Emily had never been on a long trip before and began to feel overwhelmed as soon as she found out that she was leaving for the Sidhe in less than a week.
“Though really, shouldn’t I mount my steed and be off with the sunset, carrying naught but a cloak, knife, knapsack of vittles, and your well-wishes for a shield?” Emily was going over a to-do list at the kitchen island, watching Janice make iced tea from a powdered mix. Her aunt, for someone who drank instant tea, was very picky about the process. The result was half the counter covered in jars and measuring utensils, like an alchemist’s worktable.
Janice levelled a spoonful of brown sugar, softly packing it down. As she tapped it into a small bowl, she glanced up at Emily. “Don’t be crude.”
“Crude?”
“Vittles. Who the hell says ‘vittles’? We’re faeries, not cowboys.” Pushing hair from her face with the back of her hand, Janice turned to the white sugar and began measuring it out.
Emily snorted. “I thought you guys hated that word. Becky flinches like it’s a racial swear.”
“Yes, well, I’m reclaiming it. Like they do in that rap.”
“That rap?”
“Hush, I’m measuring.” With a flounce, Janice spooned tea evenly over the small pile of sugar in the bowl.
Emily doodled on the list around “pack,” which had a helpful blank space for a list of key items to bring. Trying to be productive, she wrote “knife.” The heat and a general sense of unreality made her languid, like preparing for the trip was no different than a crossword she could decide not to finish.
“You’re calling her Becky now?”
Emily blinked; she’d forgotten the thread of their conversation. Her aunt was slowly pouring a little water into the bowl, mixing it as she poured to make a syrup.
“She asked me to? Kind of.” Emily clicked her pen. “It seemed appropriate to the situation.”
Janice poured the sugary tea syrup into an old glass gallon bottle, then scraped the last out with a spatula. Emily watched, smiling. She’d seen her aunt make tea thousands of times, but it still grossed her out and impressed her at the same time.
“Today’s your last day at work?” Janice set the bowl in the sink and ran water in it to soak, tossing in the various measuring tools and spoons.
“I feel bad asking to leave on no notice. It’s slow season right now, but it’s unfair to the other people who work there. And it will definitely influence any reference they give later.” She watched as Janice slowly began adding water to the jar, mixing it into the syrup with a giant chopstick.
Talking as she poured, Janice kept her eyes on the bottle. “For that job that you’ll be going to after you visit the Sidhe, you’ll need a good reference, right.” Bottle filled to a pre-marked line, she gave it a last stir and spun the lid on, wrenching it tight. “Because after you’ve returned the court to their rightful place, what a grocery store says about you is totally vital.”
With a huff, she levered up the bottle and slowly began shaking it, turning it upside down.
Sitting in the manager’s small, grey office, Emily fidgeted, tapping an envelope against her knee. The door behind her swung open, admitting Mr. Louston, who carried two cups of coffee from the break room. Setting one in front of Emily, he sidled around the side of the desk with the other, avoiding open boxes of register tape and file cabinets.
“I can guess what this is.” He fell comfortably into his chair, keeping his coffee level. “When a great—a solid and dependable—eighteen-year-old employee nervously asks to see me after her shift, I can only assume they’ll be leaving our family of workers.” He eyed Emily over his cup, sipping delicately.
“I wrote a formal notice…” Emily trailed off, handing the envelope across the desk.
“Of course you did. That’s what you’re supposed to do and so you did it.” He slipped the typewritten sheet of paper out and began to read it. “We’ll be sad to lose you, Emily, you’ve been a boon.” Emily started, covering her movement by picking up her coffee. She hunched over the cup as Mr. Louston read.
“I feel awful asking for immediate leave, but it’s slow right now and both James and Fiona have been wanting more hours and this opportunity to go on a trip to intern is too good to pass up, but they gave me no notice either and I just don’t know how long I’ll be gone.” She took a deep breath and looked fixedly at the corner of the desk.
Mr. Louston hummed a little as he re-read her notice. “Did you use a typewriter?”
“Um, yes. I tried typing it at the library’s computer to print out, but I just could not concentrate.” She met her manager’s eyes briefly before returning her focus to the desk. He set the paper down and leaned back in his chair.
“To tell the truth, I was expecting something like this, but only because I’m a pessimist.” His voice was surprisingly kind and it made Emily look up again. “We’d been wanting to promote you to a department manager position, what with Sandra leaving to have her baby, but I knew that things would be tumultuous right after gradation—even though you weren’t expecting to leave, there was a good chance you would anyway.” He paused to drink. “You underestimate your abilities and potential. Listen. If this internship doesn’t pave the way to something better, you’re always welcome back here as a checker, and if you decide to stay, we’ll fast track you to management.
Flattered, and a little teary, Emily shook his hand. “Sure thing, Mr. Louston.”
Small piles lined up neatly on Emily’s bed, each representing a day’s outfit.
“It’s too much, kid.” Her aunt’s voice, coming from behind, made Emily jump.
“Really? I figured five days would be a decent amount—and there’s a range of layering options. I don’t know how cold it will be, or anything.” Having never gone on more than an overnight trip, Emily felt like her breath was being crushed out of her chest just planning what she’d bring to the Sidhe. Her aunt placed a hand on her shoulder.
“There’s no laundry in the Sidhe and no showers. I mean, for you there won’t be. There’s rivers to bathe in, but without someone watching your back they’re not an option. Think of the books you’ve read, do they bathe on quests?”
Emily rolled her eyes, “No, but they don’t use the bathroom either.”
“Well, you’re going to be doing that, no question. Speaking of which, how’s your period clock out? Do you need to bring things for that?”
Shaking her head, embarrassed, Emily watched as Janice picked through the piles of clothing, setting aside half the socks and underwear, portioning the rest of the clothing into one outfit that layered from two sweaters down to a thin summer tank top. She added shorts and a sports bra to the pile.
“There. You’ll be wearing most of it and the rest rolls up pretty compactly. The key is always to bring lots of socks. You can layer them for warmth and dry socks make all the difference in morale. I think somebody gave you gloves at the party, those things that are fingerless gloves but have mitten flaps?” Emily nodded. “Okay, that and a hat of some kind and I think you’re good on the clothing front.”
Janice looked back at her niece, seeing the crossed arms. She pulled Emily towards her, hugging her fallen shoulders. “Reading a bunch and knowing a bunch doesn’t give you experience, hon, you know that. If we were going on vacation, your clothing choices would have been perfect. But there’s no bag check on a quest.” With a final squeeze, she let go of her niece and headed down the short hall to the bathroom. “Toiletries next.”
With her aunt’s help, Emily packed. They went through the gifts she’d received the night of the ceremony, seeing what would be worn and what would be carried. When Janice seemed satisfied, she had Emily stand on the bathroom scale, with and without her pack on.
“About seventeen pounds, more than I’d like, but a good percent of that is food and water, which takes care of itself.” She chewed on her lip as Emily slid the pack off, setting it carefully on the ground so the camera slung on the side didn’t bang on the floor. “You’ll find water there, of course, but you’ve got to be careful. Rivers aren’t just rivers there.”
Emily scrubbed at her face, slick with sweat. “Well, can I eat what is offered me? I mean, how do I know what’s okay to eat and drink and what’s not? Are there laws I could be breaking?”
Janice started. “Oh jeez, yes.” She pushed hair out of her face and looked around, as though the bathroom’s close walls had answers. “Let’s eat first though. In front of the fan. It’s like an oven in here.” As she pushed past her niece to the kitchen, Emily thought for a moment that tears glimmered in her eyes.
While they ate, Janice kept the conversation to mundanities like television and the neighbours’ children. Emily noticed they both danced around the same topics, avoiding anything that mentioned the future, or plans made before Becky had her chat with Emily.
Janice set her fork down with deliberation and glanced at her niece.
Emily had finished first and was trying to balance her empty soda can on the corner of its bottom rim. She kept playing while she spoke. “The closer I get to leaving, the more scared you get. Do I have, like, any chance of not dying or being turned into a tree or something?” She tried to laugh, but it broke bitterly.
Janice shook her head. “It’s not that. I think deep down I fully believe you’ll be fine, you’ll do great. But there’s so much information you don’t know. There’s no guidebook, everything you’ve read is hearsay—and not knowing the rules doesn’t mean you won’t be held to obeying them.”
Emily let the can fall and left it, gathered her plate and pushed back from the table. “Well, I have five days left. What can you and the others teach me by then?” She looked back at her aunt, who held up the soda can with the tips of her fingers.
“Hopefully how to pick up after yourself.”
This post is part of The Audacity Gambit – Serialised. Learn more about when the book was first published here, see the archive and overall content warnings here, and find more of my writing here. I’m over on both Comradery and Patreon, if you feel like supporting my creative endeavours. If you’d like to subscribe to this story, here’s a handy email box for you: