Sunday, October 18, 1868. Evening.
Phillips Harbour
Randall has just finished making a late dinner of stew and biscuits when he hears a scratching at the kitchen door. Opening it, he discover one more stray canine than he'd expected. Looks like Yotee's made a new friend.
Both of them are decidely soggy, although not soaking. The newcomer is a dog as dirty as Yotee, but of less definable ancestry. He's about shepherd-sized, probably more than twice the coyote's weight, but worn and dejected.
Randall stares for a moment, then steps back into the house, leaving the door open. "Dinner date, Yotee?" He asks as he heads back over to the stove.
Mix hangs back, despite the smells of food coming from inside the house. He waits for the coyote to make the first move, so he can take his cues from him.
Yeah, The coyote yips, squeezing past the larger dog. He'll share his food, but he still wants to be first to it. C'mon in. You've met.
The larger dog follows after more cautiously, snuffling the surrounding furniture as he goes.
Randall dishes up two more bowls of stew, splitting the last of the biscuits between them. Placing them on the floor by the counter, he nods, and says "I think I remember him, not that you mentioned much about him. What's going on?"
The farmhouse kitchen has ordinary, worn furnishings: a kitchen counter with a few cabinets underneath it beside a hand-pumped sink and an iron stove. There's also a somewhat rickety square wooden table with a couple of mismatched chairs around it.
Yotee wants to start eating. He noses Mix's bowl towards him encouragingly, drools on his own. He holds off his appetite long enough to explain. There's no good place to start, so he jumps right in. He needs us.
Mix doesn't need any more encouragement. With a last glance up at the human, he sets into the bowl of stew like it was the first good meal he's had in days. Or perhaps this kind of speed is usual for the dog.
After sitting down at the table, Randall starts digging into the food. Simple fare, its obviously made by someone looking for bulk fuel rather than something to be enjoyed. Chewing, he waves his spoon vaguely in Yotee's direction, prompting him to continue.
The coyote stares up at Randall, not blinking at all. His master was attacked. Killed. I helped him find what was left. A she-wolf the size of a bear did it, and something else was with her. She told it she wasn't going to let that old closer stop her again.
Randall chokes, fighting to avoid coughing up stew. After a swallow of coffee, he ask "What? Who? The trapper was a Player? A closer? When did this happen? The giant wolf said that?"
Mix finishes the last of what was in the bowl and licks the inside of it a few times, just to make sure he hasn't missed anything. With a chuff that almost sounds like a sigh, he promptly lies down on the floor and rests his head on his front paws. He eyes the human and the coyote with interest as they stare at one another.
Yotee had started lowering his head, aiming for a juicy mouthful, when the questions rained down. Interrupted, he responds, I don't know. She thought so. It happened a day or two ago. Mix... The coyote looks at the dog beside him, a big dog for sure, but a bear would fill the room. ... Mix fought her. It took him a while to wake up, and then her trail went into the river. He needed my help with that.
Looking at Mix, then back at Yotee, Randall looks like he's chewing over this information as much as the stew. After a moment, he shrugs, and asks "What now?"
I reckon you could use a loyal friend. Yotee takes a quick gulp of food, warily watching the human. I wouldn't stick around for two days without being fed.
"You wouldn't stick around for two days if you were being fed, for that matter." Randall mutters under his breath as he scraps another spoonful of stew up. Waving the laden spoon in Yotee's direction he adds "So what do we do with a 'faithful animal companion'?"
The old dog's ears swivel back and forth a few times, restlessly, as he looks between coyote and man. He makes a chuffing noise.
The coyote takes another huge mouthful, chewing quickly, as if dogs were on his tail, though he might just be trying to get his meal down between questions. He grins a mouthful of food at the dog beside him. Just a couple, but good ones, then stares at Randall once more. What makes you think I had a plan? His master is dead, there's a bitch out there that could swallow me in one bite. I figured I'd bring all this trouble to you.
Randall twists a wry grin for a moment. "Now that makes sense, that seems to be your 'raison d'etre', bringing me trouble." Dunking a biscuit in the stew, he starts to say something, then shakes his head and substitutes "Lost the trail in the river? Any reason to think this she-wolf is going to chase either of you any further?"
Another chunk of meat is granted a stay of doom within the coyote's jaw. I don't think so. If you like... I could go looking for her. And if I don't come back, you'll still have Mix. Snap! The chunk is gone. The Englishman's balloon was destroyed too, I hear.
Yotee looks over at the dog, making a brief bark. So what do you think of him? Do you like the food, want to stay? You have to force him to go for walks, he's very bad that way.
"I saw that, or rather, the aftermath, bits of cloth scattered around the field. I passed by the other day, restocking supplies from town." Randall chases the last of the stew around the bowl with the last half of his biscuit. "What's his name? And how much does he understand, both what I'm saying, and what he'd be getting into. Was he a Companion?"
Mix stares up at the man for a moment, watching him chew over the last bits of his meal. Then he yawns.
Yotee works on licking his bowl cleaning, enthusiastically shoving it about on the floor. He pauses to look over the rim at Mix. His name's Randall, and he wonders if you understand him. Also, if your master was involved in strange things. Ohyeah, and that things have come after us too, and will again.
Randall watches the two canines, over the rim of his coffecup. "And will again, we'll be living in interesting times." He adds, to Yotee's comment.
The old dog shifts around on the floor, making himself more comfortable. He makes some rumbling noises at Yotee, ending in with low almost-growl and a distasteful expression.
Mix understands. The coyote stares up at Randall, his eyes a pale gold. I thought humans liked touching dogs. They weren't involved. They got involved... a lady and a cat... asked his old man to catch them some rabbits. That got the wolf on him.
"Mrs. Everchild and her cat, Islington? Sloppy work, that, getting civilians involved, getting them killed. I hope that's indication of the quality of Play she brings to this Game." Randall stretches over to snag the coffee pot, and refills his cup. "Okay, I have no objection to your friend staying around, I don't mind dogs. What do you think of asking Mrs. Pau over for tea? Here or in town, as she wishes. I think its time to start gathering forces, before someone or something forces our hand."
A knock on the door -- the house's front door, this time -- interrupts the conversation in the kitchen.
Yotee barks! Oh wait, wolves don't knock. He barks again for good measure, maybe Mix will join in. Answer the door! Hey! Hey!
Randall starts, and throws a quick glance toward the locked door, then toward the front door. "Another friend of yours? Wait here, please" After that, he heads into the front room, shrugging on his coat.
Mix cocks one ear towards the front door, but he doesn't seem especially disturbed by the knocking. Apparently, it takes something more serious to rile the old dog up.
Standing outside is a young Chinese woman, her long black hair drawn into tight braids along the sides of her head, meeting in a single queue at the back. She holds a covered basket in one hand, and smiles at Randall. ""Mr. Waite." She bobs in an odd kind of cross between a bow and a curtsey. "Missus Ste-phen-son send me to bring you food. We think perhaps you sick, that you not come to church," she says, in thickly accented English.
His cacophonic symphony thwarted, Yotee uncharacteristically waits with Mix, as ordered.
""Good evening, Mrs. Pau, is it? Please come in, your timing is, well, odd. But good." Randall opens the door, and motions her toward the kitchen door. "We were just discussing you, I think we have common interests."
Yotee nods back to the other canine, Aye, he is.
The Chinese woman hesitates, something flickering in her eyes. "Do we?" She glances around her. "I not sure, Mr. Waite. Missus Ste-phe-son, she worry if I alone with strange men." She shifts the basket in her arms, holding it out to the Englishman. "Are you well, sir?" Her eyes search his face.
""Well enough, thank you." Randall doesn't take the basket, and glances toward the kitchen. "And, yes, I think we do. The Game is afoot, and with the passing of the Dark of the Moon, things are heating up. Yotee, please come here, and reassure her I mean no harm."
Her eyes dart from the man to the open space beside him in the doorframe, then back to him. She's still holding the basket between the two of them. "Glad to know you are not sick," she says. "Only ... it is not good that you not go to church. Attracts attention. These people, they are superstitious, fear anyone who does not do as they do. Is not a good time to be stirring their fears further." Is it his imagination, or is her accent thinning a little?
Yotee gives a long look at Mix. He was in the process of sprawling out, lying next to the large warm dog. Which he probably shouldn't do, as domestication seems to be rubbing off. He almost comes when called. Thanks Mix, you're good and loyal. The bad and treacherous canine slinks to his feet and around the corner towards the door. His mouth hangs open in a grin as he gazes up at Mrs. Pau. Did you bring food? He hasn't fed me all day! He's also too ill to be dangerous, but he's got news.
Returning her look calmly, Randall replies "By the time they are stirred to action, the Balefire will have burned out. I'm more concerned with letting someone like the closer Rev. Hale getting a good look at me, and so stirring _him to action."
Miss Pau smiles when she sees the coyote. Crouching, she uncovers the basket and produces a small dried sausage from within, which she offers to the coyote. At Randall's next words, she blinks and looks up. "You are an Opener, Mr. Waite?" Her accent almost vanishes.
The coyote snaps the sausage from her fingers as politely as possible. He happily starts chewing. His tail wagging in brisk thanks.
"Common interests, as I said, ma'am. Yes, I am an Opener, and so are you. As Mrs. Everchild is not." Randall replies somberly, then glances down at the coyote. "And I'd warn you about indulging him, but he's already well past spoiled, so I won't waste our time."
Miss Pau scratches Yotee behind one ear, and nods to Randall, a brief smile lighting her sobering features at his last words. She stands, with a last look at the empty road to either side, then steps through the doorway at Randall's earlier invitation. A little sigh escapes her, as if shedding earlier tension. "I am not so sure it will take them long to stir to action. But your low profile here may protect you better than I realize."
Yotee rubs his head against her head, moving his ear beneath her fingers. He keeps chewing on his sausage and drifts encouragingly towards the kitchen. This is great, Randall never has visitors!
Leading the way into the kitchen, Randall gestures to the other chair at the table. "Please, have a seat." Clattering echoes from the cupboards as he searchs for a teakettle. "The other one is Mix, and you'll have to ask Yotee for the story there."
Following in the wake of Yotee and Randall, Miss Pau beams a smile at Mix as soon as she spots him. "He has two now, Trouble," she says to Yotee. "Is he making up for lost time?" She bends to offer the old dog her hand to sniff.
Mix raises his head at the entrance of the strange woman, sniffing cautiously at the offered hand. Evidently, he finds no reason to dislike her, for her noses her hand once, his tail swishing against the floor.
The coyote slinks and lies down beside the dog. A she-wolf killed his master. He was a nice indian. Had whiskey, tried to shoot me. Mix... well he shouldn't be without a human, and I don't hang around mine much. He creeps forward, his shoulders making a sort of shrug motion as he does.
Miss Pau rubs the side of Mix's head, then on down his neck and flank, quite uncaring of the mutt's damp grungy state. "Do you know of any other Openers in this Game, Mr. Waite? Apart from St. John, of course." The corner of her mouth twists.
Mix rumbles deep in his chest again, this time in pleasure at the petting. He goes limp against the floor and lets the woman run her hand through his fur as she likes.
"No. And I haven't talked to Miss St. John, nor do I know her involvement with Mr. Shaft." Randall says, before putting the kettle on to boil. "Mix wasn't part of this, til his friend was recruited by Mrs. Everchild, and died."
The young woman has started rubbing Mix's belly by the time Randall gets to his final revelation. She pauses at that, shuddering. "You poor old dog," she says to Mix with feeling, giving him a sympathetic look and scratching his stomach. "What did Mrs. Everchild want his master to do?"
Trap Rabbits. Yotee offers. Mr. Shaft tried to trap ghosts.
Randall glances around the kitchen, obviously looking for something. "Where did I put... ah, there it is." A battered tea tin is pulled out of the cupboard, followed by a sugar bowl. "I have no idea what this means, but the wolf said something that was interesting. What all did she say, Yotee?"
"Trap ghosts?" Miss Pau blinks. "Did that work? I can see where trapping rabbits would have riled St. John; it takes little to bring her to a killing fever. I had been grateful so far that this Game had been bloodless. No more, alas." She sighs, continuing to pet Mix.
Mix cracks open one eyelid to glance at the coyote, making another rumble in his chest. Miss Pau looks at the dog as he speaks. "What kind of pile?" she asks. "No, never mind. Do you remember where your master did this, my friend?"
It didn't work. His machine broke, I think it got wet. Yotee wags his tail, then perks up his ears. Oh! Mix says the old lady had his man do one other thing. Put up some strange kinda stone piles. The wolf, I think she mistook the Old Indian for someone else, said she wasn't going to let the old closer win again, and she was talking to something. Mix knows.
Mix now opens both eyes and looks curiously at the woman petting him. He seems to be thinking over her question, which he evidently understands, then barks softly twice.
Carefully not watching the tea kettle, Randall places the bits needed for tea on the table, and then sits down. "I think Mix might be better off with you, Mrs. Pau, I can't understand her like you seem to."
"Him," she answers, automatically, listening to the old dog's barks. "Thank you, Mix. And it's Miss Pau, not Mrs. I see. Given Mrs. Everchild is a Closer and she had this trapper doing her work, that explains why St. John took him for a Closer."
I could find them. Yotee brags confidently. Well, I'd find something, and I remember what Mix told me about the She-wolf. He had a hold of her hind leg, she was calling him a traitor and fool, then said she forgave him. Later when Mix woke up again, he heard her saying it was necessary, that Oldman had been the death of their cause too many times. Is St. John is the She-wolf? How'd she get to be a saint?
"Their cause?" Randall murmurs, watching Mix. "Oh, now, that is interesting. I too fear the Old Man's presence, but I also fear that this was a case of mistaken identity."
Miss Pau stops scratching Mix's belly to look at Yotee. "I ... I don't know. If she is the wolf. When you said the trapper had been killed, I think ... I just assumed it was her." She shakes her head. "I did not even hear you say it was the wolf, and after that wolf attacked Caliban, I surely should have thought of that creature instead. St. John is no saint, Yotee; it's only her surname."
She nods to Randall. "It is hard to imagine that Oldman could have been taken down so easily. If he had come to town as an old drunkard trapper -- well I admit his disguise was completely convincing. But ... " She looks down at the dog again. "Say 'I am not a Closer', Mix."
Something was with the wolf, Mix didn't see. Yotee flicks an ear. We're supposed to avoid that wolf, right?
Randall shakes his head. "I don't believe it will matter, Miss Pau. From all I've been able to find, players are human, he'd be a companion. I don't think that Rule applies to them."
Mix pauses again, looking the woman over for a few long minutes, almost as if trying to decide if she is crazy or not. Then he shakes his head, ears flapping, and chuffs once.
"No, Companions cannot lie about the side they are on, either. It doesn't come up as often because fewer can talk to them. But that Rule binds us all," Miss Pau says, confidently. "And he says he's no Closer. Yotee is right; he wasn't Playing. You poor dog." She rubs his ears again.
Randall rubs the back of his head, ruefully. "I'm begining to see why you thought the townfolk might stir to action quicker than I hoped. I'm tempted to not get in touch with St. John, let her draw fire, and strive to stay unnoticed."
"Do you know where St. John's been sleeping?" Miss Pau asks. She glances at Yotee. "If the wolf is an Opener -- and so far she has only gone after Closers or people she suspects are Closers -- then in theory she should not attack us. We are on her 'side'. But she is not the sort of ally I would trust. Moreover -- I don't know if she knows we're Openers."
"Haven't the foggiest, ma'am, I've stayed bunkered down here mostly, and Yotee hasn't made mention of it." Randall opens a teaball, and begins spooning some loose leaf into it. "And I agree, she might well not. I have no idea what her skills or talents may be."
I'll try to remember to yelp it before she bites me in half, should our paths cross. The coyote replies sagely, I haven't really found where anyone sleeps. Who is Oldman? Are we going to go looking for rocks? Did you mark the rocks Mix? I would have, that makes them easier to find.
Pau gets to her feet at last, taking a seat opposite Randall at the the table, a thoughtful expression on her face. "You said the wolf called Mix a 'traitor', but then said she 'forgave him', didn't you? That, too, sounds like St. John. She is known for hating humans and prefering animals. And this wolf has twice spared Companions when she might have killed them."
"Twice?" Randall asks, before reaching for the whistling kettle, and putting the teaball inside it.
Shaking her head to clear it, Pau continues to Randall, "It troubles me that we don't know where to find St. John -- or this wolf, if they are not the same. If we cannot find them, the townspeople may not be able to, either. Their frustrated anger is likely to fall on any convenient target they can find. A mob does not require justice, only victims."
"Caliban, Mr. Shaft's Companion. He tried to defend his master's balloon when the wolf attacked it Friday night. She bit him, but did not slay him," Pau tells Randall. To Yotee, she says, "I should like to see these stones, yes."
Mix says he can find two of them, also that the thing with the she-wolf wanted to kill him, probably, and the wolf stopped it. Yotee sits up. Heh. Caliban. I bet that scared him. Not that he'd be scared himself, oh no.
"All the more reason to stay secluded, Miss Pau." Randall replies. He pulls some notes from his pocket, and flips through them for a moment.
Pau gives Yotee a sharp look, almost a rebuke, then turns to the trapper's dog. "Mix looks rather tired to be leading us anywhere this evening," she says. "For that matter, my keeper will no doubt be wondering about me, too. I had best be going soon."
"I'm reluctent to draw attention by coming into town to meet with you, Miss Pau." Randall glances up from his notes, and asks "What excuse were you giving, for wandering around with a ladder, alone?"
He offered to drown me; we're not friends. Yotee offers as a reply, settling back down again. He thought it was getting dark out, now he's sure.
"I work at Mrs. Stephenson's farm. As long as I have some farm-related task to keep me occupied, she's usually too busy herself to notice if I sneak off. But this evening she knew I was coming to see you, and I'm afraid she has an overactive imagination when it comes to men. In another fifteen minutes, she'll have me either murdered, ravished, or seduced in her head." Pau smiles wryly.
"Then I'll wait for your return, before investigating those stones. I think its probably best if we don't go there alone." Randall shuffles his notes back into a stack, before returning them to his pocket. "And it wouldn't do to have Mrs Stephenson overly concerned, so its probably best you head back, then."
Pau nods, rising. "Thank you, Mr. Waite. I'll try to get out this way again tomorrow to investigate those stone piles with you." As she starts for the door, she pauses. "Oh ... what became of the trapper's body? Does the sheriff know the man is dead?"
"Bringing the event to the notice of the authorities will also bring me to their notice, I'm afraid. Not having a good reason to know of this, and yet knowing of it, that will raise suspicions." Randall shrugs "So, for now, I don't think it wise to tell them, or anyone."
Yotee sinks to the floor. The She-wolf dragged it through the river and buried it. We dug him up, enough to be sure... Yotee's ears sag.
Mix rolls his head in the woman's direction, his growl ending in a bark. He seems to be answering her questions, then looks in Yotee's direction and barks again, as if in agreement.
The Chinese woman gives a little nod, sighing again. "I see little to be gained from alarming the locals further. Perhaps they deserve warning ... but I fear warning them will only increase the danger they are in, if they strike out in blind terror." She goes to Yotee and strokes his head. "Perhaps it would be best if you buried him again," she suggests, gently.
Yeh. Sure. The coyote seems non-committal, a little limp. I'll get to it.
Looking wan herself, Miss Pau pet Yotee's side. "Good night, my friend," is all she says, before heading to the door again.
Randall takes a moment to look out the kitchen windows, into the gathering night. Seeing nothing amiss, he opens the door, and bids Miss Pau a good night.