Chapter Text
Nasha Town smelled different depending on where you stood.
Along the harbor, it was fish and salt and damp rope. Near the warehouses, coal smoke drifted between buildings and settled into clothing. Around the market square, where merchants sold hot pastries from wheeled carts even in winter, the air carried cinnamon and yeast and whatever spices had somehow survived the journey north.
The Curatorium of Secrets smelled like paper.
Paper and dust.
Jahoda preferred that.
She tugged her scarf higher against the wind and turned down another narrow street. Snow had begun falling again. Enough to dust rooftops and gather along windowsills. The locals barely seemed to notice. People here only acknowledged weather if it became actively murderous.
The folded note in her pocket poked against her hip.
She already knew what it said.
She checked anyway.
Collect package from workshop. Do not lose it. Do not open it.
Then, beneath it:
And Jahoda? If you somehow manage to get robbed again, don't come back.
Jahoda stared at the last line.
"That only happened once."
The note remained unconvinced.
She folded it and shoved it back into her pocket.
The street narrowed ahead.
Buildings crowded together here. Most had been standing for decades, though you'd never know it from looking at them. Repairs layered over repairs. New timber bolted onto old metal. Windows replaced with mismatched panes scavenged from somewhere else.
Nod-Krai built things the same way it told stories.
Nothing was ever entirely new.
Everything was patched together from whatever survived.
Jahoda stepped aside to avoid a sled loaded with frozen fish. The merchant hauling it grunted a greeting. She nodded back.
People knew her face because she worked for Nefer.
The Curatorium attracted attention the way thunderstorms attracted lightning. Most people avoided it if they could. The sensible ones crossed the street when they saw Nefer coming.
Jahoda had once asked why.
Nefer had replied, Because they're intelligent.
Not exactly reassuring.
A burst of laughter spilled from The Flagship as its door opened. Warm light spilled onto the snow before vanishing again.
The sound made the street feel briefly alive.
Then the door shut.
The workshop appeared in the distance around the next corner.
Jahoda stopped walking.
"...what."
She'd expected a workshop.
What stood before her looked more like a mechanical ecosystem.
Metal pipes crawled up exterior walls.
Half a machine protruded from one side of the building.
A brass arm hung from a hook above a window.
One window appeared to have been repaired using sheet metal.
Another appeared to have been repaired using optimism.
The sign above the entrance read:
CLINK-CLANK KRUMKAKE CRAFTSHOP
A second sign had been nailed beneath it at some point.
NO, WE WILL NOT BUILD YOU A MECHANICAL MURDER MACHINE
Someone had added a third sign underneath.
STOP ASKING
Jahoda stared at the collection for several seconds.
Then something exploded inside.
The building shook.
A muffled voice shouted,
"No, no, no- don't touch that!"
A second voice answered from somewhere deeper inside.
"I am no longer touching it."
"Then why is it smoking?"
A pause.
"I do not know."
Jahoda looked at the door.
The door looked back.
She briefly considered returning to the Curatorium and telling Nefer the workshop had succumbed to its natural state.
Unfortunately, Nefer would know she was lying.
Jahoda pushed the door open.
Heat rolled over her immediately.
Workshop heat.
Metal. Oil. Smoke. Hot tea. Cinnamon?
The smell of people making things.
The interior somehow contained more objects than the building should physically have been able to hold.
Tools hung from walls.
Blueprints covered tables.
Mechanical parts occupied every available shelf.
"Can I help you?"
Jahoda looked up.
A woman stood in the center of the workshop with a wrench in one hand and a pair of goggles pushed onto her forehead.
Aino.
Jahoda recognized her immediately from description alone.
Mostly because nobody else in Nasha Town was famous for arguing with machinery.
"Curatorium of Secrets," Jahoda said.
Aino groaned.
The weary groan of someone confronted with paperwork.
"Nefer."
"Unfortunately."
"You work for her voluntarily?"
"That's a strong word."
Aino barked out a laugh.
"Fair."
She pointed the wrench toward a cluttered workbench.
"Give me a minute. I have your package somewhere."
Somewhere.
Not exactly reassuring.
Aino vanished behind a stack of machinery.
Metal clanged.
Something beeped angrily.
Aino replied with the same tone people usually reserved for difficult relatives.
Jahoda wandered a few steps farther into the workshop.
There was a strange comfort to the place.
Every object looked used.
Nothing existed for appearance's sake.
Every scratch, every dent, every repair told a story.
A workshop couldn't lie about what it was.
The same couldn't be said for people.
Footsteps sounded behind her.
Steady.
Measured.
Jahoda turned.
The woman approaching didn't look particularly imposing.
At least not at first.
She was tall, but not unusually so. Pale hair brushed the collar of a dark coat. Her posture was straight without being stiff.
Then Jahoda noticed the details.
The faint metallic seams at her neck.
The precision in the way she moved.
The soft violet glow beneath synthetic skin when she tilted her head.
Ineffa.
Jahoda had heard of her.
Most people in town had.
Aino's assistant.
The automaton.
The one who fixed broken toys for children and somehow terrified local criminals despite never raising her voice.
Interesting combination.
Ineffa stopped several feet away.
Violet eyes settled on Jahoda.
Jahoda resisted the urge to check whether she had soot on her face.
The silence stretched.
Then Ineffa said,
"Your heartbeat accelerated upon seeing me."
Jahoda blinked.
"What?"
"I stated an observation."
"Why?"
Ineffa seemed to consider the question seriously.
"I'm uncertain."
Jahoda stared.
Ineffa stared back.
Somewhere behind them, metal crashed loudly.
Neither reacted.
"Do you tell everyone that?" Jahoda asked.
"No."
"Why me?"
Another pause.
"I am uncertain."
That was somehow a worse answer.
Jahoda opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
There was probably a response to that.
A good one.
Unfortunately it had abandoned her.
Aino chose that moment to reappear carrying a wooden crate.
Perfect timing.
"I found it!"
Jahoda accepted the rescue immediately.
Aino set the crate down on the nearest clear patch of table.
Calling it clear was generous.
There was a screwdriver, two loose gears, half a pastry, and a small glass jar full of something that glowed faintly blue.
Aino swept everything aside with one arm.
The pastry hit the floor.
"Here," Aino said, patting the crate. "Encrypted relay component. Still sealed. Still stable. Mostly."
Jahoda looked at the crate.
"Mostly?"
"Stable enough."
"That answer contains a concerning amount of flexibility."
"It won't explode. Unless someone does something stupid."
Jahoda touched the side of the crate with one finger.
Aino narrowed her eyes.
"Don't do something stupid."
"I was checking the wood."
"Why?"
"To see if it felt explosive."
Aino seemed to accept this as a perfectly normal answer and leaned over the crate, checking the seal.
"Tell Nefer if she wants another one of these, she can come threaten me in person next time."
"I'll pass that along."
"No, don't. She might."
"She definitely will."
Aino sighed.
"Wonderful."
Jahoda lifted the crate into her arms. It was heavier than it looked, dense in a way that suggested whatever was inside had been designed by someone with no regard for human wrists.
Ineffa's gaze moved to the crate, then to Jahoda's grip.
"Your hold is inefficient."
Jahoda looked at her.
"My... hold?"
"The weight is angled against your hip. You will strain your wrist before reaching the Curatorium."
"I've carried worse."
"That does not make the method efficient."
Jahoda adjusted the crate out of spite.
It did not help.
Ineffa noticed.
She stepped closer, then stopped as if waiting for permission. Her hands hovered near the side of the crate.
"May I?"
Jahoda hesitated.
Mostly because Ineffa had asked the question like the answer mattered.
People usually just grabbed things from her.
Nefer especially.
Nefer handled assistance like a hostile takeover.
"...Fine."
Ineffa shifted the crate in Jahoda's arms.
That was all.
Suddenly the weight sat better against her body.
Jahoda stared down at it.
"How the fuck did you do that?"
"Leverage."
"I know what leverage is."
"Then why were you not using it?"
Aino made a strangled sound behind them.
Jahoda turned slowly.
Aino had both hands over her mouth.
"Laugh and I'll tell Nefer your workshop tried to kill me."
Aino lowered her hands.
"My workshop would never."
A loud pop came from the far corner.
Smoke drifted toward the ceiling.
Aino didn't look back.
"That was unrelated."
Jahoda snorted despite herself.
The crate was easier to carry now.
She hated that.
Only a little.
"Right," she said. "Lovely meeting all of you. Very educational. Mildly hazardous."
Aino waved. "Come back when you need something repaired."
"I own nothing expensive enough to repair."
"We also fix cheap things."
"That feels insulting."
"It was meant warmly."
Jahoda started toward the door.
She had almost reached it when Ineffa spoke.
"The roads are unsafe tonight."
Jahoda turned back.
Ineffa had moved closer to the front window. She wasn't looking at Jahoda now. She was watching the street outside through the frost-clouded glass.
"Roads are always unsafe here."
"More than usual."
"That is not a comforting distinction."
"No."
Jahoda waited.
Ineffa kept watching the window.
Aino's expression shifted first. The easy workshop humor faded, not completely, but enough for Jahoda to notice.
That made her pay attention.
"What happened?" Jahoda asked.
"Three treasure hunters were attacked near the harbor approximately forty minutes ago," Ineffa said.
Jahoda adjusted the crate.
"Treasure hunters get attacked everywhere. Occupational hazard."
"They were not robbed."
That changed the air a little.
Jahoda looked toward the window too.
Outside, snow moved past the glass in thin white streaks. A lantern swung at the corner of the street. Beyond that, nothing.
"What attacked them?"
"Unknown."
"That somehow feels worse."
"It is."
"Seahook Gang's been jumpy all week," she said. "People keep blaming each other for missing cargo. Harbor crews won't unload after dark unless the Lightkeepers are nearby. I don't like it."
"Do you like anything that happens after dark in Nod-Krai?" Jahoda asked.
"Recharging. Locked doors. Not dying."
"Reasonable list."
Ineffa's head tilted slightly.
"You are carrying Curatorium property and possess poor situational awareness."
Jahoda stopped.
Aino winced.
Jahoda turned fully toward Ineffa.
"Excuse me?"
"You did not notice the Seahook Gang member following you for the last seven minutes before you entered."
For a second, the workshop seemed to narrow around her.
The heat.
The smoke.
The clutter.
Everything pulled tight.
Jahoda looked at the window.
A shape moved outside.
A dark blur beyond the frosted pane, gone as soon as she tried to focus on it.
Her fingers tightened against the crate.
"You're sure?"
"Yes."
Aino put down her wrench.
"Again?"
Ineffa was already walking.
She crossed the workshop, opened the front door, and stepped out into the snow.
Cold wind cut through the room before the door shut behind her.
Jahoda stood still.
There was a shout outside.
A thud.
A second shout, shorter this time.
Then a sound like someone falling into a pile of packed snow with very little dignity.
Silence.
Jahoda looked at Aino.
Aino had already picked up her wrench again.
"Should we..." Jahoda started.
"No."
"You don't even know what I was going to ask."
"You were going to ask if we should help."
"Maybe."
"We should not."
Another thud sounded outside.
Aino nodded toward the door.
"See? Handled."
The door opened.
Ineffa returned with snow dusting her shoulders and cuffs.
Nothing about her expression had changed.
"The issue has been resolved."
Jahoda stared.
"Resolved how?"
"He is currently reconsidering his life choices in a snowbank."
Aino pointed the wrench at Jahoda.
"That's her polite version."
"There is an impolite version?"
"Yes," Ineffa said.
Jahoda believed her immediately.
Ineffa stepped closer.
Again, not too close.
Jahoda noticed that.
Nasha Town had no respect for personal space unless knives became involved.
"I will escort you back to the Curatorium," Ineffa said.
"That's not necessary."
"It is statistically advisable."
"I can walk across town without supervision."
"Your file suggests several incidents contradicting that claim."
Jahoda went very still.
"My what?"
"Your file."
"I have a file?"
"Nefer maintains files on everyone she works with."
Aino, from behind them, nodded solemnly.
"She asked me for my known allergies once and then somehow knew about a scar on my left knee from when I was nine."
Jahoda stared at Ineffa.
"You read my file?"
"No."
A beat.
"Not entirely."
"That's worse."
"I skipped several sections."
"Which sections?"
"Financial history. Early disciplinary notes. A paragraph Nefer labeled 'predictable acts of avoidable stupidity.'"
Aino lost the battle and started laughing.
Jahoda turned on her.
"This is not funny."
"It's a little funny."
"It is not."
Ineffa seemed to review the conversation.
"Would it be preferable if I had read the full file?"
"No."
"Then, partial reading was better."
"No."
"I am receiving contradictory feedback."
Jahoda shifted the crate against her hip, though Ineffa's adjustment still held.
"Fine. Escort me if you want. But if Nefer thinks I needed a bodyguard, I will deny everything."
"Understood."
Aino waved them toward the door.
"Try not to get murdered. Either of you. I can't deal with the paperwork tonight."
Jahoda stepped outside first.
The cold hit harder after the workshop.
It slipped immediately under her scarf, down the back of her collar, into the seams of her gloves. Behind her, the workshop door shut with a wooden click, cutting off the warmth and noise.
Nasha Town seemed quieter now.
A few windows still glowed. Somewhere near the harbor, men argued over cargo in low, rough voices. A dog barked once, then apparently thought better of it.
But the street around the workshop had thinned.
Snow had softened the edges of everything.
Ineffa came to stand beside her.
For a moment they watched the road.
"Where is he?" Jahoda asked.
Ineffa pointed.
A mound of snow near the opposite wall groaned.
A boot stuck out of it.
Jahoda looked at the boot.
Then at Ineffa.
"You put him headfirst into a snowbank."
"His orientation was not my primary concern."
"Was it accidental?"
"No."
Jahoda laughed once, sharp and surprised.
The boot twitched miserably.
"Should we leave him like that?"
"He is capable of extracting himself."
"Are you sure?"
"Mostly."
"That word is following me tonight."
They started walking.
Ineffa matched Jahoda's pace without needing to be asked. That was another thing Jahoda noticed because it was annoying.
Annoying because it was difficult to dismiss.
Most people walked either too fast or too slow. Nefer walked like anyone behind her could simply keep up or die.
Ineffa adjusted without making a point of it.
The crate sat heavy in Jahoda's arms.
"You're staring at the package," Jahoda said.
"I am monitoring its stability."
"You said it was stable."
"Aino said it was stable."
"Is there a difference?"
"Yes."
"Delightful."
A lantern swung overhead as they passed beneath it. Light crossed Ineffa's face and caught on the fine seams at her neck. The glow beneath them was softer outside the workshop, barely visible unless Jahoda looked too closely.
So she didn't.
For approximately three seconds.
Then she looked again.
"Does that hurt?" she asked.
Ineffa turned her head.
"What?"
Jahoda nodded vaguely toward her neck.
"The seams. Or whatever they are."
"No."
"Can you feel them?"
"Yes."
"In the same way people feel skin?"
Ineffa was quiet for a moment.
Thinking.
Jahoda knew the difference. People who were offended made it everyone else's problem.
"Not exactly," Ineffa said. "Pressure registers. Temperature registers. Texture registers in limited detail. Pain exists, but not with identical thresholds."
Jahoda glanced at her.
"That's specific."
"You asked a specific question."
"People don't answer specific questions specifically."
"That seems inefficient."
"Welcome to people."
Ineffa considered this with the seriousness of someone examining a dangerous machine.
"I am aware people are inefficient."
"Careful. That almost sounded judgmental."
"It was observational."
"That's your excuse for everything, isn't it?"
"No."
A pause.
"Though, it is frequently accurate."
Jahoda grinned under her breath.
They turned down a wider street toward the harbor road. Snow had gathered in the grooves between stones. The wind came stronger here, carrying salt from the water and the metallic smell of frozen chains.
A group of dockhands stood beneath an awning smoking and speaking too quietly. One of them noticed Ineffa and immediately looked away.
Jahoda noticed.
"People are scared of you."
"Some are."
"Does that bother you?"
"No."
Again, immediate.
Certain.
Jahoda shifted the crate.
"Why not?"
Ineffa looked ahead.
"Fear sometimes prevents inefficient conflict."
"That's bleak."
"Is it inaccurate?"
Unfortunately, no.
"Still bleak."
"Noted."
They walked a few more steps.
The harbor opened to their right.
Black water moved between slabs of ice, thick and slow. Ships slept in their moorings, ropes stiff with frost. Moonlamps glowed along the docks, their light blurred by falling snow.
Nod-Krai could be beautiful in the exact way knives were beautiful.
Best appreciated from a safe distance.
"You work for Nefer," Ineffa said.
"Allegedly."
"Allegedly?"
"Depends who asks."
"Why?"
"Because sometimes people ask before trying to stab me."
Ineffa looked at her.
"Has that occurred often?"
"Enough."
"That is concerning."
"That's Curatorium work."
"Why continue?"
It was such a simple question that Jahoda almost gave a simple answer.
Money.
Shelter.
The lack of better options.
But none of those were the whole truth, and something about Ineffa's attention made half-answers feel obvious.
Jahoda looked toward the harbor.
"Nefer found me before worse people did."
Ineffa did not respond immediately.
Jahoda appreciated that more than she wanted to examine.
"So," she added, because that was enough honesty for one street, "now I carry mysterious boxes and get insulted in writing. Yay."
"She insults you in writing?"
"Constantly."
"Why?"
"Because Nefer enjoys leaving evidence. She's a sadist."
Ineffa's mouth changed slightly.
Not quite a smile.
Jahoda pointed at her with her chin.
"Was that almost amusement?"
"I am capable of amusement."
"Didn't say you weren't."
"You seemed surprised."
"I was gathering data."
Ineffa turned her head.
"That is my phrase."
"I'm borrowing it."
"Temporarily?"
"We'll see."
This time the change in Ineffa's expression lasted longer.
Jahoda felt oddly pleased.
It was satisfying to make someone difficult laugh.
Or almost laugh.
A near-laugh counted.
Probably.
They passed a shuttered bakery.
The smell of burnt sugar still lingered around the door. Jahoda slowed half a step despite herself.
"You are hungry."
"I'm always hungry."
"That is biologically unlikely."
"It is emotionally true."
"There is a difference?"
"Massive."
Ineffa looked at the bakery door.
"It is closed."
"I can see that."
"You looked disappointed."
"I am capable of looking at closed bakeries without suffering."
"Your expression suggested suffering."
Jahoda adjusted the crate again, mostly to have something to do with her hands.
"My expression is none of your business."
"You are difficult not to interpret."
That caught her off guard.
Jahoda looked at her.
Ineffa's face remained calm, but there was a carefulness in the way she said it.
A statement with a question hiding under it.
Jahoda wasn't used to that.
People usually decided what she meant and reacted to the version they preferred.
Nefer was the worst about it because she was usually right.
"I'm not that easy," Jahoda said.
"You frequently use humor when uncomfortable."
Jahoda stopped walking.
Ineffa stopped too.
Snow moved between them.
Jahoda narrowed her eyes.
"That was in the file."
"No."
"Then why say it?"
"I observed it."
"Quietly?"
"Yes."
The answer was so immediate that Jahoda almost smiled.
Instead, she started walking again.
"That's a rude thing to observe."
"I did not intend rudeness."
"Most rude observations don't intend anything. That's why they're rude."
Ineffa absorbed this.
"Should I apologize?"
Jahoda glanced sideways.
The question was genuine.
"No."
"Why?"
"Because you're not wrong."
Ineffa walked beside her in silence for several steps.
Then she said, "I will avoid using the observation carelessly."
Jahoda did not know what to do with that.
Like Ineffa had taken the complaint, sorted it, and placed it somewhere important.
Jahoda looked away first.
The Curatorium appeared ahead, dark windows and sharp architecture rising from the snow. It looked less like a building and more like a threat somebody had given a front door.
People in town avoided it after dark.
Sensible.
Jahoda did not consider herself sensible.
Employed, yes.
Sensible, no.
She stopped at the foot of the steps.
"Well," she said, lifting the crate slightly, "thank you for the escort. And the leverage lecture. And the snowbank incident."
"You are welcome."
Neither of them moved.
The wind pushed snow across the street in sheets.
Ineffa stood close enough that Jahoda could hear the faint hum beneath her body. A low mechanical presence under the quiet.
Jahoda found herself wondering how many people noticed it.
Then wondered why she cared.
Then decided not to care.
Very efficient.
"You should go inside," Ineffa said.
"Right."
Jahoda looked at the door.
Still did not move.
Behind them, the moonlamps hissed softly in the snow.
"Ineffa," she said.
"Yes?"
"Did you actually skip the part of my file about predictable acts of avoidable stupidity?"
"No."
Jahoda slowly looked back at her.
Ineffa's expression did not change.
"I lied."
For one second, Jahoda stared.
Then she laughed.
Not loudly.
Just enough for the sound to fog in the cold air.
"You're terrible."
"I am told honesty is socially valued. However, comfort is also socially valued."
"Not when it's used against me."
"I will update the condition."
Before Jahoda could decide whether to say something else, the Curatorium doors opened.
Nefer stood in the doorway, dark fabrics layered against the cold, one hand resting against the frame like she had been waiting there long enough to become part of the architecture.
Her gaze moved from Jahoda to Ineffa.
Then to the space between them.
Then back to Jahoda.
Tiny pause.
Absolutely poisonous.
"Are you planning to stand in the snow all night," Nefer asked, "or may I finally receive the package I requested?"
Jahoda immediately climbed the steps and shoved the crate into Nefer's arms.
"Mission accomplished. Nobody died."
"A miracle."
"The workshop exploded twice."
"Expected."
"I was followed by a Seahook Gang member."
"Also expected."
Jahoda stared.
"You expected me to be followed?"
Nefer examined the crate seal.
"I expected the package to attract attention."
"And you sent me?"
"You needed practice."
"Practice being robbed?"
"Practice not being robbed."
Ineffa spoke from the foot of the steps.
"The follower was neutralized."
Nefer looked at her.
"Good."
Jahoda threw one hand up.
"Everyone in this town is unbearable."
Nefer ignored her.
"Thank you for escorting my employee back safely, Ineffa."
"Of course."
That answer was simple.
Nefer's expression sharpened by a fraction.
Jahoda noticed because she had spent months learning which fractions meant danger.
"Jahoda," Nefer said. "Inside."
"Yes, tyrant."
"Now."
Jahoda sighed and turned back toward Ineffa.
"Goodnight, Ineffa."
Ineffa looked at her.
The snow had caught in her pale hair and along the shoulders of her coat.
"Goodnight, Jahoda."
She said her name so precisely.
As if it mattered to pronounce it correctly.
Jahoda went inside before she could think about that for too long.
The doors shut behind her.
The Curatorium swallowed the cold.
Warmth waited inside, but not the workshop kind.
Candlelit halls. Polished floors. Shelves of sealed records. Expensive rugs laid over stone to make the place look less like somewhere secrets went to be embalmed.
Nefer carried the crate to the nearest table and set it down.
She did not open it immediately.
Bad sign.
Nefer folded her hands over the top of the crate.
Worst sign.
"Interesting," she said.
Jahoda groaned.
"Don't."
"I said one word."
"You said it in your evil voice."
"I only have one voice."
"Exactly."
Nefer's mouth curved slightly.
A warning pretending to be a smile.
"How was the workshop?"
"Loud."
"Naturally."
"Unsafe."
"Also naturally."
"Aino told me to tell you that if you want another encrypted relay component, you can threaten her yourself next time."
"Good. I was planning to."
"She specifically asked me not to pass that along."
"And yet."
Jahoda shrugged out of her coat.
"I respect honesty when it's funny."
Nefer finally opened the crate.
Inside, packed beneath layers of insulating cloth and metal braces, lay a device no larger than Jahoda's hand. A sphere of dark metal, etched with tiny interlocking patterns. It pulsed faintly at its center.
Jahoda leaned closer.
Nefer's hand shot out and blocked her face.
"Do not."
"I was looking."
"You were approaching."
"With my eyes."
"Your eyes have historically preceded your hands."
Jahoda stepped back.
"That was one time."
"It was eleven times."
"You count too much."
"I count enough."
Nefer inspected the device with a small lens pulled from her sleeve.
For a minute, she said nothing.
Jahoda wandered toward one of the tall windows.
Behind her, Nefer closed the crate.
The sound was soft.
Jahoda turned around.
"What?"
Nefer's expression gave away nothing.
That was deliberate.
"You stayed outside longer than necessary."
"I was being polite."
"Were you?"
"Yes."
"How... unusual."
Jahoda crossed her arms.
"You're imagining things."
"I have not specified what I imagined."
"You were about to."
Nefer leaned back against the table.
"You met her tonight."
"Congratulations, your spy network remains functional."
"And?"
"And what?"
Nefer waited.
Jahoda hated when she did that.
Nefer could make silence feel like a cross-examination.
"And she seems interesting," Jahoda said finally. "In the literal sense. As in, I have several questions about how her body works and why she talks like a legal document that learned sarcasm."
"Mm."
"No. Don't 'mm' at me."
"I did not realize the sound was restricted."
"It is when you use it like that."
Nefer's eyes glittered faintly with amusement.
"Like what?"
"Like you've already written a conclusion and are waiting for me to embarrass myself into confirming it."
"That is very specific."
"Because you do it constantly."
Nefer seemed pleased.
Terrible.
"Finish the archives," she said.
Jahoda stared.
"It's past midnight."
"Yes."
"I was almost robbed."
"You were not robbed."
"Because Aino's terrifying assistant put a man upside down in a snowbank."
"Then you are energized by victory."
"I hate working here."
"And yet you remain."
"Because you keep paying me."
"Then finish the archives."
Jahoda pointed toward the crate.
"What about that?"
"I will handle it."
"Is it dangerous?"
"Not if handled correctly."
"That's what Aino said."
"Aino considers fire an acceptable side effect."
"Fair."
Nefer lifted the crate and started toward the inner hall.
"Jahoda."
"What?"
"Do not get distracted."
It was such a normal instruction that Jahoda almost missed the extra edge beneath it.
She narrowed her eyes.
"By the archives?"
"By anything."
Then Nefer walked away.
Jahoda stood alone in the hall, scarf in one hand, snow melting slowly from the hem of her coat onto the expensive rug.
"Unbearable," she muttered.
The archives waited below.
Jahoda took the stairs down because Nefer liked storing the most tedious records underground, where the air smelled colder and older and faintly metallic. Lamps burned blue along the walls. Shelves climbed higher than they needed to, packed with sealed boxes, coded ledgers, survey notes, maps, confiscated correspondence, and objects that had been labeled with warnings instead of names.
She liked the archives more than she admitted.
They made sense in a way people often didn't.
Everything had a place.
If something didn't have a place, that meant somebody had hidden it badly.
Jahoda sat at the long table and pulled the first stack of records toward her.
Harbor movement logs.
Smuggling routes.
Reports of missing cargo.
Three contradictory witness statements involving a crate of lamp oil, two sailors, and a goat.
She read that one twice.
Because the goat kept becoming more suspicious with each page.
By the time she reached the fourth file, the pattern was clear enough to be irritating.
The Seahook Gang had been tracking Curatorium shipments for at least a week.
Jahoda wrote a note in the margin.
Tell Nefer her enemies are getting dumber. Possible trap?
Then she stopped.
A separate thought occurred to her.
Ineffa had noticed the man following her before Jahoda entered the workshop.
Seven minutes.
Not several.
Not six.
Seven.
Jahoda tapped the end of her pen against the table.
Either Ineffa counted automatically, or she had been watching the street before Jahoda arrived.
Why?
Workshop security?
General suspicion?
Curiosity?
Aino had not seemed surprised, exactly. Annoyed, yes. Concerned, briefly. But not surprised.
So this happened often.
Or Ineffa often handled it.
Jahoda wrote another note beneath the first.
Ask Aino how often people stalk the workshop.
She stared at the sentence.
Then crossed out stalk and replaced it with monitor.
Then crossed that out too.
She hated when Nefer infected her vocabulary.
A faint sound came from above.
Footsteps.
Not Nefer's.
Too quick.
Probably an assistant returning late.
Jahoda looked back down at the file.
A witness claimed the gang member wore a blue scarf. Another claimed green. A third claimed he had no scarf, but an "unpleasant hat."
Very useful.
She reached for the next page.
Her wrist ached from carrying the crate.
Annoying.
She flexed her fingers once.
The weight had been easier after Ineffa adjusted it.
Jahoda looked at her own hand.
Leverage.
She tried the motion in memory.
It had been simple.
She should have noticed it herself.
That irritated her enough to wake her up.
She pulled a blank sheet closer and sketched the crate roughly from above. Not beautifully. Art had never been her calling. But the shape was clear enough. She marked where her hands had been, then where Ineffa had moved them.
The adjustment made sense.
Obvious, once drawn.
"Show-off," Jahoda muttered.
She wrote one more note.
Ask Ineffa if she understands knife balance.
Then immediately scratched it out.
That was not relevant to work.
Probably.
She moved on to the next file.
For the next hour, Jahoda did what she was paid to do.
She sorted details.
Matched names.
Separated useful information from drunken nonsense.
Found three inconsistencies in the harbor logs and one repeated symbol in the corner of two unrelated reports.
She circled both symbols carefully.
Her focus narrowed.
The archives quieted around her.
This was the part of Curatorium work she never complained about honestly.
Complaining was habit.
This she liked.
The shape of hidden things.
The exact moment stray details began pointing in the same direction.
Nefer called it pattern recognition.
Jahoda called it chasing trouble before it learned to run.
By the time she finished the stack, the candle beside her had burned low.
Her back hurt.
Her fingers were ink-stained.
The suspicious goat had been cleared of direct involvement but remained morally questionable.
Jahoda leaned back and stretched.
Then her gaze landed on the margin of the blank sheet.
Two words remained visible beneath the crossed-out note.
Ask Ineffa.
She stared at them.
Long enough to notice.
Then she folded the page and tucked it beneath the completed reports.
Nothing strange about that.
She was curious.
Curiosity was professional.
Sometimes.
Jahoda gathered the files into a neat stack and stood.
At the edge of the table, something small glinted.
A screw.
No bigger than her thumbnail.
It must have fallen from the crate's bracing. Or from her sleeve. Or from the workshop somehow, carried in the cuff of her coat like a ridiculous souvenir.
She picked it up.
For some reason, she thought of Ineffa saying, with absolute seriousness:
I am receiving contradictory feedback.
Jahoda smiled.
Immediately caught herself.
Then frowned at the screw like it had caused the problem.
"No."
The screw offered no defense.
She shoved it into her pocket and blew out the candle.
The archives went dark behind her as she climbed the stairs, one hand trailing along the cold stone wall, the other resting briefly over the pocket where the screw sat.
By morning, Nefer would ask why one of the harbor reports included a note about Aino's assistant.
Jahoda would say it was relevant.
And maybe it was.
Probably not.
Still.
There were worse things to be curious about in Nod-Krai.