Paliágáta stepped aside with his attendants, allowing them to pass.
Storgen looked out at the seemingly endless rows of government agency desks and offices. Braziers of blue fire hung from the ceiling as the ailuros scratched and whittled away at their stations.
“So, what’s next oh, great giant talking cat?”
Paliágáta sniffed. “Before the key can be granted to you, your claim will have to be verified by the Inner Council.”
“Is that really necessary?” Ophira asked.
“You don’t plan on honoring our traditions?”
The Priestess pursed her lips. “Listen, you…”
“No, it’s okay,” Storgen soothed. “It’s both boring and hard, my two favorite things.”
Paliágáta swished his tail. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
Storgen shrugged. “I could use a drink, if you’re not done condescending to me.”
“I am not your waiter.”
“Then why did you ask?”
“Make mine a Dragon’s Breath,” Pops shouted from the back.
The elderly ailuros sighed. “Please leave, I don’t enjoy talking to humans.”
After more than a few minutes, and having to three times return to the information desk, they received directions to find the Verification Ingress Desk, third spiral staircase on the left, two rows down, the door partially obscured by some refurbishment, and improperly labeled as a custodial closet.
The office inside was far more opulent than seemed appropriate for an agency that hadn’t been used in generations. The ailuros behind the desk was surprised to see them, and quickly hid away the ball of string she had been playing with when they approached.
“Hi, we’re here to ingress our verification,” Storgen announced. “I believe we have an appointment.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said blankly. “We don’t see anyone until noon.”
They all looked down at the water clock on the desk. It read 11:59.
“Surely that’s close enough.”
“You’ve never worked in an office before, have you?” she returned.
“No, but I know how to read a sundial.” He pointed out the stained glass window into the courtyard beyond with a decorative sundial in the center. “Your water clock is slow.”
She giggled condescendingly. “It doesn’t matter what time it actually is, it only matters what the clock says. Besides, my supervisor rigs all the clocks to run faster during break time.”
Storgen was fuming as they all stood around uselessly watching the water clock. Slowly, it finally ticked over to 12:00, and the office worker sat up straight in her chair.
“Hello, my name is Tempélisgáta. I can help you now.”
Storgen clapped his hands. “Great, I’d like to get this over with quickly. Somewhere on this island is a girl with lavender hair, and I need to get searching.”
Both Philiastra and Erolina folded their arms disapprovingly.
“Let me guess, that’s the only reason he actually came along?” Erolina whispered.
“Bingo.”
Tempélisgáta winced. “Oh, I’m sorry, I’m going to need you to go over to the Verification Ingress Desk.”
Storgen looked down at the sign on her desk that read ‘Verification Ingress.’
“What are you, then?”
“This is Post Ingress, you need Pre-Ingress.”
He folded his arms. “And where, pray tell, is Pre-Ingress?”
She thought for a second. “I’m not sure, actually. You’ll have to go to the information desk.”
“How long have you been working here?”
“My family has faithfully manned this station for the last four generations.”
“And in all that time, you’ve never learned where the office people have to visit before yours is?”
“No one’s ever come by before.”
Storgen balled his fists. “I’ll be back, mark my meow.”
She watched them oddly as they left. “Meow?”
After two more trips to the Information Desk, and a detour so Pops could use the wash room, only to leave him behind once they realized he had fallen asleep in there, Storgen came stomping back into Post-Ingress carrying the golden celestial contract between Ambera and Nisi, along with fourteen separately stamped verification forms in triplicate.
“Here,” he said, slamming the papers down. “I went to Pre-Ingress, Identity Verification, and the Redundancy Office, and I have all your blasted paperwork.”
Tempélisgáta looked at them with practiced concern. “I’m sorry, I see you are more than 15 minutes late for your appointment, so we’re going to have to reschedule.”
“Reschedule?!”
“How does next month sound?”
“Look, I wasn’t late, I got here early.”
“That one doesn’t count.”
“Doesn’t count?!”
“You lacked the Pre-Ingress paperwork.”
Storgen threw up his hands. “Bah!”
Philiastra pinched the brow of her nose. “Never mind what I said earlier. We are most definitely still in Erotan.”
Even Erolina was getting ruffled at the delays. “And while the heat death of the universe stretches inexorably closer, you people fret about your little pieces of paper.”
Priestess Ophira pushed her way forward. “Now, see here, it’s absurd to make us reschedule. You yourself admitted that no one has ever used this office in your tenure.”
“I can certainly understand your frustration,” Tempélisgáta answered flatly.
“I don’t want your understanding, I want you to process this paperwork.”
“I can’t do that without an appointment.”
Ophira looked like she might pop. “Fine! Then I would like to launch a complaint.”
“I hear what you are saying,” Tempélisgáta answered flatly.
“No, you don’t, I would like to launch a complaint.”
“I can see where you are coming from.”
“Who is your supervisor?”
“I’d be happy to listen to your complaint.”
“I don’t want you to take my complaint, you’re the reason I’m complaining!”
Tempélisgáta pulled out a tiny form. “If you would write down your grievance, I can pass it along to my supervisor.”
Ophira grumbled every swear word she knew under her breath, and made up a few for good measure, as she jotted down her thoughts, adding several exclamations at the end.
“Here,” she said, sliding it over.
Tempélisgáta took the paper and tossed it into a basket next to her desk.
Ophira blinked. “Wait, did you just throw it away?”
“Oh no, that’s our complaint special service receptacle.”
Storgen huffed. “Yeah, I’m sure it’s gathered daily and taken to the dump outside.
Tempélisgáta gave a little grin, her tail swishing mischievously. “I thought you said you’d never worked in an office before. Besides, it doesn’t really matter. The Inner Council is nearly done for the day, and they won’t meet again for another eight months.”
“This is insufferable!” Ophira sputtered, walking away from the desk. “I’ve never seen such a twisted, perverse form of bureaucracy before.”
“No, this is pretty much how it always is,” Philiastra smirked.
“No, she’s right,” Erolina concurred. “These ailuros are intentionally trying to prevent us from taking control of the island.”
“They can’t do that, can they?”
“Legally, until they hand over the key, the island is in a state of transition. We have to play by their rules.”
The three women were startled by the sound of glass and wood breaking.
All eyes turned to Storgen, who picked away shards of glass from the smashed water clock and manually moved the hands until they read 12:01.
“There,” he said, plunking the broken clock down on the desk. “I am on time for my appoi
ntment.”
Tempélisgáta was flabbergasted. “You…you can’t just break government property.”
Storgen planted his hand down on the desk and leaned in close. “Oh, but I can. You see, once we have the key, we will have absolute and complete authority over everything and every person on this island. It may not happen for a few months, but you and I both know it will happen eventually. And, you know what? When it does, I’ve got a few ideas for some changes around here. Namely, having the Verification Ingress Desk moved to a dungeon, as a twenty-four hour position with the occupant chained to the wall, seven days a week.”
A drop of sweat rolled down her feline face. “But…you were late for your appointment.”
Storgen leaned in closer, his face becoming shadowed. “No, we aren’t. You said it yourself, it doesn’t matter what time it is, it only matters what time the clock says it is.”
He picked up the smashed clock and held it before her. “Now, I want you to look at this very, very carefully and tell me what you see. Does the clock say ‘dungeon,’ or does it say ‘I’ll have everything ready in three minutes?’”
Tempélisgáta swallowed hard, her feline eyes blinking. “I’ll have everything ready in three minutes.”
Storgen smiled sweetly. “Good.”
Five minutes later, they returned to the entrance and Storgen slapped the pile of documents along with the celestial contract into Paliágáta’s paws. “There, I expect you to take these to the Inner Council immediately.”
“H-how did you get these done so quickly?”
“Your staff is most efficient. They should be commended for their speed and enthusiasm.”
Paliágáta’s ears twitched angrily and he turned to his associate. “How long will the Inner Council remain in session?”
“For another fifteen minutes,” the ailuros reported.
“Plenty of time,” Storgen insisted. “Now if they fail to verify our claim before ending session today, it will be constituted as gross negligence and breach of contract. Isn’t that undeniable, cat-man?”
Paliágáta took the stack of papers. “Yes, almost as undeniable as what’s going to happen if you call me that again.”
As the ailuros walked away, Storgen gave them a friendly wave. “Have a nyice day.”
“Don’t tell me what to do!” he spat back.
When Storgen turned back around, he found the three girls staring at him.
“What?”
“That was…kinda awesome,” Philiastra admitted.
“That was amazing,” Ophira praised.
“And here I thought you were just a meathead,” Erolina said.
Storgen linked his hands behind his head. “Meh, it’s just something I read in a book once. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some searching to do.”
The three girls watched him as he walked away.
“I can’t believe it,” Ophira admitted. “He just saved our entire expedition. Ambera would have killed me if there had been an eight month delay.”
“I saw him first,” Erolina teased.
“Yeah, well, I’m his childhood friend,” Philiastra remarked.
“No, you aren’t.”
“The point is I’ve known him longer than both of you,” she insisted.
“Oh? I thought you didn’t like him that way?” Erolina said coyly.
Philiastra blushed heavily. “I don’t, of course I don’t. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care who he ends up with.”
Erolina traced her finger over her lips. “You’re just looking out for your beloved big brother, right?”
“Right…exactly.”
“Mmm hmmm.”
Erolina flicked her shining silver hair over her shoulder as she walked away. “Well, then, may the best woman win.”
* * *
Lord Krýo Fidi kept his voice low as he sheperded the frightened members of the choir along with their families into the waiting wagons. The land dragons sniffed and snorted against their reins, feeding off the fear in the air. Rather than his usual regal robes, he wore simple furs, and would have appeared nothing more than a common merchant were it not for his curly golden hair peeking out from beneath his cowl.
Reaching into his furs, he took out a map and handed it to the choir member who had tripped in Reinala’s presence. “I have listed the timetables of the patrols here in the ledger. So long as you don’t fall behind schedule, you’ll be able to make it to the coast unseen. There, a ship awaits you. I’m afraid that’s all I can do.”
The men and women held their frightened children close. Their futures uncertain, their lives forfeit.
“My Godmother has ordered me to kill you all,” Lord Krýo explained, looking over them with his kind eyes. “When I return, I will tell her that I have done so. So, I would ask you to take on new names wherever you settle.”
“Thank you,” one of the older women breathed.
Lord Krýo removed his money pouch and thrust it into their hands. “Here, I only wish I could do more.”
“Why are you doing this?” the choir member asked.
Lord Krýo reached out and delicately touched her cheek. “Because it’s the right thing to do, now go.”
With a step back and a smack to the backside, the land dragons took off in formation, the group of wagons kicking up dust behind them as they sped off into the distance.
Lord Krýo watched them for some time, until their caravan was nothing more than a speck on the horizon. In his heart, he prayed for their safety.
* * *
The sun was setting in the east when Storgen found the girls at the entrance to the Chrysós Hotel, the darkening sky filling with fireworks and confetti, the entire city a mingled roar of cheering and singing. The whole island seemed changed overnight. It was now a place of dancing, a place of light, a place of music. People celebrated in the streets, from the rooftops, from the tallest spire to the lowest barra. And everywhere Ambera’s priestesses encouraged higher and higher levels of merriment, soaking up the worship into large crystalline collectors carried by the guards.
“Hey guys. So, did they give us the key?” Storgen asked.
“The legal authority has already been transferred,” Erolina explained. “The whole island belongs to Ambera now.”
“So why aren’t we staying at the palace?” Pops bleated as he carefully reapplied the makeup to the face of his freshly washed doll.
“Because some very dangerous people are looking for Storgen, and until we get the defenses up to snuff, we need to keep a low profile.”
A fresh volley of fireworks exploded in the air above them. Storgen looked up and watched them form the crest of a fox. “Yeah, the priestesses have really outdone themselves. “The whole city is like one big festival.”
Erolina grabbed her bags. “They’ll give us the physical key during the height of the celebration. They want to make a big public ceremony of it.”
“Wait, you mean there’s an actual key? I thought it was just a figure of speech.”
“No, it’s a big old gold thing, about this long. Covered in jewels.”
“Ooh, maybe we can sell it.”
“It unlocks the gate to the underworld.”
“Okay, maybe not, then.”
“You should have seen the look on Paliágáta’s face,” Pops giggled. “Ophira even made him bow before her. He looked like a curdled saucer of milk.”
“Nice one, Pops.”
“Thank you, lad. Any chance we can go check out the local stores?”
“It’s pretty crazy out there right now, Pops. We might want to wait until the crowds die down before we go questing.”
Pops stood up and grabbed Storgen by the collar. “But, there are heroines close, I can feel it.”
“Are you seriously talking about looking for even more of those figurines?” Philiastra snapped.
“What else would I be talking about?”
“You have several hundred already,” Erolina observed, “why would you need more?”
“Well, duh, because my collection isn’t complete, obviously.”
The girls both rolled their eyes.
“Any luck with your lead, detective?” Philiastra inquired, trying to change the subject.
Storgen shook his head. “Nah, another dead end. Turns out it was a clerical error. There’s a lady who works in a pet shop across town that has a lavender hare. Nice lady, great storyteller, loves mangoes, but not the one I’m looking for.”
Erolina stood up and stretched. “Let’s get our lodging sorted out. I’m sick of listening to the both of you crooning on about your true love.”
“Crooning is not a word,” Philiastra argued.
“It totally is.”
They showed their talismans to the door guards, and were met by sweet perfumed air as they stepped inside. The entrance hall dripped with elegance, a band of magical instruments playing without musicians in a carved alcove. The floor was tiled in the same glassy black stone as the local xylophones, giving out a sweet echoing note with each footstep. Crystal chandeliers made drops of rainbows dance across the luxurious lobby, intricate murals lining the vaulted ceilings, sweet censers swinging back and forth like metronomes.
“Ooh, this is nice,” Philiastra said.
Storgen paid it all little heed. “On the bright side, now I’ve only got four more places to check, so my next search has a one in four chance of finding her. Ooh, and the one after that, a fifty percent chance. Can you believe it? I’ve never been this close before.”
“You are the eternal optimist, you know that?” Erolina jeered.
“I know, right? It’s so exciting.”
Erolina couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm.
Philiastra ran up to the check-in desk, flanked by two gaudy statues of Nisi, where the countless amenities were spelled out in various languages. “Hey, this is all on Ambera’s tab, right?”
“Yeah, I guess so, why?”
She rubbed her hands together. “He he, I’m gonna order soooooo much room service.”
Pops looked over the list, his bag of favorite dolls clutched tightly. “I wonder if they have a heroine couple’s meal option?”
“Please don’t tell me you want to sit in public and pretend to date your toys.”
Ambrosia Page 42
