The ball didn't wind down until around nine in the evening, and most of the guests still seed eager for more. The faces of the gentlen and ladies were flushed with excitent, and so even proposed continuing the festivities elsewhere.
Jenkins had been curious about the second floor of the house, which had also been opened up for the party. However, both Hathaway and Briny had forbidden him from prying, each taking a mont alone with him to hint that they might answer his questions in the future.
He first saw Hathaway and Briny ho, but after much deliberation, he still couldn't decide whom to invite to the family banquet at the end of the month. By the ti he returned to St. George Street, a slight headache had begun to throb at his temples. He figured he might have had a bit too much grape juice.
The lights were on in Jenkins's house, which ant soone was inside. Sure enough, when he pushed the door open, he found Papa Oliver sitting on the sofa, a pair of spectacles perched on his nose as he pored over a stack of docunts.
"Good evening. Would you like so tea?"
Jenkins set his cat down and turned toward the kitchen.
"No, thank you. There's sothing I need to discuss with you. Go change your clothes first, and be sure to wipe that lipstick smudge off your face."
"Hmm?"
Jenkins finally understood the coachman's strange looks on the ride ho.
The lipstick on his face must have been from his companions' parting kisses on his cheek. Gazing into the mirror, Jenkins stared wide-eyed for a mont, only to be startled by the sight of black tentacles writhing in its depths.
"Chocolate, I've told you many tis, don't hide behind and wag your tail when I'm looking in the mirror!"
He warned loudly, and the cat imdiately trotted out, slipping through the crack in the washroom door.
After changing out of his sowhat restrictive formal attire, he returned to the living room to find Papa Oliver had covered the coffee table with docunts.
He gestured for Jenkins to sit. Jenkins nodded, his eyes falling on an inventory list at the edge of the table.
"It's not a major crisis, really, but sothing happened at the shop this afternoon after you left. Sothing... difficult to describe."
"What was it?"
Jenkins inquired, his curiosity piqued. He could now see that the papers covering the table were the antique shop's purchase and sales ledgers.
Papa Oliver hadn't yet entrusted him with these records, as they contained information Jenkins wasn't privy to.
"The problem is, I've forgotten what happened."
Papa Oliver took a breath, his voice laced with confusion.
"You know that feeling? When you're absolutely certain you've forgotten sothing, but you have no idea what it is?"
"I think I understand."
Jenkins affird, though not with complete certainty.
"So, I'm sure of it. Sothing happened between the ti you left the shop and lunch, but I can't recall a single thing about it."
He placed the last docunt in his hand into the only clear space on the table and gestured for Jenkins to examine it.
"Soti this afternoon, I started to get this vague feeling that I'd sold sothing this morning, but so kind of force is stopping from rembering what it was."
"Why not report this to the Church? Or call upon the Sight of the Sage to dispel whatever is affecting your mory?"
Jenkins suggested.
"I tried. The Sight of the Sage allowed to recall that I sold a weapon—an antique weapon. But the influence on my mory is continuous. The Sage can help dispel it, but as soon as Her sight fades, the effect returns."
"What if you write it down? While you still rember?"
Jenkins asked again.
"Useless. I'm certain now that at so point, I acquired a weapon that cannot be recorded. It's a very strange power. In fact, when I went to the Church for help, no one could even rember the words I was saying."
At this, Papa Oliver looked at Jenkins with a grave expression:
"Which ans that besides , you're the first person who has been able to understand and rember any of this."
"Oh,"
Jenkins breathed, mainly to cover up the fact that he had no idea what to say.
"So, what's the plan?"
"The slower approach is to wait for Bevanna to return. She's a demigod, so she might be immune to this mory interference as well. But she won't be back in the diocese until tomorrow evening at the earliest, and I'm worried the item might cause trouble before then."
"There's more than one demigod in Nolan City."
Jenkins pointed out.
"Unless it's absolutely necessary, we don't seek help from followers of other faiths."
Papa Oliver shook his head in refusal, then gestured toward the papers on the table.
"That leaves us with one option: to check the shop's inventory lists. Ever since an incident five years ago involving an out-of-control numbered item, the very concept of 'the antique shop's inventory' has possessed a supernatural quality. I'm hoping we can find a clue there."
Jenkins recalled Papa Oliver ntioning this once. Soone had been selling a batch of old books at the shop, but mixed among them were pages from B-10-1-8211, "The Book Within the Book." It was a particularly dangerous Series B Extraordinary item, capable of altering concepts themselves to a certain degree.
They had been lucky. Papa Oliver had noticed sothing was amiss before the pages' power spiraled completely out of control. Even so, so of its energy had leaked, forcing Pops Antique Shop to close for two months while they waited for the effect to dissipate on its own.
Ever since, "Pops Antique Shop's Inventory List" had never contained an error. Both Papa Oliver and the Church believed this was the lingering power of B-10-1-8211 at work. Since it wasn't a negative effect, the Church had taken no action. For years, Papa Oliver had simply treated it as a convenience, but tonight, it had unexpectedly proven useful.
Checking the complex inventory lists was a tedious task; otherwise, Papa Oliver would never have asked Jenkins to help. The two of them worked until the early hours of the morning—so late that Chocolate had already woken up twice—before they finally found a discrepancy in the transaction records from the sumr three years ago.
A complete purchase record was supposed to include the ti, place, paynt amount, and the na of the seller. Additionally, Papa Oliver would paste the corresponding receipt to the back of the page. The problematic entry had all the requisite fields filled out, but it took Jenkins checking it twice to realize that every detail was an exact duplicate of an entry from the sa date one year prior.
It was a detail that would have been nearly impossible to spot without a sharp mory.
"In other words, the unrecordable nature of this unknown weapon clashed with the residual power of B-10-1-8211. The conflict resulted in a record being created, but a false one."
Jenkins summarized.
"That sounds about right. Let see the na of the item—"
Papa Oliver pointed to the page, his finger resting on the small text written in dark blue ink:
[Antique Gun (Model Unknown, Date of Manufacture Unknown, Place of Origin Unknown)]
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