Лилла Сомн – Coffee Stained Pages. Part 3 (страница 3)

As well as to try to resolve internal problems. Restless people who hadn’t lived enough, not travelled enough, trying to stay out of troubles, dodged their inner and outer conflicts, and ended up hating everything and everyone – swamp ghouls, dangerous to those around them in a quiet place of their habitat.

Turning any nice place into something gnatty.

The quiet place was a necessity, no doubt. Everyone needed a rest after the storm. But not before. Not before they were fed up with storms, so as not to generate them by themselves.

So… bless the outside storms, for they were more bearable.

The Secretary took a last sip quickly, noticing the servicewoman coming down from the second level.

– Hey, Rayleen… What can I do for you?

The officer sniffed, squinting shrewdly instead of answering.

– You’ve got coffee smell in here.

– I do. But I can’t give it up; it’s the only thing keeping me going this light. Have your own one. You can do it. I can’t.

The Omillian sighed wearily.

– Wouldn’t mind a top-up myself. I… I’ve forgotten why I came down. It’s all your fault. With that coffee.

– I did it on purpose. I’m barely capable to work now. And wriggling as best I can.

– I believe you. I’m not mad at you.

– Thanks. Go brew yourself some. We’ll swap the roles. You will drink, and I’ll be jealous. We’ll remember why you are here together. Properly without haste.

– It’s a good… Ah! – The blonde raised her finger energetically, causing her colourful bracelets to clatter down her wrist. – Ami. No way it happens for I remembered… Give me the current list of Finnian’s charges. And the recent hospitalisation summary for the whole Temple complex from Sandra.

– As you say. I’m on my way.

The Archivist walked slowly to her workplace.

– I’ll gather some coffee company for us while you are seeking. – Rayleen promised quickly. – Nobody wants to work this light anyway.

She winked at Ami, as Davin did before, and departed to fulfil her stated intention.

Of course she wanted everything at once – do some work, have coffee and a nice conversation. “Coffee, flat biscuits, laugh.”

Ami could live by that motto. She was a human being too. At least outwardly.

She preferred her coffee alone, focusing on the taste and aroma to feel all its nuances. For the same reason, flat biscuits could be consumed separately. And all of it should be shifted from the loud, colourful ambience. But she could understand Rayleen.

No worries if you had nice company as an addition. For a change. Terribly lovely people.

They brought the tablets, warmed the coffee, requested the deeds and dispatches, tried to cheer her up. Ami almost got used to it.

And now they were gathering in the Hall. Audibly and enthusiastically. Hope they wouldn’t wake Laivy, though. But the hypothetical imminent death didn’t seem to overly concern the gathering.

Donny’s broad face with its dark mop of hair appeared at her cubbyhole window first. Greedy for coffee and conversation as always.

– Ami, cheer up! Come have some coffee with us.

– Thanks, Donny, I’ve already had some. My hands will be shaking again. But I can do the company for sure.

These people didn’t let her feel like an outsider at their life party here. A soul- and room-warming company… Of someone to whom she would never be equal. Nor in work, nor in life.

“Stop it. Enough of this gloom.”

The melancholy atmosphere persisted, but some destructive noise and fuss was almost a desirable event. Good for them all for finding a simple way to stay mentally sound, whatever happened.

Yes, Amelia wasn’t a witch herself. But it was nice and warm because a lot of witches were around. She could almost relax in all this, if not for the nagging thought that something… was terribly missing here. Kele.

…More coffee?

No. Hands would shake again. Kele was not a frequent guest around our window anyway. We could stand for two lights without him. But not more.

The Archivist left the cubbyhole and squinted.

It seemed she was growing unused to light in general. What a photophobia. She’d turn into a gnome soon.

Didn’t matter. She hadn’t felt much like a human being ever in her life anyway.

…More coffee. Now. Despite the consequences.

Talla was already bustling by the coffee pot. She was on brewing duty this light. Ami approached the coffee table and, realising she’d forgotten her mug, had to return to the cubbyhole. Not willing to dwell, she came back quickly, filled her cup from the fresh pot Talla had prepared, and took a thoughtful sip.

The green bitter warmth spread through her. A temporary bulwark against the Void.

After the traditionally cheerful coffee klatch ended, everyone reluctantly returned to their posts, the brief camaraderie dissipating like steam from their mugs, the Secretary was left alone again with the silence and the towering stacks of tablets.

It was much harder to start working now. Cold and sleepy. What an unpleasant discovery.

So. What now?

Mysterious symbols? Mother’s notes? Asking Milo for the originals?

No way he’d give them now. Should ask later.

Waiting for a light to end then. Handing files to Calvin, collecting tablets from Moki, delivering fresh dispatches to Milo, collecting his discards automatically and many, many things on the way.

The grey light from the small outer window had long since faded when she realised that it had finally happened. The end of the working light had come. It had arrived somehow quickly.

…Didn’t fancy going home though. Would be uneasy there too.

Rain lashed down outside. Heavier than at dawn. Wasted effort drying her cloak.

Rira grew well in such rains, they said. Maybe Ami would grow a bit too. Spiritually. To overcome such dull lights easily.

…If only she could have some adventures, explore forests. Fall into pits.

Her personal self-amusement reserves seemed exhausted. Patience evaporating, anger condensing. Even back in Kantine, they’d never left her stuck at the Department like she was a thing or furniture if there were responsible tasks needing action and grit. It could be dangerous for everyone, they knew it well.

…Milo’s cutting words, the sad incident with Kele, the soul-crushing uncongenial work, the inability to organise her own life… and much else in addition…

“Here we are again. Stop it. Stop winding yourself up, enough of these self-pity spirals, you were almost calm already. Don’t fret.”

Could try ignoring it. Or drowning it in fatigue, exhausting walks, odd hobbies as usual. But it wouldn’t go away. It was all just attempts to hide the corpse under leaves. It would stick out from behind all deeds and events. Especially in moments of quiet and peace. Like this. The crisis here in all its glory. And no way I could help it.

“Do you?”

Well. I can wander again until half-fainting and half-mad. Return to the untidy dwelling. Drag myself back to work on my last legs. Or wander about, catch a chill, and get rid of work for a few days. As always. Internal problems spawn external ones and back again. A vicious circle. And I had enough of it.

Ami wiped the droplets from her lashes and shook excess water from her hair. Instead of a previous blurred image, an unfamiliar district appeared before her eyes.

She stood right in front of a café.

What a sign.

“The Crooked Mushroom”, huh. A cocktail pouch on the sign. Interesting.

Been ages since she’d had anything sedative-boozy. Since arriving here. Only that first light with Lucy. An idea… intriguing.

Might reduce the anxiety a little to expedite sleep. A couple of pouches of liquid that dissolve strong emotions into unpleasant background sensations wouldn’t go amiss now.

Sounded like a plan. Two pouches, quickly go home, sleep. Onwards.

She snorted with grim determination and headed inside.