Interlude, First seeing the restaurant

Boy, am I bad at titles

First

Previous

Ignore the beard. I really had to fight Bing to get a good image this morning. I didn’t expect it to be able to render the image I wanted, which was Tolly being concerned about an unconscious Glorina in his office. Of course Bing blocked that one. But otherwise, it kept giving me trouble over which person had what color hair, and giving Tolly a beard even when I specified clean-shaven. It hasn’t given me trouble over hair color in quite a while.

Interlude

The man looked down in sudden panic as the woman collapsed in his arms. "Ms. Hoi? What is wrong?"

She didn't answer, just hung limply in his arms.

"Knew she looked a bit peaked. Didn't think she'd faint like that." He picked her up like a child, and carried her over to her chair, and sat her down in it. "Should lay her down. Call Belinda, something." Instead he knelt down beside her, precariously balanced on his good leg, and put his fingers up to the vein in her neck. "Ms. Hoi? Glorina? Do you hear me?"

She didn't answer, but her eyes opened, and appeared to look at him.

"Ms. Hoi, are you all right?"

She didn't answer him, and he realized that even though her eyes were open, there was no real intelligence in them.

"Glorina, you need to wake up."

Instead, she threw herself at him with an inarticulate little cry, and knocked him backwards.

"Ow!" he cried reflexively as his bad leg twisted beneath him. Then he felt her trembling against him, like a little bird or small animal. "What's this, then?" he said, and his arms came up automatically around her. "Ms. Hoi," he said gently. "Glorina. Thou art safe here. Naught shall harm thee." He wondered a bit at hearing himself use the archaic familiar tense. Then he shrugged. He didn't think she could hear him anyway. "Rest, Rina," he told her. "We will talk later." He kept talking, slipping into even more archaic languages, just keeping a soothing noise going.

Glorina

I gradually woke to an unaccustomed feeling of warmth and safety. I rested in it for a long moment, not wanting to open my eyes and break the spell. Then I began to hear Mr. McLichtensen's voice, speaking softly and gently, but with a growing edge of desperation. He seemed to be speaking endearments, but it wasn't a language I recognized; the cadences seemed familiar, but he could have been cursing me for all I knew.

I felt his arms around me, and opened my eyes to find myself seated in his lap, both of us on the floor. He was leaning against the desk, his face even paler than before, so a light scattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks stood out. Before, they'd been barely a hint.

He looked down at me in concern, though I saw traces of pain that hadn't been there a moment ago, or however long ago I'd shaken his hand.

"Mr. McLichtensen?" I said, my voice wavering.

"Art thou . . . have you woken up, Ms. Hoi?"

"I think so," I said. "What happened? We were over there, then . . . did I faint?"

"As far as I can tell," he said dryly.

"How did we end up over here, like, like this?"

"You . . . you almost came to for a moment there, and jumped me," he said. "Knocked me down."

"How could I . . ."

"I wasn't particularly well balanced at the time," he said. "Ms. Hoi, not that I find this particularly unpleasant, you understand, but do you think you could . . . move?"

"Oh, of course," I said, jumping up. Too quickly. The room started wavering again.

"Sit down in the chair!" he barked at me. "Put your head between your knees, and breathe slowly. Sit up when you're ready."

I obeyed, and eventually the room stopped spinning and settled down again. "I jumped you?" I said. "How, why would I do that?"

"I'm sure I don't know," he said dryly. "Took me totally by surprise." He scrambled slightly, trying to get his feet under him, but collapsed again.

"Mr. McLichtensen, are you all right?"

"Fine, fine," he said shortly. He tried to grab the edge of the desk, and heave himself up, but slipped back with a curse. Then he looked up at me helplessly for a moment, then sighed and said, "I'm afraid I must beg your indulgence, Ms. Hoi."

"What do you mean, Mr. McLichtensen?"

Instead of answering, he reached up, and grabbed both arms of my chair, and hoisted himself up. I squeaked when my chair started to tilt forward, and threw myself back. His face passed within a couple inches of mine. I felt the warmth of his breath, and I looked straight into his large blue eyes.

The thought strongly hit me, I cannot betray this man. I will not betray this man. The thought was strong enough to almost knock me breathless.

As he stood up to his full height, and hopped back to lean against the desk, my head cleared again. I would betray this man. I had no choice in that matter. None.

Once again, though, I knew that I would not bed him. I could keep from doing that. Perhaps it would lessen the betrayal, at least a little.

But I wished I could feel the safety of his arms around me again.

"I'm sorry about that, Ms. Hoi," he said. "And thank you." Then he paused for a moment, and reached out his hand, and almost touched my face. I shrank away from him without thinking, and he drew his hand back. "Has someone been injuring you, Ms. Hoi?" he asked.

I had forgotten about the remains of the black eye. "You weren't supposed to . . ." I blurted out, then stopped, aghast. Had my brain completely stopped working? Of course he had seen it, his face had been so close. I tried to tell injury story three, including little laugh one, which was supposed to sell it. I knew immediately that I should have skipped the laugh, it sounded forced and fake, and made the story sound less believable than it would have on its own. After all, I had the perfect excuse for sounding shaken.

He looked at me for a long moment, then shook his head. "If you need help, Ms. Hoi, protection, you will find that I am not entirely without resources. Just ask."

I just looked at him. What could I say? Whatever resources he had, or thought he had, he would not be able to save me. And if I said anything, I would just drag him down with me. I could not do that.

He sat watching me for a few more seconds, while I continued to say nothing, and look down. I cursed myself for not having a script to follow for this situation. I should have one. But this had never come up before. How could they have not foreseen that?

He finally sighed, and muttered, "None of my business anyway, I suppose." Then he straightened, and said, "Do you often faint that way, Ms. Hoi?"

"No, never!" I said, looking up at him, glad I had a question I could answer truthfully. Almost truthfully.

"Hmm . . ." he said. Then, "Do you have some sort of magic-sustaining charm, Ms. Hoi? A kind of spell that would keep you going?"

"Magic charm? What?" What was he talking about? Something else I had no script for.

"Never mind," he said. "It was just a thought. The timing . . ." he didn't continue. Then he looked at me. "How long has it been since you've eaten?"

"Eaten?" I said weakly. I couldn't tell him three days. I should have been able to keep going a couple more days before showing any signs of it. Not that I wanted to. My stomach rumbled at the thought of food. I said to him, as truthfully as I could, "Haranbeth." I hoped that would be enough to satisfy him.

He nodded. Apparently it was. "Then let us adjourn down to the restaurant." He smiled down at me. “Let me grab a cane, then I'll show you the easiest way to get to the restaurant, introduce you around. Then you can eat, rest up this afternoon, and get to work tomorrow."

"I'd rather look at what I'm going to be doing."

"If you want, we can detour there. After lunch. But you're not going to do any work today." He looked at me closely again. "And perhaps you should take some time to see a healer. It isn't good to faint like that for no reason."

"No!" burst out before I remembered myself. "No, really, I'm fine." I put on smile 12: confident, relaxed. I hoped my bosses wouldn't find out about my little lapse. But if I saw a healer, it'd come up for certain.

"Well, if you're sure," he said, dubiously.

We walked into the dining room of the restaurant. I looked around at the wealth of paintings covering the walls, and smiled at the thought of getting to work. Then I looked again, and stopped in my tracks. I fought to keep my breath even, and turned to glare at Mr. McLichtensen. "Is this some kind of joke? Are you intending to waste my time?" Though it was his time to waste. And my bosses would want me to find out everything I could.

He remained unperturbed. "What is the problem, Ms. Hoi?"

"They're fake. Every single one of these paintings is fake." I looked around again. "Well-done forgeries, but still fakes."

He laughed then, a big booming laugh that echoed off the walls. "Of course they are. Did you really expect otherwise?"

I felt suddenly foolish. Did I really expect otherwise? Of course I had. Why would he laugh at me?

Then I considered. Most paintings I cataloged were kept in a controlled environment, seldom taken out to be seen. The ones that were out on display were kept behind glass, in rooms that had controlled lighting. The dining room was dim enough, I suppose, but with spotlights on the paintings. There was no glass, all of the paintings were out in the open.

"These are . . . copies?" I suggested at last. "The real paintings are kept elsewhere?"

"Reproductions, replicas." He smiled down at me. "That's right. These are for people to enjoy. Art is meant to be seen. But I do have the original of every one of these paintings."

I looked around again, and noted all the works and artist styles I recognized.

"Wow," I said.

"This is only a portion of the paintings in the collection," he said. I could tell he was trying not to sound proud. "I rotate them through frequently."

"Really?" I looked around again, and my knees buckled. Mr. McLichtensen caught my arm as I started to stumble.

"We haven't gotten any food into you yet," he muttered. "You need to sit down."

"No, I was just surprised." Truthfully, I was still a little lightheaded, but I was keeping myself firmly under control.

"As you say, Ms. Hoi," he said. He walked me through the main dining room into a back room, smaller and more private. "As we discussed in our letters," he continued, as we sat in a booth, "you can eat here whenever you want. We've put you on the list. Or there are a couple of other restaurants in town, if you get a hankering for something different. There is even a small kitchen off your room, if you'd prefer your own cooking from time to time."

"I'm sure this will be fine."

"And if you need a small advance on your wages, let me know. I'll see what I can do," he said again.

"I'm sure I'll be fine," I said again.

He looked at me closely, and said, "Hmm." Then he continued. "Don't be afraid to order whatever you want on the menu. We won't be keeping track." He paused, then smiled. "Though if you're planning on secretly feeding an army on the sly, we'll figure something's wrong, sooner or later."

I gave a small smile and nodded, not entirely sure what he was getting at. I didn't intend on eating anywhere else. My real boss had only let me have a little bit of pocket money, and it had to last me all three months I was contracted for. I would have had more if meals hadn't been included. Though probably not enough, I always had to short-ration myself when meals weren't a part of the package. My pocket money was more for show than for anything else. If the others went somewhere and invited me, I could pay my own way.

"I knew you'd had to have an impressive collection," I told him as I looked over the menu. I chose a light soup and some bread. "But I wasn't expecting it to be this fine."

"I've been . . . that is, the restaurant has been collecting these for a very long time," he told me. "We've tried to keep things organized as we went on, but it has been a while since we went through things. Probably at least ten years. We keep saying we'll get to it."

I nodded. I was still shaky, but that didn't seem to be enough to explain what was happening. I was having difficulty remembering my scripts, my cover stories. I should have been able to glibly pass off everything without thinking.

Perhaps he was right. I was hungry.

"I look forward to working with you, Ms. Hoi," he said.

"Please." I reached out and touched his arm. "Call me Glorina. If we're going to be working together for the next few months, it will make things easier."

He regarded me gravely for a long moment, then shook his head. "I'm sorry, Ms. Hoi," he said, and he sounded genuinely contrite. "Perhaps in time. But right now, I think it'd be best to keep a little distance."

I ducked my head. I did not understand. His face was filled with compassion. But the rejection was still there, solid, and it stung like a knife.

"Please, child," Mr. McLichtensen said. "Do not take it so hard. I have not rejected you."

I looked up at him, surprised. Were my thoughts that visible? "I am not a child," I said. "I am a woman grown."

I caught a look of sadness on his face as he said, "Yes, I know."

The soup and bread were just what I needed to fill that empty spot in my middle. Mr. McLichtensen watch me eat with satisfaction, while he ate a huge sandwich and a salad. He swallowed it down faster than I could eat my soup.

While we ate, he told me a bit about the restaurant, the town, its history, the people who worked there. I listened intently, asking questions when he paused for a moment, adding what he told me to my mental file. There was little he told me that I didn't already know, but it was put together in a different way which made my understanding of the place so much clearer. I made sure I was obviously paying rapt attention.

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