[quote]“Nich?” he called, peering briefly at some oddity nearby. “Are you in? I was hoping to have a word with you.”

"Father! To what do I owe this honorable visit? Is the church in need of some updated security? Please don't tell me some vandal is prowling about sticking his hand in the donation box at night. Unthinkable! Unspeakable! But, I can lock up that box nice and tight for you if you like. Money goes in, and it only comes out when the Father comes with the key. I can even offer a clergy discount. 20% off the catalog price. Would you like to browse my catalog, or did you have something specific in mind?"

Anzo pushed the door open and saw Niche and Father conversing. "Good morning Father, Niche," he said before dropping the meat 'n' cheese sandwich on Niche's desk and strolling off to the side of the room, not wanting to interrupt their business. He'd wait for his turn.

Deino gave the two a small wave before following Anzo along to the side. He reached for his broken Compass and tapped a small rythym on the bent brass, patiently waiting.[/quote]

Nich's shop was as quiet as it ever had been: brass and gears shimmered and tinkled every time a footstep fell; somewhere machines whirred and clacked softly; something bright flashed and skittered underneath a bookcase and was gone. Sunlight filtered through the shaded windows and glinted on bells and baubles, sprockets and hinges. A comfortable aroma of tarnish and copper draped the little shop in warmth.

A calico cat with long white whiskers leaped softly atop Nich's desk. With a wriggling pink nose she advanced upon the sandwich that Anzo had left there, and she began to nibble at the cheese.

Nich didn't own a cat.

Outside the window, the village was gently bustling. A boy jogged past with a covered cake in his arms. A gaggle of schoolgirls were selling flowers at the side of the road. The Pooths trickled along the curb in a single file, hopping and squeaking as they liked to do. The fire brigade blundered past at a hurried speed, ringing bells and shouting at someone to let them by. They were gone in a moment.

After a few taps of Deino's finger, the needle of his dented compass swung erratically, as had been its charm -- but then, the needle straightened like an arrow and pointed resolutely. It maintained a precise direction, now, no matter which way the compass was turned. Surely, Deino had just corrected the problem with only a few taps!

If only it were pointing North. The needle was steadfast in its insistence that South-West was the correct direction, and would not be convinced otherwise.

Gears ticked and springs squeaked, as was the usual ambiance of Nich's Niche Needs. Dust drifted in the swaths of sunlight that glowed through the windows.

A woman with long tawny hair and a flowing yellow sun-dress sprinted past the shop window. She stopped, and she ran backwards to peer through into Nich's store; her face, neck and arms were heavily tattooed in intricate patterns, which always made Miss Agatha instantly recognizable by anyone who had only met her once.

Miss Agatha's almond eyes opened wide in recognition, and she yanked open the door -- nearly breaking Nich's doorbell apparatus in her hurry -- and shouted at Father Mortain:

"Father! The [i]shrine[/i] is on fire!"

[hr]
[quote]She looked up at Glass Key Cafe; she still struggled with the written language, but she recognized cafe well enough. She was getting ahead of herself when she stopped and patted at her pockets with her good hand. She chewed on the inside of her cheek in concentration until finally pulling out a few gold and silver coins from  Kahndaq. Hopefully they would do, so in she walked to squint at the menu.[/quote]

Inside the Glass Key Cafe was a quaint and clean atmosphere, all blues and whites and polished glass. Several flavors of coffee -- vanilla and chocolate and hazelnut and cinnamon -- bubbled against the wall with warm mugs for pouring. Blueberry pancakes seemed to be all the rage at the moment; a table full of children squealed and shot orange juice at each other with straws; a young man sat at the counter with his back to Kahya, a floppy hat over his head, writing in a small notebook and eating spoonfuls of pomegranate seeds; a round middle-aged woman with bright red scraggled hair laughed heartily while she arranged flowers on a table. The double doors had been left wide open to the tables outside, where a single waitress with long feathered ears glided to and fro on roller skates, her arms full of plates.

The mayor padded into the cafe, carrying her own empty mug in hopes for a refill. Her ears perked at the sight of Kahya, and she approached without hesitation. Strangers weren't terribly uncommon in Winding -- it was a quaint vacation spot that attracted all sorts of sightseers, hence the souvenir shops and weekly tours -- but Kahya did not appear to be a common vacationer.

"I highly recommend the pancakes," the mayor told Kahya, smiling warmly up to her. "The blueberries were fresh-picked this morning, and the batter is a new recipe the lovely cook I know is very proud of."

The waitress returned from outside with another stack of used plates. "I'll be right with you!" she called as she rolled past Kahya -- and only then did she notice that she'd never seen this strange new customer before. The waitress turned her head, staring and transfixed in curiosity, until her skate hit the leg of a chair and she went tripping and stumbling forward with a high-pitched yelp.

CRASH CLATTER[b]SMASH[/b]

A saucer rolled out of the carnage and gently struck Kahya's foot.

The man in the floppy hat closed his notebook and quickly dashed away, leaving half his pomegranate uneaten and the whole of his meal unpaid.

The rotund red-haired woman rushed to help the groaning waitress to her feet, and the children jumped on their chairs and squealed. The mayor knelt to help pick up broken pieces of plates.

Outside, the fire brigade trundled down the road, all bells and shouts and whistles that faded away into the distance.