One year Later.
The tea was uncomfortably bitter.
Evelyn allowed the porcelain cup to linger near her lips before taking another measured sip, suppressing the mild displeasure the taste produced. Across the table sat the two people she had selected for the afternoon's questioning. One was a man with no indication of possessing a Sequence, while the other was a shy young woman whom Evelyn had gradually persuaded into describing the surrounding district in considerably more detail than she had initially intended. Posing as a wealthy visitor unfamiliar with Tingen had made the process remarkably easy.
She had managed to slip away from Lucien far more easily than expected. Whether that meant his interest had genuinely diminished or whether he had simply decided not to prevent her departure remained impossible to determine, and Evelyn had no desire to examine the distinction too closely while still living beneath his roof. Mara was another matter. She suspected the woman still looked for her occasionally, perhaps out of concern rather than control, but for the moment Evelyn valued the distance.
"So, darling, tell me... what are the best places to eat and shop? It has been difficult finding the proper spots for someone such as myself," she mused lightly, allowing carefully cultivated innocence into her voice. The young woman responded almost immediately, posture becoming more animated as she recognized an opportunity to be useful to someone dressed considerably above the ordinary standard of the establishment. Emotion and intention gathered beneath the visible reaction, easier for Evelyn to perceive now than they had ever been as a Spectator, and a fleeting surface impression brushed her awareness with the pleasant expectation of reward. It was almost embarrassingly transparent.
Too easy, Evelyn thought, and the ease of it left her bored rather than satisfied. Sequence 8 had not transformed conversation into perfect knowledge, but people frequently volunteered more than they realized, sometimes aloud and sometimes through the loose thoughts that drifted nearest the surface. The challenge lay in distinguishing what was actually received from what she merely inferred.
"Ah, yes..." The girl chattered on about the more high-end establishments, making assumptions based on how well Evelyn dressed. Her recommendations repeatedly returned to the same handful of businesses, and the anticipation beneath her enthusiasm sharpened whenever Evelyn seemed interested. Whether some formal commission existed or she merely hoped for later favor remained uncertain, but the expectation itself was plain.
"I see." Evelyn pressed a single coin to the table, then pushed it toward the woman. The reward confirmed the pattern immediately, producing a flash of satisfaction that Evelyn caught almost as clearly as the brightening of her expression.
"And the places I should avoid?" Evelyn asked with the mild concern expected of a wealthy traveler unfamiliar with the city. She had little intention of actually avoiding them. Less respectable districts tended to contain precisely the kinds of people, information, and employment that polite society preferred not to acknowledge.
Why do you ask about those places? Original Evelyn chimed in quietly within their shared mind. Her curiosity carried no accusation, only caution born from considerably more experience with Tingen than the consciousness now controlling her body.
Evelyn offered her a brief impression of the reasoning rather than allowing the internal exchange to consume too much attention. Wealth moved through respectable districts, but secrets moved through poor ones, and there were certain services that respectable citizens employed only after pretending they did not exist. Original Evelyn absorbed the explanation and became quiet again, though not absent. Her attention remained close to the body's senses.
Evelyn frowned faintly. She could ask her other half for information she did not possess, and Original Evelyn's memories had already proven useful more than once, but one perspective was still only one perspective. The woman sitting across from her could provide opinions and details shaped by an entirely different life.
She did not realize how long the internal exchange had distracted her until the young woman finished the explanation. Evelyn caught the tail end of a warning concerning two streets, a gambling establishment, and an area respectable women were advised not to enter alone after dark. The speaker's expectant expression supplied enough context to make admitting the lapse unnecessary.
"Good, yes... Thank you for the explanation. Now please leave me." The warmth disappeared from Evelyn's voice as she lowered the teacup to its saucer. There was no reason to maintain the charming tourist persona once the woman's usefulness had ended, and the abrupt change left the girl visibly uncertain whether she had somehow offended her.
Her temporary guard glanced toward Evelyn before rising as well. He received no instruction to remain and apparently decided that dismissal extended to him, leaving without a word behind the young woman. Evelyn watched both disappear through the teahouse before allowing her shoulders to relax.
"Ah, good. Peace and quiet..." she mused to herself. The room seemed more pleasant with one fewer conversation demanding her attention, though the relief lasted only a short while.
A young man entered the teahouse.
He wore a simple suit and top hat, removing the latter almost immediately before hanging it beside his cane near the door. The speed with which he placed both items without fully turning toward the rack suggested familiarity rather than carelessness. He had performed the movement often enough that neither the exact height of the hook nor the distance from the entrance required conscious attention.
His suit was creaseless and fitted him exceptionally well, though nothing about its material suggested extravagant wealth. A faint floral scent accompanied him when the air shifted, clean and pleasant without the layered richness of expensive perfume. Evelyn suspected he bathed every day and used a relatively inexpensive scented soap, a minor detail that would have escaped her notice before becoming a Beyonder.
His face carried a smile as he scanned the occupants of the room. A wordless nod toward one of the waitresses was enough to send her toward the preparation counter, indicating that neither menu nor verbal order was necessary. Whatever tea he preferred, including the amount of sugar, had long since become routine here. Then he noticed Evelyn.
His mouth twitched into a frown before the expression was quickly replaced by the original smile. The interruption was brief enough that Evelyn refused to assign it a meaning beyond the obvious. He had encountered something unexpected within a familiar environment.
“I’ve never seen you before.” The statement carried utter confidence rather than accusation. He evidently believed his familiarity with the establishment was sufficient to know when a patron was new.
“May I?” He gestured toward the chair opposite her, still smiling despite a subtle tension that made his interest more apparent. To Evelyn, he looked like a man who had discovered a new puzzle where he expected routine.
One finger traced the edge of her cup as she considered him. Her expression became unreadable for only a fraction of a second before she waved toward a waiter and requested sweets, almost regretting that she had sent the guard away. There was nothing overtly threatening about the stranger, but Evelyn had already learned the danger of assuming harmless appearances meant harmless people.
"If you so insist," she said patiently, leaning back in her chair. Her arms settled upon the armrests while she allowed him the seat without pretending that his approach had gone unquestioned.
"Was there something that you needed from me, stranger?" Her voice remained friendly, restoring the polite demeanor appropriate for a public teahouse.
“A name to begin with, if you don’t mind. You may call me Noximilien Ashers.” The full introduction was deliberate. Evelyn recognized the social pressure immediately, offering his complete name created an expectation that she should respond in kind.
Nox pulled the chair backward and seated himself with almost unnerving precision. He moved it forward again in one clean motion, then plucked a cloth napkin from the table and folded it neatly across his lap. Each action followed the previous one with regular timing, creating an almost mechanical rhythm despite the otherwise ordinary young man performing them.
A thin scar marked the right side of his face. The old burn began near his right eye and faded toward the area above his ear, leaving slight discoloration at the corner of the eye despite having healed years ago. Evelyn noted it without staring long enough to make the observation obvious.
"And why does a man such as yourself need my name? Are you here on matters of disrespected tea leaves? How terrifying!" She smiled lightly as she lifted the cup again, her eyes never leaving him. The absurdity was deliberate, giving him an easy opportunity either to play along or correct the direction of the conversation. "I did not know they had such things here in this city." She took another sip, continuing the joke with enough seriousness to make its ridiculousness obvious.
“You misunderstand me. I’m simply introducing myself to someone new to the neighborhood.” Nox smiled in an embarrassed fashion while giving a restrained, half-hearted chuckle. The embarrassment seemed genuine enough, even if his certainty that she was new remained completely intact.
“If you wish not to give a name, or wish to give a false one, that will suffice.” He waited afterward with visible interest, a single finger of his right hand twitching faintly against the table. The offer created a neat dichotomy, but Evelyn caught no strong emotional investment in which option she selected. Classification appeared to interest him more than truth.
The woman watched him through relaxed eyes, giving herself another moment to examine the structure beneath his behavior. His attention felt unusually organized, thoughts remaining close to whatever subject currently occupied him rather than scattering across unrelated concerns. That did not make them freely available to her, but the occasional fragments brushing the surface possessed the same orderly quality as his movements.
"It was a joke. Do relax, Mister Nox." She applied the shortened name so casually that it could almost be mistaken for a compliment. "You may call me Eve, if you desire." The waiter arrived with the requested sweets as she spoke, allowing Evelyn to select a tart decorated with berries between gloved fingers.
"So, Nox, tell me... what drives you to sit at the tables of lone women on a day like this? Are you a bachelor looking for a wife, perhaps?" She took a delicate bite afterward, giving him the mildly embarrassing explanation as an escape route rather than suggesting more dangerous motives for approaching a woman he did not know.
Nox smiled cheerfully when the shortened names were exchanged. He appeared familiar with his own nickname and almost pleased that she had adopted it without requiring permission. Whatever uncertainty had accompanied his approach diminished slightly.
“Courting is on my objectives list, as I have now completed my studies.” He answered with enough seriousness that Evelyn could not immediately decide how much of the statement was a joke. He recognized the obvious question it created before she needed to ask.
“A Tingen graduate in mechanical engineering, with a minor in ancient history.” A slight bow accompanied the declaration, and deep pride resonated through his posture. The emotional clarity of it was strong enough that Evelyn required no Telepathist ability to recognize how much value he placed upon his education. His demeanor shifted back almost immediately afterward, like a lantern being covered and uncovered.
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“I am taking applications if you are interested, though the examination will be quite thorough.” The line was plainly humorous, yet the mental structure beneath it suggested an uncomfortable amount of sincerity. Nox might genuinely approach courtship with criteria elaborate enough to deserve the word examination.
An amused snort escaped Evelyn before she took another small bite of the tart. For all his oddities, the man was significantly more entertaining than the conversation she had just ended.
"How bold, Mister Nox. Tell me, is it normal for Tingen men to be in such pursuits immediately out of schooling? I fear I will be offered more documents to fill out the longer I stay here." She waved one hand in a slight flourish and placed the partially eaten dessert back onto its plate. Her eyes returned to him as she offered the bait.
“It is on the list of objectives, but not a pivotal focus. Written documentation will not be necessary.” Nox answered directly, his voice taking on the informative cadence he seemed to favor whenever a question could be treated as factual. The faint stress on written immediately suggested that some other form of documentation might exist, though Evelyn refrained from asking whether prospective wives were catalogued verbally.
“Is there any matter you need assistance with? I can fix anything mechanical or inform you of anywhere or anyone in this ward of Tingen, ” he continued without boastfulness. The offer sounded less like an attempt to impress her and more like a list of available services. “At least in basic summary.”
The slight curl of his lip at the qualification carried a flicker of dissatisfaction. Evelyn caught a brief impression of incompleteness from the surface of his thoughts, irritation not with her but with his own inability to make the statement absolute. It vanished before she could obtain anything more specific.
"Ah... I am afraid you cannot help me with my current issue, so I will present another just to sate your curiosity." Her eyes narrowed before relaxing as her gloved hands rearranged the frills of her dress. "Are you aware of any escort services? The... guarding type, not the unsavory one." She smiled across the table and watched the change in him.
Nox nodded subtly before she completed the question. Whatever implications accompanied the request were understood immediately, and his expression became markedly more businesslike.
“There is a wide variety, from basic thugs to armed professionals to the famed extraordinary. All come at differing costs, of course, from soli to pounds to hundreds of pounds.” He listed the categories with the practiced confidence of someone who had given similar information before.
The phrase famed extraordinary caught Evelyn's attention. An uninformed ordinary person might use something equally vague when discussing rumors of superhuman individuals, but a Beyonder avoiding the word Beyonder in public could produce exactly the same phrase. Nothing at the surface of Nox's mind offered a convenient answer, and Evelyn was experienced enough now to know that absence of a stray thought meant very little.
"I suppose I am in the market for something special." She raised the teacup to her lips again, finished the remaining tea, and placed the delicate porcelain upon its small plate with a soft clink. "And these bodyguards... are they properly discreet?" Her visible posture relaxed as though the question carried only ordinary concern.
Nox nodded.
“Discretion is one of his key characteristics, followed by being uniquely observant and unobtrusive.” The repetition in his delivery made the description sound rehearsed. He had either made this sales pitch before or had deliberately memorized the wording supplied by the man in question.
“I can arrange for you to meet at any time. Just give me a time and location for an interview to deliver to him.” His confidence remained stable, and Evelyn detected no surface contradiction suggesting that he doubted his ability to arrange the meeting.
"His? So he is a friend of yours?" Eve prodded lightly, adding a small movement of surprise. "I assume you can vouch for his work yourself?" The emphasis upon his invited Nox to explain why he spoke for the man rather than simply naming a company.
Nox frowned, eyes drifting slightly upward as he searched for the wording he wanted. The habit appeared ordinary enough, common among people trying to define something precisely.
“A friend? By definition, no.” His demeanor returned to confidence once he located the answer.
“We have a business arrangement. He informed me of his past deeds so that I may advertise as an information broker. I then interviewed his previous clients to confirm.” The explanation continued with the polished structure of a sales pitch, though nothing about it felt like deliberate fabrication.
The waitress from earlier returned with a steaming porcelain cup and placed it in front of him. Nox looked up with a smile more natural than most of the expressions he had used while discussing business.
“Thanks, Lucy.” Familiarity softened his voice noticeably.
“Enjoy, Nox.” The waitress smiled in return before turning away, her gaze passing over Eve in the process.
The small tilt of Lucy's head, the faint smile, and the momentary tension around her eyes separated into a collection of readable emotions. Pity came first, probably because Lucy knew Nox well enough to expect strangers to find him unusual. Friendliness accompanied it, the easy welcome offered to a new customer who seemed to be getting along with a familiar regular. Beneath both sat a small thread of possessiveness that Evelyn could feel more clearly than she could explain.
It did not feel romantic. Telepathy did not provide labels conveniently enough for that, but the structure resembled the reaction of someone who considered Nox useful, familiar, and socially valuable, and disliked the possibility of having to compete for his time when she needed him. Evelyn allowed the impression to remain provisional.
How annoying. Please watch her, Evelyn whispered within their shared mind as she leaned forward slightly.
The request was immediate enough that Evelyn understood her other half had noticed the same tension even without Telepathist abilities. She acknowledged it silently and allowed Original Evelyn to continue observing through their shared senses. If Lucy became relevant later, two interpretations would be better than one.
"I am on a somewhat tight schedule. Within the next ten hours would be preferable, as I have a job that must be done tomorrow and no later." Eve withdrew a pocket watch and studied the time briefly.
Annoyance appeared across Nox's face for a moment, obvious enough that an ordinary person could have recognized it. The emotion was followed almost immediately by a shallow wash of surface thought, not coherent speech so much as an organized complaint about information he believed he had already requested. Time and location remained the unresolved pieces. His business facade returned before the impression finished fading.
“That can be arranged. Name a preferred private location and time for the negotiation, or I may give a recommendation.” The second sentence carried a noticeably different tone, resembling the practiced patience of a service worker explaining a procedure to a customer who had overlooked something obvious.
Evelyn caught another brief pulse from the surface of his mind. He disliked repetition because repetition was inefficient. Somewhere beneath the immediate irritation was the beginning of a count, not something she could inspect with precision, but enough to suggest that he was mentally measuring just how much longer the conversation had become than necessary.
Ah, so that was the type of man this Nox person was. Eve smiled and tilted her head slightly. Her eyes moved over him before she internally forgave the irritation. Humans possessed habits, and his seemed relatively harmless.
"Five o’clock. Hopefully that time works for both you and your acquaintance." She adjusted the description of the unnamed man to respect Nox's earlier correction. The pocket watch showed two thirty-nine.
“And where?” Nox's smile became marginally pained, his teeth briefly gritting before he smoothed the expression away.
Another fragment brushed Evelyn's awareness. Not words exactly, but the renewed structure of his count, sentences and wasted seconds accumulating beneath restrained irritation. She could not have named the precise number he had reached and knew better than to pretend otherwise, but the intent was painfully clear.
"I will have a carriage arrive at Delawin Street five minutes prior." Evelyn smiled and stood, arranging the dress around her legs until the frills aligned properly. Several soli were left upon the table to cover both her order and Nox's.
"Any other details you're needing?" Eve offered him another small smile, having finally provided every practical element he requested.
Visible relief washed across Nox as he rose.
“None for me. The rest of the interview will be between just the two of you. I’ll send him a letter immediately.” The remaining irritation vanished almost entirely now that the arrangement had acquired a proper time and place.
Nox looked down at his nearly full tea and frowned. In a quick movement, he pulled a small bag from inside his suit and removed an assortment of metal rings and leather. Paper, ink, a quill, and other small implements could be glimpsed within before he unfolded the strange object.
With a click, the metal rings and leather expanded into a cylindrical container with a fitted cap. Nox poured the remaining tea inside and secured it without spilling any noticeable amount. The contraption was peculiar enough to draw Evelyn's attention, though the practiced ease of the movement suggested he had used it many times.
“It was a pleasure to meet you. Methods to contact me can be obtained from the staff at any teahouse or bar in the ward.” The closing was formal and clearly practiced, carrying only the faintest residue of dissatisfaction.
"A pleasure to make your acquaintance as well, Mister Nox. If all goes well, you may hear from me again in the next month or so." Evelyn smiled politely as she moved toward the door, turning her head slightly to glance back at him.
Her dress barely dragged behind her, fitted properly to the thin body beneath it. Her auburn hair had been arranged into a stylized bun beneath the wide-brimmed hat she donned before stepping into the sunlight. Whatever Nox thought of the woman calling herself Eve, she had given him little enough that the alias could remain useful.
Outside, she raised one hand to summon a carriage. The driver pulled toward the curb, climbed down, and opened the door before she lifted the bottom of her dress and stepped inside. A moment later the vehicle carried her away from the teahouse.
Nox departed shortly afterward.
His pocket watch appeared almost immediately once he reached the street. Two hours, sixteen minutes, and twenty-seven seconds remained until the meeting, perhaps five minutes less if the potential bodyguard decided punctuality meant arriving early. The calculation came naturally enough that he adjusted his pace before returning the watch to his pocket.
Nox did not intend to become a liar through carelessness. The problem was that he did not actually know where Sisyphus was. The man might not be home, and agreeing to arrange a meeting before confirming availability introduced an uncertainty that needed to be resolved as efficiently as possible. Fortunately, physical proximity was unnecessary. Privacy was not.
Nox entered a local bar farther down the street and nodded to the bartender before taking a private room. Once the door closed, he unpacked the few ingredients required for the ritual and arranged them methodically across the table. A folded sheet of paper received a quick but detailed account of what had been discussed with Eve, including the meeting time and Delawin Street.
He then unfolded a knife around its geared pivot, revealing a silver blade. A single slash through the air accompanied a word spoken in Ancient Hermes, invoking a weak barrier of spirituality around the room. Nox lacked any real mastery of ritualistic magic, but the barrier did not need to withstand another Beyonder. Preventing ordinary patrons and staff from hearing what followed would suffice.
He positioned the remaining ritual ingredients and placed a single candle in the center to represent himself. Once the arrangement was complete, he focused his spirituality and spoke in Loen, relying on the preparations rather than the language itself to give the invocation effect.
“I summon in my name,
The spirit that wanders about the unfounded, A whisperer who hides in the dark,
A messenger that belongs solely to Sisyphus.”
The final words settled into the room, and the candle flame trembled despite the absence of a draft. Shadows around the table deepened, then began gathering unnaturally toward one point as though the darkness had acquired weight.
Shadows folded upward from the floor.
The creature never established a stable shape, remaining a formless mass barely two feet across in any direction. Its body opened in the center, revealing a mouth filled with thin, sharp teeth. A wet gurgle emerged from an invisible throat before the messenger forced out its demand.
“Pppaayyymeeeennttt.” The sound crawled through the private room unpleasantly enough that Nox involuntarily shuddered. Multiple previous summonings had done little to make the creature easier to look at.
Fortunately, he knew what it wanted.
“A lady at a teahouse made me repeat myself, twice. It annoyed me heavily.” Nox concentrated upon the recent memory while speaking. The irritation returned with surprising freshness, first when Eve had failed to provide a time and again when she had failed to provide the location. Then the feeling disappeared.
Nox blinked several times. He remembered the conversation itself. He remembered that it had been inefficient and that he had needed to repeat the request. What he could no longer summon was the emotional annoyance attached to it.
The creature's grin widened.
“Sssssuch a unique menuuuuu... may somethinggggg worse befall youuuuuuuu.” The messenger sounded almost offended by the quality of the emotion it had consumed.
Nox ignored the ill omen. From a practical standpoint, the arrangement remained exceptionally profitable. A supernatural messenger capable of reaching Sisyphus could be paid with an unwanted negative thought, and being allowed to choose the thought made the exchange advantageous to both sides, regardless of the creature's opinion of the menu.
A black-clawed hand extended from the smoky mass, palm facing upward. Nox carefully placed the folded letter into it and withdrew before the claws closed.
The messenger sank immediately into the surrounding shadows.
Its body disappeared first, then the claws, while the white teeth remained suspended in the darkness for several seconds longer. Eventually those vanished as well, leaving the private room ordinary again.
Nox released a sigh of relief and dismantled the ritual arrangement. The weak barrier came down, the ingredients returned to his bag, and nothing visible remained to suggest that a creature of shadow had occupied the room. He left the bar shortly afterward, settling his top hat firmly around his head as though nothing unusual had occurred.