There was something nice, something peaceful about it. I liked it, but not enough to make a habit out of getting up this early. I got the feeling that part of my enchantment with it was the fact that it was so novel to me, and that repetition would wear out the wonder of it.
With no particular destination in mind. I walked the streets, keeping my eye out, and enjoying the coolness of the morning. It was a strange feeling for me. I wasn’t used to doing something like this and it was starting to wear on me. But going home and trying to sleep wasn’t appealing to me either.
Regardless, I walked for hours, and didn’t see a single problem.
Days passed, and my funk gradually went away. The memory of the incident, while still fresh and horrible, lost some of its immediacy, and I could concentrate on other things again. I was laughing more freely when I met up with Jessup and savoring the ale as much as before. My sleep habits returned to the comfortable pattern of seeing the evening turn to night and then to early morning, before turning in, to greet the next day slightly before the crack of noon.
And I was ready to take on a job. Funds were starting to run low and I was getting antsy, which always happened if I went too long in between jobs. The days were dragging, and I started talking out loud to an empty house and waiting for that buzzing feeling in my head to return, which never did.
The watchhouse was the same as always when I entered. Sarge was at his usual place, his customary newssheet spread in front of him, and several notices pinned to the Board, although not nearly the number there was a short time ago.
“Hey, Sarge.”
He glanced up at me and actually nodded, which I decided was an improvement over a grunt, so I stopped at the desk. “Any word on what happened?”
“Nothing. Whoever did it got away clean. Lucky for them.”
“What about the other Nuisance Men? Anything on them?”
“Nothing there either. There are a few new guys around, wetter behind the ears than you even, if you can believe that. Seen a couple of the old guys around, too, but I don’t think they ever went in the first place.”
“MM?” I was really hoping that the huge barbarian was one of those who had resisted the temptation of Lord Pennywither’s announcement. I didn’t know if I could have called him a friend, but he was a good soul, and I wanted him to be around.
“Yeah, he’s around. Not doing much these days. I think he’s about done.”
“Good. MM is good people.”
I took a job. It wasn’t anything special, just something to pay the bills.
Although the last few days saw a resurgence of my more normal outlook on life, my visit to the watchhouse, the first since the day the watchman was killed, brought a lot of melancholy back to me. What happened really bothered me, and I wondered about Rachel and Bethany. After all, they weren’t hardened to the seedier sides of life like I was.
I made my way back to the Horn of the Unicorn, almost shamefully glad to see the garish pink still in full display. On the walk I got it into my head that the girls would have closed up shop and moved on, maybe into a nicer area, or maybe giving it up entirely.
“Helloooo…oh, it’s you.” Rachel came out from the back when I entered, in full Princess Featherbottom mode, but dropped it quickly when she saw who it was.
“Hello to you, too.”
“Oh, don’t be like that. It’s not that I’m not happy you stopped by, but I was hoping for a paying customer or two.”
“I can understand that. Business hasn’t picked up?”
“No.” She flopped down at the same table we sat at the other day, motioning me to one of the other seats. “And now I’m afraid we have a reputation, too. You know, since…”
She didn’t finish, but I knew what she meant. People can be awfully superstitious.
“What now?”, I asked.
“We’ll keep going, for a while anyway. Bethany still believes in this place.”
As if mentioning her name was enough to summon her, Bethany appeared from behind the curtains leading to the back of the building.
“Mr. Grandfather!” She, at least, sounded glad to see me. “What a wonderful surprise!”
“Thanks. I wanted to drop by and see how you guys were doing.”
“Wonderful! Life is simply grand. Oh, I know, Rachel. You don’t have to look at me like that. But the business will come. I’m sure of it.”
I kept switching my focus between the two of them while Bethany spoke. While she was upbeat and expressive, Rachel looked like she was having a hard time keeping the disdain from her face.
“I hope you’re right,” I said, trying to be diplomatic. “I’m sure little girls will love this place, once they know it’s here.”
“Not just little girls!” Bethany’s eyes lit up with a fervor usually reserved only for those deep in the throes of religious passion or political debate. “Everyone loves unicorns! How could they not? They’re the most magical, gentle, wonderful creatures to ever…”
“Alright,” Rachel interrupted. “We know. Want to grab some tea for our guest?”
Bethany was a little put out to be cut-off, but rose with a huff and left the room, muttering.
Rachel watched her go, then turned back to me, her voice lowering.
“I’m worried about her. She’s gotten even more caught up in this than she was when we first opened. There’s no talking to her. Whenever I mention that we have no customers, she smiles and tells me that she knows, for an absolute fact, that things will work out. When I ask her how she knows this, she smiles and doesn’t say anything. And the unicorn stuff! It’s all the time now.”
“Why not pull out, then. Sell her your half and move on?”
Rachel mouth twisted. “Would you? Would you abandon someone you love over something like this?”
“No,” I replied. “I guess I wouldn’t. But then what?”
She sat back in her chair, picking at the pink sparkles that covered her skirt. “Can I hire you?” she finally asked, her voice very low.
“Hire me? To do what?”
“I don’t know. Something isn’t right here, and I want you to find out what it is.”
“Me? I’m a Nuisance Man. I take a problem off the Board in the watchhouse and go eliminate it. That’s all. I’m not a detective.”
“But you must have some experience with things like this. Tracking someone down who doesn’t want to be found…keeping your eyes open….solving problems when the task is too hard…things like that.”
“Well, sure, but that doesn’t mean…”
“How much would you charge if I put it on your Board? If I posted a notice saying, ‘remove one unknown problem’? What would that cost?”
“I couldn’t even tell you. I’ve never seen a vague notice like that before. It’s always someone in particular.”
“How about 50 rubles? And I’ll pay you up front.”
Fifty rubles was good money. But go independent? I’m sure the Watch, and by extension, the Crown, would frown on that. Then again, I wasn’t removing a nuisance. I wasn’t even being solicited to kill anyone, really. Simply to investigate what might be going on with Bethany, which to me seemed a pretty straight-forward case of her losing her marbles.
“Alright,” I finally said. “But I have to be honest, I think I’m just going to find out that Bethany needs some rest.”
“That could be. But I don’t think so. I know her. There’s something more going on.”
We stopped talking as the curtains parted and Bethany came back, bearing the same type of tea-pot I saw the other day, and three dainty hoof-shaped cups. I smiled as she poured the tea and ignored Rachel’s amused gaze as I drank it down.
It occurred to me the next day that there was something I hadn’t considered when I agreed to do this job for Rachel. Something that might have made me rethink the whole thing.
In order for this to work, I was going to need to spend a good amount of time at the Horn of the Unicorn, a situation that was problema
tic in two ways. First, I was going to be seen going there a lot, by a lot of people. I worked hard at building the beginning of a reputation as a tough Nuisance Man, someone not to be trifled with. How was my visiting the local unicorn hobby shop going to play with that?
And also, I needed an excuse, something reasonable to Bethany, for why I was spending all that time there. She already knew that I didn’t have a daughter, or nieces, or even a girlfriend with a kid. I was either going to have to be a fellow unicorn enthusiast, a passionate tea drinker who couldn’t get enough of their special brew, or….work there.
Rachel presented it to Bethany as a way to perhaps attract a different crowd, and maybe put a few concerns about security at rest. Bethany thought about it, and finally agreed, on a couple of conditions.
Thus, it was that in short order, I was fitted out in bright pink tights, with a slightly less-bright tunic coming down to barely cover my behind, as long as I remained standing perfectly straight and upright the whole time. My shoes had large pink pom-poms attached to the tops, but I couldn’t see them due to the huge ruffed collar that made my neck and chin itch horribly.
My whole background needed to change, and it took me some time to learn the remarkably detailed story that Bethany put together for me, the Duke of Sugarloaf Cove.
To her credit, Rachel waited until Bethany left the room to laugh.
“What are you laughing at, Princess Featherbottom?” I growled.
“Nothing. Just that now, you are an actual Duke!”
Somehow, I didn’t think this was quite what my mother had in mind.
There wasn’t much to my new “job”. I mostly hung out, helped with the cleaning, watched out the window and actually grew to like tea a little. It would never be coffee, and would certainly never take the place of ale, but I was finding it more palatable as time went on.
I got Bethany to relent on the ruffed collar, with the promise that should we get a customer, I would immediately put it back on. It was a pretty safe promise to make, as we hadn’t seen a soul in the two days I had been there. But as despondent as that should have made them both, Bethany stayed positive.
“It will happen,” she said. “I know it for a fact.”
Rachel showed me how to make the tea, which wasn’t as hard as I would have thought. Let water heat up, put some dried bits of leaves in this silver ball thing and pour the hot water over it. I didn’t see a single wish or speck of star-dust involved in the procedure at all.
On the third day, I headed for the kitchen to make a pot of tea, when I overheard Bethany talking. Rachel was still out in the front room, staring morosely out the window at the street, and barely responded when I asked her if she wanted some. I took it for a yes anyway and made my way back.
I assumed therefore, that Bethany was talking to herself, or perhaps reading aloud a new history of Princess Featherbottom, or the Duke of Sugarloaf Cove, or her own Unicorn Persona, Queen Dreamfairy. She spent a lot of time coming up with these elaborate backstories for our characters, which we learned and committed to heart. If any customers ever did happen to come in, they’d find a whole, rich world of fantasy delight waiting for them.
It was a little sad, really. Bethany should have written all of it down and tried to get one of the big printing houses to put the stories out to be read by the public. She probably would have made a fortune.
“Are you sure?” I heard her say. She was in the pantry, set off from the kitchen by a short hallway.
There was silence, then. “I know. I do trust you. But it’s hard…”
Silence again. “No, I understand. These things take time, I know.”
I felt funny, like I was eavesdropping on a conversation that had nothing to do with me. And yes, I understood that this was what Rachel hired me for, but it still felt wrong somehow. I cleared my throat and walked a little heavier.
Bethany’s voice stopped, and I heard her start for the door of the pantry. She appeared, smiled at me, and passed on to go find Rachel.
I took a quick peek into the pantry, just to be sure. As I suspected it was empty. But as I turned to go, there was a soft rustling noise from the back of one of the shelves. I would have to let the girls know, and on my way home, I’d stop off for a rat trap.
The next day, it happened. An actual, bona-fide customer came in. I was standing at the window, sipping my fourth cup of tea that morning when I saw them coming. A little girl, who couldn’t have been more than five years old, holding her mother by the hand and firmly pulling her our way with an almost manic glee. Her mother’s expression was different. She wore that long-suffering look that some parents get when they realize that their lives are now under almost complete control of someone much smaller and weaker than themselves, and there is nothing that they can do about it.
I watched for a moment, and then suddenly remembered my collar as they reached the door. I spun and ran through the curtains leading to the back, colliding with Rachel as I did.
“Customer!” I spluttered. I was almost as excited by the prospect as I was sure Bethany would be. “Collar! Where?”
Rachel raised her eyebrows. “Geesh. Relax. Your collar is in the pantry. I’ll get the customers seated, you find Bethany and then get ready. You don’t have to do much, you know. Just bring out the tea or something when it’s ready.”
She walked past me, shaking her head, but letting loose with a high-pitched “Helloooo!” I heard the little girl squeal with delight.
Bethany. Where was Bethany? I hadn’t seen her this morning. Maybe she was still in the apartment that she and Rachel lived in over the shop. I ran out the backdoor, intending to take the stairs there and pound on the door at the top.
But Bethany was out back already, in the alley, kneeling next to a wooden crate, the type used by delivery men to tote vegetables, or bottles, or whatever else they may be carrying. She was whispering as she stared into the box and didn’t seem to be aware that I had come out of the shop.
“Bethany?”
She let out a squeak and popped up, turning to me. As she did, she stepped back, so that her very full skirt flowed over the box, hiding whatever was inside of it.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Perfect!” She beamed at me. “How are you, today, milord Sugarloaf?”
I decided to pretend to ignore whatever it was I saw. Boredom makes all us do strange things every now and then. Maybe she had a kitten, or even a baby rat or something, in that box, and didn’t want anyone else to know about it.
“Customer!” I almost whispered it, my eyes wide and a huge grin splitting my face.
“Customer? I knew it!” And she was gone, rushing past me in a blur of pink and sparkles.
Of course, I looked into the crate. There was nothing there. It sat on the cobblestones, a perfectly ordinary wooden box. Except, I realized that it was a remarkably clean box, the fact of which was set off by the filth of the cobblestones around it. Now that I thought about it…there wasn’t any dirt on Bethany’s skirt either.
Weird.
The little girl was beyond delighted to be in the Horn of the Unicorn, and Rachel and Bethany showered her with attention. It wasn’t even her birthday. Her mother told us that they walked by the place every day for the last couple of weeks and were never quite sure what it was. Then, her daughter told her that it was a magical place, full of unicorns and that they needed to go. She watched wistfully as the little girl listened to Bethany’s stories about Queen Dreamfairy and her friends with rapt attention.
“They’re hard to say ‘no’ to sometimes, you know? Good tea, by the way.”
I beamed. I had made that pot. Duke Sugarloaf was on the job.
“That was wonderful,” Bethany breathed, when the little girl and her mother left, promising to tell all her friends.
“Luck was finally with us,” Rachel said, sitting down to remove one sparkly shoe and rubbing her foot.
“Luck? It wasn’t luck,” Bethany said, still looking out the window. “I just
needed to keep believing.”
“Well, you did that. Still, it was only one little girl. We sold a couple of pots of tea and a few unicorn toys, but that won’t cut it long term. Let’s hope she really does tell all her friends, and then they tell theirs, and so on. Otherwise…”
“You don’t have to worry,” Bethany said, obviously slightly hurt. “I told you. It’s going to work. I know it for a fact.”
She flounced out of the room and Rachel sighed as she watched her go.
“Well, that does it. I’ve hurt her feelings.” She looked over at me. “Have you found anything yet?”
“Not really,” I replied, but told her what I saw in the alley earlier.
“That is pretty weird. I’ll ask her about it later. In the meantime, I guess we can clean up.”
It was amazing how much of a mess one little girl could make.
I was carrying dishes to the kitchen to wash them, when I heard Bethany’s voice coming from the pantry again. This time, I pushed aside any lingering feelings of regret and listened.
“Thank you! I knew you’d do it.”
There was no reply, but Bethany’s voice stopped, as if she were listening to one.
“It was wonderful! Do you really think she’ll be back?”
Again, no response, but a pause.
“Oh, I know you’re right. Now, you deserve a treat! Stay here and I’ll get you a sugar cube!”
Her footsteps neared so I hurried on to the kitchen, but I heard what sounded like the almost non-existent snort of a horse, and the ghostly clip-clops of delicate little hooves.
The next day, we were overwhelmed. The little girl from the day before did come back, with no fewer than fifteen of her dearest friends, all unicorn enthusiasts to the utmost. Rachel and I were run ragged, racing back and forth from the kitchen, supplying tea and cakes, sandwiches with their crusts cut off, and candy. A couple of the mothers asked about wine, but Rachel explained that they didn’t serve it, although I could see the wheels turning in her head as she thought about it.
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