Chapter 6 – The Next Part

Myria woke with a gasp as she almost fell off Chaos's horse. And then she almost fell off again when she realized where she was. Gods she had… she had just died! Or did that not happen? There was a giant vat of dark chocolate, with fondant sugar cream, and... and hazelnut praline in rich butter cream. But that was impossible wasn't it? But it had been so real. She swore she could taste and feel the chocolate!

Was she alive? She slowly turned her eyes to Death riding on his white horse only a few arms-lengths away, Susan seated behind him.

Death's head was toward her, regarding her intently but professionally. Susan seemed simply lost in thought.

YES, THIS IS THE NEXT PART was rattling around in Myria's head.

Was it just another madness-induced hallucination? She looked at Death again, but he was no longer looking at her. Her body was perched behind the personification of Chaos, but inside the prison of her own head, Myria was still breaking down.

It had all been too much. She had lost her purpose when the clock had been finished, after that it had just been the body's instinctive need to survive. She had lost her kind, she was no longer part of the 'we' of the Auditors and didn't want to be. In fact she had betrayed them, helping their enemies, even murdered hundreds of them at this point. Which would have been fine, she supposed, if she had been human. It would have been war, us against them.

Or maybe that justification was due to War, riding near enough to be rubbing off on her.

And then there was everything else. She had also lost her friend Mr. Jeremy, if he had even been a friend. She thought he had, but since she had never had one, who could be sure. Now she was alone. The closest thing in the world she had to a being like her, who might understand her, was Susan.

And she was aware enough to realize that, on some level, Susan really didn't like her very much. Oh, Susan didn't do it on purpose, but things slipped out between the cracks. She remembered how Susan had first reacted to her, and it stayed with her.

Myria was wearing shredded clothes, was scratched and bruised, and made up like an ugly caricature of a human. By the time they arrived in front of her leased house on Kings Way, that was exactly how she felt inside as well. Chaos took his leave quickly, muttering something about the milk delivery. Susan said goodbye to her Grandfather, who peered at Myria knowingly for a few seconds, then wished her well.

Susan and Myria stood in front of her door.

"Well…" said Susan.

"Yes."

"I don't suppose you have reconsidered." Susan paused, apparently struggling between her dislike and a modicum of pity.

"Why?" Myria shook her head slowly.

Susan looked at her, dumbfounded. She didn't need this. She really didn't need this. She didn't even like it, she, ok Myria. This was not her problem. She was not a people person, damn it! And now she was going to have to talk someone out of… well it wasn't really suicide was it? Because she wasn't really human right? Then again…

"Myria, listen…you don't want to… Look, we won. Everything is fixed. You can go on with…" Her words failed her, and she got an inkling of the problem.

"That is the point, what else is there?" said Myria. "What am I? Where do I belong? This is not my home, it is just some house I stayed in while I…" plotted to destroy humanity and all life in the cosmos… she finished silently.

Myria shook her head. Tears began running down her face, making an absolute disaster of mascara that had never been far from it anyway. Oh gods, Susan was not equipped for this. Myria went on, "Think about it Susan. You are outside humanity too, but at least you grew up in this. You had a family and you still have your Grandfather."

"Well, that is actually very complicated." Susan interrupted.

"Yes, but you still have someone. And you had a lifetime getting here to come to terms with all it means to be human."

"Mostly human. I have to work at it." Susan was getting angry. This was not going to turn into a conversation about her. She had her own raw spots to scratch at later. "Look…" Susan began. "Ok, so you have been thrown into this. Yes you have not had a childhood to understand how to…" She paused. What arguments did she have that would work here? She could not even convince herself that Myria was wrong, how was she supposed to convince Myria? All she had was a vague instinctive feeling that Myria was not right.

She was going to lose this argument. And she was not fond of losing. She wasn't very good at it, because she seldom allowed it.

Then she saw Myria's face change.

Myria's eyes went round, along with her mouth. Her hands started to rise, shaking. She looked absolutely horrified.

Susan jerked around, assuming from the reaction that some Auditors, or an aberration from stitching time back together, or maybe even one of Grandfather's crew was coming up the street. Instead, she saw an average, plainly dressed human walking a good clip down the cobblestones. She couldn't even be sure he was coming to them, though he did seem very purposeful and focused on something in their direction. She turned back to Myria.

Who was looking frantic. Her eyes darted down to her shredded dress, to Susan's face, to the man. Her left hand was patting her face and hair, and her right was grabbing a handful of grease-encrusted clothing. "No…no...nonono…"

What the blazes? "Myria, are you alright? Who is he?"

"He can not… he can not see me like this!" Myria's tone was panicked.

Susan thought she recognized that tone. "What? Who is he?"

"Jo….the baker! He is the baker! He brings me things, and…" she sobbed. "He can not… I... look at me!" Myria wailed, and fled into the house. Susan heard the locks turn and bolts close.

Oh ho! Now that reaction, that was one she understood completely. Poor Myria, all alone. No family, no anchor to humanity eh? She smiled grimly. Oh yes. Poor thing, you are as caught as the rest of us, you just haven't figured it out yet.

A gleam in her eye, she moved to intercept the baker. If her guess was right, Myria wouldn't do anything foolish... well nothing permanently and mortally foolish. What she would probably be doing was furiously scrubbing off makeup and grime.

And perhaps burning the clothing.

The baker looked rushed, and worried. And he hailed Susan as soon as he neared within speaking distance.

"Excuse me, miss?"

"Yes. And you are the baker, I suppose?"

"Er…yes. Was that Myr… Lady LeJean? She looked unwell! Is she well? I had strange news and I was very worried about her. Did you speak with her? I should check on her." He seemed about to bolt or freeze up, torn between getting information from Susan and charging Myria's door. Hmm…

"Mr. Baker, please, calm down. Lady LeJean is fine, she is just out of sorts. She… was spooked by a… by a horse and her clothing was soiled, but she is fine, soon to be better, I assure you."

This seemed to calm Jonathon a bit. But he was still worried.

"Thank you, er, miss?"

"Sto Helit."

"Yes, Miss…Sto" his eyes went round as plates. "My apologies, my lady! I didn't realize. You must have been helping Lady LeJean when she fell?"

Susan looked at her own clothing, which was covered in grime and dirt as well, though much more suitable to the task it had been through than Myria's. Hah, good thing she wasn't overly vain, though it did pain her a bit. "Y-yess…it was… hectic. Please, be at ease, I am not on the job, as it were. I am merely a teacher in this city. Do continue."

"Of course, my lady. I had just finished making something for Lady LeJean, and suddenly I felt strange, and I turned around and they were all gone! And there had been no one in the shop! So you see, I hurried here to see that she was well."

"I see, and why did you think she might not be well?"

He paused, seeming to consider her carefully. "You are a friend of Lady LeJean's, I suppose? Do you know her well?"

Susan opened her mouth, considered her words carefully. "I… know her better than anyone else. We have some things in common. Perhaps we are becoming friends as well." That was a stretch, but maybe not a far one. It seemed to satisfy him.

"Then you know she is a bit, eccentric, my lady. She…she needs someone to look after her, you know. Did you notice, she lives alone in that house with no servants? None! Perhaps it's not my place, but…well, I admit I worry for her."

"I see. Again do continue. And please, call me Miss Susan." Susan was smirking inside. Oh, this was going to be good. And the faster he forgot the whole my lady thing, the better.

"Yes, you see, begging your pardon, my la...Miss Susan. I know she seems to be very… reserved at first…"

"I believe the word you were looking for was haughty." Susan supplied helpfully.

He looked shocked and stammered, "Well…I…I would not."

"It's fine, do go on."

"Yes, well miss, when you know her a bit, as I'm sure you do, you find that she is really rather fragile. She… it's as if she has been sheltered you see. She should have someone to look out for her."

"Yes, I do see your point. And I can't say that I disagree." Susan nodded. "Yes, indeed. But how does this relate to the mysteriously disappearing baked goods?" After dealing with a classroom containing Jason and Penelope, failing to get derailed by a baker was amateur night.

"Ah..." he looked embarrassed. "You are going to think me mad."

"Trust me, you would be amazed at what I am willing to believe."

He paused again, glanced past her at the house again.

"Well, strange things happen around her. Once I was sure she floated, you see. Of course it must have been my imagination," he quickly added, flushing. He was probably expecting some derisive response. "And then, the first time she came by my shop, she ate some fresh bread."

"Would I be wrong in thinking she had a rather dramatic and unusual reaction, good baker?"

His eyes widened again. "Yes! She… I thought she was having a reaction, or that something had gone wrong with the bread. She even went… strange at one point, like looking through a fogged window."

Oh dear…that was a close one. And could have been disastrous. The poor baker almost doomed the world with his fresh yeast goods. She chuckled a bit inside. Stranger and stranger.

"And so, you have since been making specially prepared items… quite bland I assume, for…Myria," she placed emphasis on the word and saw his ears redden a bit, "and perhaps delivering them to her personally, I presume?" She took his reaction as a definite yes. "And in the process, you took it upon yourself to keep an eye on her, make sure she was well."

He looked at his feet. "Well miss, I realize it isn't my place. But…" His voice wavered a bit and he looked up. Oh dear, Susan thought, the young man is absolutely smitten. "Yes, she should not be alone, miss. Why does she have no servants? Something could happen to her."

Yes, and practically everything has, Susan thought. And now the rest seems to be about to happen. The man had all the classic signs, and had them bad. And he seemed to know, on some sort of visceral level that "Lady LeJean" was not quite – normal. He might not put it into words, for fear of sounding ridiculous or insane, but he knew quite well that if something happened like magically disappearing pastries, then the first thing to do was drop his baking and hurry over to check on Myria. Wow…it was, sweet. Almost nauseatingly so. She allowed herself a little of her own bitter pity to seep out. Well at least one of them might get the boy in the end. Hers seemed to have gone the other direction.

"Mister Baker…may I address you by your familiar name?"

"Of course, miss. Jonathon Knäcke, if you wish."

"Thank you, Jonathon. I need to tell you some things, and I want you to keep an open mind."

An hour later, Jonathon stood before Myria's door, head spinning. Oh, Susan had not told him everything, he could tell that by some of the pauses. She wanted him forewarned, but she didn't want to send him screaming down the street. So she told... partial truths. About how Myria had not really had much of a childhood (hah!) and was hopelessly naïve about many things. About how she had special conditions, possibly magical in nature, where intense experiences could have some very negative, even mortal, consequences.

And especially, that Myria needed a friend more than anyone else on the Disc did.

"But aren't you her friend?" he had asked. "I know you didn't say so, but you are taking the time to help her now, and you helped her when the horse startled her."

"Hor… ah yes, the horse. Yes, I suppose I am. I'm not exactly the best person to… to ground her as it were." And watching the two of you week by week will likely have me grinding my teeth and wishing for bags of rabid weasels to throw at you.

"Oh. But…"

"But me no buts." Susan said, putting on her teacher voice, which had the desired effect. "Now, I have a requirement of you, and it's going to be difficult."

"Yes, ma'am." He was actually digging his toe in the dirt. Hah, she hadn't lost her touch.

"You will go up there, and you will knock on the door, and when she answers you will not call her Lady LeJean, nor Lady Myria LeJean, nor My Lady, nor milady, nor even miss."

He looked at her in disbelief. "But…"

"But me no buts! If you are going to do her any good at all, you need to be her friend. And that means enough of all this 'above your station' claptrap and rigamarole." Susan liked those words, she didn't get to use them nearly often enough. "You will address her as Myria. Don't look so horrified, it is her name. Tut! No arguments. Nod your head. Yes. Good. There you go. Was that so hard?"

"You can stop nodding now."