Myrken Wants You

[Glenn]

Was it still called the Calomel farm? Likely so. Did that mean that Glenn Burnie was welcome there? Very likely so, for that reason and others. He was the one who came to read Agnie's letters. He was all but betrothed to her best friend. He was friendly enough with Dom. He'd compliment Magda's cooking like a young gentleman. He'd put up with Otto for the most part, maybe somewhat grumply, but at least wouldn't have the boy locked up for some reason or another. Glenn Burnie may had become the government in many ways, but this was a farm that had been saved by the Governor.

Still, he didn't visit anymore. Generally, he had people for that sort of thing these days and no time for pittances such as social visits anyway. This seemed to warrant it, however, for he was there now, eating pie. He had asked for the one brother that mattered to be out at a certain time, and if Petronela couldn't manage that task, then they wouldn't have anything to talk about in the first place. The rest of the family might swarm, though they probably wouldn't, but Nela and he could deal with that even at the worst. Granted, it might involve locking up Otto for a time.

And if they couldn't? Once again, then he woud have little use for the upstart Kaczmarek girl. Even then, though, this trip wouldn't be a total waste. He didn't lie, not about this. Magda was an EXCELLENT cook.

[channe]

And here's Nela at the door to the small kitchen -- the Kaczmareks have rooms now, more than four, and the thought of it still makes Magda dizzy with pride -- with her arms crossed. Magda has been and gone, plunked down the pie, and is fine tonight to leave well enough alone, having some chores to be done in the manor house; Otto, Glenn would have seen in the courtyard to the workers' homes, quite possibly pulling the legs off a spider with some of the farmer boys; Karol? Well, he's sleeping off his hangover in the back bedroom.

Nela will stand there, her arms crossed, her shoulder leaning up against the well-carved doorjamb. She's wearing gingham and cheap lace, but her dark hair is curled and that's definitely makeup touching her cheek and lips. Seems she's growing up.

"Dom's in Fitchton," she says, as a prelude. "For a day and a half." She pauses, and walks into the room. Her eyes flicker about -- what's she looking for? Pie? "What'd you do to piss him off?"

[Glenn]

Glenn took his damn time to answer. There was pie in front of him. The honest truth of it was that he was looking for something here tonight. Ideally, it'd be something he could find within Petronela, but Burnie rarely did anything for just one reason anymore. Things haven't quite tasted as good in the last year. It's been a mild annoyance at worst. He's been able to purchase finer foods, finer things, and the more expensive the food, the more refined one's palette had to be, and Burnie's certainly wasn't. Magda's pies were one of the best things he had eaten over the last few years. If nothing else, the pie ought to be worth it. It wasn't, but it ought to have been.

Perhaps that made him a little grumpy as he looked up at the girl, but she wouldn't know it from the smile on his face. Perhaps he didn't care. She was a better prospect anyway. "It's not what I've already done to piss him off. It's about what I'm about to do. Are you sure you want to do this?" Keep in mind that the Kaczmarek girl hadn't the least idea what he was going to ask her. "You end up working for me and nothing's going to be the same for you. Ever." His smile was nice and even. No pressure, right?

[channe]

She crosses the room, dropping into the chair across from Glenn with far more delicacy than any of her siblings would have allowed. She's colored her lips, drawn black liner across her eyes; seems that the Kaczmareks now have disposable income enough to provide a younger sister with cosmetics. Certainly they have to have some sort of other income besides Magda's pies and Dominik's masonry.

"I --" she says, her eyes going down to where she's tapping on the table with her index finger, almost reflexively -- "Are you asking me to go against my brother? That would take a lot o' balls, Burnie, asking me to do that. A lot of balls, and compensation enough."

She raises her eyes to meet his. A challenge.

[Glenn]

Burnie was just smiling. This was fine. He'd rather talk about Dom than Agnie anyway. This wasn't about Dom, after all. He couldn't say the same about Nela's sister, though, even if he wanted to. Still, so long as it didn't come up, it was all well and good, and if it did? Well, then it'd probably be well and good too.

"All I said, is that he wouldn't like it. Probably." Burnie looked down at her finger, the smile still upon his face. Usually, he did the tapping, but this once, he'd allow some encroachment. It was her house, even if it was his Myrken. "You're not going against anyone. You're going for yourself and for all of us. Were I him, I probably wouldn't like it. I have a need. We're going to see if you're capable enough to fill it. I'll tell you what I don't need, Petronela Kaczmarek." Calm voice, easy smile, slight, lazy lean upon the table which she was tapping. "I don't need someone so quick to jump to conclusions."

[channe]

"Well," she says, taking a breath, "Dom doesn't like much of anythin' these days." It's almost a conclusion, but she folds her hands anyway, eying the pie before returning her gaze to him. Kaczmareks, though -- they're all about jumping to conclusions, sometimes with murderous consequences, and Nela has learned from the best.

"So, uh," she says, almost as if she's made a decision. "What you want me to do, is it better'n workin' at the shops?"

[Glenn]

"About time you got to a question that mattered." Burnie's smile didn't shift in the least, even though the words now had a wry element to them. His tone hadn't shifted either for what it was worth. "Basically, Nela, I'm going to give you a test. And I don't care that you think you're good enough that you don't need one. I'm giving it to you anyway, if you accept. Eventually, what I'm going to want you to do is whatever you think needs doing the most. And obviously a part of that is you figuring out exactly what it may be." He would slow down here. It was a maze of words and it might get confusing. He had hoped she was sharp enough that she could work her way through the maze, preferably in real time. Otherwise there was little point to him being here in the first place.

"Here's how we're going to begin." The once-mapmaker reached down to his belt and withdrew a rather hefty pouch full of coin, the sort of amount that a girl like her had rarely seen all in one place at one time. "I am going to give this to you and you're going to use it in the way that you think will be most useful to myself and to Myrken. I will expect results," and that word was said very particularly but without any further detail, "when I check back in, oh, let's say a few weeks, a month at most. I will, of course, disavow you upon any particularly nasty public failure, so be imaginative but show some care. You want me to see the results as positive." If he disavowed her, certainly few people would take her word over his on this matter. It was positively outlandish.

He pushed the money towards her, as pleasant and relaxed as ever. "Now, of course, you can just keep the money, hoard it, spend it upon yourself and your family, but I will know and I assure you that it will be the last time we meet on any professional level." He was testing her imagination, her good judgment, her initiative, her willingness, her trustworthiness. Or perhaps he was just playing a game with her. How far would she go for success, for the chance to make a difference? She had no way of knowing. "If you do well, we can discuss where to go next, be it another one of these pouches or something more formal and supervised. It all depends on you and your choices," on how she took this opportunity. "So then, are you still interested?"

[channe]

"And you're giving me money to spend," she says, like this is the most hilarious thing in the universe. If it were her own money, there'd be a dress, a necklace, something pretty that she couldn't have when she was younger. Her eyes are focused on the bag of cash like there's nothing else in the room -- no pie, no Burnie. She reaches out and draws her hands over the top, and then lifts her eyes to meet his.

"You say 'positive.' What's positive to you?" She knows, or at least she knew; there's enough talking in town, through Agnie's talk...

[Glenn]

Maybe it was the most hilarious thing in the world, giving money to a Kaczmarek. Maybe that's why he was doing this, giving the girl rope to hang herself. Still, Glenn Burnie didn't tell many jokes anymore, not like he used to, not like naming a horse after Nela's sister, dubbing her Agony, a whole lot more on top of that. That was a lifetime ago, perhaps two if you count Agniezska's rebirth.

No, now he was meeting the younger Kaczmarek's eyes and smiling as if it was the easiest thing in the world. "That's the thing, Petronela. This is a test. I need someone who can figure that out as well as how to execute it. Either you can do it or you can't." Then there was a pause, a hesitation, the smile not fading in the least. "Unless you just want me to tell you what to do and then follow orders, Pet." He was giving her a chance to be her own girl, to make her own path, so long it was one in a direction that aided him. The alternative would be to be owned far more directly, and her name made that real easy to signify. Easy way or hard way or no way at all? What's it going to be, then?

[channe]

But if there's one thing that Kaczmareks can do, it's handle money. Sure, Calomel had given the servants of the former Baker farm a definite hand up, but every single stone of this new house was earned and formed and placed and finagled by one of the family. Now what the other investments are, only the family knows.

"I don't follow orders," she snaps, all of a sudden reaching forward and picking up the money. Glenn Burnie has given her a dare, and a dare is one thing you never give a Kaczmarek and expect to be turned down. And then she lifts her chin, trembles a bit, but nods. "Just so we're clear. I'm not gonna do just anything. I'm not *desperate.*"

[Glenn]

"Nela," and no, he wasn't calling her Pet anymore. "I don't foresee some mission later on where I'll need you to impersonate a teahouse girl." Deadpan, though the smile was still on his face. She was being dramatic, showing fire and fury, much like her older sister. Good. That's why he was there. Still, it was washing past him, his voice calm and wry.

That said, he HAD mentioned missions, just now, tossed that out there. She could take it how she would, but he would add, just to make sure they were clear. "I want more for Myrken then you could possibly imagine. Good things. Figure out which ones you want to help me achieve and then make them happen."

The smile started to move just a little bit, not quite becoming a smirk. "Since you've agreed, one last thing to get you started." A rusty, beaten up key was placed down between them. "If you start showing me that you can do this and do it well, you'll get moved up to an office, maybe even get a title, a staff, if that's what you want for yourself. For now, though, you'll need a base of operations in town. Agnie's old 'house' in town." House was a very generous term. Smelly shithole shack in a shady part of town was a more accurate one for it. Obviously it had not been a hard thing for Glenn to purchase for the government, once Agnie had sold it. "I'm not giving it to you, but I am giving you full use of it so long as you're serving in this role. So, anything else then?"