Paladins of the Pickle Goddess

Egnatius pushed the door open and stared out at the street. A young mother, pushing some horrible contraption that rattled and shrieked. The baby inside, seeming not to realize its impending death. An aspiring union member, bringing in stacks of clothing to be washed. Another laundress, hauling in one of the vats of chemical towards the pulley system at the back of the building. A loose set of chickens, running away from a middle-aged man with a long beard and a short stick.

Still no sign of the woman whose cloak he’d spent a night repairing. He’d promised to return it the next day.

That had been two days ago. Where was she?

“Waiting on a sweetheart?” Junia leaned against the door, smirking at him. He hadn’t been looking out of the door that often, had he? He’d made sure to keep at least half an hour in between checks.

“No,” he snapped, and closed the door. He turned back towards the inside of the door, keeping his back straight. He was Egnatius. Temporary management of the central district Laundresses* (*not to be confused with elected management, guild rule and ethical** enforcement only) (**ethical including anything that the guard doesn’t notice within three business days***)(***business days, for those who don’t actually do real business, being defined as- actually, let’s get back to the main narration, shall we?)….well. Suffice it to say, he was in charge here. She could keep her nose out of it, especially since all of the real guild leadership was out of the building at the moment.

“I thought you’d be more worried about…” she leaned in, dropped her voice so the lower-level laundresses couldn’t hear them over the swishing of the tubs, the moving of the oars. “Our task.”

He grimaced. “That should be well in hand.”

How far they had fallen. How clearly they had diverged from their task as a guild, if they had resorted to working with… he shuddered. No. He couldn’t even make himself think of it. He needed to think himself lucky, that his task was to supervise normal guild work, stay downstairs. At least this way, he didn’t need to compromise his morals.

Laundressing is dirty business. He’d been told that when he’d first signed on. His sponsor, an older woman with sharp eyes named Helvia, had laughed at the look on his face. He’d realized in the time since how correct she’d been.

She had been smart enough not to come to the meeting last night, no matter how good the open bar was. If only Egnatius had been so clever. Now he was stuck here, supervising, instead of free to fulfill his obligations.

So many tasks, pulling him in different directions. He was required to supervise the floor.

“Back away!” He snapped at one of the Laundresses, who was moving too quickly with a tub of lye. “You’ll burn yourself!”

Yet if he didn’t return that cloak, he would be in violation of guild regulation. For him, the enforcer, to be in violation…. He shuddered to think of the horror. It would compromise everything he stood of.

Yet he couldn’t leave! If they found him outside- he might be forced to fulfill that task instead.

It all made him sick. “Everyone, work faster!” He snapped. “You too, Junia. You’re just standing there.”

“Well, you’re in a fantastic mood. Thank you, divine leader.”

“Don’t call me divine.”

“Oh, of course. Thank you, agnostic leader.”

“Don’t call me anything! Work, already.”

Even with his encouragement, she moved very slowly towards the vat, sending him a smirk over her shoulder. He held back a shudder of irritation. Yes. No matter how he looked at it, he was set in worse than a scrubbed wine stain.

There was only one thing to do. Hope Helvia came back and he could ask advice.

“Excuse me?”

He nearly jumped out of his shirt at the touch to his arm. He’d done it, again. Started reciting guild regulations to calm down and forgot to check his surroundings.

Next to him was a short woman, with hair so straight it was flattened to her skull. In the humid environment of the Laundresses, it was impressive. Even with her height, there was a certain… energy about her.

If he hadn’t been Managing at the moment, he would have been tempted to apologize and bow until she blinked. It was something about her eyes. They weren’t so much piercing as bludgeoning. They were actively doing him damage.

“You’re unwell,” she said. “I want to speak to a Manager.”

“I am a manager.”

“A different one, then. One that’s useful.”

“Excuse me!” Egnatius drew himself up to his full height. Instead of towering, he just felt structurally unstable. “I am extremely useful. What do you require of the Laundresses Guild today? Have you something that needs washing?”

“Hardly.” The woman was still staring at him. He couldn’t twitch. He couldn’t. His eyes were watering. “I’m here searching for two boys.”

“Two boys?”

“One about this tall-” She gestured above her head. “Blonde hair, cut round, with a sword-”

“I’ve seen him!” Egnatius interrupted her, eager to show his usefulness. He was a real manager. “He fell into one of our vats, several nights ago. We barely fished him out. Threw him out the door, behind his mistress. I still have her cloak. She never came to pick it up.”

“His mistress….” The woman tilted her head to the side. He felt like a worm underneath a hawk’s beak. Egnatius tried not to pull back.

He turned towards the vats. “Stir harder!”

“A woman named Elysia?”

Egnatius tried to remember. “I believe so,” he said. “But they only had the one boy with them. Unless-” But the man with them had been a full-grown adult.

“No,” she said. “The other boy only joined him recently.”

They stared at each other. Egnatius coughed. “Well,” he said, “If you find her, please notify her that the Laundresses still have her cloak. Thank you.”

“No,” said the woman. “I believe we can help each other.”

“Pardon?*” (*Laundresses did not apologize, as this implied they had done something wrong)

“Cornelia.” She held out a hand.

Egnatius kissed it. She wrinkled her nose in disgust and took it back.

“Egnatius,” he said, embarrassed. He wasn’t the sort of person who kissed hands. What had he done, gone mad? It must have been the meeting last night.

“We’ll find them together,” she said, final. “Bring the cloak. The Temple of Small Gods informed me they may have come here, but they also mentioned something about the lighthouse. We can both go there.”

“Why do you want me to be there? Surely you’ll be able to find them yourself?” He couldn’t imagine Cornelia failing at anything. He looked, vaguely, at the rest of the room. “I need to manage.”

“Hmph. It helps to have someone about,” she said. “I’m not one to work alone. Come along.”

He squinted. “Do you- you need guild support?”

“I simply believe I would benefit from your reputation.”

So she wanted someone to scapegoat. Egnatius should have said no. On any other day, he would have, bludgeoning eyes or no. He was guild management. His work was here, with the bubbling vats and the other Laundresses. Where the air burned your lungs and curled your hair.

Today, however… when that task was so prominent it nearly contaminated every breath?

They could handle themselves. Perhaps if he was out, trying to return the cloak, he could avoid it. After all, he was fulfilling a guild regulation.

“Very well,” he said.

The cloak fit well into his arm. It was soft, well-patched brown wool. Of good make, although it was worn a little thin. If it had belonged to anyone else, he might have advised them to buy a new one, give in the wool for felting and re-manufacture. Given that it belonged to Elysia, he would be content with returning it and never speaking to her again.

“You can’t be serious,” said Junia. She had popped up behind a vat when he went to find the cloak, and was now following him to the door, heels clicking intently. He tried to ignore the burning sensation of her gaze at the back of his neck.

Cornelia waited by the door, posture stiff.

“I’m completely serious. This is a matter of extreme importance to the guild.”

“Extreme importance? When we’ve got herself upstairs?”

“Herself is only a-” He coughed. “Herself is violating all of our long-held values,” he said, instead. “Meanwhile, returning repaired clothing is a long-held value of the guild. I’m only fulfilling our basic regulations. Is that not what a guild manager is meant to do?”

“I think you’re running away to a light-house in order to avoid your responsibilities,” she said, flat.

“Feel free to believe what you like,” he said, lofty. “You are not the manager.”

“Just remember what you promised.”

“I always do.” Unfortunately.

The gust of air from outside made him shiver as he stepped out. It wasn’t the temperature; that was warm, the afternoon heating up from the sun directly overhead. Instead, it was the task to come.

Surely it couldn’t be that hard to find one woman, could it? He would be back soon enough.