The Charlatan

20. Grasping the Nettle

The Charlatan, the person responsible for devastating Clara's career as a courier, the person responsible for provoking Velt into pre-emptive military action against defenseless and unsuspecting people, had been Air. The Charlatan had waltzed up to her, likely knowing what he had done to her right in that moment, or at least found out rather quickly, and had stood by her side to watch her life fall apart. The Charlatan had swindled her just as easily as he had swindled King Arc Jin, into thinking that she had control over a situation in which she really had none in reality. The Charlatan had built up her trust, Air had built up her trust, and to what end?

Clara sat on a wooden bench that was propped up against a small fountain outside one of this town's many box-shaped buildings. She watched people pass by, forgetting them as soon as they left her field of view. Her mind whirled with questions, fears, and confusion. Her companion, whom she had trusted – albeit reluctantly, for good reason, Clara thought – had lied to her. And had let her lie to him. To what end?

"An interesting place to be, open to the public." A sudden voice beside her startled her. Clara brought her attention to the speaker and found herself sitting beside Honey, the Seer thief (this combination remained strange as ever to Clara) whom she had taken into her group when she had flown the Citadel. Honey's expression was all-too-knowing, and Clara began to second-guess the Seer's contention that no magicks were involved in her reading of people. "You mentioned that the last stranger you trusted assaulted you, exploited your reputation, and erased your family," Honey quoted as she continued speaking. She turned to Clara with eyes filled with a sudden compassion. Honey took Clara's wonder as a cue to continue. "What happened?" she asked.

Clara stared at her companion a while, anxieties and panic swimming around in her head until she started to get dizzy. She clenched her hands, which were beginning to get clammy, and started to lose focus. Honey suddenly snapped her fingers in front of Clara's face. Clara immediately regained composure and swore at Honey, who only grinned in amusement.

"That is the Clara I've heard so much about," Honey said. "Your barkeeper friend speaks most to your temper." Clara didn't know whether to laugh or to be angry. She settled on neither and took a deep breath. Charlie was saving her from her mind-ramblings again. She had done so when she was buried underground in Dehi, and now she had once again reminded her that she was not alone, even though she was nowhere near Clara on the physical plane.

"I used to be wilder," Clara began as Honey cocked an eyebrow. "I was a novice courier, but I was good at it. Dispatch kept sending me on more and more important deliveries, and I never failed. I was at the peak of physical fitness. I took risks. I always won favors in bouts of Whistler's Trail, and those favors are what got me to the top. That, and my partner," Clara swallowed, "Charismatic. Knew how to worm their way out of anything.

"I saw them often at the Central Post Dispatch in the Citadel. Most of the time they were being yelled at by half the crowd of administrators while simultaneously being applauded by the others. I'm not sure how it happened, but they were posted to tag alongside me on one of my deliveries one day. Officially, I think it had something to do with re-training, but unofficially I think administration were trying to see whether they could get double payment for a job. Or maybe my partner had bribed someone in order to come along with me. I don't know. One delivery became many, and soon we were both rocketing to the top of our pack. We were assigned a particularly sensitive task, one day. One that could put the courier system in jeopardy. Neutrality is hard to maintain when you deliver hefty threats from the richest country on the continent, mostly one way. They likely thought that our reputations at that point was good enough to take any fallout. They were.

"To cut to the chase, my partner buttered me up with spirits and proceeded to take notes on every personal detail they could get on me while they... took advantage of my tripping over my legs and my words. They also opened our letter. It was treason, but we were partners, and that verdict would bleed to me. I was naïve, stupid. I trusted easily and spilled everything about whatever they asked, so that they would keep our secret from the Courier Network and I could hold onto my job." Honey's expression had begun to change, and Clara tensed. Her words came out more hurriedly. "I thought I had made a friend. Another Charlie. The next bit of memory is... I threatened to report them; I convinced them that I could prove my innocence and condemn them. Then... I-I woke up to find my partner gone and my gold disappeared. By the time I connected with the local Dispatch, my partner had fled. I never saw them again. I was greeted with missing posters... ink outlining the faces of my parents, when I returned to the city," Clara paused before whispering, "I trusted a foul lunatic."

Clara looked down at her trembling hands, then shot her head back up at Honey as she realized what she had done. "Why am I telling you this?! I barely know you. You assaulted me and tied me to a tree-"

Honey raised her hand slowly to stop Clara's angry rambling. "Trust... is a complicated thing," she said quietly. "So, is making a living in desperate times." Neither she nor Clara continued the conversation, and Clara went back to people-watching. Her head buzzed with emotions she had not let out in a long time: grief, vulnerability, loneliness. She thought of her parents, happily breaking into her flat to leave her pots of soup when they knew she was back in the city. She thought of the sad look Charlie had given her when she had returned to the Citadel after the incident. She thought of Air, and the Charlatan, and how her missteps had once again put her family, her larger family of Velt, in danger.

"I know what it is like," Honey spoke suddenly, and vaguely, "and I will be your ally." Surprised, Clara turned to her companion. The fair-haired Seer continued, never breaking eye contact with Clara. "I see that you are a kind person. You want to trust others easily, but you have been hurt by it. I do not think it is shameful to believe in other people as you do."

It was not what Clara had been expecting. Of all people, she had expected the Genesese thief to jeer at her, call her a real Vulghebt, and tell her that she had brought it all upon herself by not being careful. She hadn't. Clara felt warm. A smile crept onto her face.

"Yes! Lovely," Honey smiled.

"Fuck you," Clara replied with a laugh. Honey joined in and the two young women shared a jovial moment. "Now," Clara rose from the wooden bench, "I think I need to go speak to Air." She spoke her sentence like a question and she looked to Honey for approval. The fair-haired bandit nodded.

"That is something I will let you tackle on your own. I have something I need to see to. It may aid us," she said before she stood up and walked off.

Clara steeled herself. She wandered about the city for some time, but was unable to find her companion. Her head felt clear for the first time in years. She had flip-flopped between self-pity and desperation, anger and excitement, and she had not taken care of herself. Instead, she had let her deliveries consume her time and attention. What time she had left free she had downed with spirits or sleep. She had not been herself. Clara recalled a time when she was focused, yet knew when to relax. Endearingly vulgar, as Charlie had often said. Serious when she needs to be. Fun when she's let loose. Antitheses all crammed into one person, into a human being. She remembered how strongly she felt for her friends and family, and how her love and passion for their happiness had disappeared when she had given up on keeping herself. Embracing emotions, Clara realized, did not necessarily mean reliving the pains of the past. Experiences are always more numerous than a person's feelings.

With a grin bearing new purpose, Clara stretched and regarded the office of the city's constabulary. This was where she needed to be. She squared her shoulders and pushed open the door. An officer looked up from the desk at the front, then to Clara's right, and then back to Clara with narrowed eyes. Clara turned her head to glance behind her at the wall beside the door. A piece of parchment, sporting Clara's inked face and a stamp reading WANTED in Genesese, hung there. Clara groaned as she heard the officer stand. It had not been long since King Arc Jin promised her her temporary pardon; the message had not made it here yet. The officer yelled for backup and advanced on Clara. The ex-courier tensed, but willed herself to remain calm and appear as innocent and non-threatening as possible.

"Shit," she said instead.