Лилла Сомн
Coffee Stained Pages. Volume 1
No, you can't. Boundless spaces are hard to imagine. You have to see it for yourself.
Great thing is to look for elves who rush around here on their unknown business also. Ami’s never seen them ever in her life, but would really like to…
Well. Coming back to now. Still anxious. Why?
My eternally alert anxious mind, pray tell me what else you have in store? Let’s pour it out.
“Alrighty… What if… someone else is sent to Omill instead of us?”
Ha-ha. And ha. Who? There are no other weak-minded people in the area.
Everyone has business in their houses and plots, fields, families. No one wants to mess with these “helpless, clueless, stupid” witches. Nobody wants to adapt to new people, new language, new circumstances, new everything, no one wants to look ridiculous, feel the lack of the usual and necessary and the abundance of the incomprehensible. It’s a daily basis just for us.
It works here and there because nobody bothers to tell us what's wrong, they need us to guess. So it's a daily occurrence that we say and do something weird. It's a daily basis of us suddenly becoming annoying troublemakers, even if we didn't mean it, and most of the time we didn't mean it, and having no clue what part of what you say or do is a trigger. A knowledge could at least be useful for analysis.
But even asking and analysing didn’t help and just made things worse. It’s a strange world. But maybe it’s a cursed gift to be a stranger anywhere in it.
Maybe.
So… Although her candidacy had not yet been officially approved, it was clear from the faces of our colleagues that they were relieved that it almost happened. In this situation, Ami was the invincible Stella the Clayhand. With whom no one fights. What’s next?
“Suns will rise.”
Wait? Really? Aye.
The first night lights appeared above the edge of the forest. If you sit a little longer, you can see how shining stars float into the sky on trails with a haze between them.
Perhaps it’s better this way… she doesn't want to come home. She’s barely managed to calm down. And too weak to repel the attacks of her nosy loving family.
The fugitive didn’t want to listen again and again to the story about the complications with the roof repair due to her developed egoism and the lack of her not so skillful hands, la-di-da… If she is sent somewhere again, then most likely she wouldn’t return to the beginning of a new stage of (useless) construction and so on, and so on…
One answer to all of this is diligent passive-aggressively shirking. What? What did they expect from a careless mistress?
She was perfectly happy with the look and size of the house and her room. Enlarging the house and expanding their family would be extremely undesirable for many reasons. This family is already big enough to be disastrously annoying. And the house itself was sound and only needed cosmetic repairs.
Also there are much more interesting things in this life than getting bogged down in unnecessary things. So, whoever requires it… let them do this useless work.
And Amelia will wait until everyone falls asleep. It's a good thing that Kantinians traditionally go to bed early, because the next morning most of them had a new light of work in the fields and gathering in the woods.
On the other hand, Ami's habits did not exempt her from getting up early for work with everyone else. May the ghouls in the swamps gnaw at those who devised this routine so deadly to the body. And it’s not the first time she has anxious insomnia.
And not the last. She will survive anyway. Just like she did before.
Until she wouldn't. Then she just wouldn't. Why try to fight the inevitable?
Next one.
“Our superiors decide that the witches have come up with yet another stupidity, and they shouldn't pay attention to this, nor to follow their lead… Or they will suddenly find out that there are not enough people here in the Department. And they desperately need this useless one. Or the Omillians will finally understand that working with an ignoramus is of no interest to them…”
Amelia didn’t answer, smirking vindictively at invisible Fate, demonstrating with her whole appearance that nothing would be able to disappoint her anymore.
It was simply ineffective and pointless to panic and freak out when you were already at the very bottom of your life's expectations.
Instead, you need to keep your mind and hands busy. By starting to pack things, for example. It feels like escaping, it's calming, and that's exactly what we need. Even if the authorities don’t plan us to move to Omill tomorrow. Anyway, it’s time to finally go home and have some sleep.
The servicewoman stood up abruptly and reluctantly walked towards her dwelling. All the moons were hidden by clouds, and it was difficult to see the path, but the road was so familiar to her that she could walk there with her eyes closed if she wanted.
Literally. She tried. I only tripped a couple of times. She saw well in the dark.
Although, of course…
… The witch could now illuminate her way. Or stay away from these places.
The Kantinian quickly reached the partly undesired destination and quietly slipped inside. Luckily, there was no one in the corridor.
The tramp exhaled with relief.
She hurried into her room, hastily closing the door behind her.
The apathy that had become habitual in recent cycles was replaced by a weak but noticeable, somewhat malicious and gambling enthusiasm.
Let's gooo! Now we're talking.
Not hoping, not planning this time, just packing a bag full of our favourite things.
The unfortunate plant grower jumped to her feet a little energetically, glanced around the room eagerly and began to hum softly, unconsciously.
Interesting… She didn't make it anywhere out of the Forest for a long time. She doesn't sing in captivity.
Freedom seemed so close and almost tangible. But it was not the first time that she had been misled by her feelings and that her desires had been mistaken for reality.
Amelia quickly shook off the darkest storm cloud of depression that was creeping back into her soul.
Don't get distracted… What to take and what to leave? Hm.
…The dictionary is definitely going in the bag first.
The avid bookworm picked up a large, tattered bundle of roughly stitched cloth. She turned it over respectfully, as if weighing it.
It had once belonged to her mother. Back when, according to unconfirmed rumours, she was still a normal person and not a swamp ghoul who had replaced her later. It is not clear where she got the copy, but you will not find a better source of information in Kantine. In fact, it was priceless. Any similar literature stored in the local Archives was almost completely useless. It is difficult to say why this was the case and what dominated these works – the number of errors or irrelevant topics.
This rare, valuable copy will come in handy. Because no matter how much you learn a language, you will still fall into a stupor when you need to say something immediately. Mean words quickly flee the battlefield.
And these ones are captured in the book. They have to serve and simply have no choice. And that's why they will always come to the rescue.
Come on, good old tattered fellow… it's not your fault that your ex is a grumpy fury. You are very useful and you will not bear collective responsibility.
Alrighty then. Who's next?
Favourite shoes and clothes, of course. All travellers' first friends. They're comfortable and practical, even if they have holes in them and are sewn and glued over and over where possible. They're in.
In our clothes bags. Which are also spacious and light, handy for any hike.
And an old, trusted, no less beloved blanket. It comes in handy anytime, anywhere. Even for sitting at rest stops.
This and that, we don't take much… Don't think we'll stay long there.
But… have the feeling we're missing something important.
Food. We need food!
The most important and enjoyable part of any event. This little journey is no exception.
Rarely would any Kantinian disagree with it, and in at least one thing Ami agreed with her compatriots. An absolutely sincere love of food.
So it was absolutely necessary to think about what hearty dried food she could steal from the family pantry. And put it in her omillian food bags.
Food bags are critical. She hasn't learnt to wrap food and even drinks in big leaves like the graceful Selvas do.
But it is fiiine. That is not the only thing she will never be able to compare with the Selvas.
Ami took from the drawer the beautiful embroidered bags she had brought from the last Omill trip. It seemed they still had the smell of small flatbreads and takeaway pies. But no. They could only contain the spirit of Omill's coffeehouses.
Hmm… It's such a heartwarming memory… Especially in these dull Lands.
What else? Water bags. Of course.
Coffee-coffee-coffee… And our favourite shell cup, made from the shell of a local nut.
Did we leave our cup at work? Oh no… Let's not forget it tomorrow. We need to make a mark on our hand…
No, we don't! Luckily it's here. On a table, behind the usual clutter. Waiting for something. And it looks like it's getting ready too. Brilliant.
Come on, beauty. We’re going for a walk. Far away from here. Once again. I'm not leaving without you, you know that. Soon we will both be filled with exotic, delicious drinks.
Quick dopamine is a nice compensation for the bitterness of another fruitless movement to crawl out of this hole. Good, good…
What else?
Our typical travel checklist is somewhere at the bottom of this mess. Somewhere here, in the chaos of our life. Too tired to look for it, as always. So organised. Internal chaos often turns into external mess, there is nothing you can do about it.
There’s a writing tissue, stick and and some juice sticking out of the habitual tabletop clusterflip… Hm. Great. A cheerful company of writing instruments and materials is always welcome. Especially when your own memory isn't too keen on keeping you company.
Amelia quickly walked back to the table and sharply pulled several pieces out of a pile of cut-up writing cloth. And of course what was on the top is immediately scattered on the floor.
Shhh… No noise, no noise…
Ami angrily picked up the out-of-control paper cutter and shook her finger at it. But it wasn’t the only troublemaker. The scraps of writing cloth, already covered with drawings, also ended up on the floor. Pieces of a unique map of the Continent made by mother. Her own work, torn and trampled by her own hands…
How symbolic.
Ami winced as if from a sudden spasm. The eternal victim of her own curiosity, she didn't even want to recall the very episode, and quickly suppressed the feelings of guilt and anger and shoved them into a travel bag along with the pieces of the map.
…Maybe we can do something about that in the end, you know. If Ivette's too weak to finish her own job.
For the Lands of Normality lie beyond and above the fertility-specialised Kantine. And there, with the proper sources of varied information, we could surely find the knowledge and materials to restore this undervalued treasure. And to reunite these disparate pieces of the former mother's personality.
Or even, joking aside, we'll be able to add something to it. Not in a negative way.
Perhaps Ami the Misfortune could still fulfil her mother's wishes and live up to her hopes. But not by becoming a decent plant breeder, but by becoming a decent researcher. Of course, she is a far cry from her mother, but considering how tightly the “advanced” Yvette is mired in her problems, she has long since ceased to be a worthy rival. And even the desire to compare herself to her has completely disappeared.
Given that Amelia is going to be an employee of the Omill Department of Truth, there must be a way to gain access to the Omill Temple Archives. Perhaps there's some sort of simplified access procedure.
It should not be as difficult to access as, say, Central Prime Archives. In theory.
If she stays in Omill and is not sent back, of course. If it is sent to Omill at all.
“So many “ifs”. Here we are again, feeding our depression and feelings of rejection. Enough of that. It's not relevant. What's next? “
Sleep. Sleep is next. Everything is packed except the food.
Ami doesn't have many things. She doesn't need much. Only the most comfortable. A big travel bag is ready and other things wait for her return.
And she always returns.
Ami clicked her tongue in annoyance, remembering the old "resentment" towards the beautiful and inaccessible cities that did not accept her the first, nor the second, nor the third time.
It is fiiine.
She has to get used to rejection and ghosting, they have been her best and most trusted friends for as long as she can remember. It's time to accept them and stop ignoring their unseen daily presence.
…Mimicking, sarcastic remarks… silent ignoring or smirking… She's had enough of that in her whole dung life. At home, among siblings and others, at work… Big gulps of it, in full abundance, everything you want from this set, Ami, everything is for you…
The Kantinian growled softly from the anger that had surged up and plopped down on the couch with a pile of unpacked things in her hands.
…Wouldn't it be better to crawl somewhere and never come out again, never come in contact with anyone or anything?..
Yes. If only everything was that simple. Anyway, everything is pointless. Everything…
“We're being unproductive again.”
Definitely… It's better not to think about it now.
It's no more but a story. The ridiculous story of one stupid life.
“Surely there are many much more interesting thoughts in that head.”
Right. Some can be rejected, even if they are not just plain weirdos like us, but outstanding people, which the VST agents definitely are. Or, maybe even, they were rejected because of being eminent. Remember that strange case when our Temples compromised its principles by asking the VST to send no less than one of their witch agents. It was a big deal of great importance.
But of course something went wrong and the investigation was inconclusive. Which says nothing about the professional qualities of the agent himself or the level of competence of the VST as an organisation.
One can only imagine the level of "assistance" the locals provide to the "metropolitan upstarts". This makes any complex investigation doubly difficult. If not triple…
…Contempt, devaluation, small-minded pride and arrogance.
An inexplicable fear of the incomprehensible and unexplored. Energy saving mode for limited minds. Why learn when you can project…
To be more educated, more curious, to have superior knowledge was only a reason for additional ridicule. That's what happened to the agent.
Rejected for another reason, Ami deeply sympathised with a stranger.
It's a pity that his investigation didn't take place during her service – she came later.
Once, under silly circumstances, her curiosity had led her to some interesting lists and reports, which disappeared shortly afterwards. Perhaps they are still somewhere in the depths of the Office Archive… but very deep.
The new employee, Ami, was simply asked to tidy up the shelves here in the absence of the Secretary.
If she knew the real value of these documents, which were temporarily stored away from the other ones… She would examine them more closely.
…Such a fascinating, mysterious puzzle in the midst of the flat, boring life of the Order Department. It was quite intriguing, and she decided to take a closer look at it after carrying out the orders of her superiors with maximum speed and all the zeal of a rookie… If only she had known two important things then.
First, the faster you carry out your superiors' orders, the faster you will get the next ones. Second, secrets and fortune will not wait forever. Either you take it now, or you go your separate ways.
And of course, a late quick inspection of the contents of the shelves revealed nothing. There was no way to snoop any more. The Secretary kept the secrets.
And he would not tolerate any intrusion into his fabric manor. Ami was pretty sure that the agent had found nothing either because it’s been deliberately hidden.
Although she couldn't shake the thought that she could somehow help this random VST guy, who was somewhat similar to her, she understood perfectly well that it was too late to do anything.
The case was closed. And maybe even destroyed.
Even if she could find a way to sneak into the Archives under a good pretext and quickly figure out which of the heavy, dusty cabinets contained the necessary information…
How do you copy a document quickly? Absolutely not. They'll definitely notice.
Of course, neither the Secretary nor the Chief would approve, to put it mildly. And Ami did not want to be thrown out of what was practically the only non-planting job in Kantine that allowed her to travel the Mainland at least occasionally. The job suited the inquisitive mind of the active Amelia, Ami loved her job. In general.
Though, frankly, curiosity and initiative have never been particularly encouraged in their ranks. Which is true of their whole city.
"This is how they lived before us, this is how we live".
A step in any direction promises a citywide clusterflip.
Somehow, Kantinians have deliberately forgotten that it was curiosity and a passion for research and exploration that made Prime the great and admirable city it was, starting with a bunch of witches hastily and uncertainly settling on a windy mountain plateau.
…to heights beyond the reach of Amelia…
Witches who did not possess the “basic Kantine virtues” declared to be the basis of survival, demonstrated a fundamentally new way of not only surviving, but thriving.
Yes, the Kantinians also look forward with malicious impatience to the fall of the Witch City from its mountain heights, and eagerly discuss all the real and fictional gossip about it.
But unfortunately for them, Prime doesn't fall at all. It just grows and gets better.
"And those stupid witches will lose the game."
Aha. Ami would willingly play along with them.
She didn't know any witches closely, but for some reason she felt that potentially such acquaintances might make her life more interesting. However, she didn’t try to socialise during her business trips to neighbouring cities. Each time, shyness took over and she preferred to familiarise herself with the local food and architecture.
An obvious choice, you can't go wrong here.
The tramp grinned, put aside the things she had been clutching thoughtfully in her hands, and critically examined her more than bulging bags in a total volume comparable to her own size.
Almost everything she needs is here. But will it be possible to lift all these? And even if you manage to lift them, how long will you be able to walk with them on your shoulders?..
After all, the weight of what you are carrying has a nasty tendency to increase with almost every step you take.
Soon everything will be clear.
As clear as a sky in the hot season with three luminaries at the zenith at the same time. In the meantime, she has no intention of taking anything out of her bags.
She might even add more. A food. Something else she forgot.
… Preparing herself as if she were leaving this place for good, and not just for half a cycle. Ay-ay. Dreams, dreams…
Doesn't matter. The main thing is to go. Away from here.
Just go, when expectations are already smashed to pieces, she is free. Anywhere out there is still better.
Ami threw her bag over her shoulders and tried to walk with it, bouncing slightly.
Well then… No heavier than her daily thoughts.
One thing was totally annoying… The service woman couldn't sleep properly again. Suns will rise soon. And another dreary light will come.
Challenge accepted. Let it try to surprise her.
Day 2. Release the monster!
It… it worked! So… ridiculous.
Sometimes luck is far more discouraging than the usual failure.
When things go well, Ami has great discomfort. What's wrong with everything?!
Nevertheless… Everything started fine. The boss ordered her to leave as soon as possible.
Happily at least once he and Ami had the same aspirations. On this beautiful light, the swamp opened up and spat out Ami like a witch.
Funny thing… not funny, actually. As it turned out, it could have happened a long time ago, but their Department had happily forgotten about the old agreement, and only recently "remembered" it. For some reason.
And now, of course, they're blowing all the deadlines again before they've even started to fulfil anything. Timeless classic. And a standard situation everyone is used to.
Because "there's a lot to do". Especially at harvest time and during the festivals, when everyone is more "active" than usual.
It's good that the agreement was remembered at all. And it's great that it happened so suddenly, so that Ami's family didn't have much time to talk her out of it or blackmail her.
Because "the harvest is not yet in", "the construction is not yet finished", "the festival is coming soon".
Run-run-run. The bag is packed. The food is taken. Messages and documents to be handed over to the Omill’s Temples as extra weight are here.
The boss has not changed his mind about participating in this "stupid witch's nonsense". One less courier is fine. Fewer dispatches to write and read. It's no big deal.
It feels so good and calm, despite the sleepless nights, the confusion that everything started too well, and the anticipation of new worries. Even if the affair was completely pointless and led to yet another disappointment, she wouldn't complain and couldn't blame herself.
It wasn't her choice. At least she hadn't initiated this fiasco.
Well, at least on the way back the bags will be heavier by the weight of the souvenirs. Heavier by a bag of coffee, for sure. It's a great thing that makes every trip worthwhile.
Ami smiled involuntarily.
"Coffee. Wait for me. I'm on my way."
The business traveller threw her bags over her shoulder, adjusted her clothes so that they wouldn't gather in creases under the straps and looked critically at the apartment she was about to leave.
Everything she wanted to take with her was taken. The rest was tidied up and well packed, the room locked. Her belongings would be safe.
That's all that matters.
Her parents' house stared back at her with its empty window eyes.
Ami's heart tightened for a moment.
It looks so naive, so disappointed, so… unloved. And it felt like a betrayal.
It didn't deserve such an attitude. He gave her his warmth and safety. At least here things are clear, simple and unambiguous.
What to do, what not to do. Who to be and who not to be.
Why does she always leave it so easily and happily? Without a shadow of gratitude? Will it miss her?
It's painful to feel unloved and discarded, but it's also painful to feel that you can't give love and care to something that desperately needs it. Because you just don't have it in you.
Sorry, old boy. Don't be angry with me. I just… can't. Try someone more capable.
So… it was time to wave, try to smile and say goodbye to everyone from afar.
And to hide the unwanted smile on her face and to portray the sadness of parting. She often smiled inappropriately, but there was a good reason not to do so here.
For in half a cycle, or perhaps much sooner, she will return here. And if she has a happy face now, others will have the same wickedly satisfied look when she returns, the echo of her broad happy smile multiplied many times over.
"She didn't crawl far. The place of your birth is the place where you will be of use".
Remembering that would certainly speed up her steps.
Let's run from our local problems to the other ones.
For a moment she had another epiphany.
You can't avoid problems anywhere, no matter how hard and how far you try to run away from them. They can only be resolved by standing up and facing them.
She won't be happy. Nowhere. Ever. There's no such thing like happiness.
There's no such thing as happiness. Why try harder?..
…and. What do you do?
Drop everything? Go back? Lie about being ill? The family will certainly approve. The boss wouldn't mind postponing or cancelling this stupid witch business.
"The Fertility Festival"
Aye…
Ami huffed in annoyance.
Yes. Let's go then… Bye, house, bye, Kantine. Be well.
She turned slowly and carefully, trying to minimise the inertial movement of her heavy bags, and strode out of town, dusting and shuffling her feet along the familiar part of the Great Road.
The Kantine vagabond loved the heavy therapy of walking. It reduced her usual high levels of adrenaline and stopped her messy, chaotic thoughts with fatigue.
Before she could move, she stopped abruptly, swaying under the weight of her load and struggling to keep her balance.
There was one thing she was determined to do. No matter what. And she had no intention of denying herself that pleasure.
It would be nice to see the city with the fresh, unaccustomed eyes of her replacement!
The best way to do this was to climb the hill on the way out of settlement.
Ami carefully dropped her things on the ground and quickly climbed up the hill.
…The settlement looked quite harmless from there. Even… nice.
It was fair to say that despite the unimpressive, squat, plain buildings, it was a very beautiful and charming city. In its own way.
It has fields. Yellow, green, in the colours of the crops.
Ami had never been able to learn all their names, which was reason enough for her immediate surroundings to look at her with some pity.
The scents of fruit and flowers from the gardens reached here too.
There was growth and blossom everywhere. Even on the roofs.
A quiet, measured, delicious and nourishing life. Work that yields a pleasant harvest, pleasing to the eye and the stomach. Peace and stability.
Quiet, peaceful… too peaceful for her.
Perhaps it's her fault. This service woman preferred travelling to operational work because she didn't want to be involved in people's business. And they say it was more or less interesting when she was away. A few cases of amnesia, to be precise. And a missing person at the same time, which is no no particular cause for concern in this Lands. People leave this town from time to time without telling anyone, or get lost in the woods. It's a usual thing.
There's not much to remember in this place, if we're talking about amnesia. lights and cycles are similar, sowing and harvesting, warm and cold winds and the clouds that pass over it all.
Perhaps it could be a strange quest to find yourself again. To get to know life and yourself again. Right here. Right now.
To truly find out who you are, what you want, without outside interference.
But does the wipe mean that your unconscious programmes go away too? If they don't, this is pointless…
Ami didn't have a chance to finish her thoughts as her attention was fully drawn to the dark clouds gathering in the sky above the city, apparently coming from somewhere in the Wastelands.
The Kantinian frowned in unison.
She hadn't noticed them before. They looked somehow… threatening. Not like normal clouds. At least they made Ami uncomfortable.
Then why look at them. Rain doesn't make a journey any more comfortable. Let's hit the road.
She came down the hill, grabbed her belongings and walked to a wide trade route that led to the next city.
It's an easy journey. You can't get lost here. Not if you try hard enough.
Just walk. And walk. And you'll inevitably find Omill. And what's nice – this time there was no hurry.
Maybe the journey would be more comfortable if she waited for the caravan. But she spent too much time trapped by the home-work route. She really needed some exercise.
And something to chew.
It would make the walk more pleasant. She left the house a moment ago and her appetite was already whetted, as if she'd walked a good part of the way.
She's such a chthonic Glutton. Kantinians were considered gluttons, but who wouldn't be, with all this food? No surprises. They worked a lot, they ate a lot.
The peasant slipped her hand into the small pouch hanging over her belly and fumbled for a large piece of her favourite dried vegetable. She found one, took a good bite and began to chew slowly and contentedly as she walked.
…There must be something good about her homeland.
These vegetables. Such important things seemed so insignificant when they were within reach. But when you suddenly realise that there's no way to get them.
Ami looked carefully at the piece of vegetable in her hand.
"We won't be gone too long. There's plenty in our bags. Anyway, you'll have time to eat them all in a whole Kantine when we get back. Don't you want something new for a change?"
Quite right. She has already eaten here, and here she goes to reduce Omill's stocks of coffee and flat biscuits.
