"So, it seems we are now in the 'steam' era," scoffed Sigerson, giving the newspaper a good flick. More than a week after Evelyn and Harvey returned from the workshop had passed; she was still slowly recovering from the serious burns but luckily didn't have to walk around wrapped in bandages any more. Sigerson too was allowed by Mr Mansell to move about freely, though not without careful scrutiny.
Although the twelve districts of Alms, a mountainous region known for its freezing weather and snowy pine forests, had by far the least number of Enforcers prowling around, Mr Mansell nevertheless kept a careful eye over the eager detective, warning him of the places to avoid.
Leaning to Harvey, who was on the other side of the couch eating homemade biscuits passively, Sigerson jabbed his finger at an article and handed over the newspaper to his companion. Harvey took it, read through the paper carefully, and said, "They're bringing war machines into their battles now?"
"Not only that, but everything will change now. Even the cabs will be replaced with other transport options."
Harvey took some time to think.
"If they do that," he said slowly, "won't there be a lot of people without jobs?"
"I have no doubt that this is the hand of Grock guiding Crowne," sighed the detective. "It says here that the government will compensate for their unemployment. Normally, they'd never do this kind of thing but since Grock wants the Custodians to stay on the good side of the people, he set this up. After all, the only thing stopping him from taking over Revalty at this point is the tension within his own country."
A brief flutter of wind announced Evelyn and Rose's arrival. Mr Mansell, looking rather tired from overworking, stumbled out from his study as well, sat down at the dining table, and pretended to skim through the documents in his hands while actually eavesdropping on their conversation.
"There's been an interesting murder just around the street corner if you're bored, Liam," said Rose, casting him a sideways glance to see whether this new piece of information had aroused his interest. To her surprise, Sigerson hardly reacted but merely replied, "Interesting. I'll take a look later."
Struck by a sudden epiphany, Sigerson quickly added, "Where is Asher's Hill orphanage?"
"It… It's in District 11 next to us, but…" replied Mr Mansell.
"But the crime rate there is higher and we'll be in danger even with your protection, is that right, Mr Mansell?"
"How did you know?"
Evelyn smirked smugly to herself while everyone except Sigerson stared at her in amazement.
"It was nothing much," sniffed Sigerson in a bored tone to the room. "She has a certain gift for mind-reading, that's all."
"Mind-reading?" asked Harvey, who was clearly puzzled. "Does that even exist?"
As Evelyn opened her mouth to reply, Sigerson quickly asked, "Do you think you could arrange for a cab to take us to Asher's Hill?"
"I'm unsure… My power doesn't extend much beyond District 12, you see. May I ask why you insist on going there?"
"I have a lead on Blight. He might've gotten away and escaped to Revalty, but if this clue leads somewhere, it could provide us with some helpful information."
Mr Mansell seemed to be struggling with himself. On one hand, he fully trusted in Sigerson's abilities and supported his work, but on the other, he was reluctant to send his friend into inevitable danger. Evelyn spoke up.
"Maybe we can arrange for someone to investigate in your place, Will?"
"No," he replied flatly. "This is something I must do with my own hands."
Still unsure of what to do, Mr Mansell turned to his daughter for help who gave her opinion readily.
"Why don't you send Eve and Harvey along with Liam, dad? They can act as his travelling companions, right? Criminals don't usually target groups of people, so they'll be a little safer."
Mr Mansell still looked unsure, so Evelyn jumped in and said, "You can leave Will to me, Mr Mansell. I'll look after him and Harvey while we're there."
Seeing as there was no point in arguing, the worried man went to prepare their transport and when he was finished, he handed Sigerson a map along with an address.
"Make sure you stay safe," he said, waving at them as they turned to enter the cab. However, before Sigerson, the last one out, could leave, he whispered, "Do you still have your revolver with you, William?"
Sigerson nodded grimly and replied. "It's loaded and ready to use."
Mr Mansell blew a sigh of relief.
"That's good. I daresay you might have to use it, so watch out for yourselves, alright?"
"I'll bring them back in one piece—don't worry yourself Mr Mansell."
---
The journey to District 11 was far shorter than he'd expected. Within half an hour of optimistic chatter, which had been initiated by Evelyn as a means to lift the heavy mood, their cab stopped in front of a massive willow tree, covered from top to bottom in thick snow. The scenery didn't change much; everything was still pure white with the sole exception of a massive grey building, slumped dejectedly among the other cottages.
It wasn't particularly old like some other buildings Sigerson had seen before but nevertheless, its crumbling tiles and dirty moss climbing along its walls made it seem like it was weeping with heartfelt sorrow,
"It's, urm… not as homely as I thought it would be," said Evelyn sadly.
Sigerson opened the gate and trudged through the snow-covered pathway leading up to the gloomy orphanage.
"Well, how the building looks won't help with the investigation, will it? Hurry up, you two."
When they eventually reached the ornate spruce doors of the main building, Sigerson turned around and said to them, "After I enter, I want you both to wait outside for me alright? There's no point arguing, Evie; I'm going in alone."
With that final snappy command, he entered through the doors without another look back. As he walked, Sigerson couldn't help but wonder about the growing distance between him and his cousin. Somehow, it felt like her pride, which had always been a minor problem, had risen up to separate them.
At this rate, her self-confidence could very well put her through unneeded danger like at the workshop. Is she still trying to prove herself to be my equal? If I don't stop her soon, it could end up in another mess…
When he reached the counter, Sigerson put on his warm grin, hiding his thoughts perfectly once again.
"Hello. Do I want to adopt a child? Yes, uh… Could I have a look at them first? Thank you."
And he was ushered into another room, disappearing in a sea of whimsical chatter.
---
Outside of the orphanage in the white yard sat Evelyn and Harvey, the former muttering to herself and casting uncertain looks at the doors of the building. Harvey, who had been mustering the courage to initiate a conversation, finally stuttered, "So how do ya read people's minds?"
"Hmm?"
She suddenly turned around, surprised but pleased to have someone to talk to.
"Oh, you mean my mind-reading ability? It's just a form of synesthesia."
"What's synesthesia?"
Evelyn thought for a while before replying, "Sometimes, I can sense people's emotions through taste; that ability is synesthesia. My senses just get mixed up, so instead of noticing other people's feelings like you do, I can taste it, depending on how strong they're feeling that emotion."
"So do different emotions have different flavours or something?"
Her eyes brightened—it was clear that she was enjoying this, probably because she was often stuck with her untalkative cousin.
"I can only perceive them as the four basic flavours. For example…"
She hesitated before saying, "I can tell you're extremely happy, yet usually nervous, which tastes sweet and salty at the same time."
Although he didn't seem too glad to have his emotions laid bare, he was nonetheless impressed.
"There is something that didn't make sense though," the boy muttered thoughtfully. "Back in the cottage, how did ya know the reason behind Mr Mansell's anxiety? How did ya know that the crime rate here was high?"
"That?"
Evelyn looked a bit embarrassed as she replied, "I just did some quick research before you guys arrived. There's nothing special about it, if you were expecting something."
"I think it's still pretty cool," muttered Harvey.
Evelyn froze then pulled him in a warm hug.
"You really are an adorable little kid, aren't you?" she said, forgetting the fact that he was only two years younger than herself.
Presently, Sigerson came out from the orphanage into the snow-covered path, an unreadable expression pasted on his face. When he reached the bench the two were sitting on, he said, "I've got the information I need; let's get out of here before something happens."
Evelyn watched her cousin beadily like a raptor, scanning him for signs that could betray his thoughts, but none could be found; his face was set in stone. There was, however, an increasingly bitter taste radiating from him—what in the world could he have seen to make him feel such fear?
---
During their journey back, Sigerson said nothing and did nothing except for fiddling with one of his scarf's grey threads. A curious thought prompted him to speak.
"By the way, Evie, you've come into contact with Blight a few times, haven't you? Couldn't you detect anything from him at all?"
She blinked rapidly then replied, "No. I couldn't feel out a thing when I talked to him. You could say it was like talking to an empty void."
Her face shone with honesty; nothing but the truth came from her mouth.
Sigerson nodded, sinking back into his thoughts.
So he can hide his emotions so effectively, even Evie couldn't sense anything? Just what has that man gone through?
A thundering crash made them all jump.
"What's going on?"
The cabman halted the cab, climbed down from his seat, and poked his head through the window, saying, "There's trouble up ahead. It looks like the Enforcers and the rebels have resumed fighting around here."
"Fighting?" asked Evelyn, her face showing genuine surprise. "I thought the Enforcers were far more secretive than that."
"Well, you can't expect the rebels to stay quiet forever, can you?"
He stretched his arms, revealing a small folder tucked away secretly under his elbow.
"There's another route we can use—here."
The map Mr Mansell had given him was now in turn, handed over to the cabman. The cabbie gave a sign of recognition, then whipped the horses back to work.
"Just what are the rebels doing?" murmured Sigerson, making sure nobody could hear him. "They must have a purpose for fighting, but what is it?"