Everything had stopped, the town gaped, confused, uncertain, different and somehow the same. Demands from the interim governor, Treadwell and droves at the Meeting House only served to make Genny more resolute. But in truth, she had been driven to the point long ago. Necessity had kept her out, interrogating, following, helping Ariane, trying to find the absent governor. But then, then there was that hour, a day, then four, and she woke to the abandoned place and Gloria’s gentle urging.
And then, necessity would keep her in and the Inquisitory was no longer empty. Sleep had come and it had lingered so long that now she yearned for it no more. By morning several letters had been penned, the missives sent at the earliest hour, delivered to the bedside of those who had in their employ someone to do so and with an abrasive knock to their door, if they did not.
Dear Inquisitor, Lady Gloria Wynsee,
If you are still interested in assisting the Inquisitory, please report at your earliest convenience. If not, I ask that you still come, sit a while, let me offer my thanks and pray that you might tell me why and how you happened upon me. Perhaps, what you know of our Governor Glenn Burnie and that which you can remember prior.
Gods be good to you,
Genevieve
Dear Sir Elliot Gahald-Brown,
We spoke, briefly, some time ago. You may not remember me. I am worried for your safety and about your well-being, as I imagine you must be confused about a great deal. If you are somewhere safe, remain. If you need sanctuary, please come to the Inquisitory and I will do my best to assist.
Gods be good to you,
Genny
Dear Marshall, Lady Ariane Emory,
I wish for you a speedy recovery from the injuries I have heard that you have suffered. When you are well again, come to the Inquisitory, let us talk. With mouths and words aloud, lest you worry I have any intention of breaking a promise.
Gods be good to you,
Genevieve
Dear Councilwoman, Lady Agnieszka Kaczmarek-River,
I wish for you a speedy recovery from the injuries I have heard that you have suffered. When you are well again, come to the Inquisitory. I merely wish to talk as it has been sometime since I last saw you and some time since I have last heard from Aleksei.
Gods be good to you,
Genevieve
For the last note she actually would send a pie, pumpkin. And considering the sparse harvest, it had not been a cheaply made gift.
Dear Interm Governor Aloisius Treadwell,
Please be advised, I plan to re-open the Inquisitory at its normal hour. I believe this is what Govenor Burnie would want, I intend to find him and resolve the matter of the Lady Olwak’s death. If this is agreeable and you find the purpose within Myrkentown’s interest I would ask that it remains funded and I will find the staff to assist the people of Myrken in resolving issues arisen from The Hour Lost.
Gods be good to you,
Genevieve
Post Script – I advise against the inclusion of the Councilor Berdini in future matters. Let us speak in person if you wish for elaboration.
Through the night she worked, sweeping the floor, cleaning out the desks of the departed, organizing the scattered volumes, and finding some order in the madness that had become the Inquisitory in both Glenn and Giuseppe’s absence.
The last is the office. Her teacup is righted, the spilled contents wiped up and nothing else is touched. For a moment she paused, her eyes focused on the space, as if she might see history playing out before her; while fingers traced the grain, running over the High Inquisitor’s desk. She will not linger, she must not. Reflecting on her mistakes, both these men still lost and the undeniable guilt that nagged so incessantly. It’s your fault. If only you had been smarter. If only you had been faster. If only you had been more diligent. If only…
No. Not today. The chair is pushed in the already clean desk is wiped briskly, brushing away the phantom fears.
The interior door to the office is locked. A deep breath is taken, reverence for the man, for the men and for all that had been lost. A breath is held to dig up the courage to move forward, to continue on. And a breath is released as the key is pocketed and she turns to face the windows bathing in pre-dawn light, hues of lavender and coral. The front doors are then unlocked, opened wide and she stands with crossed arms, letting the cool autumn breeze take the dust from her black dress, whip around her as she welcomes the day. Giuseppe gone, Aleksei gone, Agnie in the infirmary. This was still Glenn Burnie’s Myrken and each day would continue, every breath one after the other. There were pressing matters, like finding Glenn, learning the truth of Rhaena’s death, and solving all that had happened in the missing hour. Matters that cared little if this was the Inquistory of Glenn, Giuseppe or Genny.