project…

To be more educated, more curious, to have superior knowledge was only a reason for additional ridicule. That’s what happened to the agent.

Rejected for another reason, Ami deeply sympathised with a stranger.

It’s a pity that his investigation didn’t take place during her service – she came later.

Once, under silly circumstances, her curiosity had led her to some interesting lists and reports, which disappeared shortly afterwards. Perhaps they are still somewhere in the depths of the Archive… but very deep.

The new employee, Ami, was simply asked to tidy up the shelves here in the absence of the Secretary.

If she knew the real value of these documents, which were temporarily stored away from the other ones… She would examine them more closely.

…Such a fascinating, mysterious puzzle in the midst of the flat, boring life of the Order Department. It was quite intriguing, and she decided to take a closer look at it after carrying out the orders of her superiors with maximum speed and all the zeal of a rookie… If only she had known two important things then.

First, the faster you carry out your superiors’ orders, the faster you will get the next ones. Second, secrets and fortune will not wait forever. Either you take it now, or you go your separate ways.

And of course, a late quick inspection of the contents of the shelves revealed nothing. There was no way to snoop any more. The Secretary kept the secrets.

And he would not tolerate any intrusion into his fabric manor. Ami was pretty sure that the agent had found nothing either because it’s been deliberately hidden.

Although she couldn’t shake the thought that she could somehow help this random VST guy, who was somewhat similar to her, she understood perfectly well that it was too late to do anything.

The case was closed. And maybe even destroyed.

Even if she could find a way to sneak into the Archives under a good pretext and quickly figure out which of the heavy, dusty cabinets contained the necessary information…

How do you copy a document quickly? Absolutely not. They’ll definitely notice.

Of course, neither the Secretary nor the Chief would approve, to put it mildly. And Ami did not want to be thrown out of what was practically the only non-planting job in Kantine that allowed her to travel the Mainland at least occasionally. The job suited the inquisitive mind of the active Amelia, Ami loved her job. In general.

Though, frankly, curiosity and initiative have never been particularly encouraged in their ranks. Which is true of their whole city.

“This is how they lived before us, this is how we live”.

A step in any direction promises a citywide clusterflip.

Somehow, Kantinians have deliberately forgotten that it was curiosity and a passion for research and exploration that made Prime the great and admirable city it was, starting with a bunch of witches hastily and uncertainly settling on a windy mountain plateau.

…to heights beyond the reach of Amelia…

Witches who did not possess the “basic Kantine virtues” declared to be the basis of survival, demonstrated a fundamentally new way of not only surviving, but thriving.

Yes, the Kantinians also look forward with malicious impatience to the fall of the Witch City from its mountain heights, and eagerly discuss all the real and fictional gossip about it.

But unfortunately for them, Prime doesn’t fall at all. It just grows and gets better.

“And those stupid witches will lose the game.”

Aha. Ami would willingly play along with them.

She didn’t know any witches closely, but for some reason she felt that potentially such acquaintances might make her life more interesting. However, she didn’t try to socialise during her business trips to neighbouring cities. Each time, shyness took over and she preferred to familiarise herself with the local food and architecture.

An obvious choice, you can’t go wrong here.

The tramp grinned, put aside the things she had been clutching thoughtfully in her hands, and critically examined her more than bulging bags in a total volume comparable to her own size.

Almost everything she needs is here. But will it be possible to lift all these? And even if you manage to lift them, how long will you be able to walk with them on your shoulders?..

After all, the weight of what you are carrying has a nasty tendency to increase with almost every step you take.

Soon everything will be clear.

As clear as a sky in the hot season with three luminaries at the zenith at the same time. In the meantime, she has no intention of taking anything out of her bags.

She might even add more. A food. Something else she forgot.

…Preparing herself as if she were leaving this place for good, and not just for half a cycle. Ay-ay. Dreams, dreams…

Doesn’t matter. The main thing is to go. Away from here.

Just go, when expectations are already smashed to pieces, she is free. Anywhere out there is still better.

Ami threw her bag over her shoulders and tried to walk with it, bouncing slightly.

Well then… No heavier than her daily thoughts.

One thing was totally annoying… The service woman couldn’t sleep properly again. Suns will rise soon. And another dreary day will come.

Challenge accepted. Let it try to surprise her.

Light 2. Release the monster!

It… it worked! So… ridiculous.

Sometimes luck is far more discouraging than the usual failure.

When things go well, Ami has great discomfort. What’s wrong with everything?!

Nevertheless… Everything started fine. The boss ordered her to leave as soon as possible.

Happily at least once he and Ami had the same aspirations. On this beautiful day, the swamp opened up and spat out Ami like a witch.

Funny thing… not funny, actually. It turns out, it could have happened a long time ago, but the Department just happily forgot about the old agreement, and “remembered” about it just recently. For some reason.

And now, of course, they’re blowing all the deadlines again before they’ve even started to fulfil anything. Timeless classic. And a standard situation everyone is used to.

Because “there are a lot of things to do”. Especially during the harvest season and holidays when everyone is more “active” than usual.

It’s good that the agreement was remembered at all. And a great thing it happened suddenly, so Ami’s family didn’t have much time to dissuade or to blackmail her.

Because “the harvest is not harvested”, “construction is not finished”, “holiday is coming soon”.

Run-run-run. The bag is packed. The food is taken. Messages and documents to be handed over to the Omill’s Temples as extra weight are here.

The boss has not changed his mind about participating in this “stupid witch’s nonsense”. One less courier is fine. Less frequent to write dispatches and to read them. It’s no big deal.

So… It’s time.

It feels so good and quiet, despite the sleepless night confusion that everything starts out too well, and the anticipation of new worries. Even if the affair is totally pointless and would lead to another disappointment, she would have no complaints and couldn’t blame herself. The assignment wasn’t her choice. At least this fiasco wasn’t initiated by her.

Well, at least on the way back, the bags will be heavier by the weight of the souvenirs. Heavier by a bag of coffee for sure. It’s a great thing that makes any trip worthwhile.

Ami involuntarily smiled.

“Coffee. Wait for me. I’m on my way.”

Ami tossed her bags in, adjusted her clothes so they wouldn’t gather in creases under the straps, and looked at the dwelling she’s about to leave critically.

Everything she decided to take was taken. The rest was tidied and packed well, the room was locked. Her belongings would be in no danger. That’s all that matters.

Her parent’s house stared back at her with its empty window eyes.

Ami’s heart clenched for a moment.

It looks so naive, so disappointed, so… unloved. And it felt like a betrayal.

It doesn’t deserve such an attitude. It gave her its warmth and safety. At least things are clear, simple and unambiguous here.

What to do, what not to do. Who to be and who not to be.

Why does she leave it every time so easily and joyfully? Without a shadow of gratitude? Will it miss her?

It’s painful to feel unloved and discarded, but it’s also a pain to feel you can’t give love and care to something that desperately needs it. Because you just don’t have it inside you.

Sorry, the old boy. Don’t be angry with me. I… just can’t. Try with someone more capable.

So… It was time to wave, try to smile and say goodbye to everyone from afar.

And to hide the unwelcomed smile on a face and portray the sadness of parting.

Because in half a cycle, or maybe even much sooner, she will return here. And, if she’ll have a happy face now, others will have the same maliciously satisfied look later, when she comes back, the echo of her wide happy smile multiplied many times.

“She didn’t crawl far. The place of your birth is the place where you will be of use.”

Remembering about it would surely get her steps faster.

Let’s run from our local problems to the other ones.

For a moment, an epiphany hit her again.

Problems can’t be avoided anywhere, no matter how hard and how far you try to run away from them.

They can only be solved by standing up and confronting them head-on. She won’t be happy. Anywhere. Ever.

Why try harder?..

…And. What to do? Drop everything? Go back? Lie about being ill? The family will definitely approve of it. Boss wouldn’t mind postponing or discarding this stupid witch business.

“The Fertility Festival”

Aye…

Ami huffed in annoyance.

Yeah. Let’s go then. Bye, the house, bye, Kantine. Be well.

She turned around slowly and carefully, trying to minimise the inertial movement of her heavy bags, and strode out of town, dusting and shuffling her feet along the familiar part of the Great Road.

The Kantine vagabond loved the heavy therapy of wandering. It reduced her usual high adrenaline level and stopped her messy chaotic thoughts with tiredness.

Before she could move, she stopped abruptly, swaying from the weight of the load and with some difficulty maintaining her balance. There was one thing she really wanted to do. No matter what. And she had no intention of denying herself the pleasure.

It would be nice to see the city with the fresh, unaccustomed eyes of her replacement!

The best way to do it was to climb the hill on the way out of the city.

Ami carefully dropped her things on the ground and nimbly climbed up the hill.

…The settlement looked quite harmless from there. Even… nice.

It was fair to say that despite the unimpressive, squat, plain buildings, it was a very beautiful and charming town. In its own way.

It has fields. Yellow, green, in the colours of the plantings.

Ami had never been able to learn all of their names, which was reason enough for her immediate surroundings to look at her with some pity.

The scents of fruit and flowers from the gardens reached here too.

The growth and blooming is everywhere. Even on rooftops.

A quiet, measured, delicious and nourishing life. Labour that yields a pleasant harvest, pleasing to the eye and stomach. Peace and stability.

Quiet, peaceful… too peaceful for her.

Maybe it’s her fault. This service woman preferred traveling work to operational work, because she didn’t want to engage much with people’s business. And they say once it was something more or less interesting when she was absent. A couple of amnesia cases, to be specific. And one missing person at the same time, there were no special worries here. People are leaving this city time to time not telling anyone or getting lost in a Forest. It’s a usual thing.

There’s nothing to remember much in this place, if we’re talking about amnesias. Days and cycles are similar, sowing and harvesting, warm and cold winds and the clouds running over it all.

Maybe it could be a curious quest to find yourself again. To begin to know life and yourself anew. Right here. Right now. Who you are. What you want…

But does it mean your unconscious programs go away also? If they’re not… this is pointless…

Ami didn’t have an opportunity to finish her thoughts, because her attention was fully drawn to the gloomy dark clouds that were gathering in the sky above the city, apparently coming from somewhere in the Wastelands.

The Kantinian frowned synchronically.

She hadn’t noticed them before. They looked kind of… ominous. Not like normal clouds. At the least, they made Ami uncomfortable.

Then why to look at it. The rain doesn’t add comfort to a journey. Let’s get on the road.

She got down the hill, grabbed her belongings, and walked to a wide trade route leading to the next town.

It’s an easy trip. You can’t get lost here. Not if you tried hard enough. Just go. And go. And you’ll find Omill inevitably. And what’s nice – there was no hurry this time.

Maybe the journey will be more comfortable if she waited for the caravan. But she spent too much time being trapped by the home-work route. She really needed some physical activity. As well as something to chew.

It would make the walk more pleasant. She left the house a moment ago, and her appetite was already whetted as if she’d walked a good part of the way.

She’s a Glutton. Kantinians were considered gluttons, but who wouldn’t be, with all this food splendour? No surprises. They worked a lot, they ate a lot.

A peasant slipped her hand into the small bag hanging over the belly and fumbled for a large chunk of her favourite dried vegetable.

She found one, took a good bite and started to slowly chew it with pleasure and satisfaction.

There was surely something good about her homeland. These vegetables. Such important things seemed so insignificant while they were within reach. But, when you suddenly realise that there’s no way to get them.

Ami looked carefully, with a new look, at the piece of vegetable in her hand.

“We’re not going away for too long. There’s enough of them in our storage.

Anyway, нou’ll have time to eat your fill of them. Don’t you want something new for a change?”

Quite. She already ate here and here she goes to reduce Omill’s supplies of coffee and flat cookies.

Light 8. Hot Reception

Ami appeared on the doorstep of the Precinct, clutching her pre-retrieved travel cloths from her bag resolutely in her hand. I wonder who she would be assigned to? What would she be doing? Handle conflict situations? Search for missing persons and missing things? Escort valuable packages…?

At home, she was best at the former. And how will she do it with her not-so-pure Omillian?

It would soon become clear.

She was confidently heading towards the secretary’s booth she already knew from earlier visits when suddenly, before she realised what was happening, her body bounced a decent distance away from something. And in good time, too.

A field of barely tolerable heat emanating from a slim, slim figure of short stature in the form of temple witches passed by the dazed servant, next to whom, without any apparent discomfort, the Truth Station Chief Milo was hurriedly walking with a concerned look, obviously trying to explain something.

– It’s not just our reputation that’s been damaged, it’s my man, don’t forget! – was an angry rebuttal to something that had been said before.

The refined witch, the source of the searing aura, raised his long, pale index finger sharply and stared with a piercing gaze of his frighteningly bright blue eyes, emphasising the importance of what he had just said.

– “My men are making every effort to find out! And you know it… – Milo tried to put maximum conviction into his words.

Why is he trying? There’s only one way out of the situation visible here…

“Run! Run! Run, run, run, run.”

Where to run to, we’re here on business…

“Freeze, freeze, don’t move! No, move back! Look, they taught you at the Office on a refresher course on how to deal with rampaging witches. Here, remember that.”

Nah. That doesn’t sound like something worth dealing with.

Milo’s in a bad place right now.

This witch Ami had seen before. His name was… I think his name was Finian. Yes, I think so. He was the head of the Witchery of the Omilla Temples. That’s right.

Ami had only seen him a couple of times, bringing documents there and taking them from there, but a creature of such cold inhuman beauty that emanated a powerful sense of might, such a combination was almost impossible to forget. It was toxic and irreversibly embedded in the memory. Only the proverbial amnesia could help with that.

As the dangerous couple moved away from the horrified and pensive Kantine and toward the exit, the Kantine was less and less inclined to the “run and hide’ plan of action.

It wasn’t until the epicentre was a decent distance from her that Ami began to vaguely recall what they’d been taught in the Kantina’s Office of Order courses.

Suddenly “come from behind’, “sneak up on’, “stun’, yeah… They weren’t the first things that came to mind when they saw this angry serving witch. But to quietly withdraw and quickly hide…

…Judging by the look of the people who were waiting in suspense for the events to continue, it was clear that they were also going to move on to Ami’s first plan. She only noticed that she involuntarily pulled her head into her shoulders. As she exhaled and squared her shoulders, she noticed something else…

The ends of the fabric of her documents were beginning to smoulder!

Ami quickly looked around for a remedy to the sudden affliction. A dark-haired man in uniform was staring thoughtfully at a cup with a greenish drink in his hand. Coffee…

…Into which Ami quickly dipped the edges of her document, which was about to burst into flames.

Omillsky looked at her with a perplexed look of silent disapproval.

– I’m sorry! – Ami showed him her most guilty expression. – The creepy witch set fire to my service cloths!

Amelia quickly showed her interlocutor the documents that were scorched and greenish from the liquid dripping from them. She was so quick to remember Omillian that she didn’t realise it herself. However, by the accent and the pauses during which the Kantine tried to find the right word, those talking to her could easily guess who they were dealing with.

– Why such a spectacular way of extinguishing? – The truthful one asked curiously.

– It didn’t occur to me otherwise… Let me wash your mug.

– That’s all right. – he said nonchalantly, sipping his drink as if nothing had happened. – Mmm. Smoky. Don’t worry about the cup. You could have asked me to put out the document.

– I’m sorry again! I don’t know how to do it… and I don’t think anyone does. Oh, and… I forgot that I’m surrounded by extinguishing witches now too… not just arsonists.

Ami felt the colour flood her face. Yeah, that was definitely not the best way to make a first impression when meeting someone.

– Don’t worry. – The new acquaintance blinked his eyes peacefully. – I’m Davin. Or just Dave. I work here. And I think I’ve seen you here a couple of times before.

– You’ll be seeing more of me now. I might. There’s a chance I might be working here, too,” Amelia exhaled dazedly, her eyes sweeping around the lot. – And… do you get this kind of thing around here often?

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone fixing a problem with the entrance curtain, which seemed to have suffered the same fate as the Ami’se documents. An impenetrable fireproof special reinforced curtain made of special materials…

Wow. Of course, the decorative trim could have gone up in smoke… However.

– Finian’s visits? – smirked the clerk. – Luckily, no. But if you do, feel free to call on me and my cup for help. This is a serious matter. You can’t hide in it, but you can pour its contents all over you.

– Coffee rain…” Ami hummed. – Luxury.

Dave gave her a friendly wink and strolled off at a leisurely pace to the first floor.

Servicewoman saw him off with her eyes and exhaled in relief. Such a sweet, humorous cutie. If everyone here was like that, it would be a pleasure to work.

In Kantine, she would have already received an angry lecture about her low intelligence. Yes, it’s true, they’re not great and they don’t shine, but Ami’s already adapted to living with that and not using them at all. It even works better that way… Acting on instinct is the most effective.

“Focus.”

With a determined exhale, Amelia shook off her wet papers, heading towards the secretary’s booth. Well. Looks like it’s not going to be a boring place.

– It’s a bit noisy in here. And hot. – she began, trying to hold the damaged documents out of the window as nonchalantly as possible.

– Yeah. It’s a little restless right now. – accepted the secretary’s tissues with the same expression.

Seems she’d seen more than a few things during her time here. What curiosities could she have encountered yet during her professional life? It’s scary to imagine…

With a silly giggle, Amelia looked away.

– It smells of coffee and spicy ivy. – She added hastily, smiling and returning eye contact.

She had to look, if not serious, at least sane when it came to employment.

…Swampies. I mean, that’s practically impossible in an Ami’se case.

– Yeah. Sometimes we don’t know if it’s a coffee shop or a place of truth. – agreed. – I think it’s time to repurpose ourselves and stop deceiving people.

– I’m Amelia from the Kantine Department of Order. – I’m Amelia from the Kantine Office of Order. – I was sent on an exchange programme.

– Ah! I remember you. – The truthful one nodded cheerfully. – You are sent periodically with documents. I’m Lucille. Or just Lucy. You and I haven’t had a chance to get acquainted because of your habit of mumbling something welcoming and hurrying away. Now you’ll get a chance to taste what it’s like to mumble something to everyone on this side of the window. But you won’t be able to leave. So sometimes you’ll have to have long conversations with people who get in the way of your work.

– I’m interrupting your work? Oh, I’m sorry. – I’m sorry.

– No, you’re the one who’s going to be interrupted the first time around. It’s annoying at first. Then you get used to it.

– Here, is that – At the station? Don’t tell me it’s here, in this window.

The Kantine furrowed her eyebrows incredulously.

– I am. I can best imagine what my replacement will be doing. – giggled the Omillian servant.

– Swamp-deads… A secretary! Nooooo. I don’t believe it…” Ami was taken aback.

She had a huge and growing desire to sit down on the floor with her bags and try to digest what she had heard. It wouldn’t hurt to take the bags off, anyway. It would be a little easier.

– Exactly, a replacement. – confirmed Lucille, still not understanding the reason for the confusion.

– It’s a dumb case! I mean… It’s… Gee! I have to be a secretary?! – once again, not believing what she had heard, the Kantine clarified.

The blood rushed to her cheeks.

“No surrender, no retreat.”

– Aren’t you… not a secretary? – wondered the truthful one. – It was a matter of exchanging those involved with archives and documents to simplify the process and perhaps bring it to a common standard. You weren’t told what you’d have to do here?

– No, they didn’t. They were afraid I’d refuse, I guess… Or maybe they just forgot about it. I’ll make it come true with my moronic, self-righteous boss. Rotten pokers…” Ami snorted annoyingly. – I’m… an operative. An enforcer. An escort… And this… This is different! I definitely won’t survive sitting down. Or your station won’t.

She paused to catch her breath after her irritated tirade. Then, with a chuckle, she added:

– “I think these walls have seen more than that, though. And our staff secretary won’t give up his seat to anyone. He doesn’t allow anyone to manage his archives, even seals them for his time off. “So as not to make a mess.”

– How I understand him! I have to do the same, because after time off, I sometimes can’t go into my room – there are stacks of plates and additional work for a small cycle all over the floor. Ah… Oh, my. – Lucille was horrified in the mirror. – I’m the one who’s going to have to do the operational work?! That would be… weird. And I don’t really like unnecessary fuss and bustle. I’ve been avoiding temple combat training with Moki for a while now. Of course, we’re not the only ones. It’s usually pretty quiet in Omill. I don’t think all this creepy, traumatising stuff will ever come in handy. Still, I wouldn’t want to be reminded of what it’s like to be on duty and in surgery right now.

Neither of them wanted to be in the other’s shoes.

– Oh, don’t worry. – The Kantine’s decent woman brushed it off. – There are no incidents more serious than tavern brawls or dangerous creatures walking around in the middle of nowhere. I haven’t been doing anything more dangerous than counting caravan sacks, inspecting trampled fields and chasing through the woods after a crazy townswoman who escaped from the temple hospital under medicine lately. Swamp boredom… The last really serious thing happened before I even got to the service…

– Sounds reassuring. – exhaled the secretary. – The crazy townswoman, however, does not inspire confidence.

– She was unarmed and a danger only to herself. She could get lost in the woods or fall off somewhere… The most you’ll have to do now is to be the judge in a dispute between a couple of pissed-off townsfolk – whose vegetables are more productive. – Ami nodded. – It’s a regular Kantine argument. There could be a scuffle.

Lucy nodded cheerfully in response.

– A timeless Kantinian classic! Just like in the old textbooks and stories heard long ago… And nothing has changed. True to tradition. And the secretary will still have to give up his seat. – hummed the Omillian. – Otherwise the whole point of the exchange programme is lost.

– It’s already irretrievably lost if I, without skills and aptitude, am going to be involved in such a job here. – Ami waved her hands. – And with my level of Omillian. I can understand what’s written better than what’s said, but the fact that I’m used to writing on cloth and don’t know how to use your tablets won’t help me do my job better here. Neither will the stress that comes with sitting down…

– I don’t think you’ll have to do much writing on your own. Not unless you keep a journal. – Lucy suggested. – More like compiling and cataloguing what someone else has already written. You should be able to read the spines when you’re looking for them. If we’re having this conversation. Your language skills are pretty good. Especially for a Kantine.

– Thank you. Yeah, it’s incredibly difficult to get non-horticultural books and reference books.

– Oh, by the way. Is that why you were sent here? Not many people in Kantine speak Omillian as far as I can remember…

– Yes, that’s right. That’s why I’m always the first traveller. And the only one who doesn’t know, but is at least interested in other languages. And culture. The rest of us are drowned up to our ears in domestic worries and love for the fatherland. They don’t want to come out, because it’s warm there. And safe.

The secretary chuckled. Apparently she knew the Kantinian anecdote Ami had just referred to.

– I can see that you’re an agile person… And inquisitive. – Lucille noted. – Which is also rare for a Kantine. I know what I’m talking about. I have a Kantine aunt. She rarely goes out of town, and her command of Omill is many times weaker than yours, though she communicates regularly with her Omill sister, my mother, by letter. That’s why I know Cantonese, by the way. How did you learn it from textbooks? Did you live in Omill? Did you visit your family?

– If only. All from books. Then in practice, mostly listening to local speech on my work trips. Once in a while. There’s nothing complicated about Omillian, and especially Prime, in my opinion. It’s insanely difficult to get hold of any textbooks, yes. It’s like some mysterious individuals don’t want us to establish communication at all. With all these… Second-rate characters. Mangling our beautiful original language. Such an annoying tendency to complicate simple things… all my life I find myself with the feeling that many things could be made much simpler. But there’s no way… Speaking of complicated things. You have kin in Kantine, am I right?

– Yes,” she smiled. – I’d love to see them.

– …And I’ll be glad not to see mine for a while. – Ami grinned. – We’d both be at an advantage, if it weren’t for one unfortunate thing…

– A couple of unfortunate things. I don’t gravitate towards operational work either. Let’s… get the details straight. – Lucy pointed to the entrance. – Milo’s coming back. Alive and seemingly whole… I’m always amazed at how he does it… A genius at diplomacy. And cunning.

She waved to the head of the Temple Complex’s Truth Squad returning to her office. As he approached, Ami noticed that the edges of his headdress were still slightly darkened. But, it was unclear if this happened to them now or if such incidents were commonplace for Milo and his hat.

– Milo. The replacement from the Kantine has arrived. Amelia. And she wants to go back already. – Lucy introduced the guest.

– Because of Finnian? – The Omillian sighed tiredly. – He didn’t…

– No,” the secretary shook her head. – No one had explained to Ami what she would be doing here. This servant has never kept archives, and she’s not sure she’s up to it. And me, she says, I’m going to be an operative in Kantine… That’s something I’m not ready for. Physically. I haven’t even been running for a whole Aeon.

– I see,” Milo sighed, scratching his hat thoughtfully. – I’ll go with you to hand over the accompanying papers and a request to engage you in some… quiet activity.

– What about me? – Ami spoke up. – I’m not physically ready for sedentary work either. And psychologically for a tedious occupation of that kind.

– But I’ve definitely held papers before. I remember you well. Let’s go to my office, discuss the situation and make a decision. Coffee?

– Later. – Ami shook her head negatively, remembering the diuretic properties of the insidious green drink.

She was already stressed out, and it looked like she was about to have that kind of trouble on her own. The world was already full of surprises and another one would be definitely unnecessary. Milo made a sign to follow him. Ami strode sluggishly to the workplace of her potential Boss. Though the way things were going, the possibility of working there was still just a possibility for her. Milo pulled back the heavy entrance curtain and they found themselves in the boss’s office.

– So. Suggestions? Outline them.

Milo sank down tiredly at his desk. He looked relaxed now, as if this furniture could protect him from all the trouble on the Mainland… Who knows. Maybe it could. Second most powerful artefact. After the protection hat. And the bequeathed security curtain at the entrance, which was proving to be a bit unreliable.

The Stationmaster gestured for the visitor to take her seat and begin her bleak narrative. She did so, panting and struggling to find and pull the right words out of her head.

– I’m… not fit to be a secretary. I’ve never done anything like that. – Ami’s cheeks flushed again.

She exhaled slowly, trying to calm herself down.

– I… can understand Omillian. Read and even write a little. But I can’t burn anything on the tablets, that’s for sure. I’m not a witch.

Milo nodded.

– Hmm. Yes, we’d expected a non-witch to come from Kantine. A witch wouldn’t have been hired by the Department of Order, they’d have been kicked out of town. You won’t have to write here unless you want to make notes for yourself. But the fact that you can read is good… We were afraid that was what you’d have to learn for half a cycle.

He paused for a moment.

– When we conceived of this programme, we envisaged an exchange of secretaries. – he continued. – To improve mutual understanding, to make it easier to share experiences and documentation…

– To improve mutual understanding with Kantine! – Amelia grumbled. – Utopia. Only if they need something from you themselves. You’d have such a rapport that you wouldn’t even have to improve anything.

Milo nodded, chuckling.

– We were hoping for some progress on that… Not just with Kantine, but with the other cities on the Mainland.

Milo paused and thought for a moment.

“Things are getting better with Jolle faster than they are with Kantine. I’ve never been able to do that in my years, anyway.” – ran through Ami’s mind.

– What’s the point of the programme? – She asked aloud.

– You weren’t warned or informed?

– Noooo. The supervisor forgot about it altogether. I was informed that I had to go to Omill for half a big cycle in one light, and in the second light I was already walking with my bags along the path between the cities towards Omill.

– How awful! They wouldn’t even let me pack.

– Well, that’s where it helped that I have my hiking bag almost always ready. That’s how we’re organised. That’s how I go on all my courier trips. “Oh, look, grab everything, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run.

– Is that why they picked you? Always ready to get out of the Kantine?

Ami hummed.

– Always ready, yes. Gladly. And I also have some knowledge of Omilian, unlike the others. I can’t understand why all Kantinians don’t know it, it’s practically the same, slightly modified language as ours. Like Prime, which is the simplest, not simple for ours, only with a big admixture of Selvian… But Selvian is beautiful! It wouldn’t hurt anyone to learn it. It certainly wouldn’t hurt me, I want to eventually take up Zeth, where there’s even more of a mixture of Selvish. Well, as time permits. Maybe by the time I’m old.

She nodded to herself, staring thoughtfully through the wall into the distance. Ami was so engaged in her favourite subject that she forgot her shyness and her despair.

– I didn’t realise you were such an erudite person when you were running in and out of here muttering something. By the way, how do you even know Omillian? From what I understand, it’s really quite rare amongst Kantinians. Kyle said, and Sandra confirms, that everyone who is going to work in and with Kantine learns Kantinian. Because the local population is rarely interested in the surrounding mainland. They must have enough to worry about.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «Литрес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на Литрес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.