Chapter 6
Norrell
Only birdsong and the whisper of trees in the breeze hang in the air in this early hour. Ada needs space from me after I pushed too hard at dinner, so I will give it to her this morning. Her message to me last night was clear.
I know the way to town hall from her house, but there is ample time to wander and reacquaint myself with this treasured place.
The low morning sun puts a soft filter on her tree-canopied street, where most of the largest and oldest houses in town are situated.
I wonder if the same neighbors live here.
Some that I was well-acquainted with, a gregarious family of barghests who run the local inn, lived down the block.
They talked me into helping them fix their fence after a large fallen branch collapsed a section of it.
They were worried their dog would get loose.
I always thought it was funny that these barghests, who were big black canine beasts in their shifted forms, had their own dog—a small yappy one at that.
The fence needed mending on a weekend that Ada wanted to go kayaking through the tidal rivers.
But they needed my help and at the time it felt like a neighborly thing to do.
I am unsure exactly why I agreed. Maybe I was trying to prove myself in this community.
No matter, I see it differently now. Someone else could have stepped in to help. My plans with Ada were more important.
My entire walk is filled with similar memories.
A beach weekend pushed off to help with an art show.
Digging out a garden plot for a different neighbor when I promised to help Ada with holiday preparations.
Showing up to our anniversary dinner late after covering an extra shift at the hardware store.
The list is long for having lived here only two years.
As my mate, I should have put her needs first. Not that mates do not help others, of course they do.
But I was often in service to the community at her expense, even when none of these situations were urgent.
Fire of the frost, I was old enough that I should have known better, but I was not wise enough to recognize the pattern.
The hurt shone in her eyes each time I let her down, yet I kept doing it.
I treated this town like my new clan because I did not realize there was another way.
In my settlement, service is critical to our survival.
Our individual wants are secondary to the clan’s needs.
That dire dichotomy does not exist here in the same way.
But I was still too sheltered to see that in those days.
I put her through so much, and then I left to lead my clan without her, my final and worst transgression.
I long ago came to terms with the fact that my supposed selflessness was a continual act of selfishness for which Ada always paid the price.
Strolling down the sleepy streets, I realize I have missed the trees, towering and majestic, providing plentiful shade over much of the town.
Bright flowers bloom continually, painting the scenery in bright pinks and purples.
The endless greenery is not even entirely magickal.
There is no real winter here, and the days swelter in the summer.
It was a shock at first, but not entirely unpleasant.
The “Be Cool” charm from Ada’s shop kept me from overheating.
The nature surrounding the town is rugged and untamed compared to its pristine and beautified streets.
Pine forests, salt marshes, coastal features like natural beaches and long inlet rivers that flow into the ocean.
So much wildlife. Now when I traverse the vast ice fields and rocky, mountainous terrain, bare of most vegetation in the far north, it seems desolate in a way it never had before coming here.
My people stay above the northern tree line for a reason.
Malefic Folk are not attracted to beauty in the way that Whispered Folk are.
It would be like expecting a shark to admire the vibrant hues of the coral reef it swims around.
This town offers more to its residents than I could imagine.
It speaks to the strength of the community and its diversity of Whispered Folk.
The small cinema, grocery store, restaurants and cafes, more shops than I could dream of.
I learned a new way of living here, less focused on survival and more on enjoyment.
It marked the longest time I spent away from my clan and the most pivotal.
Including my time at the witches’ academy, it was only three short years out of my long forty-seven.
In the North Clan settlement, our amenities are limited living in a vast underground network of caverns in northern Canada.
It functions like a town with homes, shops, and restaurants, but with very little variety.
More functional than whimsical, out of necessity.
We are much smaller too, only two thousand to Monstera Bluff’s twelve.
We have satellite internet and phone communications, of course.
Like most Whispered Folk communities, over the years we developed means, often magickal, to move through the human world when needed, earning their currency through passive means, and buying their goods and services as necessary.
But the glaring reality of what our settlement lacks rings anew now that I am back here.
Although today’s safety council meetings will certainly have food and drink, I enter Pearlhouse Pastries, one of Ada’s favorite spots.
I do not recognize any of the employees behind the counter.
They look rather young and were probably children when I lived here.
Who would guess the family of tarasque would be such prolific bakers with their paw-like hands and leonine sensibilities.
They do not wield magick, but their creations could be mistaken for it.
I got to know them when I lived here. I remember them fondly and miss their friendship.
The bakery still has their popular raspberry and chamomile frangipane croissant on the top shelf of their display case.
Ada would usually end up ordering it, even when she promised herself she would try something new.
I ask the young male at the counter to box up half a dozen and then order a black coffee for myself.
There is no sense in delaying the inevitable, so I head in the direction of the town hall building situated at the very end of the main street as if it is watching over the beloved business district, the crown jewel of the town.
There are no vacant store fronts, and it seems to have grown since I last saw it, though I remember many of the establishments.
Few are open this early, so there are not many pedestrians out yet.
The boulevard street is wide enough for a median accommodating mammoth live oaks that look like they are trying to reach out and touch the buildings on each side.
The town hall building itself is grand and striking.
A tall, three-story limestone structure with an exterior more ornate than practical.
The shady square situated in front of it invites you in, with benches and lush landscaping, offsetting the otherwise dramatic appearance.
I wonder if that old centaur is still the mayor.
He used to insist on greeting nearly everyone who stepped inside when he was not in a meeting, whether the visitor was there for him or not.
He cornered me and gave me his entire pitch on the town right after I moved here.
The building is quiet as I follow the posted signs and head upstairs, no nosy old centaur or anyone to be seen.
The layout of the large meeting room, where this first safety council meeting will be held, feels too much like a tribunal for it to simply be a day to interview witnesses and victims. A chair and table are set far apart from the rest, the focal point of the room.
Only a group of constables and other law enforcement representatives are here, talking amongst themselves while setting up the tables, which might contribute to its unfriendly configuration.
Still, Ada, or any other witness, should not be made to feel uncomfortable.
I worry it will add to Ada’s stress. She was tense last night, much of which was caused by my arrival, but certainly not all of it.
This surely loomed large in her mind too.
Niven, who will be leading today’s meeting, arrives right after me.
He studies me, a guarded expression on his face.
I wait impassively while he approaches. I do not want to make an enemy of him if I do not have to, even if I do not care for how overly solicitous he was of Ada.
She needs friends in her corner, but it looks too comfortable coming from him.
Still, I may be able to use it to my advantage in this situation.
“Norrell Snowstrider, you’re here early.
” Niven’s unexpectedly scraping voice is at odds with his sophisticated demeanor.
“I didn’t want to bring this up at dinner, but our group of friends wondered who claimed so much of Ada’s time that last year at the academy.
When we finally learned about you it was a bolt from the blue, to say the least. A yeti among us for an entire year.
She kept your secret, you know. She was true to you.
And then you did the unthinkable and left her.
You didn’t have to come back here, and you certainly have no business expecting a room in her house.
There are plenty of other places you could stay.
Ashes, if you were a decent male, you would have sent an advisor.
Do you find sick pleasure in blowing up her life?
” he accuses with an unnatural calmness.