"Wakey, wakey. Time to go."
Oh no, no way... Let the ones who didn't sleep yesterday get up...
...Ohhh... This... weakness...
"Nothing unusual."
Well, looking at recent lights, yes... The state is barely better than a hangover...
Wonder if there'll ever be a light when you can wake up and say, "I slept well" – or at least, "I feel good"?
...Probably not.
"Why be surprised? Two nearly sleepless lights in a row. Or more by now."
True. But it wasn't boring, at least. And you know... Life really has stopped feeling completely hopeless. That doesn't improve the overall state yet, but it adds some optimism. Though the body doesn't appreciate the process much.
"It wasted a lot of energy for nothing already. Let it rest."
"Or it's a quick way to sink somewhere you really don't want to be."
You're right... Time to get up, I suppose.
In a now-familiar motion, the Kantinian slid off the bed onto the – at least almost clean – floor, blankets and all.
Brrr. A bit chilly.
A cold fever was here during the night. Need to get myself in order quickly. No going to the hygiene ponds in this cold.
Although some Omillians manage it for almost the entire major cycle. Probably more of that witchery again... Some use the ponds even in the coldest part of the season, ignoring the beautiful thin crust of ice covering the water at that time… Brrrr.
Better not to think about it much, and hurry to the washbasin. While clothes still hold some residual warmth. It's hard enough without witchery. And in the cold season in this witch city, it's downright extreme.
Throwing off the blankets, the outsider resolutely headed for the washbasin, habitually ignoring the mild pressure in her head and the ringing in her ears.
She hastily pushed aside the sluice, letting the water in, and quickly got on with it.
...Uuuuf... Brrrr! Invigorating! To say the least... And why not say it!
Encouraging herself with strong words, Ami hastily finished her simple hygiene routine.
She didn't feel... sleepy! At all! Ufff...
Shivering all over, her reddened extremities twitching, the Kantinian skipped over to her bag of clothes and, with numb hands, struggled to pull out something that looked like it could be put on quickly for warmth.
In these kinds of situations, when you have wet hands, a cold back, and are in a hurry, the wretched piece of cloth will not cooperate. But Amelia finally got it to do what she wanted after a little while of working hard.
She patted her sides hard for good measure and let out a sigh of relief. The shivering was almost gone.
Invigorating! Freshness. Nice.
Quietly humming something, she swiftly stuffed the dirty clothes into the laundry bag...
...Why was she humming again?..
...The outsider was washed over once more by the lingering, blurred memories of yesterday's encounter with something unknown but inexpressibly disturbing.
The Kantinian fell silent abruptly.
Actually, she'd almost forgotten she could sing at all. It hadn't happened for a long time. But then stupid little tunes would just come into her head, and it would all start again. Only to be forgotten again for half a major cycle.
Maybe... there was a reason singing wasn't allowed in Kantine after all? Non-traditional, non-ritual songs and dances are officially forbidden and tacitly considered a form of witchery.
Was it simple superstition? Or was there something to it?
People sometimes ignore it and sing during sowing or harvest. Choosing, however, ritual songs like "Hymn to the Fertility". Not much better...
...May it all sink in the swamps.
At home, her family forbade singing. "Lest you invite trouble." And here, some unknown otherworldly horror does it. Where, tell me, is the freedom of expression? Why can the Selvas do it here but Ami can't anywhere?
In that respect, she was a deeply corrupt individual because she loved to sing. Even in Kantine, she sang secretly in the forest. And there was no frightening sense of some presence there... Or so it seemed.
...What went wrong in free Omill?!
In a place where dancing and singing are considered normal and even expected daily activities, perfectly permissible for human beings. There's not the slightest hint of those stupid ideas that all this debauchery will immediately lead to total degradation and agonising death. Or worse.
These are not the thoughts that come to mind when watching the Selvas sing and dance so beautifully. Things that would get you in trouble in Kantine on a non-festival light are simply commonplace here.
Maybe the restrictions only apply to Amelia; perhaps it's about witchery again, or maybe...
"...it's time to go to work."
Excellent idea, Chief Obvious.
"You're welcome. Ask Finnian about other issues."
That's constructive. Now forward. To the Temples! There are many deeds to do, big and small.
The servicewoman quickly grabbed her bag and swiftly flew out into the dawn chill, into the drizzling rain. The warming, bustling energy was still there.
The morning greeted her with greyness and an additional prickly, frosty incentive, hinting that getting to work as soon as possible is a good idea.
Actually, any Omillian weather was good because the beauty of the city, the absence of strong winds like in Kantine, and the still air's cool freshness mingling with the forest scents of herbs and pine, as well as the urban smells of coffee shops, created a complete sense of inner cosiness. The comfort was slightly diminished by her Kantinian clothes, unsuitable for this region and season.
Really. She should sort out buying some local ones. They'd come in handy.
Even after finishing work here, they'd hold pleasant memories. And, maybe, she'll need them if she returns to the city. Depending on luck.
Meanwhile... Another sleepy light in this moderately amusing game of life was underway. And it was further complicated by the fact that Amelia, already constrained by resources due to her poor time-energy management, had once again missed the communal post-dawn coffee gathering. So annoying.
She sighed dejectedly, accepting this too.
So – straight to Milo. And to work. Without delay.
And then... she'd try making coffee herself. Grind away without a delay.
– Milo, please unseal the room for me. – the Secretary blurted out wearily, barely inside the office.
– In a moment... You look tired. Were you in the witch Archives again? – the boss suddenly took the trouble to comment.
Such sudden concern... Why? Even suspicious, in fact.
"He's a human being and a boss."
Doubt it... But it's fine. Not being either, I wouldn't understand it anyway.
– No. Just want to sleep. That's the annoying part.
– Seems to be chronic for you... Like your cough. Pop in to see Kiona.
– I will.
Have been meaning to for ages anyway. Along with going to the Forest for provisions. And trading for proper food and clothes.
How long could we keep relying on Omillian kindness and weather, service lunches, someone's biscuits and the public gardens? It's tastier that way, and good for Ami that they exist, because her own impracticality and inability to organise her own life would have driven her over the edge long ago.
It's still better to have our own. And Kantinian wants more. Literally. The portions here are too small.
But... ignoring all these reasonable arguments, instead of doing the right things, this light she's going straight to is Finnian, of course. To receive methodical reprimands and instructions. And also to ask if he's managed to find anything in her mother's notes.
Priorities.
Which also means... practice. At least to report back. Forward, for coffee. And try, try, try.
"It's useless."
Don't want to hear anything about it.
The Kantinian resolutely headed to her cubbyhole, took her cup, and walked to the coffee table to get some beans.
Not ready to pick the beans herself yet, and there's no need to do it, but ready to practise proper grinding. From now on, we'll drink it cold. Always.
Until we learn witchery. Or until someone takes pity on us.
…There it is, the fragrant green beauty, invisibly transforming this Hall every time... Pretty beans in the nice rough little bag. Charming.
There's still some aromatic clean water left in the ladle. Thanks.
The grinding tool is here too… Nice. Not touching the spices yet. Too soon.
Have to start somewhere, otherwise none of this will ever go anywhere.
Soon she was sitting in her cubbyhole, clutching a cup of greenish liquid in which large particles were slowly swirling and settling to the bottom.
Sleepily and uncomprehendingly staring... at her own colour scheme.
...Did she... draw this? Really?.. Genius. And totally incomprehensible.
Why... is it all like this? By what principle... was this colour placed... right here?
Apparently, the old Ami who designed this project isn't at her workplace right now. And the new one isn't in the mood for intellectual feats.
The developer of this project, probably operating at a higher energy level, is likely still asleep somewhere in her kotti.
Have to wait for her. Can't figure this out otherwise.
All of this only makes one even more sleepy. The basic energy allocated for the morning has already been spent. No extra in the form of biscuits or Kele's appearance seems forthcoming. Unheated coffee gives a little hope.
But it won't work either. Unless she starts chewing the beans.
Even so, it's ineffective because it acts as an energy credit, causing instability. The way to an even deeper slump. Short-term energy gains did not produce the desired results.
Proper sleep and rest could do the trick. But it's a luxury in her case.
She'll have time to get some sleep after leaving Omill, but things will only get worse outside of Omill. No source of optimism or will to live is available in Kantine.
The list of tools is very short. Food. Sleep. Forest. Nature… The nascent personal investigation. That one sounds interesting.
Still the drain will be greater. A lot of toxic stuff will be around again. Family. Work. Neighbours. Holidays and traditions. Lots of lies everywhere. As a lightly routine.
The negative balance that led to collapse before.
The absence of perspectives, coffee, and Kele's presence will hit especially hard. It isn't easy even at the current stage. It was hard before, and it will be hard later.
And it's called life. That's how things are.
At least now she has some time to rest a little – there wasn't much work this light, nor many visitors at the window. And a cold coffee cup in her hands.
So. Still better than nothing. At the very least, she does not need to warm the beverage whenever it becomes cold because it is already cold.
A working light passed quickly and sleepily, without much effort or incidents requiring her non-functioning head to engage.
Cheerfully informing Milo of her departure, the relieved and slightly rested Secretary, on a new surge of energy, dashed outside, letting her head, overheated from all the recent events, cool a little under the Omillian rain.
Much better. As long as the rain doesn't run down the collar.
"Home. Sleep."
No. Nothing of the sort. Off to Finnian's.
"Argh!.. Strain again? But we haven't…"
Rested? Yes.
But this, at least, is an interesting life. Real life, exactly the kind that should have been from the very start of adulthood. Access to the Witchium Archives and all significant information she desperately needed, not just about "how great Kantinians are," was primarily available at their local Library. Learning things that are really important and useful in her everylight life. The most important thing is that she now has a meaningful future.
Unfortunately, there isn't time to sleep. But this is because she is rushing to catch up on lights that were previously wasted on meaningless, absurd activities.
Not her fault. But that's how it turned out.
Annoying, but even this step towards the desired life is painful. However, it is possible that it could never happen at all.
Well. Have to sacrifice something. Always.
She will sleep in Kantine. Maybe for the rest of her life. If the hidden abilities never wake up and she has to stay there.
Lost in thought, the pseudowitch reached the Witchium and the Head Witch's office. And found the Omillian hypnotising a wall. Unexpectedly.
No frost on it yet, but... what did the wall do wrong?
– What's wrong... with the wall? – Amelia enquired cautiously.
– Nothing's wrong. Just trying to decide whether to wipe another window here or not.
– Why not? I'm always for extra windows. Especially if they're on every wall. And the ceiling. And… everywhere. It's not like being outdoors. But still better than nothing.
– Fewer lamps to light the area. Very practical.
– Too bad Milo won't agree. And in our Archive it's not allowed.
Finnian snorted disapprovingly at the mention of the Truth Station Chief.
– Well, – he summed up. – Then we're wiping.
With a graceful motion, the Head Witch made a gesture, and under his hand, an elegant transparent swirl appeared on the clay.
He stood a moment longer, appraisingly inspecting the symbol unknown to Amelia, squinted critically... and added a few more dots around it.
– Creative. What is it? – Amelia, mesmerised by the sight, stared at the drawing with interest.
– A window.
– I see. It's beautiful.
– Thanks.
– What's the... symbol at its core?
– Ah... I don't know. – Finnian chuckled casually. – Just melted it through. Looks… Elvish, doesn't it? Maybe... I saw it once in the Library... Don't really know. Don't ask witches what they create. Just admire.
...Right. Just admire how you can do anything. Yeah. Adorable...
And Ami and Finnian admired the symbol for another moment.
– What's with the map? – the Kantinian inquired.
– Almost assembled. A pity it's ending. It was so engaging. Don't you... have some more?
Ami regretfully shook her head.
– Nope. Sorry. I wish I'd stolen more, but no. I got a fairly decent amount of punishment for this one.
– Sad and sad. What did Milo say about the training?
– A load of nasty things, as usual. But in the end, of course, he agreed. So it's "without detriment to work", blah-blah, and all that. Previously, my being unable to open a door or turn on a light was not considered a problem, aha.
– Apparently not. Milo wasn't affected.
– Yeah, not a single Milo was harmed. Does he even see anything beyond his hat?
– No. Like almost all of us. But that's not important right now. The main thing is he did what we wanted. Excellent.
– Yes. Well... if you don't count that I still don't fully believe I'm a witch... and that I have little time... then, yes, it's good news. I'm not only complaining, by the way; I'm trying to heat coffee heroically. Praise me.
– Good lass. You should always try. It might work. – Finnian looked at her intently. – Unless it's dangerous. Then don't.
– No danger so far. Simply because, no matter how hard I try, nothing happens.
The Head Witch clicked his tongue disapprovingly.
– You mustn't "try hard", you know. Just try almost mechanically until your mind becomes disinterested in the process. And the result. Treat the things kindly without a demand just because they exist. Yes, there will be a lot of "don'ts" in a training process. But you'll learn in the end. And the less you strain yourself, the more you achieve. Witchery isn't about "straining and painfully achieving your goals". It requires consistent methodicalness, but frantic, strained effort will do you a disservice here. It's like trying your hardest to catch a tea leaf in your cup. The more you fuss, the more it eludes you. So, no tension allowed. Check your body. Shake hands. Release the pressure. Exhale. Don't hinder the energy flow. Watch yourself, watch what you're doing, but don't observe directly. Working with the Force is easy, but it's tricky in a way. You have to "glance sidelong". And as if not being too interested.
Ami snorted with a chuckle.
– And what if I am? If I really need the results? My whole future depends on it, after all.
– Then you'll have to trust that very fate and/or find something else to distract yourself. Occupy yourself with something else. Even something unrelated. That will move the current matter forward. Otherwise, nothing will work anyway. The Force doesn't care about the primitive mind's control. The world doesn't understand the fuss.
– Kind of stupidity protection. Infuriating.
– That's not within your power anyway. An instrument doesn't use the grower.
The Kantinian looked at the witch in surprise.
An interesting application of a proverb from her hometown. How does an Omillian even know that? Doesn't matter.
– I don't understand a thing, but it's very interesting... When I get to the library, I'll try to write it down on a scrap. Because my memory is leaky.
– This needs to grow inside you. Don't worry. I'll repeat it as many times as necessary. Until it settles like your own.
– Given the number of stupid students... Don't get me wrong. We're all stupid in a way. You put a lot of effort into your work.
– A fair amount. That's why I need to rest well. You could do with some too. Perhaps your low energy is the reason for your failures. Your eyes look dim. Such eyes don't see much. Not to mention an uncooperative tired mind. You know, you should go home, not to the Archive. To recuperate. Then go to Kiona. To mend the breaches in your energy body… and to remove the blocks. There'll be a lot of work. Prepare yourself.
The Archivist sighed.
– If only there were enough time... My main concern now is the lack of it and lack of information.
– Remedy it. – The Senior ordered in a matter-of-fact tone. – Learn the basics – the rest is practice and practice. Consider visiting Kiona too. Otherwise, we'll achieve nothing. Even if we do, Force without stability is a waste of time.
He began carefully packing what was on his desk into elegant bags.
"Right. Just do it again. Very helpful. Milo was partly right."
You know. Even if Finnian's doesn't give many precise details, I do trust him.
Not quite grasping how to formulate a question or protest, Amelia simply continued the dialogue.
– Going to Kiona is my next step anyway. This cold won't let me wriggle out of it. And unfortunately, it's not just about that. There are some other... oddities. – She paused, unsure whether to bring up the subject. – Do you… Do you have any ideas about… the connection between local spirits and... singing? I realise this is a stupid question.
Finnian shook his white-haired head shortly.
– Not so much stupid as outside my competence. If you have any questions about spirits, definitely ask Kiona. But what exactly does singing have to do with it?
– I don't know myself. If I could explain coherently... Or at least trace the link... I guess I wouldn't be asking. In my case, it appears that external restrictions have become internal ones. And vice versa.
The questioning look directed at Amelia made her shift uncomfortably and also provided an unwelcome incentive to continue.
– How can I put it... well... in my city, singing is forbidden. And dancing. Yes, you didn't know?
– Never had an interest.
– Well, there you go. Not entirely forbidden, I mean, it's forbidden to do it idly; you can only do it on Fertility Day and other holidays. Yes, yes, so they don't get too distracted from work by their frivolous songs and dances. Some sing while working in the fields, but even then only traditional songs. I'm giving you this historical background because – I got into serious trouble for it as a young'un. I love to sing. Loved to. Because now, I have major constrictions in my throat; around another person, I can't utter a sound. A reflex. But sometimes, out of habit, I sing when no one's around. In the Forest. In my kotti. Overall, I was sure I wouldn't have this problem in Omill. But I do. When I sing. In the form of... vague sensations of an unfriendly presence. So I'm wondering. Does this have... any real basis? Or is it... internalised stuff crawling back out, and that really is for Kiona?
Finnian was thoughtful for a moment, averting his piercing, heavy gaze.
"Stopped seeing right through me; at least that's a relief."
– This is definitely for Kiona. Whether you look at the question from one side or the other. To my mind, the "ban" itself is... peculiar. And I see no point in it other than to overwhelm already terrified people with a slew of illogical prohibitions, making them easier to control through fear and other primal instincts.
– So it's not only the two-faced hypocrisy of double standards and rotten traditions, as it always seemed to me. But actually part of some plan.
– Apparently so. Frightening is always "cheaper" than negotiating.
– How do you know all this... Ah. Prime education. I want that too. Instead of learning everything the hard way, empirically.
– Get a basic education first.
– And by old age, I might reach higher education. At best.
The witch finished his preparations and paused thoughtfully for a moment.
– Finnian. – Amelia began uncertainly.
– Yes? – he responded casually.
He abruptly raised an attentive, questioning gaze to her.
The Kantinian flinched involuntarily. He'll burn right through us. Terrifying.
The question almost got stuck in her throat but finally burst out.
For Ami, curiosity almost always trumped self-preservation.
– Teach me to wipe a window. – She demanded hoarsely.
– What? Right now?? – The witch tilted his head incredulously.
Seems he was genuinely surprised. Well, well. Is that possible?
– No. Whenever it's convenient for you. It really is dark for me. Everywhere.
– That free-spirited Kantinian nature. – Finnian chuckled.
– Easy for you to mock. You have a lovely bright office with huge windows yourself.
– It wasn't always like that.
– I understand. For me too, even if late, I have to start somewhere. Tell me also... Should I start studying some... specific techniques? I mean, do witches constantly use some established, universally accepted techniques, or do new ones keep appearing depending on the situation?
- Of course, new things appear all the time... and sometimes old ones are remembered. Witchery is as unique as your personality. And more diverse than any collection of techniques. It is life, and it is more than just science.
– Then, what's so astonishing about these new tricks for causing amnesias, masking pits, and concealing contraband?
Finnian pondered for a moment, sighed, quickly placed the bags on a shelf under the desk, and straightened up.
– Their power... And audacity. Who is capable of interfering in such deep natural processes and... how dare they? And most importantly, why? Everything necessary happens by itself in its own time; it's ready to consume when it's ripe. Why rush forward to try and match life? It would take a long time to bring one's own little powers up to the level of nature's in bits and pieces. And will never succeed. What has been working perfectly for Aeons should not be influenced by anything other than its own natural evolution. Isn't it simpler to walk alongside it? But no.
– What if all this is just a manifestation of the evolution of life and minds on the Mainland?
– What's happening doesn't feel to me like a sign of natural evolution. Either it's not evolution, or I'm a redundant link destined for removal.
Finnian shrugged, gesturing for Amelia to leave the room. She obediently moved towards the exit.
– Fine. Then I won't be practising anything like that anytime soon. – The Secretary smirked mockingly.
– I certainly hope so. – The Head Witch nodded seriously. – And I'd like to think you never will.
"At least he could use words to show when he's joking if he can't smile. That would be helpful."
– Anyway, my imagination wouldn't stretch to anything more than burning down my own city...
Amelia chuckled, but as she attempted the joke, her breath caught, as if she'd taken a light blow to the solar plexus.
"Oh, what?!..."
Amelia tried to gasp for air.
...No luck. Her lungs resolutely refused to fill more than a third.
– What? – Finnian turned and looked at her.
No... Through her again. When will he stop doing that?! It's... pfft.
– Burn down... – she tried to explain, struggling to catch her breath. – I... somehow always... was insanely afraid of that very thing... As if... I really could...
The Kantinian again tried in vain to draw breath.
Now a sharp, stabbing pain in her heart joined the suffocation.
– ...could. – Finnian nodded imperturbably and knowingly. – There's your block. You forbade yourself to do witchery. It showed itself rather quickly, by the way... It felt at ease, believing that this elderly witch ought to be returning home. And the swamp-dweller should be halfway there by now.
Ami doubled over as if struck, the remaining air knocked from her lungs by a sudden, powerful sob.
Blood rushed to her head; tears flowed unbidden from her eyes.
...It was awkward, crying in front of Finnian. Like a young'un...
– Phew... Gnats... I...
Air. Have some decency. The brain needs you. And Finnian needs to go home.
– This is commonplace. Breathe.
– ...trying. – The non-witch hissed weakly.
That same fire burnt inside her. A flash of anger made her blind.
Why... Why don't they listen? …Or hear?!
How many more times does she have to scream it!
Screaming didn't help either. Ami just ended up in the closet.
…Well, fine!
Why not sit a little bit alone? Much better then than the stupid ones. Though... it's kind of dark in here. And kind of scary... And now… Something touched her leg! And her cheek… Oh gnats!
...What is it?! What could it be?.. It's a poisonous grass! No... Spirits of the dead!.. If only there was a little light! Swampers…
We should… How to get out of here?!..
Beating on the door is useless… They've gone to the other side of the house, like they always did...
...Serves us right, though. It's her own fault. Lost her temper again.
The punishment was inevitable. And here... Here... there's nothing. Nothing is here. Nothing dreadful is here. None of this. It's just imagination. Imagining everything again.
They always say I'm doing it. Always imagining everything.
…Nothing's here...
Sitting on the floor, she began to rock silently back and forth. It seemed to ease slightly, but the dangerous and useless hysteria was still close.
Meanwhile, the dark corner of the pantry was getting brighter.
Good. At least it's less scary. OH! What's that?!
...Fire? Fire... Starting... Fire! Oh, no... No! Stop, go out! Now I'll get it for ruining the pantry too...
The straw sticking out from under the clay wall began to smoulder.
...There must be water here. There must be a water tub!
Clumsy Ami, stomping and clattering, grabbed a watering container and dashed back to the bright spot on the wall. She had to destroy her only ally in this darkness.
...Blast it, all the stems inside the wall will burn through any moment... Already quite charred. Then the fire will spread to the baskets! And then everything...
...Swampy rot! Part of the wall has already burnt through... There's a smell. But at least there is some light coming through here…
Bald ghouls… We're done for. Any moment everyone will come running. And we'll really get it this time.
…Please, stop! Go out!
Go out... go out completely and never come back... Go away. Don't do this anymore. I beg you… Stop!
…These feelings again.
Along with the suffocation. The spasms. Along with the piercing, stabbing pain and the frantic pounding of her heart. Along with the cough, which made the previous manifestations even more agonising and painful.
Amelia hissed angrily and tried to fill her lungs with air again. Frustration overwhelmed her.
...First, the ghosts. Then a fire from the past... What is this...
– Omill... is trying... to kill me... too... It despises me... Probably. – she tried to joke through her tears.
...Must calm down quickly.
"Calm down, yes. He doesn't have time for your hysterics."
Doubled over and holding onto the wall, she was still trying to catch her breath, ideally enough to straighten up and leave here with as independent an air as possible.
But no luck with this.
– This place is trying to help you as it can. – Finnian's melodious voice came dully from somewhere to the side. – The problems you've been closing your eyes to for so long haven't gone away... Invisible and destructive, they walk beside you every light.
Ami swallowed convulsively, trying to draw air into her suddenly very small lungs. By force of will, she tore her gaze from the floor, straightened up, and wiped her unwanted tears.
– Helping... by punching me in the gut?.. – she grimaced sceptically.
– Sometimes there's no other way to knock the nonsense out. Stupidity escapes through wounds and cracks in the personality. – the Head Witch shook his head, almost sympathetically. – I too was lucky enough to get punched in the gut. Many times. Very effective. Life knows how to do it.
– That's probably why you have such a welcoming look... – Ami whispered her grievance, wiping away the remaining tears. – Gives me the creeps... You don't like me. I understand. I don't like myself either…
Finnian let out a short, surprised laugh.
– It's not you I don't like. It's the rubbish inside you that's stopping you from living. I see it clearly. You know... You have great potential. Don't squander it on regrets.
– Regrets are my everything. – the Kantinian stated gloomily, dropping her gaze back to the floor.
Her head was getting heavy. Accumulated fatigue began to assert itself with doubled strength and persistence. Her puffy eyes wanted to close immediately.
She shook her head.
– Yes. The ego loves that stuff. – The witch agreed. – But you'll have to learn anyway. If not from me, then from life. In fact, we're very lucky that we're not allowed to remain in the darkness of our delusions and fears. What could be more hopeful than that? So, the Archive is at your disposal; Dillion should be in the small duty room next door. If not, wait for him. That's all.
He picked up his daily bag and, approaching Ami to a distance her instincts deemed dangerously close, stopped.
– Thank you. Sorry for the scene.
– Common occurrence within these walls. What else did you expect... under my tutelage?
His gaze was utterly serious, but the Kantinian now knew it was a joke.
The air was knocked from her lungs by laughter, and in contrast to the previous sensations, the laughter was almost hysterical.
– I'm not making you unseal the Archive yourself yet. – the witch continued imperturbably, apparently having gotten the desired reaction. – Although, maybe I should.
– Exa...actly... – Amelia wailed through her laughter, wiping away tears again. – It's so... wonderful, beautiful, and interesting there... I'd do my utmost... to get in. I'd gnaw through the wall...
Sniffling, she finished the phrase with difficulty, making a significant effort to stop leaning on the wall.
– That would be slow and inefficient.
Amelia didn't argue. She simply couldn't. The laughter had drained the last of her strength. Weakness and sleepiness were taking their place.
...It would be good to rest.
But all the documents in the Archive won't read themselves.
Finnian didn't even bother making hand gestures, but she somehow understood that the room was already sealed. Maybe he just can.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a soft violet light in the next small room, where Dillion was supposed to be.
– The window. To wipe?.. Tomorrow?.. – The non-witch tried to string a few words together.
– Yes. Come. Although, no... Practise on your own. You've already seen how it's done. Remember those feelings. You don't perceive things very well through words... Hmm...
He paused for a moment, and his face, which was beautiful even in the low light of the corridor lamps, took on a thoughtful expression.
– I think... There's a method... Try using what you have... Transfer that fire that was inside you just now into your hands. Then transfer it to the wall surface. And heat it a little more than you would, say, to warm coffee. Don't overdo it, or you'll melt more than you should… Increase the intensity if necessary. Be persistent. It takes practice. Like everything else... Basically, reality is plastic and can cooperate. Even shapes and sizes are illusory; you'll find it in the end. Now just keep that in mind.
– I will. The information source is a reliable one.
The Head Witch narrowed his eyes slyly, smiling only with his eyes.
– Flatterer. That won't help you. Fine. Go have fun. And rest. Otherwise, it'll be even harder to negotiate with your Force than it is with me. Bye.
He turned to leave, but lingered slightly because of a phrase Ami had thrown very quietly into the void.
– We've been out of tune for a long time...
She shook her head, signalling him not to mind.
– The path of reconciliation with my inner self is frightening… but not as frightening as the alternative. Thanks for the time you spent on me. – she added quickly, excusing herself.
– I never waste it. – Finnian remarked coolly. – Time is something I'm catastrophically short of.
With a brief nod, he departed.
Amelia's relationship with time was extremely strained too.
No sleep or rest right after a cycles of thoughtless and meaningless existence.
She felt like she'd only just woken up after a big, heavy, sleepy light. A sleepy life, she should say. The harsh shake-up had done her good.
The non-witch sighed dejectedly.
It's amazing how things change.
Shifting standards. What she had so desperately wanted to be rid of, and what was considered completely unacceptable and shameful in her environment, was necessary and desirable in the other. But it doesn't work now. Trained to be non-functional.
Different places, different rules. Whom to trust?
Finnian. Herself. Her likes. Her priorities. The choice is obvious.
"When you see it clearly. And when you don't?"
"Then you're not a friend to your own Force. But an addition to someone else's."
"Speaking of wich. We really need to rest now."
The stress would prevent sleep. No way would I sleep. I'd rather be reflecting on everything in our lives until dawn.
So, either walk to the limits of strength in the sludge without mudstriders under the cold downpour... Or sit here, in the cosy cushions with a book under the dome, with raindrops beautifully streaming down it... Decision made.
Touching the hot skin under her puffy eyes with slight concern, Amelia sighed and trudged dejectedly towards the room where the duty officer should be.
That's how things are. It's all part of her learning process. Under the guidance of a ghoul who drives students to hysterics.
Well. If there's no other way, so be it.
Soon she and Dillion were peacefully walking through the dark corridor of the building towards the Archives. The Kantinian again struggled to memorise the way, but in vain.
The junior witch removed the seal and just as silently departed, leaving Ami alone with her newly acquired treasures.
This power of knowledge, accessible to so few, now belongs to her! Mwahaha.
...A pity you can't just read everything at once!
The wave of delight was traditionally washed away by the next wave of powerless dejection.
Chill. It's not zero, at least. The evening promises to be interesting either way.
Forward. Choose one priceless book from this endless clay Ocean and sink into the cushions.
With pleasant anticipation, she slowly walked along the shelves, employing all her acquired secretarial instinct again and already beginning to guess how things were organised here and roughly where to look for the materials that interested her.
This arrangement is incredibly logical. Should we copy this system?
"Analyse it first."
Absolutely no time. So fascinating… One doesn't know which volume to pick up first. There's so much to study... It's unbearable.
To the bogs with work matters for this light! Need to choose something interesting. And there's so little time, energy, and joy. Nothing but physical limitations.
Must hurry. Still have to watch more nightmares here also.
Time to look… for details about the symbols. And preferably... about Elvish ones.
...Maybe that elFinnian's sign will be among them also. It would be amusing to show it to him.
There it is. A thick, already familiar stack of tablets. Quite big, isn't it? Isn't that too many tablets for such a "poorly studied" subject? If THIS is what they call "poorly studied"...
Amelia glanced at the other shelves.
…then it's clear why there are so many books here.
The biggest concentration of happiness she had ever seen. If only she could live right here! Under this transparent dome, which is wet outside but cosily dry and warm in there. Amidst the soft light, cushions and the orderly rows of magnificently arranged information.
…At least for the night, she's a true mistress here. Brilliant.
Carefully dragging her magnificent find to the cosiest favourite table, she sank onto the bench, made herself comfortable with cushions and tablets, and immersed herself in reading the first one she picked up. Carefully avoiding the urge to flit from one to another, thinking, "Maybe that one's more interesting".
Must respect her own choice.
...Some wonderfully long, indeterminate moment passed.
Before she was jolted from her reading trance by Dillion's voice.
– What are you... singing there?
Ami almost jumped out of her skin.
– What?! Me? Singing?! No. I'm not singing anything...
The young witch stared at her sceptically.
– Well... okay, maybe just a little... I... don't know. It's unconscious.
– And you don't know what you're unconsciously singing either, I suppose?
– Exactly... No joking. Am I... disturbing you?
– No, it's fine... Just the lamps are flickering. – Dillion chuckled good-naturedly.
– Wh-what?! No... That's definitely... not me. – Amelia frowned in annoyance.
He nodded mockingly in response.
– I gathered. And you're not the one singing. Okay, fine. Just wanted to ask.
– Yes, bog take it! I've got nothing to do with it.
– Try again. And we'll see.
– It won't work... – The Archivist shook her head. – My throat will spasm.
– Go on.
Ami sighed heavily and tried to force out any sound at all. It came out rather quiet and strained. The lamps didn't react.
She glanced reproachfully at the duty officer.
– Oh no! – he waved his hands in protest. – That's not at all what I heard! Try again. You can do it.
He stared at her encouragingly. Ami blushed and shook her head.
– No, no, no... Don't ask, okay? I'll either manage to force nothing out... or I'll start crying, which is worse. In any case, nothing good will come of it; it will be a pitiful sight... In my city, you are simply not permitted to do this, you see? I even have to do it secretly from myself.
– The lamps' flickering must have annoyed everyone.
– Singing in general annoyed everyone... as a well as witchery. It's not approved either. And if the lamps had done that on my watch, I'd have just been exiled from the city... Can't say I'd have been too opposed. But it didn't happen. So let's assume... you just made up the bit about the lamps.
– I didn't make anything up! – The witch protested, laughing. – Fine. Happy witchery over the documents here... I'm going to get some sleep.
– Sweet dreams. – Ami smiled back, returning to her reading.
– Oh. My dreams are always sweet. They just don't have a choice. – came the reply from the corridor already.
...And the reading matter absorbed Amelia again. At some point, almost literally...
When she opened her eyes, it turned out she was once again absorbing knowledge through her cheek in her sleep, slumped onto the cushions. How convenient that they're here.
And what a waste of time. No matter how captivating the reading, nearly sleepless nights were taking their toll.
The most curious thing was that in the Witchium, she slept peacefully, no matter what nonsense she dreamt. And even seemed to get a little rest.
Her mind marked this place as safe. Even considering that in Omill she generally felt freer and calmer than in her native city.
Probably, the very "preparing for sleep" routine set a peaceful tone. Should she ask to move into the Witchium indeed? Closer to the witchery and all these volumes of knowledge...
…But who needs her here? They have enough of their own.
Sighing, the poor soul tried to return to reading, but realised she couldn't absorb another symbol this light. A ringing Void now reigned in her head.
With another sigh, she gathered the tablets, regretfully returned them to the shelf, and set off to find the duty room. Which she eventually discovered with some difficulty.
Sweetly sleeping Dillion, curled up on the couch, evoked feelings of guilt and envy. But she didn't have to commit a crime against sleep, as hearing her footsteps, the young man opened one eye. Light sleeper.
– Sorry to have to wake you. – She apologised hoarsely. – Will you seal it?
– Yeah, – he blinked sleepily.
Shivering and yawning, Amelia stepped out into the night city, as if into outer space.
Lack of sleep covered the reality with a romantic veil. And all these strangely disturbing sensations were easily swept aside by the beauty of the sleeping city.
Traditionally, the smells of baking gave way to the smells of the forest around this time. It was cool and quiet, with the sky uniformly dark violet and low clouds discernible within it. The rain had stopped, leaving the misty air and smell of the wet grounds after itself.
The Kantinian took a deep, satisfied breath, lingering a moment at the exit of the beautiful, bright Witchium.
She had already forgotten how her lungs had refused to function at full capacity just a short time ago. Everything had gone back to normal so quickly.
Almost everything. Only the tickle in her throat, provoked by the chill air remained. Must see Kiona soon.
Amelia shifted her gaze to the Infirmary building, just across the Temple Square.
…Couldn't go there right now… Don't want to go home either.
And there was no point anyway – she'd have to return to the Temples soon.
"Third nearly sleepless light in a row. Well done, Ami. The Infirmary awaits with open arms."
The templewoman slowly turned her inflamed gaze towards the Truth Station. Why beat around the bush, when you can go straight there? Maybe she could save some time to get a little sleep. Not a bad idea, in fact.
She hadn't even pushed aside the entrance curtain when she found herself practically nose-to-nose with the permanent night duty officer, jumping in surprise.
– Ami. Hello, my friend. – Leivy squinted. – Missing work already?
– No! More like... not missing my kotti. I never managed to make it cosy.
– Maybe it's just not your kotti? – The selva narrowed her eyes slyly.
– Maybe... – Kantinian sighed. – But they didn't give me another one. Maybe this just isn't my Mainland. And searching for something here or trying to fix things is simply useless. I'll never be cosy anywhere.
Leivy frowned.
– Not true. Everyone is cosy somewhere. I didn't realise straight away that my place was here. – The officer made a broad gesture. – But after I finally did – I'm not a frequent visitor to my own kotti either.
– Well... I felt cosy quite recently. In the Witchium.
– Then maybe your home is there. See. And you said "nowhere".