“Look at you, already back to work.” Charmion removed her oversized headphones when she saw Sao crossing the near-empty office floor. It was past dinnertime. “And working late, no less.”

“Rai’s the one who was hospitalized. But I appreciate the compliment. I had an invigorating lunch. The afternoon nap may also have contributed.” He winked.

She laughed, showing teeth. He liked that. There was something fresh about her demeanor, the way she flung all her energy into that laugh, the massive headphone bouncing on her shoulders like a neck pillow. And of course, how she had an axe tilted against the office wall behind her. She pulled all focus past the grey walls and faded carpet, away from the empty cubicles. Devoid of their daytime inhabitants and distractions, they were all reminders of Delta. He knew further back there was the conference room and outer glass wall which would be looking out at the deepening twilight - that was a reminder of Sigma and beyond. But Charmion, who had joined long after Delta had made his fatal departure, who had a desk with no view, reminded him of nobody but herself.

He held up a pair of manila envelopes. “Is the chief in? Rai has some private messages for him.”

“Out to dinner with the usual crowd. But he’ll be back soon - I’m not just saying that, this time. Fifteen minutes or so - you’ll catch him.” She snapped her fingers. “Where are my manners? Lemme get you some coffee. Or do you prefer tea? I’m thinking of some peppermint myself.”

“Tea would be wonderful.”

“Good. I’m not a coffee person.” She turned on a heel toward the staff room at the far end of the hall behind her. “Don’t tell Rai, eh? He’ll have me burned at the stake for heresy.”

When she returned with the steaming cups, Sao was on a knee, inspecting the axe behind her swivel chair. “You can touch it, you know. Haul it around if you need. Doesn’t bother me or the axe.”

Never much of a sportsman, Sao thought it better not to try lifting the thing. He ran his finger down the blade. “Hello. Ma’am?”

Charmion laughed again. “You’re taking Chief Zu’s methodology to heart, I see. Most people don’t talk to ‘em. Don’t have to, a good weapon will have a sense for a person without words. Not that I’m gonna stop you. It’s kinda cute.” She set the cups down and put an elbow on the desk, one leg crossing the other. For a split second, she reminded him of somebody else, he wasn’t sure who. Someone from far back in time. “Lucky break for me, that conversation skills aren’t a requirement. I’ve always been terrible with names. Of course, in this case, it’s my Gramma so she came with a name.”

“Ah, that’s right. You helped make this.” He turned. “What sort of person was your grandmother?”

“Great-grandmother. She was a real firecracker. The best weaponsmith in the county, not that we had a lot of smiths. Or magicians. Or people.” Even Charmion’s smallest smile was toothy. “Big on family but not a traditionalist per se, she did a lot of travelling. She liked tracking down celebs and taking pictures with them and collecting their autographs. She left the hoard to me in the end, as well as...” She nodded toward the axe.

“But that’s her in person, is it not - her soul, at least.” Sao joined her at the desk, picking up his cup of tea. “How does that work? The transmutation, was it?”

“It’s a secret. Tradition. The method, how much of the person is used, all varies per family. If you mean what she had to do, not much. Lie back and chill. She was at the end of her life, and she was willing, and happy. So she was malleable, her whole body was distilled into its magical essence, then forged and sealed into that state. It sounds more gruesome than it is.”

“Would it be possible for children to be used in...?”

“You’re kidding.” Her smile tightened. “We absolutely wouldn’t, and no approved forge would ever involve kids. It’s irresponsible on multiple levels. Young spirits are unstable, their morals and sense of resolve have no guarantee. It’s always gotta be an elder, or at least an adult - finding soldiers in their final moments is a little tricky these days, so terminal volunteers are best. A kid with their whole life ahead of them, willingly submitting to a ritual like that? Can’t trust it. That’s another crucial aspect - the willingness.” She shook her head vigorously. He saw, as the pom-pom earrings flew, that the chip in her ear was not a chip at all, but a tattoo that crawled toward the back of her neck, disappearing under her hair. “If the spirit struggles at all, the integrity of the ore is lost. Without that, the wielder ends up with something fragile and unresponsive - at best. And if the consciousness lock can’t take its proper place, that’s a nightmare scenario for... everyone involved.”

“Sounds like it. But - the very listing of these faults - who documents them?”

“Okay, the standards are pretty recent for the incantation as a whole. By ‘recent’, I mean the last three centuries. Maybe a millennia ago, child soldiers with sufficient knowledge self-transmuted the old fashioned way. And maybe that’s how Sigma’s Bells were formed.” She bit rather viciously at her thumbnail. “But in the recent stuff, it got regulated by one family. They’re pros - they were honing the craft since the feudal days, offering service to the dying on actual battlefields. Some of their modern stuff is even used by the military - their quality's no joke. The name of the family is Wishfort.”

Sao staggered and coughed, tea going down his windpipe. “I - is that so - sorry, that was a shock. You see, Wishfort was the name of my school. There was no magic in the curriculum, though.”

She just grinned. “The school side-biz was even more recent. They were branching out. Although Wishfort did work with the army at some point, the fact of the matter is, the blessed weapon trade is being - maybe already is - outclassed by high-tech artillery. Stuff that even nonmagicians can use. Magic is typically more effective at close range, after long exposures, and then there’s the training.” She puffed through her nose. “When you have the option to launch a hundred drones from miles away with the tap of a button, why invest in pricey axes that require you to hang around on the front lines in person?” She went to retrieve her own axe and stroked the heel where the blade met wood. “The Wishfort schoolhouse was a pseudo-charity subsidized by their local township. I looked it up. The pictures of the place looked pretty classy.”

“That’s certainly a word for it.” Sao took his tea, smile affixed.

“Ahh, what am I doing, telling you this. You were there! It blows my mind that we're even talking. I mean, I know their graduates are all over the world, but I’ve never met one. We should chat about it again sometime. Did you know a lady called Millamant…?”

“The headmistress, I think. She was a severe woman, highly professional even around children. A little frightening, to be honest.”

“More or less than Rai is? Hah!” Her eyes were twinkling brighter than any stars he’d seen, real or illusioned. “She's the genius who forged the chief's piece. He showed me the cert, once. My Gram's just one soul - and god bless her - but the chief somehow got a core of a dozen: a small battallion of soldiers from the 15th century, refurbished and combined into that axe of his. It drives me nuts thinking how much he must have shelled out..."

"Impressive for sure. She did have an unusual sort of poise."

"God, I wish I could have met her. I’d love to hear more about her, about anyone else you met there, maybe over a coffee. Or more tea.”

Sao raised his cup. “I was only at Wishfort's school for a few years, when I was very young. I was never aware of the forge. And of school; I don’t remember much.”

“Maybe you remember more than you think. Oh - oh, I must sound like a lunatic. I'm not trying to nose into your business but the forge, when it comes to the forge, I mean - I just - you see, I was totally going to join Wishfort myself."

Sao blinked, twice, before forming a response. "You were?"

"Ever since I started learning the trade. It was a family aspiration. None of them had made it before, but we'd been trying for generations to get into the Wishfort circle. I know I don't look like much of an egghead, but I studied like crazy to be the first. Before I came to the city, Wishfort was my dream - they were absolute pinnacle when it came to the craft, I’d be working with the best. I even got my teaching assistant's certification. Since Wishfort's school opened, they specified all entrants had to be willing to serve at the schoolhouse too.” Charmion’s next burst of laughter seemed to come out explosive, echoing across the emptied floor. “But the entire operation shut down before I could even apply.”

 “It did?”

“Not long ago.” She shook her head. “The school and the forge closed. I never even got to visit. Business in the region as a whole went dry.”

“Too bad. The weaponcraft, the way you and the chief put it, sounds like a fading art form. To lose a major player... it’s a shame.”

“Is it?”

He sipped the tea and looked at her. Her smile had become opaque, like the fog of Watchers’ Wood. In the midst of that unnameable expression her green eyes sparked, cut like emeralds. It was hard not to see them as a warning of sorts. Guarded, he smiled back.

Trained for Wishfort. That explained the split-second of deja vu - she reminded him of his teachers.

What would they think of him now? What did she think of him? He finished his tea and veered from that path of thought. It wasn’t the first time and he was sure it would not be the last, especially if teatimes with Charmion lay in his future.

The thud of boots coming down the carpeted floor alerted them to the chief’s arrival. Sao lifted his delivery items once again and gave a small bow. “Thank you for the tea.”

“It’s been fun,” she said, the veil of fog lifting. He noted, with a breath of relief, that she accepted the second envelope he had left under her keyboard without question.

---

“You are aware that you are entitled to further leave after this week’s incident.” Zu checked his watch. “And it is currently past your office’s operating hours.”

“It’s a favor for Rai. I had a restful time off yesterday.”

The chief turned on a tiny yellow lamp. His office, like his car, was a closed capsule. There were no windows and without the voices of Rai, Raph and Charmion, it was silent and still in the way Sao could hardly stand; and naturally cool, stripping away any excuse he might have to turn on the air conditioning. The little wooden elephants were still in their places at the edge of the desk, though the upturned nameplate had been righted - with no particular grace. It sat at an unhelpful angle, facing inward as if the chief needed to be reminded of his own name.

“If you have a delivery,” Zu said, without looking at him, “put it in the slot of incoming reports.”

It took awhile for Sao to find the slot. Under each column of paper that bookended the desk, there was a crushed plastic tray, one reading ‘incoming’ and the other ‘outgoing’. “Sorry to add to another to your queue,” Sao said, balancing his envelope on top. “Rai thought it would be best if you received his report directly. He still has some suspicions about outsiders having illicit access. Bell defenders, or the media.” Not to mention his even greater suspicions that his reports would be seen by no eyes at all, immediately trashed if suspected to be averse to the military - hence a duplicate for Charmion. “It’s not our intention to rush.”

Zu collapsed onto the monolithic seat behind his desk. “Fine.” He unclipped his axe from his belt and hung it in its hammock, then pulled out a cotton-bound ball from his pocket and placed it on the cushion before him. The wrappings fell back to reveal the uneven, gem-striped surface.

“You're carrying one of the Bells.”

“Yes. The first one retrieved. The others are in secure storage. This one is still having cycles of revival.” Zu set his palm over it. “This was likely the faulty component. No - faulty is an insensitive word. A living thing that has a conscience is no fault. Being able to reject an unfit user can be a great strength.”

Sao said nothing. Under the chief’s hand, a tiny thundercloud was brewing, a dark fizz flecked with glittering points, a starry sky that could be held in one’s palm. With a chill he realized it was a tiny model of Sigma’s - or Desmond’s old vision, simply being held back from expanding. It reminded him of the battery-powered projector he’d left lying on the office shelf.

The chief sighed and finally let his hand fall to cover the thing, snuffing out the illusion. The air settled. “You aren’t a ranked investigator.”

“That’s true. I’m Rai’s assistant.”

“You shouldn’t have been taken to the woods.” Zu frowned, withdrawing his hand to reveal a slightly less lustrous Bell. “Improvised safety waivers are rarely sufficient.”

Sao thought. “You mean that recorded agreement? Don’t worry about it.”

Zu’s frown deepened, his eyes disappearing in the shadow of his brow. “That’s not an assumption we are free to make. One can wish that incidents or deaths can be forgotten so easily but that is not how an organization that handles human lives can be permitted to function. But your being that close was largely my mistake. As a result, I have nulled the hastily recorded waiver and accepted full responsibility for any complaint.”

“Thanks,” Sao said, unsure if that was the right answer.

“As such, you are not authorized to disclose comments on the case and relevant persons through the media or otherwise. Please forward any enquiries to this office via the receptionist, or to your supervisor. Full details of the agreement will be provided to you when the paperwork passes tomorrow.”

Ah, clarity. Sao only smiled. In the corner of his eye, the turquoise striation that bisected the Bell seemed to flicker in the lamplight, like a tiny river. How? The lamplight was static, a tired, elderly yellow. It was particles inside the Bell that were energized, moving of their own accord.

He tilted his head. “Awake again?”

Zu’s sigh filled the cramped space. “It’s erratic. But the cycles are becoming less frequent.”

“You’ll put it to rest eventually, then.” Sao bent low and smiled at the shifting blues. It was the closest, calmest opportunity he’d had to inspect the thing. A true feat how the right light could turn a rock into a marbled gem, a tiny planet. “You’ve gotta be tired, right, little guy? Over twenty years of hard work - I can’t imagine it. But I imagine it’s high time for bed, Cammy.”

The stagnant air began to shiver, reverberating with a silent hum. Sao raised his head. It was not quite enough to be recognized as noise, but there was an undeniable feeling of sound. Chatter from another plane.

One of Zu’s stony brows rose - or did it? When Sao looked, his face was still cloaked in shadow. “A name?” Zu asked before Sao could back away and out the door. 

“Oh. Just something of a joke within a joke. When I -” He hesitated. “When I visited Bell the first time, long before this week’s case, I saw something or someone that I now realize was a manifestation of the Bells. I had this strange misconception of them being named Cammy - you see, there was this talk of camellia trees--”

“Have you encountered the manifestation again, recently?”

Here was someone more literal-minded than Rai. “I haven’t felt any effects of the Bells since Wednesday.” Sao smiled. “And the name was just a one off thought, three years ago. But the name fits, no? I thought of a piece of music favored by one of my tutors. A very complicated tune, one that I certainly couldn’t handle. Much like our small friend here.” He laughed. Zu pointedly did not, so Sao stopped. “Not camellia. La campanella. The little Bell. Not the most creative appellation, of course. Sigma called them ‘the Bells’ already, and Desmond seemed to do the same. But maybe a tiny change of pace... helps...?”

Zu did not budge.

“Well. I should be going now.” Sao made a show of dusting off his jacket, wishing he had something to gather up in his hands and be off with. “Thank you for seeing me.”

The door creaked open and he heard Zu mutter, “Say goodnight, Campanella.”

“Goodnight, Campanella,” Sao warbled, without thinking. He felt imminently ridiculous and dared one last look at the office.

In the shadows beyond the tiny pool of orange lamplight, Zu’s face was still inscrutable. At least he wasn’t laughing. Perhaps he hadn’t even been talking to Sao. The only eyes Sao saw were those formed by the carvings on the axe which hung behind the chief’s chair, a blade of silver; a dozen souls of ancient soldiers; cradled in a makeshift baby’s sling. Sao sighed. The bizzarre humor, or lack of it, was going to keep him pondering for days to come.

As for the Bell - perhaps it was a trick of the light - or distance - or of his memory, the most unfaithful factor of all - but its glittering, rocky surface seemed to have gone dark.

Sao finally pulled away from the door, leaving the chief with his preferred company. He waved to Charmion who had her head down, headset pulled back over her ears. When he hit the cool air outside the police building, he breathed deeply and faced the sky. Mist or smog was blotting out the stars but the moon was luminous.

Beneath them, the city gleamed even brighter, defying imagination. Who needed dreams anymore?

Sao yawned, stretched as the glass doors of HQ swung shut behind him, slowing before impact with a soft hiss. Then he strode away into the newly quiet night.