The ball didn't wind down until around nine in the evening, and most of the guests still seemed eager for more. The faces of the gentlemen and ladies were flushed with excitement, and some even proposed continuing the festivities elsewhere.
Jenkins had been curious about the second floor of the house, which had also been opened up for the party. However, both Hathaway and Briny had forbidden him from prying, each taking a moment alone with him to hint that they might answer his questions in the future.
He first saw Hathaway and Briny home, but after much deliberation, he still couldn't decide whom to invite to the family banquet at the end of the month. By the time he returned to St. George Street, a slight headache had begun to throb at his temples. He figured he might have had a bit too much grape juice.
The lights were on in Jenkins's house, which meant someone was inside. Sure enough, when he pushed the door open, he found Papa Oliver sitting on the sofa, a pair of spectacles perched on his nose as he pored over a stack of documents.
"Good evening. Would you like some tea?"
Jenkins set his cat down and turned toward the kitchen.
"No, thank you. There's something I need to discuss with you. Go change your clothes first, and be sure to wipe that lipstick smudge off your face."
Jenkins finally understood the coachman's strange looks on the ride home.
"Chocolate, I've told you many times, don't hide behind me and wag your tail when I'm looking in the mirror!"
He warned loudly, and the cat immediately trotted out, slipping through the crack in the washroom door.
After changing out of his somewhat restrictive formal attire, he returned to the living room to find Papa Oliver had covered the coffee table with documents.
He gestured for Jenkins to sit. Jenkins nodded, his eyes falling on an inventory list at the edge of the table.
"It's not a major crisis, really, but something happened at the shop this afternoon after you left. Something... difficult to describe."
Jenkins inquired, his curiosity piqued. He could now see that the papers covering the table were the antique shop's purchase and sales ledgers.
Papa Oliver hadn't yet entrusted him with these records, as they contained information Jenkins wasn't privy to.
"The problem is, I've forgotten what happened."
Papa Oliver took a breath, his voice laced with confusion.
"You know that feeling? When you're absolutely certain you've forgotten something, but you have no idea what it is?"
"I think I understand."
Jenkins affirmed, though not with complete certainty.
"So, I'm sure of it. Something happened between the time you left the shop and lunch, but I can't recall a single thing about it."
He placed the last document in his hand into the only clear space on the table and gestured for Jenkins to examine it.
"Sometime this afternoon, I started to get this vague feeling that I'd sold something this morning, but some kind of force is stopping me from remembering what it was."
"Why not report this to the Church? Or call upon the Sight of the Sage to dispel whatever is affecting your memory?"
"I tried. The Sight of the Sage allowed me to recall that I sold a weapon—an antique weapon. But the influence on my memory is continuous. The Sage can help me dispel it, but as soon as Her sight fades, the effect returns."
"What if you write it down? While you still remember?"
Jenkins asked again. For origınal chapters go to novel★fire.net
"Useless. I'm certain now that at some point, I acquired a weapon that cannot be recorded. It's a very strange power. In fact, when I went to the Church for help, no one could even remember the words I was saying."
At this, Papa Oliver looked at Jenkins with a grave expression:
"Which means that besides me, you're the first person who has been able to understand and remember any of this."
Jenkins breathed, mainly to cover up the fact that he had no idea what to say.
"So, what's the plan?"
"The slower approach is to wait for Bevanna to return. She's a demigod, so she might be immune to this memory interference as well. But she won't be back in the diocese until tomorrow evening at the earliest, and I'm worried the item might cause trouble before then."
"There's more than one demigod in Nolan City."
"Unless it's absolutely necessary, we don't seek help from followers of other faiths."
Papa Oliver shook his head in refusal, then gestured toward the papers on the table.
"That leaves us with one option: to check the shop's inventory lists. Ever since an incident five years ago involving an out-of-control numbered item, the very concept of 'the antique shop's inventory' has possessed a supernatural quality. I'm hoping we can find a clue there."
Jenkins recalled Papa Oliver mentioning this once. Someone had been selling a batch of old books at the shop, but mixed among them were pages from B-10-1-8211, "The Book Within the Book." It was a particularly dangerous Series B Extraordinary item, capable of altering concepts themselves to a certain degree.
They had been lucky. Papa Oliver had noticed something was amiss before the pages' power spiraled completely out of control. Even so, some of its energy had leaked, forcing Pops Antique Shop to close for two months while they waited for the effect to dissipate on its own.
Ever since, "Pops Antique Shop's Inventory List" had never contained an error. Both Papa Oliver and the Church believed this was the lingering power of B-10-1-8211 at work. Since it wasn't a negative effect, the Church had taken no action. For years, Papa Oliver had simply treated it as a convenience, but tonight, it had unexpectedly proven useful.
Checking the complex inventory lists was a tedious task; otherwise, Papa Oliver would never have asked Jenkins to help. The two of them worked until the early hours of the morning—so late that Chocolate had already woken up twice—before they finally found a discrepancy in the transaction records from the summer three years ago.
A complete purchase record was supposed to include the time, place, payment amount, and the name of the seller. Additionally, Papa Oliver would paste the corresponding receipt to the back of the page. The problematic entry had all the requisite fields filled out, but it took Jenkins checking it twice to realize that every detail was an exact duplicate of an entry from the same date one year prior.
It was a detail that would have been nearly impossible to spot without a sharp memory.
"In other words, the unrecordable nature of this unknown weapon clashed with the residual power of B-10-1-8211. The conflict resulted in a record being created, but a false one."
"That sounds about right. Let me see the name of the item—"
Papa Oliver pointed to the page, his finger resting on the small text written in dark blue ink:
[Antique Gun (Model Unknown, Date of Manufacture Unknown, Place of Origin Unknown)]