used dishes to the back where he put them to be washed. He stacked the dishes with some care, hoping he would be allowed to wash them.
Hanich had never washed dishes before, but when he watched his sisters they seemed to enjoy it. He had always wanted to try his hand at it.
The guests arrived as families, but the men gathered at the middle table and the women and children sat on the two outside.
The men were rough and worn as if they knew work, but had a demeanor about them which showed they knew the lack of work as well.
Hanich thought little of it when he saw that the men all wore shoes that had the shape of the chalky pills the doctors regularly gave him, although, the shoes were dark and leathery. They all wore baggy grey pants and thick cotton jackets which reached down to their knees. Every one of the men had a black bowler hat and thick round spectacles. The lenses were colored a dark blue and it was a wonder they could see a thing through them; but the lenses were also so thick one wondered how they could see at all without them.
The oddest thing happened when one of the men removed his spectacles to rub his forehead. His eyes were glowing the reddest red Hanich had ever seen. Hanich looked at the other men, each of their faces were alight with a deep red from the fire in their eyes. He looked again to make sure it was not a reflection, but the light was coming from the depths of their eyes. For a moment Hanich froze in place, watching the men. Then Mira jostled him from behind.
“Keep working Hanich,” she said.
“But their eyes,” Hanich said. “They are lit up... they are glowing.”
“Of course they glow,” Mira said. “I'll tell you all about it later. We have work to do.”
Hanich took a glance back at the men, then continued serving. It was nice to know there was an explanation, but without a doubt it was the oddest thing he had ever seen.
“Professor, you have a new boy,” one of the patrons said to Mr. Scrimm. “A bit on the scrawny side, ain't he?”
Mr Scrimm had entered the room carrying with him a small silk package. Hanich noticed him, but kept to his work. His new employer went directly to one of the men and handed the package to him. The man nodded a thank-you and pulled a pair of the dark lensed glasses out. He replaced his old pair, his eyes flashing when they were uncovered.
Mr. Scrimm did not seem daunted at all. He sat in the midst of them, eating a little. His attention was more on the conversations he had with those near him than on actually eating.
“Sit down and eat, son,” another said, pulling out an empty chair. “One good wind would take you completely away.”
“Give the boy a break, Mr. Bert,” another one said. “He will acquire his girth after he attains his height.”
Hanich made eye contact with the man speaking, as he had been taught to do. His eyes were definitely glowing. The red color had its origins in the iris, which was brighter than a candle flame. Not only did it glow, it seemed to throw off the occasional spark. The man immediately looked away from him, which Hanich took to mean he had stared at his oddly colored eyes and had been the cause of reticence.
“I’m sure I can avoid the wind, sir,” Hanich said, using his best smile. “Would you like more bread?”
The men ate and talked and laughed into the evening. Hanich gathered the dishes that had amassed so far and washed them, listening to the sound of glasses clinking in the water and reveling in the triumph embodied in every clean dish. At least, he decided, he had landed in a merry place. His arms would be sore in the morning, but he enjoyed working without someone nearby to tell him what he could not do or sending him to his room for prayer and reading.
He heard some snatches of conversation as he returned to the dining room. Amid the levity there was a more solemn mention of some child whose “lungs are underdeveloped” and who “could probably see just fine for a few yards, but for whom the rest of the world would be an impermeable haze.” Hanich wondered who it was they spoke of, and if it would be someone he would meet in the course of his activities. A boy like that could definitely use a friend. Perhaps Hanich could be a help to the young unfortunate.
Then another man, wearing the thick glasses which glowed purple when he wore them, arrived in the room, holding his bowler hat in his hand as he entered.
“Gentlemen,” he announced. “There has been an incident, and we are needed to lend help.”
It was as if the middle of the room exploded as the men stood up, putting on their jackets and thick glasses and moving to the door. Mr. Scrimm was in their midst, and grabbed hold of Hanich’s arm as the group walked by. The men congregated outside, none quite looking at any of the others. There was a chill in the air, but little wind.
“What’s happened, Mr. Green?” Someone asked as the red-eyed men placed their bowler hats on their heads and gathered into a tight circle. They were standing quite close, but not one of them looked up into the faces of the others.
“Someone broke into Miss Sonya’s teapot shop,” the new man announced. There was a muttered outrage from the rest of the men. Hanich did not know who Miss Sonya might be, but the men apparently felt a certain amount of protectiveness toward her.
Mr. Scrimm put his hand on Hanich’s shoulder.
“Do you mind if we accompany you,” he said to the men. “Perhaps we can help.”
“A’course sir,” Mr. Green said. “Glad to have ya along professor. We can always benefit from a set of clear eyes.”
Miss Sonya’s Teapot Shop
Mr. Scrimm retrieved his top hat and cloak as Hanich gathered his warm jacket. The sky was clear and the first stars were beginning to show as they walked out from the kitchen.
Miss Sonya’s teapot shop was a few blocks away, up the hill next to the steep hills which bordered the Academia. It had a very nice hand calligraphied sign hinged on a post out over the sidewalk, and a rather distressed young woman sitting out front. She was short, unreasonably short. When she stood she would not stand taller than Hanich’s elbow. She looked like a three-quarter sized doll wearing a fancy white dress, all covered with lace. Her brown hair was pulled up in a bun on top.
She looked as if she had been crying.
It was about a dozen men who arrived as the sun was starting to set, the group of red-eyed men, Mr. Scrimm and Hanich. As the sun faded from view the men's eyes glowed visibly even through their dark glasses. It would be a chilling effect on a dark night.
“Mr. Scrimm,” the young woman said as she noticed the group approaching.
“What has happened?” Mr. Scrimm asked. The group of men deferred to his leadership from the moment he joined them. Hanich took this as a good sign, that he was apprenticed to a man who was a leader.
“I left the shop for dinner,” Miss Sonya said. “When I came back to clean before evening and saw this…“ She pointed at the front display window. “…My prized gilded teapots are gone! Someone has been in my shop.”
Hanich looked at the prominent front window of her shop which would typically be a showcase for her wares, but the shelf behind the window was quite empty.
“You haven’t gone inside?” Mr. Bert asked.
“I’m afraid to take the first step inside,” Miss Sonya said. “Whatever thief stole my pots might still be there.”
“It will be okay young miss,” Mr. Green said. “All o' us are here now.”
As Miss Sonya stood up and pulled a set of keys from the pocket in her skirt and unlocked the door, Mr. Scrimm leaned down to speak to Hanich.
“Hanich,” Mr. Scrimm said. “You said you pay attention to details. Now is a good time to do so. Anything could be important. Look around and tell me everything you see.”
Hanich allowed himself to notice everything, even to the smallest detail. Mr. Scrimm guided him through the door with one hand gently on his right shoulder. He looked concerned. The front door was a wood framed door painted black with three glass windows on the upper third. Miss Sonya entered right behind the
m. She smiled sheepishly at the men which belied the look of horror which was evident in her eyes.
“See?” She said motioning at the window display. “The shelf is cleared off. Those were my best pots.”
The men with them lit four lamps which illuminated the four corners of the teapot shop. Four display cases near the back were filled with ten pots and thirty-two cups. On the floor beneath the window display shelf was a wide step which Hanich assumed Miss Sonya stepped up on to reach the teapots.
One of the boards in the floor in front of the empty display shelf creaked as Hanich stepped on it.
“It was likely someone who had been in the shop before,” Mr. Scrimm said. “They knew where to find what they were looking for.”
Hanich moved in so he could see more clearly. There was a small amount of dust on the shelf which once held the teapots. The circles where the pots once sat was faintly evident, as well as the trail where each of them had been taken off to the left.
“He took them off.” Hanich said, miming the right to left action with his right hand. “This way.”
“Right handed,” Mr. Scrimm said.
Hanich followed their direction to a small door in the corner of the shop. He turned the knob and walked through. He looked before he walked in, there was a small courtyard was open only to the sky. There was a potting wheel near the center of the open area, along with two work benches.
“Wouldn't this door