Wednesday, October 21, 1868. Morning.
Phillips Harbour
Dawn breaks clear, but a bitter chill is in the air. It's particularly cold by the docks, where the steady breeze off the bay has picked up in intensity. Mr. Shaft goes out at sunrise to engage one of the dock errand boys to deliver a message to the Mikkelsens at the Red Flag. The sealed envelope contains the painstakingly developed photograph of the white hart, and a simple note: "If this is your quarry, we may be able to help each other - Shaft".
After handing off the message, Shaft returns to the boathouse to work on the Analytical Engine in preparation for a later test of the Spirit Lamp. The poorly insulated boathouse rattles and shakes in the wind, making it a particularly uncomfortable work environment.
"Blasted weather," Herbert mutters as she checks over the Engine. Without the Compass, he can't even tell if the wind is normal or the result of magic.
The ape is evidently feeling a touch better than the previous day, as he's up and about, taking care of the chores that his boss shouldn't have to handle, like washing and putting away the dishes from breakfast. "Ook," he says, evidently agreement with his boss.
"Well, I think we have enough 'chicken broth' to power the Lamp at low intensity," Shaft reports to Caliban after recharging the small Spirit Battery with chicken-derived necroplasm. "Shouldn't attract anything too big."
The ape looks a little worried, the expression plain on his wrinkly face.
The Engine is in reasonably good working order now. Shaft has some misgivings about the quality of the necroplasm he has available to power it, but it hasn't been used much since being assembled and seems no worse for wear so far.
"It isn't as if we have much choice," Herbert says in answer to that expression. "We have to try and charge the main battery enough to get some useful work done, especially if we're to calculate likely Banefire locations using the insufficient data we have."
Gesturing to himself and then the chair, the ape tries to get across to his master something involving a little girl and talking, then shrugs and spreads his hand as a question mark.
"Of course, this time you shouldn't be distracted by ghosts and dogs," Shaft says, patting Caliban on the shoulder. "But if she turns up again, please try to keep her sedate if you can? We may need to hold her until we've processed enough lesser spirit energy."
Caliban grimaces. He pantomimes paddling said little girl on the behind, then looks forlorn and wishful.
A little over an hour of puttering later, there's a tap at the door. "Mr. Shaft?" Miss Mikkelsen calls out.
"Ahem," Shaft says, a bit admonishingly. "Just holding her in the trap should be enough, she can throw whatever tantrum she likes in there."
Shaft looks towards the door, then to the exposed Engine, then to Caliban. "My, that was fast," he comments to the ape, then heads to the door. "Miss Mikkelsen?" he asks, opening the door a crack to peek out.
The ape takes the cue to fetch some tarpaulins to cover up the Engine.
Rae and Gustav Mikkelsen both stand outside, the sister looking wan and her brother dour. Rae holds a curled paper in her hand. "Yes. You zent this message to us?"
With a butlerish demeanor, the ape fastens the tarpaulin down and then starts cleaning things up, folding the edges neatly.
"The photograph, yes," Herbert says, and opens the door to let the siblings inside, now that Caliban has covered up the really hard to explain items.
Rae steps inside, bobbing her head to Mr. Shaft. She glances around the workroom, blinking at the arrayed apparatus. After a moment, she returns her attention to Mr. Shaft. "Ve haf seen this animal. The white deer."
Gustav seems even more dour than usual as he steps inside - taking in his surroundings with a suspicious air. He pauses momentarily to take off his glasses, as they start to mist up slightly. He pulls out a well-worn handkerchief to clean them off absently - still studying the interior and paying relatively little attention to his hosts.
"Not.. personally," Herbert admits. "But we discovered signs of its presence in association with the beast that attacked Caliban. The two travel together," he explains.
A little monkey in a butler's coat pads about the boathouse, tidying things up 'for company'. He ducks out of sight briefly, after which the sound of a stove being refueled and something metallic set on top can be heard.
Rae's attention wandered briefly to the chimpanzee, but at Mr. Shaft's words she snaps back to him. "They ... vat? I am sorry, I must misunderstand you. You do not mean that this deer goes vith the monster that attacked your pet. Do you?"
Gustav breaks off from his cursory examination of the apparati to look at Mr. Shaft as well. He says nothing, but his expression echoes his sister's - but with a more disapproving than disbelieving air.
"Actually, it may serve the monster in some way," Herbert says, treading into uncertain waters. "Much as Caliban serves me. I know that sound hard to believe but.. this deer you seek is not an ordinary animal, is it?"
The ape returns from the side area with a tray in one hand carrying a shiny tin platter of cookies and several linen napkins in the other hand, perhaps inspiring visions of a cervine butler. He sets these out on a largish crate, since the boathouse somewhat lacks elegant sitting room furniture, and then pushes over some smaller crates to serve as chairs.
Rae looks to her brother uncertainly, and says something to him in Norwegian.
In English, she says, "It seemed to us a strange animal ... but vat kind of deer vould ... serve? to a different animal. That makes no sense. Do you mock us, Mr. Shaft?"
Gustav pauses a moment, his lip moving briefly, as if he were about to say something - but then he carefully considers it. At last, he shakes his head and interjects, in halting English, "Vite hart ... it is not vat ve seek." He frowns severely, then adds, "It is different."
"Ook, ook ook," the ape suggests, making beckoning gestures toward the tea arrangement before hurrying back to tend to the tea kettle.
"Thank you, Caliban," Herbert says, wondering where the ape had kept a tin of cookies stashed in the boathouse. "Forgive me, Mr. Mikkelsen, but are you saying you are not seeking the white hart after all?"
With some hesitation, Rae takes a seat at the table the chimpanzee has laid out. She nods at her brother's words. "No, Mr. Shaft. Ve are not. But ve haf seen the animal. Ve thought, vell, if you seek it ve could at least tell you vat ve had seen."
With a little more hesitation, Gustav sits down. He looks as if he were carefully considering what to say next, and then perhaps a little relieved when his sister does the speaking for him. Still dour, but slightly relieved.
Sitting down, Herbert pours the woman a cup of tea and says, "Please, we need to find where the animal lairs."
Tink. Tinkle. The ape returns with a teapot, just in time for his master to pour it, and cups for the four of them.
"Ve haf seen it to the northvest of town. Ve caught sight of several times just yesterday, in fact, and ve tracked it for a time before ve realized vat it vas. But ve saw no signs of any dangerous creature vith it." Rae sips at her tea. "Vy do you belief it associates with some dangerous animal?"
The ape gives his master a worried look, before covering it up by eagerly snarfing a cookie. Treat!
Gustav nods. "Ve can show vere ve saw it ... but ve know not its lair. Ve saw none ... no other beast vith it."
"I really can't say," Herbert apologizes. "The beast may not be entirely animal. May I ask what sort of creature you are looking for? I may be able to help you, if I knew what to look for."
Gustav looks confused. "Beast ... not animal?" He looks to his sister for confirmation.
"My English, it is not so good. How can a beast not be an animal? I thought the verds, they meant the same thing," Rae says, as perplexed as her borther.
The ape crunches on a cookie noisily.
"Forgive me again for causing confusion," Herbert says. "The larger beast is very dangerous, as dangerous as a man in the way it acts. It may be.. under the control of someone living out in the woods. A crazy woman."
The chimpanzee pours a cup of tea and gives the appearance of counting cookies to see how many he can safely take before it's obviously too many.
"Ah, the crazy voman." Rae nods, as if that makes sense to her. She reaches for a cookie, then changes her mind and only has a sip of tea instead.
"You've seen her?" Shaft asks, at Rae's apparent recognition.
Gustav just stares deeply into his teacup, looking lost in thought.
"Yes. Dresses as a man and seems to live in the voods, vithout a home? Very strange voman. Ve avoid her, she does not seem friendly or helpful." The blond woman seems on the point of saying something else, but she doesn't.
The chimpanzee coughs a bit, then glugs tea.
"Do you recall where you've seen her?" Shaft asks quickly, leaning forward. "Or perhaps where she is camped?"
Whatever war is going on in Gustav's head seems to resolve itself for a moment, as he snaps out of his reverie. Slowly and reluctantly, he reaches into his vest pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper, marked by precipitation and wear. He sets it down and unfolds it, revealing a map of the town and its vicinity - though some of the notes don't appear to be in English.
"Ve see her ... mm, Gustav, you put her on the map, did you not? Ve do not see her camp, but ve saw her several times in von area. Ah, yes." Rae looks at the map. "Here." She indicates the forest to the northwest. "But she moves around much, always outside. Ve see her other places, too. Never in town. Alvways vild places."
Herbert's eyes are immediately drawn to the map. He hadn't expected anything more than verbal directions, and his heart skips a beat at the chance to pin down St. John. "You haven't been setting any traps in the woods, have you?" he suddenly asks the pair.
The ape, throat soothed, peers goggly-eyed at the map as he reaches for a cookie.
"Oh, no!" Rae shakes her head vehemently. "Uf course not."
"Good," Herbert says with relief. "Did the woman see you?"
"I do not know. She seem very ... " Rae searches for a word, then shrugs. "She never speak to us, if she see us."
"Very what?" Shaft asks. "Does she act like an animal?"
A pause, then the blonde woman nods. "Yes, that is it. Very animal. Alert like animal. You think, 'if I see her she must see me."
Gustav frowns in contemplation, focused upon the map. He pulls out a pencil and checks a few points on the map ... and scribbles over one small doodle-like mark somewhere in the "woods". Most of the marks are in the woods northwest of town - though there is one mark along a road to the west of town proper, and a tiny scribble that looks vaguely like a wolf's or dog's head.
Settling in, Caliban crunches his second cookie with relish, watching the map-marking. Alertness would not be the most apt way to describe his evident relaxed contentment.
"A wolf sighting?" Herbert asks the man. "There is a dog called Yotee living out that way. He may have been the one who got into the flour here at the Inn."
Rae exchanges another look with her brother.
"A volf?" Gustav looks surprised, then looks down at the map. "Oh. It is but a vild dog. Ve saw one here ... here ... and here. Ze von had broken leg." He indicates the point.
"A broken leg?" Shaft asks, wondering how important that might be. "Is the animal you are looking for a dog?"
"Yes, the dog vith the broken leg vas pitiful. Sad to see animals so hurt," Rae says.
Gustav shakes his head. "I mark vat ve find - and I ... concern about vild dogs. But vild dog is not vat ... it is not important. Vat ve look, I am not thinking it is here. There is only ... it is your vite hart ve follow by mistake."
Gustav taps several points on the map for emphasis, near the tiny doodle that he scribbled out.
"Very American dogs, too. They do not look like any of the dogs from our homeland," the Norwegian woman adds. She gives Gustav a hurt look, and says something to him in Norwegian.
"Miss Townes may have come across the hurt dog," Herbert mutters to Caliban, which makes him wonder, to the others, "You are looking for a dog or animal from your native land then?"
Gustav puts his hand to his head in frustration, and then says something in Norwegian back, holding out his hand with three fingers for emphasis or illustration. He shakes his head and sighs. "It is not DOG! I do not vant DOG!"
The ape makes little ooking noises at his master, then shrugs and resumes nibbling on a third cookie and watching the three humans gesticulate about the map.
"No ... the animal ve seek, I do not know if she is native to anyvhere." Rae winces at her brother's words in their own tongue, and she gets to her feet. "Perhaps ve should be going now."
"Wait, please," Shaft says, standing up as well. "It could be important. What are you hunting?"
The pale blonde woman hesitates. Her shoulders lift, then slump, and she sighs. "Ve are looking for a unicorn. Not a vite deer. A unicorn."
Gustav does not look up, but just continues to stare down at the map, toying idly with the pencil in his hand.
"Oh," Herbert says, a bit surprised. "How have you been tracking it?" he then asks, casting a glance at Gustav.
"I haf ... oh, never mind. You vould not believe me anyvay. Even my brother does not belief me any more." She turns, walking to the door.
The chimpanzee makes sympathetic ooks to Miss Mikkelsen. He gestures toward the cookies, encouraging her to take another.
"You sense it somehow?" Herbert asks. "Believe me, I am the last person to doubt you."
Rae stops, her skirt swaying around her legs. "I haf dreams of her. In different places. But here, now. For months I dream of these voods, those hills. She is here. I think ... I keep thinking, she must vant me to find her, or vy else vould I dream of her? But I never do."
"Maybe she isn't here yet then," Herbert offers, although half to himself.
The pencil cracks slightly in Gustav's hand, and he hastily pockets it with an embarrassed flush. "Ve do not say it is unicorn ... for not knowing vat your ... intention." He slowly rises. "I am believing. But ve chase a vite hart. It is not our unicorn." He looks to Rae. "If unicorn is vanting to be found...." He frowns, considering. "Vat if it vants you to find it ... but it is hiding from ... others?"
The ape gives his master a sideways grin.
"You said you'd dreamed of seeing it in other places as well," Shaft asks the woman. "Where they back in Europe at first?"
Rae flashes a smile to her brother, a brief radiance lighting her face. "Maybe she is. Maybe she needs us to find her first, before somevon else does."
She nods to Mr. Shaft. "She. I dream of her many places. Germany, Austria, Spain. Ve travel much, seeking her."
Caliban settles back in on his crate and considers the map thoughtfully.
"What about Wales, in Great Britain?" Herbert asks, on a whim.
"No, ve never go to the isles. I do not see her there," the woman answers.
Caliban gives his master a fishy-eyed look.
"Have you seen her at this hill?" Herbert asks next, pointing to the spot on the map that he thinks of as Spirit Hill, where Hale was briefly held.
Gustav says, wearily, "Ven ve go to places, ve find clues. Somevon saw ... someting. A vite deer, a vite horse. Places Rae dreams of ... are real. But ... no unicorn."
The ape makes soothing noises at Rae and freshens her teacup.
"No," Rae says, with a quick shake of her head at the indicated spot. "She vould not like that place. She goes on the hills, sometimes, but not too near to that one."
"What about near the mad woman?" Herbert asks next.
"I do not know. I dream of the voods vhere ve often see the mad voman. But I think they like the same place, not that the unicorn is vith the madvoman.
"But the mad woman could also be looking for her, do you suppose?" Shaft asks.
A shrug, followed by a frown. "I never think of that. The mad voman, I think she looking for something, maybe. But not a unicorn. She does not have ... " She gestures vaguely with her hands, at a loss for words.
"If she is hunting for unicorn ... it is not for unicorn's good," Gustav says, certainly.
Rae nods in agreement with her brother.
"May I make a copy of your map?" Herbert asks. "I may need to do a bit of research, but hopefully I can find something to help you."
"If you think you can help us ... " Rae leans forward, and looks to Gustav.
Gustav shakes his head, then nods it. "I make new copies. The old ones ... get old." He pulls out a newer-looking folded paper from a pocket, for emphasis, but quickly puts it away again. "You can have it." He pushes the map across the table toward Mr. Shaft.
The chimpanzee does his best to look bright-eyed, helpful, and trustworthy.
Rae smiles gratefully at her brother.
"Thank you, Mr. Mikkelsen, I appreciate this greatly," Herbert says, taking the map gingerly.
"But," Gustav adds, "do not be ... do not speak of unicorn. Many strange people are in town - maybe some after unicorn for ... hmm ... bad reasons. And ... well, the town might be thinking Gustav crazy if he is looking for unicorn?"
"You are velcome, Mr. Shaft," the slender woman says. "I haf a good feeling about this. But yes, is not good to speak of unicorns. These people, they vorry about too much already, no?"
"I'm not certain that the locals would even know what a unicorn was, sir," Shaft says. "But do not worry, this isn't information one shares out on a whim."
Caliban nods wisely at the cautions being spoken. He eyes the platter of largely untouched cookies -- well, one more couldn't hurt. crunch
Gustav nods, for a moment almost looking more ... well, not cheerful, exactly, but a little less dour. "I vill be careful for mad voman, hart and beasts. If I am finding more - I vill tell you."
"Thank you, sir." Rae curtseys, then pulls her coat closer around her. The boarhouse is cool and drafty enough that taking it off wouldn't've been very appealling.
"Thank you both," Shaft says, smiling and genuinely grateful. He goes to hold the door open, and looks out to see if the weather has improved any.
The sun has risen enough to burn off a little of the chill, although the strong wind still rattles against the oilskin windows. It might be better inland, away from the bay.
"Good day to you, sir." Rae's smile is as bright as the day outside, and like the sun, it burns off some of the chill her expression had held when she arrived. She and her brother depart, with the blonde woman offering a last wave as they walk down the dock.
The ape begins tidying the cookies away. He gives his master a significant look, then traces a lightning bolt's jagged form from his forehead.
Herbert smiles a bit at the wave, and the expression lingers even after he's closed the door. "Imagine that, Caliban. A unicorn! I've no idea what it means, but Miss Townes or Mrs. Everchild might have a thought on it. And this spot in the woods, too! It may be where the Banefire is expected. It's obviously important. What luck!"
Caliban looks worried, nevertheless.
Wednesday, October 21, 1868. Late morning.
Phillips Harbour
Miss Townes rides horse along one dock in the bay towards where the Babbage is moored with its gangplank down. She calls out to the houseboat, but hears no answer. As she dismounts near it, Caliban opens the door of the boathouse on the dock not far from where the houseboat is moored.
"Is someone there, Caliban?" Herbert asks from inside the boathouse, where he's going over maps.
The ape peers out the door. His eyebrows shoot upward as he catches sight of Miss Townes; he turns about and whistles to someone in the boathouse, followed by frantic hand gestures that convey the impression of a woman with a horse.
Shaft looks up to watch Caliban, then quickly looks around. Most everything is still covered from the Mikkelsen's visit, at least. "Please show Miss Townes in, Caliban," he says.
Bernice drops herself to the ground, giving Slate a pat on the neck as is her habit and, spying Caliban, begins leading her horse over to the boathouse. Hearing Herbert, she speaks up. "It's just me, Mr. Shaft!"
Slate whickers a greeting to the ape, and noses her mistress affectionately.
The ape beams and waves at Miss Townes from the door. "Eek, ook ook," he observes cheerily as he steps inside the door and holds it open for her.
The day is bright but cold, with a stiff breeze blowing in from the dock. Slate ambles over to the open door herself, sheltering from the wind behind it while it's ajar.
Bernice gives the Morgan mare a warm smile, then shares with with Caliban, approaching the boathouse. She makes a token gesture of tying off Slate's reins at a post that would only pass the most casual of inspections, then glances around a few times before nodding at Caliban. "Certainly much better after we verified the stick was in place," she says quietly. The doctor sets through the door graciously held open.
"Leave the door open, Caliban, as a courtesy to Slate," Herbert suggests. "She can alert us if anyone is approaching." He gives a little bow to Dr. Townes, standing next to a table with a map of the area laid out.
"Eek," observes the ape approvingly. After ushering Miss Townes in to see his master, with the gravity of a butler, he shambles toward the ship where it floats idly, and disappears into its depths.
Slate tosses her head and whuffles to Herber, looking cheered by the open door. The wind through the door ruffles Herbert's maps and sends a few loose papers spinning around the room.
Herbert says, "Oh my!" and rushes about to secure the papers, holding things down with whatever comes to hand as a convenient paperweight. "Sorry for the mess! Did I hear correctly, that your artifact is right where you left it?"
Bernice offers Herbert the same pleasant smile she gave the animals, then steps a little more lively to try plucking some of the papers from the air and floor. "Oops! Well, I agree with you Slate, but maybe letting a little of the outdoors in is nearly as good." She gives the Englishman a nod, an echo of her relief showing on her face again. "Yes, Caliban must have found something else. It's still safe, but I expect it could stand to be moved." She sobers a little. "I daresay, our deadline is fast approaching."
"Well, perhaps Mrs. Everchild can help you out with the staff, as she has seen it in use before," Herbert says, returning to the area map. It has several X marks on it, with initials alongside, and a second hand-drawn map showing some of the northwestern woods. "We were about to seek you out, and still plan to visit Mrs. Everchild."
A little while later, the ape emerges from the Babbage with a freshened pot of tea, a new cup for Miss Townes, a restocked tray of English-style biscuits, and several long carrots. "Ook," he says gravely, placing these down on the table and pouring for the woman, as well as refilling his master's cup.
"Ah, good thinking Caliban," Herbert remarks. "At least one of us remembers the duties of a good host," he adds, a bit apologetically. "It's been a very busy morning."
The Morgan horse's ears prick with great interest as the carrots move by on Caliban's return trip, and she stretches her neck out to follow the tray.
The doctor follows Herbert to the table with the papers she's captured, setting them down and weighting them with whatever's handy. Noticing the tea tray, she touches her hands together. "Oh, how considerate, Caliban! Thank you!" That smile of hers returns, even warmer than before... it must not be often that people consider both her and her horse as well. She doesn't touch the teacup meant for her yet, reaching for a carrot and pausing. "Would you like to bring these to Slate, or shall-.." Realizing she was in mid-conversation, she fumbles over her words a moment. "Oh, er, Mrs. Everchild! Yes, actually I had some questions for her, I'd love to go along if you'd have me."
The ape keeps the carrots, bowing to Miss Townes. He walks over to the door, where his demeanor changes visibly to a more casual one now that he's no longer 'on stage', as it were, and offers them to the horse, one at a time. "Ook eek," he says cheerily.
"Oh, excellent!" Shaft says. "As you say, time is growing short. Certain information has come to me though, that suggests a possible location for the banefire." He taps an area of the northwest woods on the map, which matches the hand-drawn version next to it. "If you would be so kind as to mark your own residence on the map, then I think we will have all of the Players charted save for St. John."
Slate wolfs down the first carrot, then lips at Caliban's fingers in an amiable fashion while she waits for the next.
Bernice studies the map thoughtfully, leaning over it to look closely. "Let's see, here..."
The ape visibly counts his fingers, then ooks amiably, chattering at the mare as he offers the second carrot.
The mare shakes out her mane and takes a delicate bite from the next carrot. She whuffles.
The young woman touches a point on the map with a finger, her other hand taking up her cup of tea. "Right about here," she says, indicating a spot near the hills and woods west of Wolfe St. She pauses to blow some of the steam off her tea, then takes a sip. "And the Banefire..."
"Possibly in this area, here," Herbert ways, circling a region in the woods further west, above Blackwood Rd. "At least, it is an area that is attracting the attention of St. John and.. ah.. another unusual creature."
Slate takes another nibble of carrot and stamps her hooves against the dock, her hide twitching at the cold of the wind.
The ape makes a face momentarily, though from the inside of the boathouse it's hard to say what it was, then reaches out to pet the mare on the nose. Quiet ooks and sounds of more carrot being fed.
"Another creature?" Bernice doesn't seem to like the sound of that, eyeing the englishman a little worriedly. She looks at the map again, and takes another contemplative sip from her cup.
"A unicorn, if the Mikkelsens are correct," Shaft offers.
At an ook from the chimpanzee, the horse shakes out her mane.
At this, the young woman looks puzzled. "The Mikkelsens? What's their part in this?"
"The sister, Rae, was drawn here by visions of a unicorn," Herbert explains. "They've followed them all over Europe, to here. Often there are rumors of a white hart being seen as well. We know the hart is the Companion of St. John."
The doctor's blood runs cold. "Good Lord," she says. Her teacup rattles on its saucer until she holds it with both hands.
"I asked if she'd had a vision that led her to Wales, and she said no, by the way," the Englishman adds. "If there is a unicorn in the area, would Slate know.. somehow?"
The ape peeks solicitously in the door at the sound of the rattling.
Slate lifts her head away from the ape at her mistress's distress. She whinnies.
Caliban shakes his head to his boss, then clarifies his response by pointing to his eye, then Slate, then pantomiming a four-legged creature, to which he adds a horn, then shakes his head again.
Bernice shakes her head, setting the cup and saucer down. "N-no, not inherantly... but when Slate was recovering from the wound the coyote gave her, she was stabled in the shed by the cabin I've been renting, and she met a white stag who came by at random."
"Ah, apparently she hasn't... the stag? Did it talk to her?" Herbert asks.
The doctor looks over at Slate where the mare peers around the door. "Yes. Didn't it, Slate? I think I recall you saying it was impressed a human would be mending your wounds."
The mare whickers in response, nodding her head.
"Did the hart actually ask about Bernice?" Herbert asks the mare.
The ape looks sideways at Slate and grins wryly.
Slate considers the question before answering, then whickers.
Bernice shudders, rubbing her arms as if suddenly chilled while she listens to the mare. "Yes, that's in keeping... we've learned that St. John believes humans to be a scourge on the natural order. It may be that the hart is simply going along with her. I bear him no ill will, but it brings St. John too close for comfort. If she knew what I was, we might have been dead by now."
The mare bows her head, her large brown eyes worried.
"Ook, ook," the ape observes, patting Slate on the side of her neck.
"But does it still come around?" Herbert asks, looking between the woman and the horse.
Slate shakes her head.
Even as Townes chews her lip, she murmurs reassuringly at Slate. "I know you'd never have given anything away. I was just a little spooked. I can't believe how close we were to each other. I imagine both St. John and her Companion are much too busy preparing now. All the same, I think I'd like to move at least the Staff to a safer location."
"A shame, in a way," Shaft says, his excitement fading. "We might have gotten it to lead us back to St. John. Perhaps we should go to Mrs. Everchild now. She lives not far from your converted Opener. She should have some advice for using the staff."
Slate shuffles her feet and whufles at Mr. Shaft's words, looking as if she's something else to say and not sure she should bring it up.
Herbert pauses in rolling up the maps, looking to Slate. "Did the hart give away St. John's location?" he asks cautiously.
Bernice lifts a hand up, silent for a moment as she listens to the mare a bit longer. "A moment, though... hm. Slate says that she hasn't seen the hart in over a week. He would visit while she was recovering, but when we were back out and about together, it must have been harder for him to find us. She's picked up his scent from time to time, but little else."
Slate starts to shake her head, then pauses.
"It has been spotted by several people," Shaft notes, and finishes rolling up the maps. "I don't suppose you know anything about unicorns, Miss Townes?"
The ape nods at Slate thoughtfully. "Ook, eek eek," he observes.
Bernice shakes her head sadly. "Not a blessed thing, beyond stories. Though I do know St. John's dealt with humans before. Whether it was just a ruse to murder us, or whether she thought for a moment that the druids could somehow fit into her grand design, I can't say." She listens to Slate again, perking up a little. "Oh my. Slate, did he really? That could-.. Slate says that the stag offered to take her away if she so chose or just wanted to contact him. She could leave a sign for him in a certain spot, and he'd check periodically."
"Well, that is a stroke of luck, possibly," Shaft says. "It gives the option of using some deception, but could also be quite risky. If we have no other choices, it may be necessary."
Slate gives another nod to Caliban, her ears flicking with concern.
The ape scratches behind an ear thoughtfully, then peers out the door at the sky. "Ook," he suggests.
Caliban walks back indoors, leaving Slate with the last of the carrots, and starts tidying away the teapot and cups.
Bernice nods at both Shaft and Caliban. "Well, for now let's see Mrs. Everchild. We'll share what we've learned."
After the short walk to Everchild's house, Mr. Shaft raps at the door to the house. A white cat seated on the inside windowsill jumped down as they mounted the porch steps and ran out of sight. A moment later, a young woman answers the door. She draws back immediately, her nose wrinkling at Caliban and the glances she spares for the man and his sole female companion scarcely more approving. "Mr. Shaft," she says, her tone frosty.
The ape gives his master a distinct 'oh no' look.
"Ah, Miss Dembkowski," Herbert says, doffing his hat. "Would you please let Mrs. Everchild know that I am here?"
Ms. Townes simply stands quietly with her hands folded in front of her, looking a bit pensive.
"I'm afraid Mrs. Everchild is resting at the moment, sir. I'm sure you wouldn't want to disturb her. Good day." Miss Dembkowski gives a stiff nod and starts to close the door as an elderly voice From upstairs calls out, "Who's there, dear?"
Miss Dembkowski hesitates. "No one important, ma'am! Sorry to have disturbed you!" She closes the door as footsteps sound on the stairs.
"Should only be a moment now," Herbert says to the others.
Bernice had raised an index finger to say something when the door closes in the company's faces, her large green eyes blinking. She gives Herbert a glance and a puzzled expression, but doesn't say anything.
"I'm sure Islington will either return and lead us someplace, or else Mrs. Everchild will answer the door herself," Shaft explains.
The ape crosses his hands behind his back and waits, looking just a bit dubious.
"Why, isn't that Mr. Shaft?" The voice drifts through the closed door, which opens again a moment later. "And he's brought a friend. Miss Townes, isn't it? Do come in gentlemen, miss." Ignoring Miss Dembowski's disgruntled look, the older stout woman pulls the door fully open and stands aside to admit her visitors.
Caliban brightens up. "Ook," he says happily to Ms. Everchild, doffing his usual fez. He waits to go in behind his master, of course, like a proper manservant.
Herbert nods his head to Mrs. Everchild, and leads the others in (except for Slate, as that would surely cause Miss Dembkowski to have an aneurysm.)
"Let's go on to the upstairs parlor, shall we? It has such a lovely view of the hills, you must see it," Mrs. Everchild burbles on. "You look a bit peaked, Miss Dembkowski; perhaps you should have a nice lie-down. No, no, don't you fuss over me. I shall be perfectly well chaperoned by Miss Townes, I am sure. She was ever so kind in walking me home the other day, weren't you, Miss Townes? Come along now."
Once upstairs, Herbert says, "I take it you two are already acquainted then?"
Bernice files along, her puzzlement easing enough to let her greet the older woman with a pleasant smile. "Yes, and we had a delightful chat. It's nice to see you again, Mrs. Everchild, I trust you've been well. And Islington too?"
All the doors off the upstairs landing are closed; Mrs. Everchild opens one to admit her guests. "We've met once," she says, with an inquiring look to Mr. Shaft. Islington twines between her feet and meows at Bernice.
The ape ooks cheerfully and sits down to offer the cat its due petting. "Eek eek?"
Shaft doesn't say more until everyone is in the room.
Islington arches his back into the petting with a purr.
The doctor's smile becomes just a bit sunnier at the sight of the cat, and she kneels down to offer her hand. "Well, hello there!" She glances up to nod agreement. "Yes, though under rather different circumstances than tonight."
Once everyone's inside, Mrs. Everchild closes the parlor door, giving Mr. Shaft an expectant look.
"I'd love to hear about it sometime," Herbert says. To Mrs. Everchild, he explains, "It turns out the good doctor is also our fourth Closer - as well as having gotten one of the Openers to quit and having in her possession what may very well be the staff of your Mr. Oldman."
Bernice grins at the feline. "Yes, I'm with them. Herbert said it better than I could, but probably couldn't say it to you in quite the same way."
Mrs. Everchild's mouth opens in a silent 'O'. "Are you really now, Miss Townes? My word, I'd no notion you were a Player. Just as well I'd not started my calculations yet. And you've Oldman's staff? This is good news you bring me, Mr. Shaft!"
The doctor looks up from where she's kneeling, giving Mrs. Everchild an apologetic look. "I rather suspected you, to be honest, because I listened to what you and Islington were saying. But I... I assumed you were an opener, just by the, um... the nature of the things you set out. I knew you were searching for stones, and I found some of the stacks you fashioned, but I didn't want to tip my hand. I'm terribly sorry, ma'am."
"There is more - her Companion Slate has a way of contacting the white stag, who offered her a chance to leave and, presumably, join with St. John," Shaft says. "I've also been able to eliminate the Mikkelsen's as Players, although their presence is most certainly Game related. A pair of exorcists has also arrived in town, along with two 'assistants'."
Islington purrs at both Bernice and Caliban, then gives Bernice an askance look.
Mrs. Everchild rubs her chin at this influx of information, nodding in thought. "Goodness, you've been busy. I've news on tracking St. John, too: I think I've got that device of yours worked up so that it will search for her alone, although the range on it is rather limited. And, unfortunately, I could not rig it so that it would only look for her lair, which I'd've prefered, all things considered. Now, child -- you didn't mess with any of my little piles, did you? Take anything out or put anything in?"
Bernice shakes her head. "I could feel the... the strange current flowing beneath it, and didn't dare touch them on advice from the crows, but Mssr. Girard might have disturbed one. I spied a feather in one that looked like it belonged to Horus, and Girard didn't want anything left behind when he retreated from the Game. He may have recovered the feather."
"These cairns of yours aren't out in plain sight are they?" Herbert asks. "Those exorcist fellows would almost certainly try to track down anyone practicing witchcraft."
"So M. Girard has withdrawn? And he was the Opener you chased off?" Mrs. Everchild confirms. She waggles her fingers at Herbert. "They're not at obvious locations -- well, not obvious unless you're a diviner, anyway. Which hopefully these exorcist fellows aren't. Exorcists! What more does this town need?" She exhales, dividing her attention between her two human guests. "Which marker did you direct M. Girard to, do you recall, Miss?"
Islington hunkers down next to Caliban, watching the conversation with pricked ears.
Caliban scratches behind the ears and makes tiny little ooks.
Bernice stands up again, straightening her skirts and dusting at them unnecessarily. "I followed a crow to one in the newer woods," she says, and goes on to describe the path she took as best she can remember. "It wasn't easy to find by any means, so I should think it'd be safe from casual observation. May I ask what they... um... do?"
Mrs. Everchild looks up at Bernice. "Mmm, yes. If we might get the formalities over with, though -- I am a Closer, Miss Townes. Would you do me the favor of stating the same to me?"
The younger woman nods earnestly. "Yes, of course. I'm also a Closer."
"Thank you. Those little cairns, as Mr. Shaft describes them, are designed to channel the power in this area back to me on the night of the 31st. I'll use that power to aid us in Closing the gateway. Assuming nothing disturbs them ... normal animals will stay away from them, but other Players ... well, one never knows." Mrs. Everchild looks grim. "I'd planned to do a circuit of all of them on the 30th, repair any damage done. St. John, I know, has neither the subtlety nor the talents to mess with this design."
Islington's fur ruffles at one of those ooks.
"The Mikkelsens have spotted St. John out in the woods, during their searches," Shaft says, and brings out Gustav's hand drawn map. "Mostly in this area," he notes, pointing to the map.
Townes' face clouds a little. "Subtlety is definately something she lacks, and Islington's being very charitable with that understatement. I don't look forward to meeting her either, but I know we're going to have to."
Bernice pauses, then adds, "What do we know about her, anyway? And is she the only Opener we're aware of remaining?"
Mrs. Everchild ahs, taking the map into her hands with evident pleasure. "Splendid! Just what we'd need to use the modified Compass to pinpoint her location. Provided she truly is in this area. You said the Mikkelsens are not Players? what are they doing around here?"
"Following a unicorn," Herbert says. "Also thought to be in that area. It may not be St. John's lair - Gustav said she seemed to be searching for something. It could be one of the likely locations for the banefire."
To Bernice, Shaft says, "We still need to investigate Mr. Hobson, I think, just in case."
"Mmm, yes." The elderly woman adjusts the glasses on her nose as she studies the map. "There's an old power in that area, although it's not the only site I'd say is possible. Once we know where St. John sleeps we can pinpoint it, I hope. It's good to eliminate the Mikkelsens from the equation. But a unicorn? Hmp."
"You don't believe in unicorns, Mrs. Everchild?" Shaft asks.
"I wouldn't got that far, Mr. Shaft, though I can't say I've ever seen one before either. It does strike one as peculiar, though, a unicorn being around here, now. I don't know as I've ever heard of unicorns in connection with the Game, have you?" Mrs. Everchild asks.
Bernice brushes her lips with her knuckles. "It does seem curious, but then again, I don't know much at all about this whole thing. Is Gustav an actual hunter? I'm a passing fair tracker myself, maybe if I know what I'm looking for I can find it."
"My knowledge of Game history is sorely lacking, I'm afraid," Shaft says. "I'm not even sure where past gatherings have taken place. However, the unicorn led the Mikkelsens to various places in Europe before coming here. I don't suppose you have a list of previous Game locations, do you?"
"Some of them," Mrs. Everchild replies. "Let me think a moment. The 1830 game was in this little nothing village in Afghanistan, ugh, I cannot recall the name at the moment. The 1849 was in St. Petersburg, I know. One of the Games I read about was in Thailand, do you recall when that one was, Islington?"
The cat gives her a blank look, tailtip twitching.
"What about Spain?" Shaft asks.
Everchild frowns in thought. "Spain? That doesn't sound familiar at all, I'm afraid."
"Nor Germany or Austria, I suppose?" Herbert asks. "Those are the places the unicorn led them to prior to here. And when they caught up, there were only the occasional rumors of a white deer or white horse having been seen."
Bernice rubs her neck thoughtfully. "Well, I can't imagine a unicorn not being important. Well... goodness, it rather has to be, hasn't it? If the stories are true. Do you suppose it's visited the Deep Woods? I could ask them."
"There was one in Germany in, oh, the 12th or 14th century, I guess. There've been dozens of games over the millenia, so I suppose if you could go back far enough and could find records -- precious few of those! -- you might find a Game anywhere. It's a bit random, you know. Depends on the cycle of the moon and the sun, and the time will vary a bit in different parts of the world. Plus there's the pull of Earth itself to factor in," Mrs. Everchild says.
The doctor looks quite startled. "Dozens? Have..." The young woman pauses, as if worried she were going to speak a blasphemy, but questions in her mind roil. "Have the Openers ever.. won?"
"You mean these woods, child?" the old woman says, gesturing to the map. "That's where the Mikkelsens say they've been searching, now, isn't it? If they're on the trail of this unicorn at all it rather has to be there."
"Rae believed it was hiding from others, possibly even from St. John," Herbert notes. Listening to Everchild's explanation, he asks her, "Is there an actual formula involved in the location of each Game? I've always wondered why the portal isn't fixed."
At Miss Townes's next question, Everchild shakes her head soberly. "No, child. Not that so far as anyone knows. But then again, Oldman's always been there to Close, before 1849."
Everchild looks startled by the question. "Of course there is, dear boy. However did you find this Game if you didn't know the formula?"
"Well, Caliban chose the location," Herbert says. "With a little help, but.. mostly it was just his intuition."
Bernice mouths an 'oh', then continues out loud. "I'm sorry, I got mixed up. So they're searching near or in the Deep Woods... and St. John is lairing there too?"
"She's been seen searching in that same area, but that doesn't mean she's set her home there," Herbert says.
"So it appears. Popular spot, it seems." Mrs. Everchild frowns.
"Good intuition you have there, Caliban." The old woman gives the chimp a nod.
Townes drops her knuckles into her hands. "Well then, now I know what questions to ask the Deep Woods. We may be able to find them, but the Great Oak and much of the Wood is very reluctant to be drawn into this conflict. I know they don't trust outsiders, it was difficult for me to earn their acceptance myself."
"I don't suppose you could write down the formula for me, Mrs. Everchild?" Shaft asks. "I'm curious to see if it would ever result in the portal appearing in the same place twice."
Caliban strokes down the cat's back thoughtfully, grinning wryly up at Ms. Everchild. "Ook," he suggests. "Eek eek ook."
"Certainly, Mr. Shaft. I've got it with my notes in the other room. I'd like to get my map in any case, so's I can mark off the Mikkelsens and add this possible area for St. John." Mrs. Everchild heaves a sigh and gives Bernice a considering look as she gets to her feet. "You've spoken with the woods, have you? And they speak back. Now there's a source of information I should very much like to tap."
"Certainly makes you think twice about pouring maple syrup on your hotcakes," Herbert admits.
The old woman chuckles. "There's that. I'll be right back." She steps outside the room.
Islington perks his ears and mews at Bernice.
"Oh my, we forgot to ask about the staff," Herbert says.
Caliban hops up and goes to the windowsill, looking out with a disquieted expression.
"What is it, Cal?" Shaft asks, and goes to look out of the window.
Caliban shakes his head. "Ook, eek," he replies, tapping his head, then furrowing brows in obvious deep thought.
Bernice kneels down by Islington again, reaching out to offer a scratch on the head, and leading it into a stroke if it's accepted. "I hope we can get that, and more, Islington. However, the Woods are very cautious, and rightly so. They've withstood the ravages of Man, and all sorts of other things, and it's made them suspicious of all things. They'll have nothing to do with your mistress' powers, and I've pledged not to bring danger to them. It's a promise I'll give my all not to break."
The cat pushes his head against Bernice's hand, purring.
Once more feeling like a deaf man at a concert, Herbert looks to Bernice. "I envy you your talent, Miss Townes," he says.
Bernice looks up at the englishman, giving him a friendly smile. "I wouldn't trade it for the whole english armada," she admits.
The young woman returns her gaze to Islington, rubbing at the bases of his ears with her fingertips, then carrying her scratching down the arch of his back, returning to the neck to smooth down any errant fur with relaxing strokes. "I may have to. I don't want to betray their trust, and I hope it doesn't make me keep my distance too much from all of you. I won't act against them, but I'm confident they won't act against you, even if they're wary."
The ape muses in little ooks and eeks as he looks over the town.
"Hopefully Mrs. Everchild's divination device will let us locate St. John's lair, and then everyone will be safer," Shaft wishes.
Mrs. Everchild returns, bearing a little black notebook and a map. She hands the notebook to Mr. Shaft. "Those are my notes on pinpointing the location of a Game. It's rather complicated. You're free to keep it, Mr. Shaft. I daresay that, one way or another, this will be my last Game." The map she spreads upon the coffee table and leans over. It's a map of the town with various labels upon it: "PG" is in town, while the a farm to the west has "XP". "JH" is near the church, and "R&GM" at the inn. "HS" is in the harbour, and "DOG?" is on land by the bay, a little east of the docks. Mrs. Everchild starts to erase the R&GM. "Where did you say you lived, Miss Townes?"
Bernice rubs her opposite shoulder with her free hand. "Perhaps, Caliban, or perhaps she's just that busy. I can't even hazard a guess at what must go on in that mind of hers. As for the Woods themselves, I just... I simply have a rapport with wild places. The druids lived in harmony with them."
At Everchild's question, the doctor stands again to find Herbert's map, pointing to the place by Wolfe Road that she indicated before, off a little into the 'new' forest. "Right about here, ma'am."
She puts a "BT" on the indicated spot. "Thank you, miss. I only hope the Openers haven't realized you're a Player, either. You quite blend in, miss. It'd be a stroke of luck if they couldn't find their way to the Banefire."
Islington follows Bernice to the table, twining around her ankles.
The ape ponders the map. "Ook?" he suggests, pantomiming holding something over the air over the map.
"Can a divining rod work over a map though?" Shaft asks, watching Caliban.
Caliban shrugs and looks up at Mrs. Everchild for an answer.
"I've tried to make them understand, Islington, but they're very old, and very set in their ways. Some agree with me, some don't. I guess we'll just have to see how it unfolds." At Everchild's question, Bernice nods at the older woman. "It's true, I don't think anyone suspects me yet. Especially since we'd had such a close call with.." The doctor's green eyes widen. "Oh! The Staff! Yes, what should we do with that? I should warn you, the Deep Woods won't have it among them. They say it's a terrible thing."
Mrs. Everchild shakes her head at Caliban. "I'm afraid it won't work that way." She pulls their erstwhile Compass from her pocket. It's changed substantially since they last saw it. The butt of a whip now provides a handle for it, while the whip lash has slaved its several rings together. Scraps of paper and bits of grey fur are bound to the rings by the lash. "It will react if you're close enough to her, but the range is quite limited -- less than a mile, I fear." She holds it up now. It's quiscient. "On the other hand, at least we know when she's not around, now."
The ape looks thoughtful.
Islington looks rather reassured by the lack of motion from the Compass.
"Ook," the ape asks after a bit of thought.
"Was the whip of any use?" Herbert asks.
Mrs. Everchild shakes her head at Caliban. "No, I've not tested it on St. John herself. I worked the same style of spell on it, using Madame Mysteria as my target earlier, however, and it worked upon her."
The doctor eyes the compass curiously, if a little warily.
"Very impressive, Mrs. Everchild," Herbert says, quiet honestly. "With this, we should be able to explore that area in relative safety."
Caliban nods, looking a bit relieved. "Ook, ook ook," he suggests, looking over at his master next. He points at himself and his master, then makes walking gestures, over the area of the map where he encountered the wolf once. Then he pantomimes tracing lines, from one point, then from another. Finally he points out the window at th esky, then makes a four-legged creature symbol with one hand, then pretends to sleep.
"Yes, you could. I hadn't thought about it, but it's as good for keeping yourself away from her as it would be for finding her." She offers it back to Mr. Shaft; her cat looks a little disappointed to seeing it leave their possession.
"Triangulate her position and wait for her to fall asleep, Caliban?" Shaft asks.
Bernice speaks up. "Caliban suggests searching for St. John's lair during the day, on the notion that St. John may be nocturnal."
A nod.
"I don't know if she is nocturnal or not, Caliban," Mrs. Everchild says. "She's human, too, whether she likes it or no. And hard as it may be to believe. On the other hand, I would not want to meet her at night."
"The Mikkelsen's saw her active during the daylight, so we can't be certain of her sleep cycle," Shaft notes. "We could triangulate twice though - once during the day and once at night."
Caliban scratches behind an ear. "Ook?"
"If she hasn't moved between the two measurements, then we can assume we've located her lair," Herbert explains. "The compass will show us if she's moving, after all.. as long as she isn't moving directly towards us."
"Ook," the ape says with a nod of realization. He beams up at his master.
Bernice tilts her head. "You're pretty sure St. John is lurking in the Deep Woods? If so, I can probably get a general idea of where she is. Then you can probably find her with your compass easily."
"With luck, yes," Shaft says. "We've tracked her to at least one spot before losing her, so we can probably start searching from there."
"Be careful in triangulating her, my friends. As I said, the range is not that large on it. It's not a full mile, and while a mile may seem like a fair distance it would not take her too long to cross it, if she knew you were there. Or if you got too close by mistake," Mrs. Everchild cautions.
"We will certainly be careful," Shaft says. "As far as we know, we are the only Closers she knows of or suspects. Now then, why would the Old Woods have something against the staff? Because it's from another land?"
Mrs. Everchild spreads her hands, palm up. "No notion." Islington mews.
"Perhaps it would be prudent to confirm for certain that Miss Towne's staff is the one that belonged to Oldman," Herbert suggests.
"Ook," the chimp assures Mrs. Everchild.
The young woman's lips purse into a hard line, verdant eyes becoming nearly as hard. "I'll track her either way... I should be able to come and go at will in that territory, and so far we have no indication she'd be proof against Old Henry." Her round face softens again when she realizes she's been asked a question, tilting her head toward the ape. "Well, for one thing, it's a Game artifact, and the woods want to be neutral where that's concerned. But they also described it as being carved from a tree of hate, possessed of a deep anger. I nearly hit the coyote with it when it wounded Slate, and the Woods counted me as lucky that I missed."
Bernice pauses, then nods at Mrs. Everchild. "If you'd care to take it for examination, I'd be more than happy to have it out of my hands."
"Mmm. If you like, miss, though I daresay the Woods have confirmed its nature as well as I could," Mrs. Everchild says. "I can't say I'm entirely easy with the notion of moving it. Game artifacts are safest in the home of a Player, where other Players cannot trespass. Even if their Companions are not bound by that rule, it's still an edge you wouldn't have bringing it here."
"It sounds like it might actually be an Opening artifact though," Shaft suggests with a frown. "St. John attacked the Druids who held it last, so perhaps she wanted to add it to her collection of magical items."
The doctor blinks once. "....Oh!" She taps her forehead with a delicate hand, looking briefly exasperated. "I completely forgot about that. I came into this game knowing next to nothing. Now that you mention it, I remember that rule now, I read it from Girard's books." She misses a beat, then snaps her fingers. "Girard's books! He's a... um... well, I guess he's a wizard. Would you get any use out of them, Mrs. Everchild?"
The old woman looks intrigued. "Possibly. I'd certainly be interested in seeing them, my girl."
"And with that foursome on the lookout for suspicious activity, it would be wise to move those books where they won't be uncovered," Herbert says. "I should ask Rev. Hale about those men."
The chimpanzee looks at the map again. "Eek." He pantomimes cocking a revolver, looking at his master meaningfully.
"I have it in my pocket, Caliban," Herbert says. "I've been carrying it ever since the attack on you."
"And, Mr. Shaft, don't make the mistake of thinking all Closing artifacts are pleasant happy things. The Game is grim on both sides. We may be on the side of Good, but that doesn't mean every Closer is a good person, or uses good means. Needs must, as the case may be." Mrs. Everchild looks off into the distance, then shakes her head. "Oh yes, your exorcists. Definitely something to bring up with Rev. Hale. And probably a reason not to move any suspicious items into my house, or at all. More than one of the townfolk are already looking crosseyed at me for my friendship with Madame Mysteria, and I'm afraid witchhunters will bode still worse for her."
After a moment's thought, Mrs. Everchild says, "I'll come to your home to have a look at the books and your staff, Miss Townes. Once I've seen them we can decide if it's worth the risk of trying to move them, shall we?"
"Very well then, unless you ladies would like an escort Caliban and I have a few things to look into before this evening," Herbert says.
Bernice nods at Caliban. "I certainly hope Mr. Shaft knows how to use it. I won't be far from Old Henry from this point on, that's for certain." Looking down at the map, she touches the jagged line of the woods. "I guess it's settled then. I should like to meet the Reverend when time permits, but for now I'll scout the Woods and see if I can't find either the unicorn or the wolf. I reckon something'll turn up. Yes, Mrs. Everchild, we can do so at your convenience."
"I'll go home with you now, then. No time like the present." Mrs. Everchild climbs to her feet again. "Well, gentlemen, it's been a pleasure. Do keep us apprised of whatever you discover, now."
"Ook ook," the ape says, saluting. He falls in place behind his master.
"Most certainly, madame," Herbert says, giving a short bow. "Now that we are working together on things, I'm certain we will make great progress before the deadline." Turning to his Companion, he asks, "Don't you agree, Caliban?"
Islington stands and rubs his head against Caliban's leg.
The ape nods. "Ook!"
Townes nods briskly. "We'll make good time with Slate's help, ma'am. I hope to see everyone again soon, hale and whole."