Rook was not getting used to sleeping in absolute silence – at least anytime soon. It was a strange feeling that there was no need to snatch precious minutes. Time passed by in a gentle flow that he was ignoring the sudden cold drafts he would have felt had he been in an actually abandoned place.

  He looked at the crystal lamp Euphemia handed to him. It looked like a salt granule: misty white with irregular edges that looked like it was a perfect cube before someone was careless with it. How did she keep enough light inside this thing to fill a room in moments?

  The day had to start anyway; it wasn’t freezing inside, but the cold wouldn’t be enough to make him put on his coat. This shirt was loose. It was meant for a bigger man, but the cleric had to make do with what her church spared. Besides, Rook didn’t dare complain after all that happened.

  He went outside. There she was, speaking with the traveler they had to keep under their watch. Rook switched to his other vision: Euphemia’s body was in its usual glow, though less bright after using that dreaded power against those monsters. The stranger didn’t have any light on him.

  That couldn’t be right.

  Men and women had thin strings of that light coming from their hearts, but his was just blackness. Maybe Rook was right, but how would he explain to Euphemia when he was the only one who had another way of seeing?

  His ears snatched the next statement the canoness made:

  “I think the bell can use a little cleaning. Some polish. If we can make the surface more even, maybe?”

  Euphemia stared at the lone bell tower that rose beyond the trees of the Old Wood. A strange construction, for the door that led to the tower interior was placed outside the nave. Did this mean the bell only tolled on fair weather?

  “Good morning, Rook.” She said, “I’m talking to him about how to make the bell shinier. It can help draw more people to this church.”

  Rook, now beside her, scratched his head, wondering what she meant. It looked fine, as far as he was concerned. Although the body bore an uneven, greenish-copper tone, there was nothing on its surface that suggested it was broken beyond repair. She unrolled a small piece of paper from her waist pouch and felt for her pen. Euphemia was about to write something down when Kirk interrupted from behind them.

  “I don’t think stripping the bell’s protection from the weather does it any good.”

  Rook quickly turned to the man’s direction; a blank face stared at their tall and wiry ‘prisoner’ – if the canoness considered him as such. Euphemia’s attention was also drawn to him shortly, asking:

  “You must know these things quite well, Kirk. Do you think we can make the bell a little… cleaner?”

  “You can give it a good brush.” Kirk examined the structure. “Maybe check the top portion if the moving parts are okay and all.”

  “So you think we should leave the bell in its dullness?”

  “To start, it’ll be too much work to clean it frequently.” Kirk surveyed the aging structure where the bell was placed. “Also, we might make the bell too thin until we have pieces of a bell on the ground.”

  Euphemia nodded. It looked like she was agreeing with the idea. There was nothing out of line with the suggestion. Not bad for a monster caller, the boy thought.

  Rook wasn’t speaking, though his stare never left the new addition. Man and boy followed Euphemia to the door to the tower interior, where she pulled out her set of keys to find out what opened the lock. She was gently wiggling each key into the keyhole until she managed to get the right one in. A forced turn later, the shackle creaked free of the door.

  The boy caught only a brief glimpse of what the place was like inside. Euphemia shook her head and looked at the two behind her before closing the door. Rook had an idea of what she was about to do, if there was anything he learned when he last watched her clean the nave with nothing but all-spanning shades of light.

  He would have seen birds or bats flying away by the time the red light poured out of the tower’s openings. Maybe they were out for the day, or perhaps the insides didn’t offer much to be called home.

  It looked like nothing else, apart from the old and frayed rope that connected the bell, burned after the intense violet light scraped the walls inside. Rook imagined Euphemia running out to call for help if otherwise. Kirk was watching the entire affair with his mouth hanging wide open. Maybe he was finding out that the light was good at other things than outright destruction.

  Euphemia exited the tower after a rush of thick white smoke streamed out and onto the ground. Both of her companions were surprised to see a field of light wrapping, then dissipating, throughout her body; Rook had seen this before, and he quickly returned to keeping his eyes on this man the cleric called 'Kirk'.

  “Apologies. I may have overdone my act.” Euphemia held a few frayed strands in one hand; smoke trailed on both ends. “Also, this belfry will need new rope.”

  “I can’t say I’m not surprised, but what did you do inside?”

  “That’s nothing like the surprise you gave us with those monsters,” Rook told Kirk. “It’s going to be hot inside there for a while.”

  “May I remind you, again, that-”

  Euphemia cut in to answer Kirk:

  “I believe you have seen a more… unpleasant form of this deep in the woods.” She held both her hands and closed her eyes before nodding. “I used heat to clean the interior, though the manner does not follow what the sciences teach.”

  “You mean a more pleasant form of what you used to…” Kirk watched the uppermost piece of the bell’s rope crumble and fall inside the tower.

  Euphemia nodded twice before saying, “It might be uncomfortable to enter it now. If you think you can clean the bell, please do so. I’ll leave you to that while I give Rook something to do.”

  The canoness gestured to the boy to follow her. Kirk watched as their outlines shrank and disappeared when they entered the church’s residence building. He looked back at the bell tower, where smoke rose and fell like puffy tongues.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  ????

  There was another room left unopened at the rightmost part of the residence building. It had a thicker door compared to the bedrooms; its heft made known when Euphemia tried to push the door open, but it did not yield. It was Rook, and a convenient kick at center mass, that did the job.

  Two shallow pools, both empty of water, were found inside. It remained largely untouched by time; only a thin film of dust was found on the flooring, and no part of the walls was broken through by animals or insects.

  “Did the clergy use this as a kind of retreat?” Euphemia looked around the place.

  “There’s water!” Rook went ahead and opened one of the taps; the starting flow was murky, and there was a metallic smell in it.

  “This place is yours to clean.”

  “I can take a bath here, right?”

  “Only after you have cleaned it.” Euphemia was heading out to get the needed tools. “I’ll have to leave you by yourself. I'll be away to speak with the bishop, or the person inside the big church in the city. Be careful, and do tell me how it is to use this bath.”

  “Uh… yeh. Take care on your way there.”

  There she went: her usual slight smile, followed by a modest bow of the head. Rook watched Euphemia pull the door closed without making a sound. Funny, he thought, that a robed man inside a big church was named after a chess piece.

  ????

  The brush held its bristles firmly, making muck-clearing much easier. Rook didn’t even need to be careful with his steps as the drainage holes on the pool floor received the dirt without clogging. With the walls cleaned and everything else spotless, though there were spots where the paint flaked, chipped, and peeled, the job was done.

  This room was all to himself.

  A spotless pool large enough to lie flat, with flowing water free of bad smell. The other pool was cleaned of muck and dust, though it remained empty. Rook waited for the tap to fill the bathing area. Euphemia had not come back since she left the cleaning tools with him. Her talk with that 'bishop' was taking too long. Though he never got the idea of why she wanted time with what he imagined was another old man in loose garments, like that bearded church servant back in that beat-up town. She was still attentive enough to leave soap for bathing, along with the detergent he scrubbed the place with.

  Rook took a dip; his clothes left as a crumpled pile on the floor. He closed his eyes, not minding the slight sting of the water clinging to his skin.

  He was brought to a place where an aurora hung high above; the light dissolved and changed at once. Rook remembered seeing Metis for the first time, in a space made of green light. But she said that was because of Euphemia's powers healing him. Nobody was using those tricks this time, so why all the colors?

  There was a tea table filled with biscuits, meat, and a lone teapot at the center—three seats with nobody occupying them. Rook took a seat, wondering if he would remember anything he ate or drank inside the world of his mind. He could hear nothing, as if this world was muffled, submerged in water. None of that affected him in this dimension: he could move the way he did when awake.

  “Take as much as you want, but these won’t make you full when you wake up.”

  Metis appeared on one seat, sporting the princess-like appearance from that bag of crackers Euphemia gave him not long ago. She wore curls this time, unlike the mop on her head when she first appeared in Altrecht. The small crown leaned at the edge of her head, frozen at a point where it would fall anytime now. She helped herself from the teapot, pouring a cup of liquid rainbow.

  “What’s all this for if I’m not getting anything from it?”

  “Don’t be a kill-joy.” Metis smiled before she laughed. “You can’t have all these memories to yourself. We should also enjoy what you eat and drink in the real world.”

  “I guess help yourself… then?”

  Metis took two biscuits before responding to Rook: “Finally. Something that is not boring bread. The moldy ones are even worse.”

  “You remember even that?”

  “We are part of you, remember? That means everything you experience, we get to have too.”

  “Even that rainbow cup?”

  “That’s where we differ. We can change how your memory looks.” Metis offered a cup to Rook. “This is the milk you drank the day before. I just don’t like white.”

  “Do I get to see the others now?”

  “That would be me.”

  It was that warlike aspect from before. Montju. There was a vein of light, followed by the appearance of a man clad in cloth and metal plates. He sported a falcon’s head. He took a seat, ignoring Metis, who was busy eating snacks.

  “You’re not into eating, huh?”

  “If you’re alive, we get to stay in this world longer.” Montju turned to the table, pecking at a piece of cake. “Never in my existence have I tasted this. You call this ‘sweets’?”

  “I haven’t eaten any of that since we left that town.”

  “A little of these is good.” The bird-headed being continued, “but I would not want you to make a habit of eating such delicacies.”

  “What's good about these is you only need to eat these once, and you can return here to remember this experience.” Metis swayed left and right.

  The table and chairs disappeared. All of them were standing until Metis made a bed appear from the vacuum.

  “I’d like to ask you something.” Rook didn’t know who to look at and rather fixed his eyes on the horizon. “Why can’t I remember Master? Do you know who Master is?”

  “We’re looking for him in your sea of memories,” Montju said.

  “There’s nothing we’ve found yet,” Metis seconded.

  “Do you think the other three know something about Master?”

  “We can ask them for you, Rook, but if they don’t want to answer, they won’t.” Metis’ bed hovered around the boy. “What about... what if… if I ask a question?”

  Rook’s gaze was straight, and neither Metis nor Montju was able to divert it. He nodded, though his face was that of someone who bypassed a schoolteacher’s lecture for the ceiling.

  “What do you think of the newcomer?” Metis went in front of where the boy’s eyes were. “The one your lady friend took with you?”

  “You mean the monster-owning man?”

  “Could he call on the creatures?” Montju pecked on a piece of ham at the table. “Was there anything in him that gave him the ability?”

  “I didn’t see or feel anything of the sort.” It was Metis who answered for the boy.

  “But he was there when those things came for us. He could have run if not for Euphemia.”

  “How about we approach him and look into this… traveler deeper?”

  “Why do we have to?”Rook’s scowl was followed by the narrowing of his eyes.

  “We saw what you saw.” Metis smiled before looking at the limitless ceiling.

  “This, stranger…” Montju had had enough eating and stood up. “He had none of the… threads of life, inside him.”

  “Both of you look so interested in him.” Rook shrugged his shoulders. "That's why he lights up like a shadow using that other vision?"

  “It can only mean one or the other. He is cursed without a flow of magic, or something is hiding what we should see.” The warrior aspect continued.

  “So what do we do?”

  “Leave the thinking to me.” Metis, throwing fists and kicking legs, sat down on the bed. “I think this stranger is all right, just keep an eye on him, for your friend’s sake.”

  Rook frowned, thinking of needing to talk to that stranger. Meanwhile, the water in the pool was warming up. He had to slip away from his mind’s space shortly.