The sweet old woman at the inn, Madam Shen, insisted on seating them at her best table to conduct their interviews. It was set back into a private room, large enough for a party of ten.
"This really isn't necessary," Cricket argued. "We can chat with people just fine out in the main dining room."
"Nonsense. Nonsense. I won't have the prince of Lunette taking his guests out in the main dining room. Please, please. Sit. I'll have some tea brought." She gave Cricket an insistent, but gentle, shove and then slid the paper doors closed behind her.
"How are we supposed to choose who to talk to if we're closed in here?" Cricket frowned.
"I told you not to tell her you were the prince." Ignacia huffed, dropping into a chair, and crossing her arms over her chest. "I could go out and pull people in."
"It's not like I meant to! The hair kind of..." He gestured to the long braid he'd thrown over his shoulder. "No, it'd be better if we were out there, mingling. Then we could see who looks suspicious." He shook his head, tugging the door open a little to look out into the main dining room. "Do you think we can convince her to let us back out there?"
"How much of the room can you see from here?"
"All of it. Every corner. But with the door pulled shut, they won't be able to see in here." Cricket's eyes flicked about the room. There weren't a lot of people in the main dining room, mainly wait staff. But lunch time was coming, and then those who were staying at the inn would return to have their midday meal.
"Then we'll use this as our base of operations. I'll retrieve anyone who looks suspicious, and you question them while I keep a look out."
It seemed like a good enough plan. Maybe it wasn't ideal, or what he'd intended when he suggested they head for the dining room and skip questioning the staff. But needs must.
"But first, tea?" the innkeeper asked, bustling into the room with a tray which she deposited onto the table. "And I'll have lunch brought in shortly, then we'll be out of your way."
"Thank you, Madam Shen. You're such a dutiful host." Cricket smiled, returning to the table.
"Nonsense. Nonsense. I won't have the prince of Lunette thinking my inn is some shabby..." She stopped, clearing her throat. "Well. If there is anything else you need, please do not be afraid to ask."
"Yes ma'am." Ignacia bowed politely, and turned to pour a cup for herself and Cricket. "Thank you."
Madam Shen left, and a few minutes later two waitresses came in bearing trays laden in enough food to feed a small army. Ignacia rolled her eyes in exasperation, and Cricket did his best to look gracious.
"Tell Madam Shen thank you. We very much appreciate her hospitality," Cricket said bowing shallowly to both women. When they were gone, he dropped into his seat looking over the plates upon plates of what seemed to be every dish the inn had to offer.
"Well, Your Highness, eat up." Ignacia snickered, a smug smile twitching at her lips.
"Oh no, ma'am. You are helping with this. I can't eat it all and if we leave too much behind, they'll be offended. You have to help me." He wagged a finger at her playfully, and it pulled a real laugh from Ignacia. "Maybe our guests will want some."
"We can only hope." Ignacia sighed. "Open the door a little so we can look out and see if anyone looks worth talking to."
With their plates piled high, and the door open to let in the gentle murmur of the inn's patrons, Ignacia and Cricket filled their bellies. The tables outside slowly began to fill as those staying at the inn filtered in for lunch.
"Those two merchants first," Cricket said pointing to two men who had just ordered their second round of ale. "They'll have travelled through the most towns, and may be able to give us a hint as to who is behind all of this."
"I don't know Cricky. They don't look like they pay attention to much outside of themselves. Merchants are like that. They stay out of everyone's business." Ignacia shook her head.
"Then who do you suggest?"
"Her."
Cricket followed where Ignacia pointed to a straight-backed young woman. She had a pair of glasses perched on her slightly upturned nose that she'd buried deep in a book.
"Her?" Cricket frowned. "She doesn't look like she sees anything outside of whatever she's reading."
"She's a traveling scholar," Ignacia insisted. "Ergo, keen observational skills. A more than rudimentary understanding of magic. The ability to string a coherent sentence together. Less likely to be impressed and distracted by the prince."
"And she's pretty." Cricket added, the frown twitching into something else. Mischief lighting his eyes.
"That doesn't hurt." Ignacia shrugged, leaning back in her chair.
"Fine. We'll start with her. But no flirting. This is serious, Iggy." He grabbed a bit of cheese off her plate and popped it into his mouth, looking smug.
"You're not the boss of me." She huffed, standing from her chair, and sauntering out into the dining room. Cricket chuckled, shaking his head. He looked around the room for who they should speak to next, deciding on a young messenger in the corner. When his eyes returned to Ignacia and the woman, they were headed his way. Ignacia had her arm slung over the other's shoulders, a wide smile splitting her face, and Cricket had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes. "Your Highness, this is Genevieve. She's a scholar from Hermes, passing through Tochtli on her way to the capital."
"Y-Y-Y-Your...Your Highness." Genevieve curtsied awkwardly, her knees shaking a little either with the weight of Ignacia's arm, or with the unease of little practice.
"Cricket." Cricket smiled, standing up and holding out a hand to her. "Please, just Cricket."
Genevieve's eyes widened, her cheeks blushing brightly as her gaze flicked from him to Ignacia as if needing confirmation. Ignacia nodded, and Genevieve looked back at Cricket with more interest. Her nose wrinkled as some thought occurred to her, but she didn't let it pass her tongue.
"Please, have a seat. We just have a couple of questions. I promise we won't take long, and then you can go back to your day." Cricket moved to pull out a chair for her.
"Thank you." Genevieve took the seat, her eyes tracking Cricket's movements around the table where he sat across from her. Maybe Ignacia was right, maybe the bookish girl did see more than he'd thought. "Ignacia said there is some magical anomaly going on here?"
"Yes. How long have you been in town?" Cricket pulled Ignacia's journal from his bag. Ignacia twitched for a moment, hands moving as if to take the book from him, but they didn't.
"Oh, I just arrived last night. I've been traveling all week from Mahin, and I plan to leave in the morning." Genevieve's fingers tapped at the table as if nervous, but her words came easily enough. Quiet, but measured. "I was invited to study at the library in the capital by one of the librarians."
"And what day did you plan to leave Tochtli for the capital?"
"Tomorrow," Genevieve repeated looking confused.
"What day is that?" Ignacia asked gently.
"Monday?" Genevieve asked more than said, her tone unsure. She clenched the book to her chest, knuckles turning white. "Why? Have I been affected?"
Cricket looked to Ignacia and she shook her head. He sighed, scrubbing at his face. "You might have been. We'll know more soon."
"But you're going to fix this, whatever it is." Genevieve looked determined. "I can help. I know a lot about curse magic. I want to help."
"The best thing you can do to help us right now, is let us get back to questioning the others." Ignacia's tone was gentle, she held out a hand to Genevieve to help her from her chair. "I promise to let you know if there is anything else you can do to help."
"What is it? What kind of curse?" Genevieve refused to move from her chair. Her eyes fixed on Cricket's; mouth set in a serious line.
"It looks like the town is stuck in a loop. Tochtli disappears every day at around 6:30 and reappears the next morning at the same time. And everyone repeats Sunday again." Cricket felt tired saying it, frayed at the edges, knowing there was little he could do at that point to help. He didn't have any answers. He didn't have any solutions. He just had more questions.
"That's... That's preposterous!" Genevieve slammed her chair back, her face livid. "There isn't even a spell that can do that! That's the silliest thing I've ever heard!"
"Genevieve, please." Ignacia reached for the other woman. "Let's just sit down and talk this through. Maybe you can—"
"No. I'd... I'd know! I'd know if I was repeating the same day over and over!" Genevieve stormed from the room, and then out of the inn. The door slamming behind her in her hurry to get away from them.
"I told you not to mention it to them." Ignacia leaned forward, pressing her forehead to the table. "I told you they get mad."
"Yes, but we didn't know if it was just the locals, or if it was everyone. Now we know it's everyone." Cricket scratched more notes into the journal. He ran a hand over his hair, pushing small loose strands back from his face. "That's useful information to have. It means it's not just on the town."
"We knew that when it happened to me." Her voice was muffled by the table, but he could still hear the upset in it.
"We thought that, when it happened to you." Cricket corrected gently. "We didn't know for sure, now we do. But hey, look on the bright side."
"If you say I still have a chance with her because she won't remember tomorrow, I am going to stuff you face first into what's left of the pot pie." Ignacia didn't lift her head, but she didn't have to, to point a vaguely threatening finger in his direction. "Don't test me."
"No. No testing, ma'am." Cricket bit his lip to keep from laughing.
Ignacia lifted her head to glare at him, auburn hair falling into her eyes where it had come loose from the two braids she kept it in. Cricket did his best to look innocent. Her gaze narrowed further. Cricket smiled, and then a flash of white caught his eye and he looked up to see a white clad man, being led to an empty table.
"That's him," he said more to himself. His gaze was fixed on the elegant young man. White blond hair, the color of the sun at its hottest, pulled back into a messy short tail at the crown of his head, with feather soft waves falling loose to brush high set cheekbones. Smooth brown skin stretched over a stately jaw. Two amber stones—darkening from pale gold to the deep reds of the rising sun—hung from long chains in his earlobes. He was...he was...well he looked rather put out to be in the inn. But even with that, he was lovely.
"Him who?" Ignacia asked, turning to look at the man at the table. "Oh, so I get teased for flirting but you—"
Cricket shook himself, fixing his eyes back on Ignacia. "No, I chased him yesterday. He was running down an alley trying not to be seen. It was very suspicious. This has nothing to do with—"
"With how devastatingly handsome he is?"
"Absolutely."
"Mhm. Sure." Ignacia eyed him. "So, should I get him or..."
"No, I'll go talk to him. Why don't you grab that messenger and see what he has to say?"
"And this has nothing at all to do with how—"
"Ignacia." Cricket glared at her.
"All right. Statement retracted. I'll just go handle the messenger, shall I?" She stood from her chair, offering Cricket a knowing smile. "Try not to put your foot in your mouth yeah? Remember the last time you—"
"Ignacia."
"Right. Good luck." She gave him a cheerful wave, shoulders shaking with laughter as she ducked out of the room.
"And she calls me a brat," Cricket muttered to himself. He tucked the journal back into his satchel, waited for Ignacia to find her place with the messenger, and then made his way across the room towards the figure swathed in white.
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