Paladins of the Pickle Goddess

We stepped off the coach in Central and followed the directions to the Laundress’s guild from there. It was tucked into the more industrial sections of the Central district, the heart of it before the core of industry had moved north with the expansion of the city. The Laundresses, fundamental, had stayed where they wished and forced the rest of the city to grow around them.

Once we were within a few blocks, we didn’t need any further signs. We were first greeted by the billowing steam, climbing around our legs and dampening our cheeks. As we pushed through, everyone cloaked in the hazy pale steam like so many wraiths, the heat hit us next. Overhead, the sun fell towards the horizon and illuminated every droplet in the steam, turning it a pale yellow in the sunset as I sweated underneath my robes.

The kitchen was warm. It was humid, often. It didn’t compare to the Laundresses guild.

Finally, we saw the flying clothing overhead. The Laundresses guild was a castle, buttressed by simple brick buildings, one printers shop still clacking out at this time of night, one apartment building that had the windows half-lit. It was twice as tall as either neighbor, clearly expanded over the years with different shades of brick and mortar. It had towering stacks, puffing out steam in even increments. In between the crenelations on the rooftop, clotheslines waved in the wind. Clothing of every color, all washed butter-yellow in the fading sunlight.

In front of us, the guild hadn’t stopped work for the night. The bright red of embers still shone through neat, manufactured-glass windows and neatly painted shutters. I could hear, just beyond, shouting and hustle and bustle in the muted tones of people who were well-accustomed to their work, shouting just to hear the familiar words leave their lips.

It made me miss the feeling of a skillet underneath my hands. I ignored the ache and stepped forward. The door was latched shut. There was a gleaming sign upon it.

Laundresses Guild

Whether ye be peasant or king;

Every arse needs clean underthings.

I knocked once. The glimmering haze beyond the doors didn’t change. Next to me, Duran shifted, trying to peer in. “They’ve got a pot big enough to boil a whole person!”

“That’s where we put uninvited visitors.” The man that opened the door was not what I had expected. For one, he was a him, very distinctly. He was wearing a tunic, with his sleeves rolled up to expose rubbed-red hands. He squinted between us with great suspicion. Then he reached down to a breast pocket and removed a pair of spectacles and positioned them on his nose. “You’re with the Law?”

He said it as if the Law was a force of nature, and we might simply be swept along, like victims of a typhoon.

I remained still as he inspected me. “We aren’t with the law.”

“Excellent.” He shut the door so quickly he nearly slammed it into my nose.

I knocked again.

When he didn’t respond, I knocked further. “We’re independent investigators!” I called, through the door.

“He’s going back to a vat,” reported Duran, who hadn’t moved from where his face was plastered against the window. “I didn’t think men could be Laundresses.”

“Well, it’s a new century.” This was from Apis. “It’s a very useful career. The work is consistent. You usually go home at night, too.”

“Usually?”

“Well, the vats are large.”

I knocked again before my apprentice could be convinced to apply for the Laundresses. It had to be done. I would have to pull out my final card. “We’re here for Andrena!”

The door opened again. Some steam had condensed on the spectacles, and he pulled out a perfectly pressed handkerchief in order to clean them off. “Keep your voice down,” he hissed.

“I’m a representative of Andrena,” I said. “I’ll say whatever I-”

“Fine,” he said. “Come in! But don’t be so loud about it. They only just came through looking for anyone causing a ruckus. We don’t need anyone else in the guild house tonight.”

With that bemusing pronouncement, we were pulled inside the steaming circle of the Laundresses guild. The steam was actually less prominent here, although it was certainly humid and hot. Everyone had their sleeves rolled up. There were Laundresses stirring the vats with great oars, others churning with large handles as cogs turned and poured out heaving rivers of soap. There was an ever-growing pile of clothing in the back, where stacks and stacks of dripping cloth were being added in a seemingly random arrangement to a large metal contraption with cables stretching up past the ceiling.

There were enough cogs and activity that I nearly forgot why I’d come inside. It was only when the Laundress coughed that I remembered. “We’re here about the letterboys,” I said.

“You and half the city,” he said. “We don’t burn things down. We are the guild. We remain neutral. We know nothing. You have had your interview; thank you very much. Good-bye.”

He grabbed me by the cloak and attempted to show me out. That might have worked well if I was a willowy twenty-something, but I was past thirty and tasted all of my food first, so I had a considerable amount of body weight to resist him with. He pulled at my cloak. I stayed where I was. Sweat trickled down my back.

“It’s about a specific letterboy,” I said, when it became clear he wouldn’t give up. Apis was distracted, staring up at a strange cog on the ceiling. Duran was wandering a little too close to a vat. I’d have to give him a talking-to about soups and stews tonight. “Shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“Ultimate discretion,” said the Laundress. He was leaning fully back, putting his weight into attempting to move me. I was leaning in the other direction. The cloak, pulled in between us, began to strain at the seams. “That is the sign of the Laundresses guild. That is why the city trusts us to clean their clothes, when they could go to any simple washerwoman instead. Would you want any simple person off the street to know the history of every stain? Every tear?”

I reached up to flick sweat off my forehead. A bell rang out, a strange series of chimes, and the other Laundresses all moved in sync. A vat was toppled, the water draining in a series of chutes and waterways. Another was filled. The oars stopped, then resumed movement. In the pause, a woman was sent with a great groaning cart to add more wet clothes to the contraption at the back of the room.

Everything was heaving with steam, with smoke. I could see, across the room, a younger Laundress scuttling back and forth to supply the stove that kept this place in steam and fire with more coals. She was shoveling in enough to supply a train.

“This isn’t for a personal reason,” I said. “You would have my word I would never tell another soul.”

“Your word? Set against our noble history?”

Another set of bells. We shifted back. Duran wandered closer to the vat, exchanged a few words with the woman operating the oar. She offered it to him to try.

Apis turned to us. “I’m sure we can come to some sort of peaceful resolution,” he said.

I leaned back further. The Laundress turned to scowl at Apis. It might have all worked out, if we hadn’t moved at the same time.

As it was, we slipped at the same time. My body went back, down towards the tiled floor, where my head hit and my eyes sparked with bright light. Across from me, I heard the thump more than I saw the Laundress fall.

I blinked once, and I saw the cogs spinning across the ceiling. What were they for? What were they doing? Another blink, and Apis was leaning over me, frowning. “Elysia? Elysia, look at me.”

“Why are there so many cogs? It’s a waste of metal.”

“Elysia, can you focus on my finger?” He waved it in front of me. I pushed his hand aside and sat up. He sputtered. “You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine.” My head hurt. I hated this place. I looked down at my cloak.

Where it had once been perfect- or, well, close to perfect- my favorite cloak, at least- it was now torn. Ripped in half.

The other half, brown and half-patched in the elbow, a history of everything I was- it was dangling in the stubborn hand of the Laundress.

He was shaking. His face was pale. He opened his mouth once, then closed it. His spectacles had fallen out.

“Now, now,” said Apis. “We’ve all had a long day.”

He patted me on the shoulder- as if I needed to be calmed!- and then turned to the Laundress. Apis sat back on his haunches and held out his hand, coaxing. He tipped his head to one side. “We can manage the repair. I’m sure you must be aching. ”

“This has been a crime perpetrated on the grounds of the Laundresses guild,” said the Laundress. “It must be repaired here, as well. Otherwise it will be unequal. Everything returned in expected condition. It was written in the Guild’s registry!”

He turned, hand scrabbling across the tile, and retrieved his spectacles. As he stood, perching them on his nose, he approached me. Still prone on the floor, Apis half leaned over me, I did what I could to escape- that is, I puffed up and hoped he would view me as a natural predator.

Unfortunately, it didn’t work that way. He pounced upon me like nothing more than a piece of meat and deftly untied the top of my cloak, whipping it off of my shoulders. “This shall be returned to you by tomorrow night!” He declared. “My crime shall be wiped from the record. Upon my honor!”

“I don’t want it back tomorrow night! Give it to me now!” I managed, but it was too late. Somehow his call had summoned additional Laundresses, and I was still off-balance from the sore spot on the back of my skull and the ringing between my ears. Before I knew what had happened, I was outside on the cobbles again, staring at the billowing steam as the door slammed on my nose. I stumbled to the side, feeling the lack of my cloak bitterly. Apis reached up to steady me. I tried to shove off his hand, but I was still weak from the fall.

That was definitely why I leaned into his shoulder for a moment, breathing deeply and letting the resentment fill me. That was what I got for visiting a guildhouse. My favorite cloak. All of the years spent with me, just for one spectacled man to remove it from my grasp.

Tonight, I thought, might be the night I finally broke and asked Apis to break out some of his reserve mead. I should take a drink in the cloak’s honor.

I finally shook off his hand and turned to leave, head aching. The street stretched out, wavering in the darkness. Apis was a hovering presence next to me.

“Wait,” I said. “Where’s Duran?”