When her responsibilities next permitted her to take a day to herself, Niamh once more set out across the city toward Myla’s chapel. Sometimes she spent all day helping her motherly friend in the garden—but today she took a detour. That strange note had been weighing on her.
At the public gardens, she moved quickly but discreetly to the storage shed. The drawer where she had placed the note the week before was now empty. She checked a few other drawers, and even checked beneath the cabinet entirely, but there was no letter to be found. She wasn’t sure what she had expected to find—a response, perhaps?—but she had found nothing.
Emerging from the shack, Niamh scanned the garden for a moment. The commoners went about their work ignorantly, seeding soil or cutting out weeds. The busy street beyond the plots bustled with hundreds of Saanazar’s well-meaning citizens. The memory of the secretive letter was like a speck of dust in the ocean. But it had to mean something…
Niamh set out from the community garden, uncertain what to do about it. She spent the afternoon at Myla’s chapel, helping with various chores around the place. Though Niamh now lived in the Grey Temple, this old chapel still felt like home. The worn bricks, the old prayer niche, the rows of pews—they felt as familiar as the lines in Niamh’s hands. Of the strange note, Niamh told her old friend nothing. She was still unsure of its importance or danger for her own life, let alone what it might bring into the lives of those she for whom she cared. She wanted to forget about it and move on, and spent the day trying to do so.
For dinner, Niamh sat out on the Grey Temple green with her younger friends. Tib was wound up and stressed from her busyness—there was a lot of paperwork for the Cardinal Creed to handle with the increasing size of the Militant Creed. Miril and Gellek—Niamh’s peers among the Reformer’s Creed—were having the opposite experience. It was easier to speak to people about Atmos when the modern times were growing so bleak and concerning.
Gellek told them about his experiences in the Burnt Keep throughout the past week. As an aide to one of the senior priests of the Creed, Gellek had been called upon to speak with some of the royal house after the King’s elderly uncle has passed on the 22nd. Tib went as far as to ask if he had learned anything suspicious about the old noble’s death, but Gellek dismissed it. “He was ancient,” he said. The King himself was reaching startling years of seniority, and the death of his relative seemed an ill tiding for his own health.
Niamh told them little of her week, for she had encountered little of note—save the literal note. She said she was looking forward to the coming week, which was true. She hoped to put this strange and secretive hiccup behind her, and continue serving Atmos as best she could.