That afternoon, Magdala stepped out of the Exchange and into the yawning innards of Her Majesty’s Own Repository. Large enough to hold six Sanfords arranged double-file and packed with crates, laborers, and turquoise-caped Royal Inspectors, the Repository was the penultimate stop for any goods going to the Palace. When she was a little girl, Magdala had marveled at the fragrant spices from Adhua, the beaded fabrics from Cairnborne, the fresh ores from Ponne, and had wished that her family offered any of those instead of stinky boring horses, which were nothing like these pieces of the world beyond the Gallus family estates.
Now, she took no notice as she made her way over to the Repository’s eastern wall, where a motley system of lifts and pulleys was attended to by a team of earthhoists.
One of them caught sight of her. “Good evening, milady.”
“Good evening.” Before she could think better of it, Magdala got on the lift. “I’m going up.”
“Milady,” the earthhoist’s smile showed teeth, “I’m afraid the Office is quite busy at this time.”
“When isn’t it?” Magdala kept her eyes away from the bits of rope and wood she’d be surrendering herself to. “I’ll be quick.”
“Understood.” The earthhoist signaled her partner on the platform above them. “We’ll have you up there right away.”
Some part of Magdala, the one that always wondered what Dwayne or Francesca would do in any social situation, emitted a strained “Thank you” before she grabbed the railing, closed her eyes, and waited for the end.
“Qechicieut,” said the earthhoist.
Ropes twanged, wood groaned, and Magdala ascended with only a soft whimper. She wasn’t afraid of heights, she’d been higher, nor was she all that concerned about relying on someone else’s magic, although that fact didn’t excite either. However, she, like all Magisterium Academy students, had spent a year studying basic mechanics, which had failed to instill in her an assurance that this contraption wouldn’t drop her a dozen wir to her death. What it had done was give her the ability to calculate exactly how much velocity she’d have gained by the time she hit the ground.
“Milady?”
Cups, why did they build this thing?
“Milady, we’re here.”
Magdala opened her eyes. She was indeed on the upper level of the Repository, and she was in one piece.
“Oh.” She escaped with a muttered “Thank you” and fled before she could to remember that she’d to use that thing to go back down.
The Exchequer’s Office took up the entire top floor of the Repository and was arranged like an amphitheater with seventeen graduated platforms stepping down to the Exchequer’s desk, which provided a vantage point for the Privy Council member to oversee each of his inspectors, auditors, and accountants as they scribbled notes, delivered reports, and processed forms. There were no lamps here. Instead the space was filled with the gray light streaming through the hundreds of clear glass panels that made up the ceiling.
It was so impressive Magdala almost wanted to work here herself.
“Milady?” A functionary approached her cautiously. “Are you here for a specific purpose?” He glanced at her cloak clasp. “Perhaps on behalf of your lord father?”
Magdala scanned the room. “I’m here for Francesca Lucchesi.”
The functionary blinked. “Miss Lucchesi? Oh in that case I can-”
“Nevermind, I see her.” There was a bright spot of sunlight yellow in the sea of turquoise. “Thank you.”
Leaving the functionary dumb-founded, Magdala navigated her way to the other end of the Office and found her roommate listening with rapt attention to an explanation of the Office ledgers. Francesca was so engrossed that it wasn’t until the accountant she was listening to said, “Miss, you’ve got a guest” that she turned around.
“Mag! Why are you here?” The glad sparkles faded from Francesca’s eyes. “Oh. This is about your project.”
Wow, this was bad. “I just want to talk.”
“I see.” Francesca turned to the accountant. “Will you excuse me, Ronaldo? My roommate feels her concerns are important enough to interrupt.”
“Of course, Miss Lucchesi.” Ronaldo hurriedly retrieved his ledgers. “I believe you can figure out the rest anyway.” He scampered away.
“Come on.” Francesca took Magdala by the elbow and dragged her into an isolated alcove. “So, what did you want to talk about?”
Magdala had planned to say something smooth or at least neutral, but the part of her that was capable of that cowered under Francesca’s tone leaving the less thoughtful part to say, “I lied to Dean Bruce today.”
Francesca’s jaw dropped. “You did? Why?”
Horror made Magdala to bite down on her first response – “Because of you and Colin” – before it left her lips, allowing her contrition to offer “Because I didn’t want to admit that I screwed up.”
When her roommate didn’t respond, Magdala continued. “That’s also why I said you were stupid, but you’re not and Colin isn’t either, but I wanted the experiment to work the first time so that things could go back to the way they were before my suspension, but of course they can’t be because you’re here doing something you love and, and, I’m sorry.”
Francesca raised an eyebrow. “That’s quite the apology.”
“Well,” Magdala’s ears heated, “I had the whole walk over here to figure it out. Parts of it anyway.”
Francesca whistled. “That’s a quite walk.”
“I have no idea how Mei does it everyday.”
“She’s a hunter by trade. I imagine she’s done a lot of walking.” Francesca let out a breath. “I accept your apology, and I’m sorry for giving you the cold shoulder for so long. You’re right that things can’t be like they were, but that’s a good thing. Before you would have just assumed my forgiveness and I would have given it to you and we’d have learned nothing.”
Magdala smiled. “Things do seem to be better for you. You’re not bored all the time anymore.”
Francesca grinned. “I was only bored when you weren’t around so when you left, I had to find something to do or go mad.”
They laughed.
“So, are we good?” asked Magdala.
“We’re good.” Francesca pulled her into a hug.
After getting her fill, Magdala squeezed her friend and stepped back. “I promise to do better as team leader.” She sighed. “Mei tried to help me with that, but-”
“She said something about birds or wolves, and it didn’t make any sense?”
“Well, she talked about hunt leaders following and having the same talk.”
“The same talk. Huh. Let me show you something.” Francesca led Magdala back out of the alcove. “See Ronaldo over there? He’s a senior accountant, which means that he has juniors under him who count on him and a principal accountant above him who supervises him. Whenever his team is working on a particularly complex account, he doesn’t just expect his juniors to read his mind nor does he do it all himself. He calls a meeting, and together, they figure out how to complete the task in a timely manner. It’s how things work around here from the lowest intern to the Exchequer himself.”
Magdala gave her roommate a look. “Aren’t you learning about accounting?”
Francesca laughed. “It turns out that summers on the Lucchesi docks were a very good education in accounting.”
“Want to trade? The Gallus estates are a master’s education in horsecraft.”
Francesca wrinkled her nose. “No, I don’t. I can barely stand to ride those lifts they use here.”
Magdala grinned. “You hate them too?”
“I loathe them, but it’s Office rules; everyone has to take it. Only Her Majesty’s windsong may skip it.”
A quiet settled between them, and for a moment, despite everything they’d said and done, it was like it was before, just two girls being friends.
Francesca broke the spell. “You will not do that again. Imagine if you’d said something like that to Dwayne.”
The mere thought made Magdala’s stomach churn. “I wouldn’t.”
“Oh, why not?”
Magdala blinked. “Because I just wouldn’t. I mean you didn’t like it so why would he?”
Francesca rolled her eyes. “You’re so dense. Glad to see that hasn’t changed. Have you apologized to Colin yet?”
“No, not yet.” Magdala looked away. “He’s been avoiding me.”
“You want me to talk to him first?”
Yes. “No, I should talk to him. I owe him a direct apology. I don’t think he’ll want to come back though.”
“Oh, he’ll come back.” Francesca smirked. “He’s like you and Dwayne; he researches magic for the thrill of the chase.”
“What chase?”
Both mages screamed, forcing Mei to wait for their heart beats to slow back down before saying, “Sanford was robbed last night.”
Magdala’s heart beat picked back up. “Is Dwayne okay? How could that happen? Did they take anything?” Mei’s sheathe was empty. “What happened to your dagger?”
“Dwayne is fine.” Mei’s tone was stiff as she answered each question in turn. “There were three of them and Huan wasn’t there. They took Dwayne’s book. I lost the dagger during the fight.”
“Are you okay?” asked Francesca.
“Yes.”
Magdala’s mind latched onto the least alarming thing Mei had said. “Which book did they take?”
Mei turned to Magdala, her eyes hollow. “Dwayne’s book.”
“Dwayne has lots of…” But he didn’t. He only had Na’cch. “Oh.”
“This isn’t the place to discuss this.” Francesca looped her arms into her friends’ and pulled them towards the exit. “Let’s go to that restaurant Mei took us earlier.”
“I’m not hungry,” said Mei.
Magdala and Francesca looked at each other. They’d never heard Mei say that before.
“All the more reason why you should eat,” said Francesca. “You can tell us all about it when your stomach isn’t empty.”
Admaeus Speaks 