Hunter. Hun-ter. Jinyel ran a finger over the letters after the ink had dried, desperately trying to tie each shape to a sound in his mouth. A part of him wanted to ask each letter, because Rickith had read them all so smoothly that he was certain to know what each of them sounded like.
But there simply was no time for learning small things. Not now, when the end was so close.
Now the annulment needed to be ‘notarized.’ Jinyel had no idea what that meant, but Rickith had been true to the path so far, and so Jinyel trusted that the clerk at the desk had the power to make it binding. And so he followed the alchemist back to the desk and the woman behind it.
The clerk examined their annulment paper with a raised eyebrow, and despite Rickith’s confidence, Jinyel couldn’t help a lurch of uncertainty. She spent so long in examination, he was certain they had done something wrong ― until she lifted her gaze once more, and asked for the final seal: the administrative fee.
Money meant a deal. A deal meant that things were satisfactory.
Jinyel let out a sigh of relief. Money was one of those resources he did not mind losing, because he couldn’t eat it or craft it into something useful. He pulled his coinpurse-turned-treasure-bag from his belt and dug through it, though it took several trills to get through his other various items: bits of coral, pearly abalone shards, interesting rocks he had picked up over the seasons. He accidentally handed the woman some yellow feathers amongst the nels, and she handed them back with a baffled look.
“We, er… we do not barter for services in government administration. I only need this many coins.”
She took far less money than he had expected and pushed the rest back to him.
“As of this moment, you are no longer married. Now, if that’s all you came in for, the hour really has grown rather late, and I―”
“More.” Wait. I need. “Another. I need another…” What’s the word? “Piece of paper for getting married. I need one of those, with empty spaces for the names.”
She tilted her head at him. “You want a… marriage license?”
“License.” Yes. That thing. “How much for one of those?”
“I, well, a blank one is no trouble, we have a cabinet of blank files in the back, but… you don’t mean to marry yourself, do you? You’ve only just been separated.”
I need one. He slid the nels back at her. “How much?”
She slid the nels back. “No charge. Not until you file it, anyway, with the names of the married persons upon it. I suppose you can be separated from as many spouses as quickly as you like.”
Jinyel nodded his understanding, and with a look of trepidation the clerk provided him with a blank marriage license. Not trusting anyone to write upon it but himself, Jinyel brought the paper to Rickith.
This here. He pointed to the blank spaces. “This is where names go. There are no names on this?” Concern, double checking. “I need…” Embarrassment. Hesitation. “… to be sure. I need to know how to put the right names on it. The lines and loops which make my real name. Can you help me? I do not know how to write ‘Jinyel.’”
