The days when her life was, well, normal… it was so far away that she couldn’t even picture it anymore. What did she even do every day? She was pretty sure she helped make meals, clean, that sort of thing.
It was strange. So strange. How could she so thoroughly forget what life was like that she couldn’t even remember how to prepare a potato? Thank Tanya’s god that she remembered what a potato was!
There was a light scuffing sound outside her cell.
She’d been aware of it coming but had ignored it. Guards walking up and down the corridors were such a commonplace thing that it was easy to ignore.
However, they didn’t usually stop. At least, not with the intention of doing nothing. She barely noticed the unusual happening before immediately rolling out of her defenseless position and taking a stance with her fists up.
Even if they tried to hurt her, by the tears!, she was going to make them regret it!
However, it was not a guard.
She made a guess that it was a ‘he’ by his height and build. Taller than her, shoulders broader, that was all she was able to see because he wore a long, thick robe with a hood. The hood was pulled down so she couldn’t see his face, but she could feel his gaze.
For a long moment, they just stared at each other.
A prickle rose on her neck, and her whole body tensed. It wasn’t uncommon for people placing huge bets to be granted access to the cells, where they could leisurely inspect the contestants. Sometimes they were given… permission to do things to the contestants. Not things that would seriously hurt them, but things that left her covering her ears to block out the sounds of distress.
However, regardless of intent, visitors usually had at least one guard with them.
She found the lone outsider a source of anxiety. Did they get ahead of their escort, choosing a victim before help arrived? If it were just one person, she could give him serious damage before he could hurt her, even with no weapon on hand.
Especially if she could get to his ears. She’d nearly torn a trainer’s ear off with her teeth once, and that was when she was ten. She was much stronger now.
The outsider finally moved, stepping forward.
She took a wary step back.
Whatever she expected him to do, he didn’t do it. Instead, he lowered himself to a crouch and put something through the bars.
“I’m sorry I can’t do more.” His whisper was so low she knew she wouldn’t be able to identify his voice later. “Eat it before they take it from you.”
Bewildered, she watched him stand and hastily leave, pulling his already lowered hood closer to his face.
What was that?!
She didn’t approach the thing for a long time, not until she heard the shuffling of the real guards coming. Still cautious, she retrieved the pouch and put it under her blanket before they got there, then waited until they’d passed before pulling it out again.
Yes, it was a pouch. A dull brown, tie-string pouch. Forehead wrinkled, she opened it.
And stared.
What?
Her forehead wrinkles deepened as she sniffed the contents, and it took a few minutes for her to find a word to describe them, because she didn’t know the Lynian word for it. And it had been an unusual treat in her homeland, only possible because of her relatives.
Cookies?
She pulled one out and inspected it, her bewilderment increasing. Chocolate. Another word from her homeland. She vaguely remembered the trees the bean grew on. Cultivation and keeping some was complicated for reasons she couldn’t remember, but she remembered chocolate.
More specifically, she remembered the drink they used to make out of it during times of celebration. A bitter drink that her mother would sometimes sweeten with milk and honey, the honey also thanks to awful relatives.
Tears pricked her eyes.
That’s right. Normal living wasn’t just work. It was also fun, games, and laughter.
She took a bite of the dark brown cookie and flinched, feeling the flow of power. Alarmed, she looked back into the pouch. Was there a spell on these cookies?!
That was when she noticed something white at the bottom of the pouch. Pulling it out, she found a small, folded piece of paper. It was beautifully decorated and boldly proclaimed:
Ivan’s Potions
Longform Rejuvenative Biscuits (Premium)
Designed to preserve the body under prolonged hardship.
Complete course: effects may last up to five months.
For an instant, she couldn’t take it in. Some of the words she didn’t know—what did ‘premium’ mean?—but she understood enough to grasp what the cookies were supposed to do.
Impulsively, she scooted over to the bars and tried to peek down the corridor. It was a useless thing to do. The intruder was long, long gone. After a few seconds of fruitless searching, she pulled back and looked both at the paper and the pouch again.
An unexpected tear trickled down her cheek.
Look at that. She didn’t know she could cry anymore.
Laughing at herself, she wiped away the rest of the tears and ate the cookies as fast as she could.
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And when that was done, she ate the paper and tossed the pouch into the middle of the corridor. No sense leaving more evidence of what happened. This way, one of the guards will be the suspect, but they’ll leave her alone.
***
Present: 20 Years Old
It was time for her shift soon.
Instead of getting ready, she lay on her bed with her head cushioned under her hands. She looked like she was staring at the ceiling. What she was really doing was seeing nothing as she dwelt on the argument.
Again.
Yesterday, brimming with the strange pleasure of bringing home knick-knacks, she'd put a he-troll’s share on Chloe's pillow. Two books, a bookmark, a hair clip with a stylized feather that Zanie wasn’t sure Chloe would wear, four handkerchiefs, and the figurine of a dragon.
Then, after changing and abandoning her own part of the loot on her bed, she went to Ma'Shite's office.
As she hoped, he wasn't there.
Making room on one of his bookcases by turning a stack on its side, she'd stepped back to admire the new addition. A figurine of the fourteenth god, the one she was fairly certain was the god Ma'Shite believed in. And she'd gotten the only option with a purple toga-thing, too!
She was feeling strangely bubbly about it when the door opened.
“Their grounds are shaky at best. You only missed inspection by three days,” said a vaguely familiar man as he stepped in first.
“We hadn't missed inspection at all,” Ma'Shite corrected with a sigh. “My aides keep track of— Amicus? What are you doing here?”
The lawyer froze, then immediately acted as if he’d found a snake in his bed. With a gasp, he jumped back toward the opposite wall, eyes darting to the door.
That was beyond annoying!
She may be a public menace, but there were people more dangerous than her. Many of them probably went in and out of this twit’s office, begging to be represented in the trouble they cause.
Meanwhile, she was shunned like a demon or a troll, treated like she’d kill anything that moves.
She glared at the man, unaware of her expression slipping toward something terrifyingly inhuman even as the edges of her sight blackened and narrowed. All she knew was that the irritation was curling through her more dramatically and overwhelmingly than usual.
Her glare only made the scrawny louse more nervous, and he visibly shrank away, causing her to snap forward half a breath. He made an odd squawking sound and practically scrambled toward the door, where Ma'Shite stepped between them. The twit cowered behind her master like a beaten dog.
She snarled.
“Bram,” Ma’shite said calmly, not looking over his shoulder, “why don't you ask one of the maids for refreshments?”
The man was all too happy to scamper out. The Amicus glared after him, not moving but also not fully paying attention to Ma’Shite. It was only when the music started that she blinked and looked around, her mind feeling a little… Foggy.
Like she’d just woken from a dream.
“Better?” Ma’Shite asked casually.
She stared at him, then blinked back at the door. Bewildered.
“What was the trigger this time?”
The trigger? She dropped her forehead into her hand, not rubbing, just thinking. Thinking and keeping her eyes away from her master, who was putting the music box down, the tune tinkling gently at her.
Was it because she'd spent a large part of the day pretending to be normal? Treated not as a curse, but as a fellow human?
Had two normal days, not even back-to-back, really made her intolerant of her reality?
She clenched her hanging fist and didn’t dare raise her head.
“Amicus.”
Still, she kept her head down.
“Amicus,” he repeated, more firmly.
Reluctantly, she raised her head and met his stern eye. There was no softening as he had done in the past. Just a firm, “I really think you should go.”
That was yesterday.
She’d run from the room, not even bothering to answer him. Nor did she stay long enough to see if he’d noticed her gift.
A part of her thought she should cry. The other part was matter-of-fact. The master wasn’t trying to get rid of her. She even knew that his intention was only for her to go. And if she wanted to come back, she could.
She was just afraid… of what?
Of finding out her worst fears were right? That she really had been abandoned? Unwanted? That whatever was beyond her lost memory was worse than not knowing at all?
That wasn’t Ma’Shite’s opinion.
He thought she was afraid to find out that everything was the opposite. That she might be missed, grieved… even loved.
That seemed like such a stupid thing to fear.
With a sigh, she rolled off the bed, her body aching slightly, telling her there was a storm coming or passing. She needed to find Chloe. The other girl had been hard at work creating their plan of attack, but had stomped away after the last time the Amicus had hovered.
That had been kind of funny, actually. Chloe never lost her temper, but the Amicus had managed to annoy her.
Not that the Amicus knew how to repeat the experience, even if she wanted to. And she didn’t. It had taken half the day to decide it was funny. Directly afterward, she had lain down, ruminating on everything and feeling like none of it was worth the effort she was giving.
Maybe she should just stop.
Maybe she was better off living in the shadows, as she’d done all these years.
She listlessly opened her side of the wardrobe and paused. Stared.
On the back wall was her new bag. Made of a soft, dark leather, the design sewn into its surface consisted of brightly colored, overlapping stripes with beads painstakingly sewn into it.
She’d never owned something so beautiful.
At first, she’d meant to give it to Chloe. Instead, she’d stuffed the purple cloth inside and hung it here, where she’d see it every time she opened the door. It was a waste to put it here. She’d never use it. The idea of taking it out and freely carrying it around with her felt too… too personal.
The way other people might’ve felt about walking around naked.
She didn’t realize she’d reached out to touch it until her fingers brushed the tiny beads.
Maybe she could carry it as Zanie? Zanie wouldn’t be exposing herself that way. Zanie was safe to do and be whatever she wanted. As Zanie, she didn’t have to worry about Chloe being mad at her forever or Ma’Shite pushing her to do things she didn’t want to do.
Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, then grabbed her usual belt pouch, closing the wardrobe with a snap. Chloe didn’t wait to be found; instead waiting for the Amicus in the front hall. They left together, not saying a word until they were on the street outside.
There, Chloe reluctantly began.
“I’m sorry for getting angry.”
A knot loosened in the Amicus’s stomach. “I’m… sorry for hovering.”
After a couple of awkward moments, Chloe once again started the conversation, telling the Amicus her plans. There was almost no chance of anyone understanding her, so neither of them felt any need to shield Chloe’s hands. There were a few times one or the other of them nearly tripped, so intent were they on the conversation and not paying as much attention to where they were going, but that was the only mishap.
By the time they reached the orphanage, the Amicus was feeling pretty good about everything.
“What’s the master doing here?”