"Does this really not faze you at all?"
Inside the antique shop, Magic Miss watched as Jenkins crouched beside the corpse, patting it down. With her arms crossed, she finally asked the question.
"I have a firm grasp on what's real and what's an illusion."
Jenkins replied without looking up. He found nothing; this version of Jenkins apparently didn't make a habit of carrying a diary or any secret docunts.
He dusted off his hands and stood, turning his attention to Papa Oliver behind the counter. The old man was huddled there, doing a remarkable job of trying to blend in with the shadows.
"If you want money..."
"We don't want money."
He reached for the old man's newspaper and scanned the headlines, checking for discrepancies with the real world as he spoke.
"Mr. Oliver, may I ask you a few questions? First, what can you tell about Jenkins Williams? And don't bother playing dumb. We know you're a lay mber of the Legacy Sage Church. We're not here to cause trouble. Just answer our questions, and we'll be on our way. We have no interest in you or the secret chamber beneath our feet."
"How did you know my na is Oli—"
"'Selling Antiques Since 1821. Papa Oliver—Reputation Guaranteed.' It's written on the sign outside."
Jenkins's gaze remained on the newspaper as he flipped the page. The news was mundane. At this point in ti, there was no ntion of the Tri-King Summit. It ant that in this possible world, without the stranger's arrival, the apocalypse hadn't been triggered so early. There was no one to push the three kingdoms toward negotiation.
"I'm not..."
"Yes, you are. Now, please answer the question. What's the story with Jenkins Williams?"
Jenkins sniffed, handing the newspaper sections he'd finished to Miss Windsor so she could double-check for anything he might have missed. Magic Miss, anwhile, surveyed the shop; she'd passed by it many tis but had never stepped inside.
"Jenkins Williams is the prophesied Beast of Calamity."
Jenkins paused in his perusal of the newspaper. He recalled the parchnt from last year, the one brought back from across the sea. It could prophesize the future, and it had called him a calamity.
"You must be new to Nolan. News of the coming apocalypse has already spread among the city's Enchanters. The Church learned from a prophecy just how important that young man you killed was to the future. When they sought him out for questioning, they accidentally discovered his connection to a string of serial murders and that he was a mber of an illegal organization. Anyone in Nolan could find this out with a little asking around."
"When did the Church question Williams?"
"This spring. About three months ago."
Jenkins did a quick ntal calculation. At that ti, he would have been in Ruen, staying with the princess and Alexia.
He didn't know what this possibility—a world without the stranger's arrival—truly ant. But at least one thing was becoming clear: the ergence of the strange [chanist] ability probably wasn't just due to the otherworldly knowledge in the stranger's head. Perhaps the original Jenkins possessed this unique talent all along.
Otherwise, there was no way to explain why this version of Jenkins would choose to combine the powers of life and machinery.
"Found it."
He exclaid suddenly, pressing a finger to the newspaper. Papa Oliver tried to see what he was pointing at, but Jenkins was showing it to Magic Miss.
She stood on her toes and craned her neck to read the sentence aloud, understanding at once what Jenkins ant.
"...A fire broke out at Tibbester Avenue, Building 38B. The Joel Newspaper office located there was forced to relocate to..."
Tibbester Avenue, 38B. That was supposed to be the address of Magic Miss's Howard Detective Agency.
Magic Miss didn't know that the dead man wasn't the Jenkins she was familiar with; she simply assud this world operated on a different variable. Since Jenkins was here, the likelihood of Miss Windsor's absence affecting the location of her detective agency was slim. She concluded, therefore, that the missing piece in this world's puzzle was herself.
"Mr. Oliver, do you know Duke Windsor?"
"Of course."
Papa Oliver answered, eyeing the three of them hesitantly.
"Why do you ask? Does Duke Windsor have a connection with Jenkins Williams?"
"No, I want to know, does Duke Windsor have a daughter?"
"Of course. Her Majesty, Jessica Windsor..."
"Her Majesty?"
Miss Windsor's voice sounded strained. Jenkins had only ant to confirm that her counterpart existed in this world; he never expected to uncover sothing like this.
Papa Oliver gave Miss Windsor a suspicious look before speaking slowly.
"Yes, Her Majesty, Jessica Windsor.
Around last winter... let see... yes, it was December. The forr Queen, Isabella, died in an accident. According to her will, Her Majesty Jessica Windsor ascended the throne. Oh, but really, you truly don't know about this?"
It was clear Papa Oliver no longer bothered to hide his suspicion about the trio's origins. But since this world wasn't real, his doubts were of no consequence.
"Queen Isabella is dead?"
Jenkins confird in a whisper, then glanced quizzically at Magic Miss. He couldn't understand why a world lacking both her and the stranger would lead to this. After all, the Queen should have had no connection whatsoever to a wanted criminal like this tiline's Jenkins, or to Magic Miss.
"The butterfly effect?"
He hazarded a guess, then continued his questioning.
"We heard rumors about Queen Isabella's death while we were in seclusion in the southern forests of Cheslan. But I'd like to know the Church's official position on it. Answer this, and we'll leave right away. You can report us to the Church afterward if you wish. It doesn't matter; we don't consider ourselves villains."
He heard Magic Miss let out a small, uncooperative snort of laughter beside him, but he forced himself to keep a straight face and maintain a serious expression.
"So you're after gossip, are you? The forr queen's body was never autopsied..."
Miss Windsor looked up at Papa Oliver, and both Jenkins and Magic Miss saw the anguish in her eyes.
"Why?"
Jenkins asked.
"I can understand why the Church of Death and End wouldn't be permitted to autopsy a monarch, but did the police not conduct one?"
"Her Majesty Windsor claid she and the servants witnessed Her Majesty Isabella accidentally fall down the stairs, making an autopsy unnecessary."
Papa Oliver said, and just as he'd expected, all three of them wore strange expressions.
"So the rumor on the street is that Her Majesty Windsor murdered..."
Papa Oliver noticed Miss Windsor suddenly close her eyes. He thought she was about to speak, but she remained silent.
"...that Her Majesty Windsor murdered Her Majesty Isabella, but no one has any proof. Oh, for goodness' sake, I'm just an antique shop owner! I don't know anything about politics. Please, don't ask for any more details. Do you really think a simple lay mber of an Orthodox Church would be privy to such matters?"
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