章節 5: Wheatby
As they sat on Serenica's desk, mixing that awful booze with blackcurrant juice, something resembling a plan began to form.
"That wench, I need to find out what she's up to," Serenica said, rolling the liquid on her tongue and trying to decide whether it tasted more like cough medicine or death. "An awful lot of trouble, and for what, a few silly crystals and tattler's curses. She could have bought them all for much less than it takes to feed the city watch."
"Those men eat a lot," Helen agreed. "But isn't it obvious? She wants to be the only witch in Neul."
The idea was so stupid, so fruitless, that Serenica snorted.
"Come on! You heard what you said. She's one of those witch-hating witches."
"Yes, but why? I believe you, mother of worms, I do, but why?"
"It's better for the business?"
"She has no need to make business anymore."
"Oh, Serenica, you underestimate the insane hoarding tendencies of the rich."
Serenica took her new scarf. It would have made her look so fashionable. If only there was an occasion for it.
"That's a very nice scarf there," Helen said. "Can I borrow it some day?"
An inner lightning strike zapped Serenica's brain.
She had to meet Kinley. If she knew what the woman was up to, she could formulate a plan. She had to know what made Kinley tick.
"We're going spying," Serenica said. "I'd normally be polite and hear your opinion first, but my spying skills are as rusty as my scrying. We're going to visit Kinley."
Helen looked like she was having the worst panic attack of her life.
"We'll get killed!"
"Oh no, we won't. I'll pose as your servant. You'll give fake information about a supposed witch."
"Serenica, this is a bad idea."
"Drink up and shut up. This is a brilliant idea."
Liquid courage worked its magic on Helen. She got visibly excited about the idea of rubbing elbows with the lioness of Neul, as Kinley's admirers called her. Her joy was a bit too much for Serenica. She wondered if Helen would try to sell Kinley to her as just another witch wanting to make her way in the world. Nevertheless, they left the rest of the bottle resting on the table and embarked on a long walk towards the Ruby Hills.
Helen wanted to wear the scarf, but Serenica insisted on wrapping it around her own head.
"You're already stylish. I look haggard. I need this more."
"But –"
"You can wear it tomorrow."
"If we're still alive."
The Ruby Hills were named for the red poppies that used to grow on the billowing ground. Now the poppies were long gone, but the ground still seemed to have trouble containing itself: it was bursting out in freakishly steep forms all along the road. Only the very rich lived on the Hills. The view over Neul and its harbor was exquisite. The smell of poppies haunted the few carriages that ventured towards the bad areas, towards poverty. It was strange indeed, no red flowers anywhere, yet the smell lingered. The sun made its way towards the horizon, casting a glow upon the land of the mighty.
"You look good in that outfit," Helen said.
Serenica thought about it. She didn't usually care about her looks, but this evening was different. She had to pretend she was someone else, a Raelian woman who knew her place, a servant who didn't want to disrespect her mistress.
Helen, she always looked good. She was like one of those naked ladies in the greatest paintings, except, of course, with clothes on.
"What exactly do we say?" the socialite asked.
"Give a fake name and some fake address."
"Like Roinar's address combined with a fictional person?"
Serenica laughed.
"I don't think we should be so mean."
"Nonsense, you hate him. Let's be mean together."
Kinley's manor was, in a way, an impressive sight. Its walls were painted gray, with a bluish tinge, and ornamented with brown florals. Overall its architecture was elegant and minimal, and it didn't exactly make Serenica's heart leap with joy. It wasn't ugly, but it wasn't welcoming, either. The size of it should have made anyone angry. There was so much room for an unmarried woman.
A man of the city watch stood in guard. There were no other guards. They weren't needed. The man was terrifying in both size and presence. He was colorless and free of all features that could have given his face a personality. He had that neutral charm of a grown man that made grown women squeal with joy.
Serenica wasn't thrilled by this, and for a moment she felt like the only sane adult female in all of Sennas. There was a sour trace of a smirk on the man's face. Serenica thought she might have just seen the leader of the city watch.
"Good day to you, mister! Or isn't it evening already?" Helen chirped.
"Good day to the ladies," the man said and climbed down the couple of stairs that separated him from the women. "My name is Wheatby, Doymic Wheatby. How can I help you? Do you have business with Miss Kinley?"
Serenica noted that the man was very muscular. He could have snapped three necks in a row without breaking a sweat.
"We have important information that we simply need to share with Miss Kinley," Helen said.
"I deal with the tips. You will be compensated, of course, let's say ten silver coins and ten more if the tip leads to an arrest." Wheatby shifted his massive thighs and smiled.
Helen went silent.
Serenica cursed without making a sound. It was simple witchcraft, not in any way exclusive to actual witches, everyone did it. Serenica didn't know how she knew that. All she knew was that no soul got through life without internally muttering "mother of worms" every once in a while.
"Oh, it is not money we're after," Helen said, apparently trying to save the situation. "It is important to me and my servant that criminals receive a fair punishment. Isn't that right, Molly? Molly lost her family to illegal substances."
Serenica wanted to roll her eyes so far that they wouldn't come back down.
"My mistress is right, but I don't want to bother Mr. Wheatby with such things," she said.
There was no way they were going to get through Wheatby while sticking to the original plan. Serenica had to think fast.
"My mistress heard that this house is in need of a new dressmaker. She is very talented, and it is surely more fitting for a lady to utilize the services of another woman of culture, especially if measurements need to be taken."
"A dressmaker? Young miss is certainly fashionable. Even her servant is. Yet I kind of doubt Miss Kinley has any real need for new dresses."
"I am sure she has lots of very nice dresses, but does she have a black mourning dress like they do in Eastern Sennas? With blue ribbons?"
Helen spoke rapidly, in bursts, like someone talking about something very interesting. Serenica had to admit her instinct was admirable.
"Blue ribbons is as far as my understanding goes about Eastern fashion. I can't recall you two ever introducing yourselves. The Raelian girl is Molly, and you…"
"I'm Miss Helen Dastra," Helen said, and Serenica bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to draw blood.
It was never a good idea to tell one's real name to the city watch.
"Still unmarried! A woman like that – at that age, it's an outrage! If I was entirely available, I would propose right away!"
Wheatby's flattery didn't get the two women anywhere. Serenica smiled and commented that Helen should have the decency to blush.
Everyone laughed. It was very awkward.
"Tell me, Miss Dastra, how can you tell she would appreciate a mourning dress? They aren't common in Neul."
"Miss Kinley is no common woman."
"On that we do agree. Come, follow me. I will ask her if she is tired of Swordly and his creations."
"I must once again say that it is much better for a woman to be measured and serviced by a woman," Serenica said. "Swordly is an honorable man, we know him, but even the most honorable man is still a man –"
"I got it, I got it, Molly, and let me tell you that she thinks the same way. Even I feel unlucky at times that I should have been born a man. Yet we are useful. In certain things."
Wheatby smiled, and everything about him betrayed the fact that he did not think as he spoke.
Serenica knew what those comments were about. The only reason a man like that would speak about women like that was the thought of women as incompetent mouth breathers who needed constant validation about their supposed superiority.
She wanted to punch Wheatby and crack that skull full of thin hair.
Wheatby left them in a room that was completely adorned with very traditional and bleak paintings. The space seemed to be designed for waiting. Serenica could only guess, but her first thought was that it wasn't usually Kinley doing the waiting.
She let her gaze wander. In the paintings, there was a certain infallible visual excellence, yet they left the eye wanting. She could not place the exact source of the dissatisfaction.
A butler brought them tea and little plum cakes.
Helen ate in a civilized manner, but Serenica, knowing that she was thought of as more brutish, could indulge herself. It would not have mattered otherwise, but she liked the cakes.
The moment the butler disappeared Serenica said:"These cakes are so damn good."
"Shut up, you're drunk, someone could hear us!"
A door was opened nearby.
Every hair on Serenica's body stood up. She had heard no footsteps. Either the person coming closer was a ghost, or they had mastered the art of moving without a sound. The latter was scarier, somehow.
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