Лилла Сомн – Coffee Stained Pages. Part 3 (страница 5)

“If locals reported more noisy forest oddities, she’d know what to discount.”

The blood drained sickeningly from her head, giving way to increased nausea and weakness.

…Well. Quiet… Head, heart, lungs. Calm yourselves. Don’t make it even worse…

Later, all later. Recollections, analysis, post-mortems. In a fit state, she could afford all that. For now – there were “no witnesses”.

“Think of it, someone scrambling up a landmark mushroom… Big deal… happens every light, probably… Nobody saw anything. Get up.”

…But what if?..

“There’s only one way to check and learn who saw what yesterday. Get to work. Endure the jibes. Silence the know-alls. Before finally expiring from a punctured heart or an exploded head. Dying ridiculously now would be the final straw. In a rain cloak, with a puffy mug. Must get up. If only to avoid being sick or rotting right here.”

Right. Poor head… Sorry. I won’t do it again. I swear. Well, not for the next big cycle, anyway.

“Must at least wash our face and rinse our mouth… Uuuuup we gooooo!”

…Yes… Ugh!.. Ringing in the ears! Floaters before the eyes…

She slithered out from under the blanket and the wet cloak, collapsing onto the cold floor.

…Ouch! Bruises. Oof… May it all fly to the bog with the gnats and swampers… Why is everything so painful?..

But the sleepiness retreated… At least that’s good news.

Time to crawl again. It will be harder to do it… in a wet cloak.

…Never. Never ever again…

At times like this, she recalled the old Kantine bogey-tale for youngsters about the Forest Gnats’ Count Crapula, who visited particularly witless ungrown ones and squeezed their heads until they burst. Amelia had messed up royally yesterday, and it seemed the legendary Count Crapula was already here.

“Not the time for folklore. Crawl to the washbasin.”

I will… Ouch. And to work next, it seems.

It was fairly light, she was probably late, and if she crawled towards the Temples on all fours, she’d be late still.

“Hurry up.”

Amelia stood up abruptly and instantly regretted it. Nasty glowing dots danced everywhere.

So she sank back onto her knees quickly. And crawled on all fours to the washbasin, trying to ignore the pain from the bruises and scrapes. She slid back the plug, waited for the bowl to fill with icy water, and plunged her head in with practised motion.

Felt slightly better now!

The Kantinian pulled her head out of the cold water. Work shouldn’t suffer because she’d irresponsibly over-imbibed yesterday… Must change into something fresh. But besides her wet cloak, one more thing about her good-worker image was very questionable.

Amelia looked at her poor hands sceptically.

..Better hide them somehow… Wonder if the sleeves of her drape were long enough?..

Let’s check.

Forced into swift action by the cold, she got up, walked back to the wet, filthy bed, dressed and dumped her old clothes onto it, adding one piece of chaos to another.

Her gaze shifted to the slightly torn entrance drape…

…Too bad. And not quickly fixable.

That’s why it’s even colder than usual. Feels fine with this hangover fever, but she wouldn’t appreciate it later. Couldn’t afford extra exertion now anyway.

“What a performance. Our entire head gives you a standing ovation.”

Silly girl… We were all in it together.

“Quit dwelling on it. Go to work.”

Right.

Sighing, she roughly spread out the cloak, blanket, clothes, and bedding across the bed itself. Faint hope that might dry things a bit, not make a little smelly swamp here instead. But it’s too bunched up. And leaves wouldn’t fall off by themselves, and dirt wouldn’t shake itself out.

Ideally, gather it all and take it to the lake to wash, then haul it back and find somewhere to hang it dry and find replacements.

But couldn’t do that now, as the mere thought of doing anything made her queasy. Best hope it didn’t start to reek before Amelia found the strength and time to deal with it.

Throwing another guilty glance at her ruined belongings, she headed out. Right past the damaged entrance drape.

…What a mess.

Despair pulsed hotly and unpleasantly in the back of her neck.

“We’ll figure out what to do later. Onwards, to the Station now.”

Going.

It feels much better outside. Even eased slightly.

The fresh wind cooled her swollen face and her eyes gradually opened. Seemed not quite as bad as immediately after dawn.

The post-tipsy Kantinian still looks a little dented and scratched by life, but she can get to work and quickly slip into a conveniently opened den.

She hurried to work as best she could in her state, trying not to think about meeting people she’d met recently.

“Don’t be so self-centred. Everyone cares for themselves only.”

Sounds comforting. Still good to see the Temples where we can hide.

Entering the Station building, the Secretary instantly lost half her enthusiasm for the current work light. Nodding briskly at everyone by the coffee table, scurrying past, she tried to hide her face, knowing joining the off-duty group was inadvisable this light. Fewer people seeing her today, the better… Until she felt human, at least.

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