"Jiord, Sevinstine, you two will be paired up for this task."
Both of them stand awkwardly in front of me, dressed in flowing but plain silk.
Jiord reverently listens as I speak. The other one however, Sevinstine, stares at me like a camel.
Kicking up my feet, I position myself my socks towards Jiord in a casual gesture and stare at his warped avatar through my glass paperweight.
"You know the Heavenly Sky Palace better than anyone here. I need a full assessment: how they'll respond, every operative in town or away. Names, positions, vulnerabilities, habits—everything. I want it all"
He nods slowly, making sure to catch my every word.
"Second:" I hold up two fingers. "Identify the church personnel we can actually work with. Competent, ideologically driven. Use their confessions to determine who we can actually rely on, then filter these candidates."
"I need you and Sevistein to also survey the town. Complaints. Desires. What the people would support, what they'd resist. Weekly updates. Understand."
"'Surveys?'" Sevistein's tone sounds dismissive. "That doesn't sound important."
"First principle of business: understand your consumer's needs and wants." I lean forward, meeting her eyes.
"Politics is no different. How can we claim popular support to implement our changes if we don't even know what that means?"
No response, she stays quiet, exchanging a questioning glance with Jiord. Looking to me, he gives her a smile.
"Can you two handle this?" I interrupt their exchange.
"Yes," Jiord readily agrees.
Crossing her arms, Sevinstine doesn't argue further.
"Third thing I need, is surveillance. A reliable group monitoring changes and events in town. We need to know if there are more spies, anyone counterfeiting currency, anyone stealing from our reserves."
"We already have that," Sevistein scoffs.
The small picturesque room refracts around the paperweight, like reality bending through glass.
Placing down my paperweight, I glare at her, addressing her with a professional tone.
"Good. We will make it better, I will have a list of changes I need you to implement ready by the morrow." I clear my throat, then resume.
"Now perhaps you two can answer this question… When do I get paid?"
Sevinstine's look turns into incredulous mockery, though Jiord answers my concern.
"Pay-day is at the end of the week."
"How do I pay for things up until then?"
Jiord reaches into his robe and draws out a small pouch.
"Here, take this. Ten primstones. It should last you a while."
Catching the baggie, I pocket it quickly.
Ten primstones. For a couple of days. For two people. Is it enough?
My stomach growls and they leave the room.
I haven't eaten since this morning.
I should go find food. Tim's probably hungry too. I need to—
The room tilts.
My hands grab against the corners of the desk.
When did I last sleep properly? Forty hours? More?
I close my eyes just for a second.
And then I'm there again, inside the fragment of this morning passed— The smells, the announcement, the showgrounds.
Tim's hand tugs at my long sleeve, pulling me toward that welcoming stall.
Someone walks toward me. Past me. The me from this morning.
He walks through me.
Like I'm the ghost, emerging from my own body.
I follow, shuffling toward the stalls of food.
"Come on, Des, you just have to try this; is so good." Tim calls out.
That's right, its coming back now. I was concerned about the negative influence of what we had just watched.
Worried about whether it would change his personality, like my actions were shaping me.
Past me's throat clears, his voice catches on loose phlegm before he grumbles.
"Do you actually believe what they were saying, Tim?" I hear me speak, in that worried tone.
My body shivers.
I sound like that?
Tim looks up at him—at me—incredulous, as if their venomous words of propaganda had held no poison at all.
"Huh?"
"Why did you wake me up so early to see this?"
"Cuz, it's funny."
Right, that was his reason?
How did I forget that? Something so simple.
I hadn't slept for this. Too distracted to realise, yes, but also not thoughtful enough as to why he might want something so simple.
"Nothing makes my morning quiet like watching a bunch of grown adults arguing and fighting over nothing.
Well, that's what Dad used to say…" He bites at his nail and flicks it away.
This memory, the familiarity.
The boy, Tim, he simply missed his father.
How couldn't I recognise that fact.
I should apologise and make it up to him, he deserves someone more attentive, better.
This will be a mistake I won't repeat.
His long brown hair twirls in curls as he gently shakes his head and grabs his hand.
Watching us, I cannot help but smile.
Maybe it will be all fine. I worry too much.
Pivoting back around he continues talking about himself.
"I always wondered why adults constantly talk about how much more mature, better, more reasonable than us kids they are. But every time I watch this happen, it always makes me want to laugh."
…
Twenty years it took me to realise the mythical expectations of adulthood were a lie. Something I learned only through hard experience—and now you,a twelve-year-old, had just said it to my face.
I remember how I felt lacking.
Questioning, what I had been doing with my life to end up so behind?
That's a thought you shouldn't be having yet. Wait, did he just look at me?
Not past-me. At ME.
His direct gaze stares volumes, only momentarily though. Enough to disrupt my restless mind.
He chuckles faintly, squeaking out in a breaking pitch.
Resonant is the voice as it speaks through my skull.
"What is the shadow where the light should fall. A breath without a body. Why should they follow you, shepherd—as where you lead, no pasture will ever grow."
Who is this? Those words, are they for me?
I don't remember them.
But the weight of that voice. That's not Tim's, certainly not human—self assured enough to pass condemnation.
Before elaborating further his back turns towards me and he continues moving onward.
The surrounding world returns unchanged.
I shake my head.
This is only a memory after all, I shouldn't expect to remember everything perfectly; must be my mind filling in the gaps. Even so..
Brain, your wisdom comes and goes—strange, elusive, and often undecipherable.
Don't worry, I will protect Tim and nurture you greatly, eating all his little fruits of knowledge as they bloom.
The memory unravels; blurring, shifting my observable world in tainted red as it skips away, all before it finally settles again.
I watch that past version of me bend down and heave Tim up onto his shoulders with that familiar sounding grunt of effort.
The air of odoured stench turns to aromas of roasted meats and honey-glazed beef.
We all swallow the drool in our mouths as we travel deeper into the market.
"Next time Tim, maybe we should buy some moongrass seeds to throw at them." He tugs against his boot.
Leaning over, Tim stares into those two purple eyes of mine.
"I would like that very much, Des."
Sitting back up, he straightening his back with a hidden smile on his face, one I didn't see before.
"Here" he points ahead.
Walking behind them, we approach a worn-out but spicily scented stall of timber.
Rows of hanging dried meats sway within the breeze.
"Howdy"
An unfamiliar accent licks out sharply.
Following the voice I see that tender older northern woman, sitting within her wooden chair behind the countertop smiling up at those two.
He lowers Tim down to the ground so they can fit beneath the nailed roof.
"Good Morning Missus Maple, do you still provide a free meal for first-timers and kids?" Tim asks curiously but strangely reserved in his request.
"I sure do darl."
She reaches out.
Tim slowly waits for her, then grabs her discoloured hand from over the counter.
She squeezes lightly in response, gently bringing it back down into her lap.
"What will it be then?"
"Two rounds of salted yolk-loin."
"The usual then. And you" She looks over at me, rocking slightly on her chair.
What was it I said then, I've only eaten jerky before.
"He's having what I'm having." Tim's voice speaks up.
Past me rubs the back of his neck giving an awkward smile in his response, nodding back graciously.
Right, I didn't say anything, did I. Talking to strangers is just so awkward, this only makes me cringe.
Her arms shake as she struggles out of her chair.
My tall frame rushes around the counter, almost tripping over the counter in the process.
"No madam please sit, how could I allow your kindness to go to waste. Tell me what to do and I will do it." He announces.
"Allow this olden lady to go and serve a kind but sad customer such as yerself."
"It is the young's duty to repay the old for both sins and kindness alike. I could never in good conscience allow your suffering for my personal gain."
"I could never in me ol' conscience allow such a fine person to go unserved."
"Then allow this customer to go service himself in your stead."
A faint twitch ripples across my eyebrows.
Fuck, I actually said that.
She looks up at me blankly as if she's never been talked back to before.
Why did I have to say it like that? I face-palm.
"Fine, yer win" She waves him off.
Standing back, he watches as she sits back down again, needles already clinking against each other while she resumes her work on a brown hat.
"Strange, strange customer" I hear as she mutters under her breath.
Then, the scene ruptures, scattering into prismatic shards.
My eyes tuck themselves beneath their blanket.
I feel the heat throb behind my skull, competing against the biting cool of polished wood.
My senses dull as the room snaps back into familiar shape.
I blink.
How long was I out for?
I push myself upright.
Taking a recovery step my foot kicks at something dense.
What are you doing there? Mute is this your doing?
Stooping down, I pick up the paperweight.
A jagged chip roughens its otherwise sharp corner.
Blurry, filed and uneven on the finish, it's the first observable blemish on an otherwise stable tool.
A sound clicks throughout the room.
I look up as the door smoothly glides open and a black sock and hairless leg steps into view.