8 — The TestIt was a flurry of activity. I swam upstream in the rapids.

  There were new shipments to receive, catalogue, and organize. Fresh plunder from one of Jossimer's test campaigns. There were designs for dispys to iterate on and descriptive texts to draft, submit to the Benefactors for approval, revise, proofread, and engrave next to each dispy.

  There were artifacts not quite fit for dispy that would be recorded and sent to either Johnathan, Grégoire, or to be destroyed, depending on the item. There were items that were meant to be destroyed that I would disappear into safekeeping.

  There were other staff-people to manage. Schedules. Payroll. Did we have enough security? Were there enough attendants to see to the needs of the guests, especially the extra super special upper-crust ones?

  One was now standing right in front of me. Charles Phaeros.

  “Ugh,” he belched, seeing a closed office door, and then me. “You. Girl. Where is he?”

  I beamed. Fuck this guy. “A pleasure to meet you sir I'm afraid he's currently very occupied and has asked to not be distributed but I can tell him you called if I may just get your–”

  “Get my what? I'm the mayor of this city. I own this museum! Don't you know anything? Were you born yesterday? I swear, where does Daelus find these charity cases. Your master is to be at my convenience at all times. I demand–”

  “Oh goodness I am deeply sorry it's just that all of you upper css folk look alike to me and from your attire I didn't recognize you as someone administrative. I can certainly ask if he can fit you into his schedule but it may take a moment so I'm afraid I must ask you to wait in the lobby. In the meantime may I offer you a breath mint?”

  He blinked and stammered. He knew he had been insulted, at least twice, and from his reaction this was a new sensation for him. He looked like he was coiling himself up to verbally destroy me, like a head in a jack-in-a-box being wound up.

  My heart was racing. I did not in a million years expect it to be like this. I was toying with him. I had no idea I'd behave this way. It was euphoric.

  “Wait your turn, Charles.” A woman's voice came from behind the still blustered mayor. It was Delphiné, another delegate. The fabled third woman. “She'll do as she said. You'll get your audience with dear Daelus.”

  He sneered at Delphiné and seemed to decide that if he was going to lose this round he'd lose to a member of his social css. He left.

  Delphiné stepped behind my desk as if she owned it, going right for Daelus' office door.

  “Excuse me, ma'am, but he's–”

  “Oh don't worry sweetie he won't mind a bit. You're new aren't you? I love your face.” Suddenly she was touching the back of my neck. I felt my entire body go hot. “I have questions about a draft for one of the pques. It will just take a moment and I'll be out of your hair.” She was in my hair. Literally. Fingers sliding between curls.

  I took the curl back. I didn't like my hair being touched without permission. I didn't like that I liked it when she did. “Alight,” I said. “It's true, we were expecting you.”

  We were expecting the topic. We weren't expecting her to show up in person. We expected an entourage.

  Two delegates in one day. They usually didn't take much interest in Daelus’ work. Something was up.

  “Thank you, sweetheart. I'll remember you, by the way. Loved hearing you turn Charlie's tongue into a fish.” I felt my skin get even warner. Any more and I’d boil.

  She was in the office with him now. With me. I shifted my focus to the interaction.

  “He's on the war path and you've once again jumped in front of his cavalry charge.” Her entire demeanor had changed. She was back to the version of herself Daelus knew: direct to the point.

  Her delegated role was propaganda. Often this meant boosting the reputations of the delegates themselves, but just as often it was her job to manipute public opinion in the other direction. This gave her enough influence to shield her from Phaeros’ wrath. Daelus had no such protection.

  “What did I do now?” Daelus asked, feeling resigned, but not hesitating to let his frustration show in his tone.

  “Same as always. How many pques have been rejected by the Benefactors this month? You're ignoring their directives. You're making my work harder. I should be the one storming in here, exhausted by you. But you're far less lucky than that. You're Phaeros' problem and when you make the Benefactors unhappy, he's the one they scold. You are well aware of how much he enjoys that.” She then tossed him a clipboard with several pages of text attached, dripping with red ink.

  Daelus sighed, and nodded. “So, I'll just accept the requested revisions, verbatim? We're going to dispy these items without mentioning Jossimer's conquests? No mention of how the items came to be in our fair city? Gifts from, how did they ask us to put it–developing cultures, is that it? And you're ok with that?”

  She stared bnkly at him. “Trust the process. We're bringing stability to the world. I do my part and you do yours.” She pushed up from her chair, and moved to the door. “I enjoy working with you, Daelus. Let's keep it that way, please?”

  I did want to keep it that way. I felt conflicted. Whatever side she was on, I wanted to be on too, but it wasn't adding up. What did anything we were doing have to do with stability?

  She emerged from Daelus' office, and grinned wide as she passed me, on her way back to the lobby where I could still see Phaeros waiting. “What’s your name, love?”“Sheam,” I said, anxiously.“Well, my dear Shaem,”“Sheam, ma’am. Rhymes with dream.” I corrected, and then was terrified that I had done something remarkably foolish by correcting a delegate. But then why did I feel so confident insulting Phaeros, who held far more status and power?“Sheam, like a dream,” she said, crisply, properly, her grin growing enough to make her eyes glow. “Keep up the good work, my dear Sheam. You'll do wonderfully here.”

  Fuck.

  But then my flustered state cracked open and a deeper excitement bubbled out. She looked right at me. She touched me. She was close enough to smell me. Entourage have that scent. She either didn’t notice it or everything else was so complete that she didn’t clock it. She had no idea I was an entourage. Or if she did she didn't show any signs.

  It was true. I could do this. I passed the test.