Phillips Harbour, October 15, 1868. Thursday afternoon.
After dispatching Caliban to speak with Prayer, Mr. Shaft ventures out to Mrs. Everchild's residence. There, he finds a rather cross Miss Dembkowski, who informs him that Mrs. Everchild is not available for company. Persistence rewards him with an admission that Mrs. Everchild isn't home, and Miss Dembkowski's manner just before she closes the door on him suggest Miss Dembkowski doesn't know where she is, either.
Privately rather relieved, Shaft departs in search of the less formidable Miss Pau.
Several knocks at the Stevenson house suggest its occupants are out. Herbert glances around the property, and spots Mrs. Stevenson at the far end of her pasture, wrangling with a cow. Miss Pau, alas, is not in sight.
Herbert jogs across the field towards Mrs. Stephenson, and calls out a greeting once he's close enough for her to hear. He isn't too certain about the temper of the cow, so slows down the closer he gets.
The cow appears to be in a bad mood indeed, probably because one of her front hooves has somehow managed to get stuck between the slats of the fence. Mrs. Stephenson gives a kind of nod to Mr. Hale, barely acknowledging him. She's busy trying alternately to keep the animal calm, and get its foot loose. Judging by her expression, she's not much happier than the cow.
"Forgive my intrusion, but.. would you like a hand with that?" Shaft says once he's reached the pair. "I could try to loosen the hoof while you keep the animal docile," he offers.
Mrs. Stephenson straightens at his words, loose strands of red hair plastered to her forehead by sweat. "Oh! Mr. Shaft." Her lips twitch, considering his offer. "I dunno, sir, Minnie's really put her foot in it this time. I'd be afeard she might hurt you, you bein' a stranger an' all." She pats the cow's neck reassuringly, while the animal's eyes roll. "I sure wish Miss Pau was here, she's got a way with the animals."
Shaft goes to the fence, and tries to climb over it. "I'm sure that if I work from the opposite side, I should be safe," he says, then asks, "Do you know where Miss Pau went? I was hoping to speak to her today."
"I sent her off to fetch my scythe back from Mr. Lucas. I should've thought she'd be back by now, though." She sighs, but makes no move to stop Shaft as he scrambles over the wooden fence. His clothes are scuffed up by the time he makes it over, but it's not too hard a struggle. "She's such a good worker usually, but I declare I just don't know what goes through her head. Sometimes you'll ask the littlest thing of her and she'll be gone for hours."
"Well, I'm sure she'll be back eventually," Herbert says, and hunkers down down to get a closer look at he entrapped hoof. He grips the slat pinning it from above, and tries to pull it towards himself, hoping that would give Minnie enough space to pull free.
Even with Mrs. Stephenson by her head to calm her, Minnie panickly jerks her hoof while Mr. Shaft pulls on the slat. Fortunately, the Englishman's manuever gave her enough room to draw it back. The animal stumbles backwards a couple of paces, surprised to be free. Mrs. Stephenson breathes a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank you, sir. I was afraid I'd need to cut her free, and I didn't want to leave her long enough to fetch a saw for fear she'd hurt herself."
"Cows and fences are natural enemies, I suspect," Shaft says, standing up and brushing his hands off against his trousers. "Just like dogs and doors. If you could point me in the direction of Mr. Lucas, I could stop by and see if Miss Pau had picked up the scythe yet. What with.. recent events.. I must admit to being a bit worried about her being so late."
"Recent .... oh yes." Mrs. Stephenson's relieved expression turns to a new worry. "I can scarce believe what's become of my little town, Mr. Shaft. Used to be safe as houses round these parts, and now ... Well, jes' follow the road east, his is the first house to the north."
Herbert climbs back over the fence, and tips his hat to Mrs. Stephenson. "I'll check on it, Mrs. Stephenson. I'm sure everything is just fine, and I'm just giving my urban paranoia too much leeway."
"Oh ... oh, yes. Of course. She's always been fine before, and it's hardly new for her to be delayed," Mrs. Stephenson says, more for her benefit than Shaft's. She nods to him. "Thank you again for your help, and for checkin' on her for me, sir."
"Of course, Mrs. Stephenson," Shaft says, tipping his hat again in farewell, and then walking quickly back towards the road. He makes a grim note to himself to check behind any roadside bushes or other spots where one might hide a body.
Herbert's check behind bushes and in knolls along the road doesn't turn up any bodies -- but he does notice a sparse trail of trodden grass leading off to a stand of woods. A small human footprint in one bare spot of soft ground suggest someone's gone up it quite recently.
"Curious.. but not surprising," he mutters to himself, then turns off the road to follow the path into the woods. Although the closer he gets, the more he wishes Caliban was with him.. or that he'd thought to bring along his revolver. "Foolish to think Mrs. Everchild would just be waiting around when someone is out to kill her. I should have insisted on sending the invitation through the cat.."
A burst of birdsong greets him as he nears the copse. Following the trail around a bend, he finds Miss Pau standing a small clearing, brushing dirt from her skirt. Behind her, he glimpses a hint of beige, from something not-quite-hidden amidst the dense scrub. "Hello, Mr. Shaft," Miss Pau says, smiling at him.
Taking off his hat and holding it to his chest, Herbert says, "Ah, good day Miss Pau. Forgive me for interrupting, but I was hoping to have a word with you before midnight."
Miss Pau takes an unconscious step backwards. "Before midnight. Yes, I imagine that might be wise." She lifts her chin and looks him in the eye, summoning her customary smile with an effort. "I am happy to listen, Mr. Shaft."
Worrying the brim of his hat, Herbert says, "I've received news that Miss. St. John is likely to strike at her earliest opportunity, and that the first person on her list may be Mrs. Everchild. In the spirit of good sportsmanship, I'm offering her and anyone else who feels threatened sanctuary on the Babbage tonight, regardless of what side they're on in this Game. I'm extending that invitation to you as well, Miss Pau, should you wish to accept it." Despite his nervousness, Herbert manages to actually pronounce 'St. John' without reverting to the British 'sinjin'.
"Mrs. Everchild?" Miss Pau's eyes widen for a moment, and then she nods. "I see. That is most kind of you, Mr. Shaft." Something about her voice sounds uncertain, however, and she searches his face with her eyes.
Clearing his throat, Herbert adds, "I do not know the alignment of Mrs. Everchild or Miss St. John, although I assume you do now?"
"You do not?" Miss Pau blinks several times, surprised. "And yet you are offering her sanctuary anyway? What do you mean to do if St. John is on your side, and not Mrs. Everchild?"
"Then.. I will still have to oppose Miss St. John's actions, even if the results would ultimately benefit me," Shaft says, standing up a bit straighter. "I cannot accept that the ends justify the means, no matter what the ultimate stakes are."
The Chinese woman studies Shaft's expression carefully as he speaks, watching his eyes and the set of his chin. At length, she nods. "I admire your dedication to principle, Mr. Shaft," she says, quietly. "And I appreciate your offer of shelter. But I think I will be safe enough at Mrs. Stephenson's. And ... I must ask, Mr. Shaft: you are aware of the dangers in gathering Players on your houseboat, are you not?"
"Well, I admit the danger foremost in my mind is that it will be a convenient target," Shaft notes. "Even if both sides are represented, I do not know if Miss St. John is ruthless enough to dispose of allies in order to get at her enemies. And.. frankly, I don't know if anyone will actually accept the invitation. Miss Everchild and I are not exactly well acquainted."
Miss Pau nods, smoothing the front of her skirt. "From what I have heard, Sara St. John would not hesitate to kill someone who sheltered those she deemed her enemies. She is not fond of humankind, though she might show mercy for your Companion. But I do not know if that would be enough to keep her from sinking your houseboat, given the chance."
"I see," Herbert says, looking a bit ill. "I don't suppose you could tell me which side Miss St. John is on, for whatever edge it may provide me?"
The dark-haired young woman considers this question, looking sober and thoughtful. She drops her gaze, and her nightengale flutters out of the trees to lend on her shoulder. The bird twitters in her ear for a few moments. At length, Miss Pau nods, lifting her gaze. "St. John is an Opener," she says, quietly.
Herbert visibly relaxes slightly. "Ah, very good to know, that makes things much simpler," he comments. No reason not to oppose her now, since she'll be coming after me anyway, he thinks.
When Herbert relaxes at the news, Miss Pau seems to, as well. She smiles at him. "I wish you luck against her, Mr. Shaft. Only -- be careful, all right? She has great resources. Far more than just the Horn, and that is formidable enough. I only hope she was not able to retrieve the Necromancer's carriage."
"There is at least one element she does not possess," Shaft lets slip. "Although I have no idea if it is an important one or not."
Miss Pau tilts her head, curious. "What is that?"
Seeing a chance to possibly learn more about it, Herbert says, "The buggy whip."
A smile twitches on her mouth, although she tries to keep it down. "I do not believe that is an important part," she says, demurely. "I am given to understand the carriage's essence is in the frame itself."
"Well, I can only hope she has not recovered it then," Herbert says. "Especially if the carriage can move across water."
"I do not think it can. But the carriage summons storms, remember. I would not want to be out at sea when that carriage was moving, even if it was on land," Miss Pau says, soberly.
"Ah, yes, the storms," Shaft says, not having thought of that. "I will certainly take that possibility into account, Miss Pau, thank you for reminding me of it."
Looking into his hat, Shaft remembers something else. "Oh! I told Mrs. Stephenson that I would check in with Mr. Lucas to see if you come by already to pick up the scythe. I don't suppose you've already done so?" he asks.
"Oh, yes, I did." Miss Pau turns to one of the nearby trees and reaches behind it, pulling out the scythe from where it was resting against the trunk. The long curved steel blade gleams brightly, well-maintained. "I suppose I should get back to her. She worries too easily -- inconvenient of her, really."
"Very well then," Shaft says. "I can say that I passed you on the way, if you have an excuse for dawdling on the return journey?"
"Oh yes, I'll be fine. I am from China, she has low expectations of me," Miss Pau says, philosophically. "'I look at colors on trees, so pretty! Not realize is late, Mis-sus Ste-fen-son.' Fortunately, she is prone to worries, not suspicions."
Herbert nods, and puts his hat back on. "Well, then I shouldn't delay you further," he says, and makes a vague gesture towards whatever was poorly hidden in the bushes. "I'm sure you still have.. work to do. I thank you again for your help, Miss Pau, and hope you have an untroubled night."
Miss Pau curtseys. "And you, Mr. Shaft. Thank you."
Shaft gives a polite bow of his own, and turns to follow the path back to the road.
A snatch of friendly birdsong follows him back to the road.
When Shaft returns to the boathouse, he opens the door to find Caliban there -- entertaining a small field mouse atop their table.
Or at least, there's a mouse atop it for a moment. Almost as soon as Shaft gets the door open, the mouse is diving for cover amongst his lab equipment.
"Ah.. nothing to be afraid of," Herbert says, closing the door behind him. "I take it the mouse's presence here is a good sign, Caliban?" he asks the ape.
"Ook?" The monkey looks up from his mug of apple juice. A saucer of juice and a bit of cheese sit next to him on the table. He leans over to the side, toward the equipment, and makes small ooking noises.
At the man's voice, the mouse pokes his head back out from between two canopic jars, squeaking apologetically.
"No offense taken," Shaft says to the mouse, but keeps his distance to avoid disturbing it. "I was unable to contact Mrs. Everchild, Cal," he tells his companion. "I hope that she is in a safe hiding place, but if you should find Islington, he may be able to reach her."
A short pause and then the ooking continues in a more sober tone, Caliban looking as if he were conspiring with the equipment.
The monkey looks up worriedly. "Ook, ook," he responds, looking unsure. The mouse is squeaking at the chimpanzee, too.
"I've also learned that.. ah, it may be best not to have all of our eggs in one basket, so to speak," Herbert notes. "The more we have with us, the bigger a target we will become.. and Miss St. John is not our ally."
The mouse's eyes have gone even rounder than usual, squeaking agitatedly to the chimp. He scurries to the table edge and pauses.
The man's last words register with Prayer, and he looks between the chimp and man, squeaking a question.
The monkey leans over, trying to soothe the mouse with ooks that are abruptly cut off when he looks up at his master's words.
"We are on her list, Caliban, although in truth we would have been on it anyway if we harbored those she sought," Shaft says, with a bit of a sigh.
The chimp blinks, and gives a surprised look at the mouse. He says something, and the little brown animal sags with obvious relief.
The monkey exchanged worried ooks, first at his master, then to the mouse. The mouse scuttles backwards on the table, looking suddenly suspicious again, and squeaks urgently, imperiously to the chimp.
The monkey looks up to his master, and points to the mouse. He pantomimes holding his hands out, then folding them, then points to his mouth and makes the talking sign, then back to the mouse. Then he follows that up with a short ook.
The mouse folds its paws against the table, its head drooping.
"You think I should speak with Reverend Hale then?" Herbert asks.
The mouse raises its head, and shakes it firmly in negation. It points to itself, then hops down from the table.
The monkey rubs his chin, then nods. He points to the mouse, then pantomimes picking it up and putting it into a pocket. This is followed by another short set of ooks and eeks. The mouse scurries across the floor, and gives a wry squeak in response to the chimp.
The monkey looks down at the mouse and waves a hand in farewell. The mouse stands on its hindlegs to wave, too, then disappears beneath a shelf.
Herbert kneels down on the floor, watching the mouse, then offers it his open hand if it wants to climb on. "I should put him in my pocket?" he asks Caliban.