14 — Routine
My coffee was
cold
. I thought that I had just made it, but the clock said otherwise.
I got another fresh pot started. It would be my fourth this morning — not counting the one I let get cold. While I waited I collected the mugs from my desk and Daelus' desk. I had him get the door for me.
After a moment of cleaning and preparation, the cabinet was now fully restocked with clean mugs, and my coffee was fresh and piping hot. I took a sip and burned my tongue. At least I
felt
like I had. I knew this body couldn't actually be wounded, but I knew for certain it could feel pain.
I wasn't sure what actually happened
inside
of this body when I ate and drank. The bodily functions were part of the manifestation — something actually useful I had learned from Randall's notes.
Jaegré would sometimes go undercover for extended periods with the delegate’s rivals. It was all criminal empire stuff — for some reason, the Benefactors needed us to be involved with that too. The entourage had to pass among humans, and much of that world did their business over food and drink, so the delegate learned how to make Jaegré eat and drink.
So, now
I
could
.
There was a knock on the doorframe. For a second my heart leaped. I had been hoping for another surprise visit from Delphiné. Even though her visits were ill-omen, I had grown addicted to her compliments.
Instead, it was Johnathan. “Hello my dear girl! Is your master in?”
I bristled, but kept calm. How many times had we asked him to— ”Please, call me
Sheam
, Johnathan. You'd not enjoy me omitting
athan
when saying your name so please don't omit
my entire name
.”
Johnathan winced. “
Terribly
sorry, Sheam, yes. He's in then?”
I nodded. I'd let Daelus field my
other
objection.
Johnathan went inside. The two of them had spent some time apart after the “breakup” (as Johnathan called it) but the distance didn't last. A few months had gone by and now they — we — were simply dear friends. It was easier to be friends with everything out in the open.
Well, all except the
one
thing. We still had a conversation ahead of us. In my head it had become
The Conversation
.
I switched over.
Daelus looked up at Johnathan from a museum display diagram with a disapproving gaze. “I can hear you out there, you know.”
“Ah?” Johnathan began, taken off guard.
“
Master
? My dear friend, I’m her employer. You speak as if I
own
her.” Daelus tried to keep his tone light, in spite of the topic. He wanted it to be taken seriously, without hurting the man’s feelings. It was often a very fine line to walk.
Johnathan, thankfully, did not feel scolded. “I am not sure where I picked up the habit, but you are quite right. What shall I call you then? Her
boss,
or?”
Daelus shook his head. “Why not just simply use my name?
Sheam, is Daelus in?
That’s not so complex, is it?”
“What about,” Johnathan said, “Master Thresh? You see, it’s more of a
title
, now! I am not calling you
her
master, merely a master of your domain!”
Daelus glared. “You do realize that that’s a title for
children
, yes? The male
child
of a lord? ” It was very possible that Johnathan didn’t know. Even if it was useless trivia, it was old world knowledge — both Daelus and Johnathan were not supposed to remember it. “If you must assign me a title, try
Magister
.”
“
Magister
Thresh. I like it!” Johnathan proclaimed.
I somehow
didn't
like it.
Thresh
. The name felt wrong — like it wasn't
mine
. It sounded like I was still standing behind an open doorway — like I couldn't take a step, just
one
step, to find out what was on the other side.
I snapped out of it. I mimed pulling my thoughts out of my head, with a motion like I was removing a hair from a bowl of soup.
I settled my main focus back into myself as the two in the room behind me engaged in idle conversation. At this point I could continue to entertain Johnathan’s social call
and
do my daily managerial work without failing at either.
I checked and verified that various contractors had been paid after constructing new displays. I approved a schedule change for the ticketing clerk and reviewed a few profiles for cleaning staff. We were getting more foot traffic, and the guests seemed to bring in mud from every biome imaginable.
On the edge of my consciousness, as Daelus, I saw an unexpected name on the front of a large envelope; Grégoire Layne, of the national research institute. I switched over.
The once frequent collaborations between Daelus and Grégoire had slown to a halt since the day that both Phaeros and Delphiné had formed a scolding queue. It had been a collaboration that was unsanctioned by the Benefactors, and so it became no more. A message, particularly one that looked like official business, from Grégoire took Daelus by surprise.
Inside was a report, and a letter. Brimming with curiosity, Daelus looked at the report first.
It told of a new archeological dig on what had been thought to have been a never–inhabited archipelago. The chief of the expedition, Anthony Carmichael, went into great detail on the unprecedented nature of the find; he expected to recover artifacts that dated back to the third century,
old
-world-reckoning.
That would have made it old even during the period when Daelus had lived, pre-crossing-over.
The thought of recovering artifacts from the old world stirred Daelus’ heart. Though his memories were slowly returning, they often needed a specific sight or smell to kick them into the front of his mind. He wondered what would rise to the surface within him — within Sheam — if he held one of those artifacts in his hands.
The accompanying letter was short.
I thought this might interest you. I have included all of the information you’d need to get in touch with Mister Carmichael. I think you two will get along well.
— Greg
Daelus resolved to begin a correspondence, but knew that he had to tread lightly. Jossimer was meant to be the sole provider of material for the museum. He wondered if he could ask Delphiné to spin up some acceptable nonsense as a cover story, or if that would simply land him in even more trouble.
Ironically, as Daelus’ devotion to the Benefactors faded, his adherence to their edicts grew
more
compliant. In losing faith, he had also lost the will to pursue his own understandings of the values they had supposedly been working to uphold. It all seemed like too much bother — better to simply stay out of trouble.
And yet, there was no doubt in my mind. I would get in touch with this Anthony Carmichael. Johnathan could possibly assist there — if the correspondence was re-routed through unexpected channels, it stood a chance of not being traced back to
us
.
In reality, what harm could it do? A slap on the hand from Jossimer, a bit of spittle from the raging gullet of Phaeros, a tut-tut from Delphiné — these were survivable. The memories that an artifact of that era could dredge from the depths of my mind was worth the risk.
There was very little other new curation business after that, so I had Daelus go home a little early. Maneuvering his body to the rail platform to begin his trip home was managed while having a fifth — or was it sixth? — mug of coffee. I was double-checking the coverage of our attendants’ shift schedules for the next month, and then it would be my turn to head home. With the exception of a social call from Johnathan and a surprise from Grégoire, it had been a perfectly routine spring day.
All three of my activities were interrupted as Johnathan stuck his head in my office again, knocking on the doorframe only after my focus had already been shattered.
“Oh, you're still here?” I asked, startled, and skeptical. He had never found the museum particularly interesting.
“Oh no, I left and came back. Is your — is
Magister Thresh
out?”
Good boy. “Yes, he's taken the rest of the afternoon off. What can I help you with?”
“It's nothing, it's just… I discovered this lovely little bistrot and — you know what,
nevermind
. I shall invite him the next time I see him. Do take care, Sheam.”
“Wait a second,” I said, waving to him, and picking myself from my desk. He tilted his head with curiosity as I vanished into Daelus’ office, and returned with a slip of paper; Mister Carmichael’s contact information. “I’d —
Daelus
would like to open a correspondence with this archeologist. But, we’d love for it to be a bit
hush-hush
, if that’s alright.”
Johnathan’s face was a mix of intrigue and something else — worry? “Certainly, yes, certainly. Hush-hush, you say? It shall remain between the three of us, then. I will have to ask Daelus for juicy details.”
I took a deep, slow breath.
I
wanted
to tell him. I wanted to tell him right then and there. We were long overdue for The Conversation.
It's ok, Johnathan
, I'd tell him —
I'm
Daelus
.
But it didn't feel right doing it right now, like
this
.
I needed
Daelus
to be present when I did it. We needed to say it
together
.
And the correct words were,
I'm Sheam.