The Chimera

Chapter Twenty-Five: They Play Chess

Does Jasper enjoy being a clerk?

He doesn't exactly hate it, so that probably means he's happy.

February is too cold to care about anything, but the filing system of Cadeus Falls is a harsh mistress, so he drags his frozen feet through the streets every morning anyway.

The rest of Jasper's family lives just past the edges of town, where his parents operate a school for the children in their relatively rural area. On his days off, when he comes to visit, they often ask about his tasks and responsibilities.

It is at these moments that Jasper truly realizes just how little he knows about what he actually does.

He's aware, theoretically, that as a municipal clerk he organizes the financial accounts and land deeds for the town residents. Every day, though, the papers slip around in his hands like nothing. If I crushed this, what would happen? How much would it matter?

The office is a sea of wooden desks, the waves formed out of the standing and sitting motions of his colleagues.

Jasper stares blankly at his own desk, where a stack of paper waits.

His overseer had come by a half-hour earlier, asking if Jasper knew how to organize the legal documents from the town court's records.

"Yes," Jasper had said. (No.)

"Can I entrust these to you, then?"

"Of course." (Please don't.)

"Excellent. Have them sorted away by the end of the day."

"Won't be a problem." (I'm changing my name and moving away.)

After the initial panic had abated, he found that the task wasn't actually very hard, so much so that he's able to leave early by nearly a quarter of an hour.

Still, he feels somewhat off-kilter; an unhappy undercurrent that he can't shake.

When he enters his room, he considers the bell in his satchel. Despite it only being just past five o'clock, the sun is already cheerlessly out of the sky.

He could ring himself to the citadel to enjoy dinner in the company of its inhabitants, but he can't bring himself to drum up much excitement for that prospect either.

It's true that he loves the citadel, even with its eerie insight into his likes and dislikes, but he often feels out of place when the others are around. When he's on his own there, the world feels new. When he's surrounded by other people, all of whom spend their days together in close quarters, he feels like an oddity. A temporary attraction like a foreign, short-lived jester.

His evening bitterness culminates in him deciding that he doesn't especially want to be anywhere or do anything.

But at least in the citadel, he'll get a good meal.

Sighing, he rings.

Instead of the citadel, he stands at the edge of a lake. It's warmer than he expected. The water is unfrozen and the long arms of the willows bending over the surface are still a pale green.

The moon is half-full, a wide silver smile wavering in the blue-black color of the water. Jasper marvels at both the reflection and its unadulterated image in the sky.

A wind rises up from the end of the world and races across the lake. When it reaches him, he laughs at the way the tassels of his knit scarf fly upward.

Smiling, Jasper feels softened. The darkness, the water, the trees, the moon. He knows he will always come here.

And yet, he's barely surprised when he senses a presence behind him.