Well Tailored Consequences
“Would you wake up and continue your duties?”
“She woke up earlier to eat, but that was twenty minutes ago.”
“Unless you are educated patrons of necromancy, you can’t stay here except as her guests. While she’s unconscious, you’re not her guests. Leave while I figure her out.”
“Yep, Ma’am!”
I have this vague memory of some profound thought I had while indulging on waffles.
It’s starting to… I think I mistook my inability to word something during a state of sleep deprived exhaustion for the depth of an idea.
“And don’t smoke here!”
“I won’t…” I promise.
“First day, and this is your showing? Get up.”
Shame tanging in my ears, I jump back to awareness. “Sorry!”
She points down to the desk. “Sit down and talk with the patrons. I left a manual for you. Finish it, and try not to bother me while I’m in the back.”
“Of course, Ma’am.”
“Mistress, not ‘Ma’am.’ I don’t have a lot of patience for your mistakes, so make few of them. Got it?”
I freeze up.
Remind myself. Again and again. The worst it can get is a trip home. And home is only as bad as it was yesterday. But nodding and moving a cart and standing by on the desk is better.
I can be fine.
I can work.
‘INTRODUCTION TO THE PARLOUR,’ the first header on page one of two reads.
Hundredth time I’ve read it. Repeating to myself how much somewhere else is worse won’t change the fact that I almost want to be tortured instead of eight hours of this.
“The parlour is a place of education and community. It’s open to the public, but monetary patronage is encouraged and advertised during events,” I whisper from off the page.
Tasting the way words feel from my mouth and adjusting my expression is about the only way to cause feelings right now.
My old wonder at why Mistress Vincenza kicked out Lucia if we’re open to the public went stale fifty eight read-throughs ago.
The ink was wet when I first read this page; it’s clear she typed this just when I was eating with Lucia. The type’s already started to smudge off.
13:52. The parlour closes in eight minutes. If I reread it all really slowly, I might just be done with the shift—and maybe learn about the second part of the shift after the place closes.
“Most people use the parlour day to day for a reading space or for checking out books. Though many also refer to us for news or research aides. For research aid requests, refer to me, but check if they’re a paying patron. Patron records are drawer ‘C.’ You’re not paid to help them. Don’t try.
“The parlour has no smoking, no loud conversations, and ensure guests aren’t making a mess if they choose to eat. If a guest is violating the rules of their stay—especially if they’re not a patron—refer to me for their removal.”
“You’re allowed to read a book if you’re bored,” Mistress Vincenza interrupts.
I jolt back and fix my expression.
“You didn’t leave?” She glares at me.
“No. Was I supposed to?”
She sighs. “Do you think the Great Ring wants you to apprentice here?”
“The Ring brought me to your door the day you were accepting interviews, and you didn’t disagree with it.” I smile piously, hiding the glaring doubt burning into me as I avoid looking into her eyes. “And trusting the Ring’s guidance went well today. I answered a patron’s question!”
“What question?”
“They wanted to find a book, and I found it for them! The numbers aren’t… that difficult.”
“At least you’ve learned those.” She leans forward, hand and weight resting on the table. “Did you walk the house every half hour?”
“Mhmm.”
“Don’t speak casually when in my presence. Full words. Did you walk the house every half hour?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“Okay then.” She reaches into her pocket, dropping a key and an envelope onto the table. “Key is for the front door. Envelope is your stipend: two hundred crescents in bank notes. You’ll receive the same amount at the beginning of each week, contingent on your continued apprenticeship.”
I could just hug her. I need to physically express how excited I am at all this, at how real it all is now, but all I can do is tense my fingers and tighten my arms. “Thanks, Mistress.”
“Be up by six tomorrow. I’ll open the parlour late while taking you to a tailor. Is that all fine?”
“Yes! And… I’m not sure if it’s early to ask: when do I start learning magic?”
“I’ll work on finding you some patrons to choose from at the end of the week.
For now, read these books.” She grabs one of the pens laid out on the table and writes down three book titles on a sticky note.
“Basic introductions to arcane theory. They’re short enough for you to read them before then; I expect you to. ”
She’s giving it all to me. Where do I even begin?
“Thank you.”
“Just keep working.” She spins her head around the parlour. “Piero left, didn’t he?”
“About five hours ago.”
“Then the place really is empty. There’s no need for after-hours work down here; you only stay past if we’re doing rituals. Go to bed. I’ll close.”
“Thanks aga—I’m not tired. What do I do now?”
Her face drops; I didn’t even know it was ever up. “You have your pick of the library or your choice of friends. Don’t make your own hobbies my burden.”