Back on the road out of Saddleback, Rachel, Gage, and Wrigley turned onto the fork that leads to the Southern Monastery. It didn’t take long for the road to wind into the canyon, walls rising above them.
Wrigley fidgeted on Gage’s shoulder.
“What is it?” Gage asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Cut it out, pal. You’re walking all over my shoulder and I can feel your anxiety in my head.”
“You’re very good at this,” Wrigley said with astonishment. “I can’t read you at all yet.”
“I’m not feeling anything you should read. We’re walking. It’s boring.”
“Good company makes a lighter burden,” Rachel said with dripping sarcasm. Gage and Wrigley both turned their heads simultaneously to give her a “butt-out” look. Lifting her hands, Rachel picked up her pace to walk ahead of them.
“Regardless,” Wrigley said, “I should feel something by now. I thought I’d be a good Companion.”
“Hey,” Gage answered, “stop. I’m a children’s fairy story. You can understand me in five minutes. You, however, are a treatise.”
He’d never wanted this, but now that Wrigley was his Companion, Gage was too kind to let him go down a dark path. He was already feeling too much from Wrigley to separate from him. Waves of personality crashed over him.
“You know what?” Gage asked. “Why don’t you fly up above the canyon. Get some fresh air and stretch your wings.”
“Leave you down here?”
“I’m pretty sure with your eyesight I’ll look like I’m under a microscope.”
“Yes. A microscope. Good idea, thank you.”
“What do you mean?” Gage asked.
“You didn’t intend a religious reference?”
“Me? Are you kidding?”
“But the refraction of light and the uses of lenses to bring clarity is a major tenet of His Unified Church.”
“I wouldn’t know anything about that,” Gage said. “And I wouldn’t want to. Sorry.”
“Of course. You said that before.”
By denying the faith of a Believer, you’ve received an Atheist achievement. When you’ve unlocked five of these, the Nihilism Perk becomes available. Because your belief in nothing grants you a savage determination to avoid death, you get a massive boost to strength when your health drops below ten per cent.
Wrigley went airborne, lofting above the walls of the canyon. He could indeed see Gage and Rachel below as clear as glass. Stopping, he flapped his wings. He felt something from Gage! It was his first time, and it surprised him. So many times he’d imagined what a Companion bond would feel like. This was different than he’d expected. It wasn’t an emotion, it was a thought. It was almost like he was watching the cogs of a machine turning as Gage processed an idea. Immediately, Wrigley dove down to rejoin them. When he landed on Gage’s shoulder, the man grunted and dipped with the weight, but otherwise he didn’t notice. He was thinking.
“What is it?” Wrigley asked with excitement.
“What?” Gage asked, then he realized. “You feel it.”
Wrigley nodded by dipping his beak and blinking his eyes.
“Well, pal, I had an idea, I guess you’d say.”
“Yes. I couldn’t understand what your idea was, only that you were thinking. It was like — “ Wrigley struggled to explain. He was at a loss.
“Okay, when I feel your emotions, it’s like a color. A mix of colors. I couldn’t name a single one, only that this wash comes over me, and each color is something about you.”
Wrigley stopped, understanding. “It’s because of the glass factory. Each piece refracts the light differently. Thin, thick. It becomes a language.”
Gage nodded. He was happy that emotion, something he didn’t particularly like, was now tied to a chemical process. He could work with that.
“So what did you see?” Gage asked.
“Wheels. Belts and pulleys. Boiling steam. Glass vials and brass whistles.”
Gage laughed so hard Wrigley had to grip his talons into the harness to stay on.
“I love that, buddy,” Gage said. “My brain is an overworked engine.”
Finally, Rachel stopped to turn and glare at them. She tapped her gauntlet against her shield. Waving at her, Gage increased his pace to catch up. Wrigley was undeterred, though. He’d felt the connection and he wanted more.
“Tell me of your idea,” Wrigley coaxed as Gage followed after Rachel.
Gage hesitated. He had nothing coherent, only the beginning of a plan.
“Someday, at least judging by other bonds I’ve seen,” Wrigley said, “you won’t need to explain. I’ll know. But until then, I’d like to know what you saw.”
“Wait. You’ll be able to read my mind?” Gage almost blanched.
“What’s the matter?” Rachel tossed over her shoulder. “Too many naughty thoughts?”
Gage blushed. Wrigley cocked his head, noticing.
“I don’t expect you to have naughty thoughts about me,” Wrigley explained. “And it’s only when you think about me that I’ll sense your thoughts.” He didn’t mention about the time with Rachel when he could feel waves of emotion coming off of Gage. Don’t scare the man. “Before the Constable interrupted,” Wrigley said gently, “you were going to tell me of your idea.” Rachel glared at him and he flapped his wings at her. Gage, back in his thoughts, didn’t notice.
“I saw you in the air,” Gage began. “You were above the walls of the canyon, and I thought that was useful and interesting. I was a little jealous, to be honest.”
“Flying is very handy, this is true.”
“How far can you see when you’re up there?”
Wrigley shrugged his neck feathers. “Forever.”
“Oh,” Gage sighed, “I want that.”
The idea he’d been seeking became clear.
“And I can have it.”
“What?” Wrigley asked.
“We need to go back to the glass factory!” Gage exclaimed.
“Oh, no, we don’t!” Rachel intervened.
“But, Rachel. I can make spectacles for Wrigley.”
“Gage, my vision is perfect,” Wrigley said, confused.
“What you see, I can see. From the ground.”
Understanding, Wrigley joined in Gage’s excitement. “Refraction!”
“You’ll need to fly with a wire connecting us. Can you do that?”
“Of course,” Wrigley said, preening. He was already thinking of how to hold the wire in his claw so that his wings were free.
“Can we go back, Rachel? Can we?” Gage asked. Wrigley echoed, “Can we?”
“Alright,” Rachel conceded. “Maybe that laundry hen — “
“Mistress Pettigrew,” Wrigley corrected.
“Yeah, Pettigrew, the hen — “ Rachel paused, trying to convince herself to remember the name of household poultry. “Pettigrew may know more about the bloody monk habit by now.”
They turned on their heels and headed back the way they came.
You’ve achieved Farsight. It only works if Wrigley is within range and you both wear the goggles. Also, if you decide to pursue the Glass Factory perks, you will be able to upgrade the goggles and improve clarity. Without it, you’ll see a blurry landscape. Each upgrade will make the connecting tube more flexible, stronger, and longer. Eventually, you will see as Wrigley sees, as long as you pursue the craft.
Rachel left Gage and Wrigley in the glass factory, experimenting with different lenses and leather straps. She chafed at the delay these two were causing. The unsolved murder was like a ratchet in her stomach, winding tighter with each passing hour.
In the laundry, she saw no sign of the hen.
“Er,” she called out, “Mistress Pettigrew?” She felt like an idiot for interrogating a chicken.
Suddenly she felt a rapping on her boot. It was Pettigrew, pecking at her foot to get her attention.
“I’m glad you’ve returned,” Pettigrew said, one eye staring up at Rachel. “This habit that interested you is damaged.” She made a follow motion with her head and walked over to one of the laundry bays.
Watching the fluffy tail feathers, Rachel rolled her eyes. “Inspector Farraday and the case of the bossy hen,” Rachel muttered as she followed Pettigrew.
At the bay, Pettigrew scratched at the bloody habit until it was spread out fully on the ground.
“Without your questions I wouldn’t have noticed some of these irregularities,” Pettigrew said. She pecked with her beak at each of her clues with the garment. “Here,” Pettigrew noted, “is a tear mark that can only have come from a cat’s claw. And it’s from a cat who isn’t used to wearing clothes. Any animal with experience will use their teeth to lift the hem. An inexperienced animal will panic and paw at the middle of the garment.” Pettigrew clucked. “I don’t let our residents behave in such a manner. No one here would treat a habit with such barbarity.”
Rachel knelt and verified Pettigrew’s evaluation. She could see the claw marks that made a subtle tear in the habit.
“And this blood pattern,” Pettigrew continued with distaste, a caw rumbling in her throat. “The majority of the blood is on the outside of the garment, centered around the collar area.”
Thinking, Rachel said, “That would be consistent with Tom’s injuries. His back was broken by a strong blow. However, the internal trauma would’ve caused him to spit blood.”
“This garment also has markings on the inside, though.” Pettigrew held the hem with a claw and used her beak to flip the habit inside-out. “Here.”
Rachel leaned close. “Are these paw prints?”
“The animal — the cat — pressed its bloody hands firmly on the habit.” Pettigrew turned her eye on Rachel. “It was an extremely ignorant animal. Not one of ours.”
“What do you make of these marks, Mistress Pettigrew? Do they seem a little large for a cat?”
“Oh, yes. These are a different breed. One of the big cats, although possibly a juvenile.”
“What do you mean?” Rachel asked.
“This is a leopard, a tiger, or a lion.”
“Here, in Saddleback?” Rachel scoffed.
“No,” Pettigrew replied. “Not here. There’s only one place that imports exotic animals. The Monastery of His Created Church.”
“That’s our next place of investigation.”
“Good,” Pettigrew sniffed with a ca-caw, scratching the habit into a pile. “Take this piece of garbage with you.”