Phillips Harbour
Sunday, October 25, 1868. Night.
Back at the boathouse, nothing further is amiss. It's drawing on to midnight now, and Shaft carries Caliban part of the way home.
"How worn out are you Cal?" Herbert asks, sounding concerned. There is still the matter of charging the Engine to be dealt with, after all.
The ape waggles a hand halfway between yes and no, but his master knows him well enough to tell that he's putting up a brave face.
"Well then, let's get some rest," the man suggests, and goes about disconnecting the power feed leading from the Babbage to the Engine. "Are you.. cross with me about tonight? I botched things up didn't I?"
Caliban wrinkles his nose, then sighs. He pats his boss on the back, or as high up as he can reach.
The ape goes about cleaning up as well.
"Once we get all of this over with, I shall have to devote more effort to being able to understand you as clearly as the others do," Shaft promises. "Perhaps Miss Townes can assist in that, if she returns to Wales."
Caliban gives his master a smile, then nods toward the Machine.
"It's a bit awkward compared to how the others can communicate with you," Shaft says, but pats the Engine proudly nonetheless. "I feel a bit like a deaf person around them, I must admit. How rational do you think Yotee is right now?"
The ape grimaces, then shakes his head vehemently.
"That is worrying. But without a human Companion, I don't see how he could affect things beyond removing the staff from play," Shaft notes. "Which we didn't know how to use in the first place."
Caliban rubs his chin as if pondering how to put it across, then points to himself and his master, then at the machine. He makes the four-legged gesture with one hand, then the two-legged gesture with another, and then pantomimes holding a staff.
"Use the Engine to try an alignment divination?" Herbert asks. "On.. who was that man.. Mr. Waite, the one we thought Yotee was hanging about with?"
The monkey shakes his head. He hops onto the chair, then nods toward the controls to his master as he reaches out to place the helmet on himself.
Herbert hurries to activate the appropriate mechanisms - there should be enough electrical charge in the standard batteries to power the Ouija board arm and helmet.
The monkey spells out, "TRBL WAS COMP OLD MAN. OLD MANS STAFF. TRBL NOZ HOW TO US IT."
"But the Old Man is dead, and Players have to be paired up," Herbert says. "Trouble may know how to use the staff, but that doesn't mean he can use it by himself. However, if he does have a human partner, it would explain how he was able to get here in the first place."
"DONT COUNT TRBL OUT," advises Caliban. "CRZY BUT NOZ HOW TO MK TRBL."
"When you were talking with him, did he give any indication that he considered himself to be a Player, and not simply sympathetic to Opening?" Shaft asks.
The monkey moves the planchet around a little. TRBL OPNR, he concludes. DONT KNOW PLYR.
"To be on the safe side, we should assume he is a Player then, and has a human companion," Herbert suggests. "The only ones who might know for certain are, unfortunately, Miss Pau or Marseilles Shelley. Do you think the girl would be willing to talk to us?"
"NO," the ouija board replies quickly. "RLLY MAD NOW."
"I suppose Mrs. Stephenson might have more information on Mr. Waite, since she's renting to him," Shaft says next. "That second farm still seems our best bet for Trouble's home, especially if he was in contact with Pau as often as suggested by her familiarity with him."
The chimpanzee nods thoughtfully. "TRY FIND BNFIR TMR?"
"If we can charge up the system enough, yes," Herbert says. "We should also send word to Hale about looking into Mr. Waite. It would at least occupy Reverend Woodrome a bit to have someone else to investigate."
The planchet hovers uncertainly. The chimpanzee nods wearily at his boss. "DRNK GUY TRBL WS WITH?"
"Do you know who he was?" Herbert asks.
"JK GRN," the ouija board spells out. "AT GNRL STR."
Shaft considers that, then shakes his head. "Unless Mr. Greene had recently been to Europe, it wouldn't explain how Trouble arrived here. An outsider is still our most likely candidate. If Mr. Waite is not our missing Opener, then we can look into Mr. Greene. Otherwise, Trouble may have simply been eavesdropping on the locals."
"DSNT HV TO BE PLYR, JUS HANDS," the board replies.
"I'm not so sure about that," Shaft says. "The wielder of a neutral artifact has to have the will to Open or Close, surely. And someone being simply manipulated isn't likely to possess that sort of will. But we can try to find out more - Bernice would be best able to learn about Jake Greene."
Caliban shrugs. "TRBL IS TRBL," he board comments while the chimpanzee scowls. He doffs the helmet with that, evidently lacking anything to add.
"Trouble is trouble, indeed," Herbert says, and starts shutting down the Engine.
The next morning, Mr. Shaft and Caliban pay a visit to Rev. Milton's house to see Hale. The older man is outside when they arrive, pulling weeds in the cemetary adjoining the church. He leaves off at their arrival. "I got your note, but there was no practical way for me to warn Locke at that hour. Assuming all is still well, I'll see what I can do when I see him later this morning. Are you gentlemen all right? The loss of the staff is a grevious blow to our cause." He frowns.
The ape is looking much better for some rest, dressed in his usual jacket and fez. He looks doleful at Rev. Hale's mention of this fact.
"There may be more to it than just the theft," Herbert notes. "If Yotee - or Trouble, as one calls him - has a human accomplice, then we have an unaccounted Opener to deal with. Circumstantial evidence points to Jake Green and Randall Waite so far as suspects for the role."
"Randall Waite?" Hale's brow furrows. "Jake Green I know -- he's a local -- but I don't recall a Waite. When did he come into town?"
"I suspect about the same time Miss Pau did, or earlier," Shaft says. "He is renting farmland from Mrs. Stephenson. Our initial information on the coyote suggested he was staying in the barn there, but Mr. Waite said he hadn't seen anything when we asked. Pau was familiar with Yotee, however, and the farms are adjacent. As I said, circumstantial at best. But worth looking into further."
The ape looks around for Prayer, making little ooking noises.
"Ah, yes! Mrs. Stephenson's mysterious tenant. He's not been to church at all, did you know? It shouldn't be a challenge to coax Woodrome and Locke to investigate him," Hale says with some satisfaction. "Jake Green seems rather more harmless, though." Prayer doesn't seem to be around.
The ape desists and clasps his hands behind his back, looking around the cemetery.
"Yotee was seen with Mr. Green while the man was drinking with his friends," Shaft says. "I suspect he was there to eavesdrop. There was the incident at the Inn where he tore up a bag of flour and ran out of a window as well, and I believe you encountered the canine yourself before going off to challenge the Hill spirit, did you not?"
Mrs. Milton doesn't come out of her house to chase Caliban off this time. Hale nods. "I did. He was ... more helpful than anything else, in fact," he admits reluctantly. "He stole the map I was following, but gave it back immediately. Later, he stopped me from walking off the cliffside when I was blinded by the Hill. And generally tried to get me to leave before I stirred up more trouble, which in retrospect was good advice. Hmm. You know, Prayer said he'd seen the coyote while I was imprisoned. I wonder if he knows where the animal lives?"
"Our only leads on that are the barn where we first thought he might be, and now the old Shelley mansion, where he was visiting the ghost of the daughter, Marseilles," Shaft explains.
The ape peers at the gravestones. On hearing mention of Prayer, he looks up and over at the reverend, then makes a quizzical face while holding up a flattened fist, to which he has added a finger from his other hand to suggest a mouse's tial. "Squeak?"
"Begging the question: can a ghost be a Player? Hmph. Well, perhaps we'll learn something of interest from Mr. Waite." Hale glances to Caliban. "Prayer? He's keeping an eye on Madame Mysteria. Something agitated the fortuneteller last night, and he wanted to find out what it was and if it's anything we need worry about."
Caliban nods appreciatively and makes a small bow to the reverend.
"We have the ghost held captive for now," Herbert adds. "She was not aware of the Game, but is a powerful entity who can manipulate minds. And she's very angry right now."
Hale gives a sober nod. "I imagine she is, if you've got her locked up. Ah, I will give a thousand thanks when this is all finally over."
The ape nods vehement agreement.
"I.. don't know that I'd be feeling particularly rejoiceful," Shaft says. "Even if we succeed, others will suffer as a result."
Caliban looks at his boss quizzically.
"It would be better still if there were no Openers, certainly. But it is their choice, and I can only muster so much sympathy for those who would willfully endanger the whole of the world to further their own agendas. It is not as though we have not warned them," Hale says.
"I agree, but I still regret it," Shaft says. "But I also do not know what would happen if only one faction were present at the banefire. Its energies must be released into something, after all."
"There is no danger in that -- not so long as all those present are Closers. It has happened before, that the Closers have been unopposed, and the consequence has been only a painless Closing, without the needless deaths or suffering of Openers," Hale says. "Having only Openers would, of course, be a horror not worth contemplation."
"Well, Caliban and I must continue our preparations for calculating the location of the banefire," Shaft says. "It may very well lead to further 'agitation' on the part of the fortuneteller though, and it would be best if Rev. Woodrome and his friends were far away when it occurs."
Hale nods. "I'll do what I can. Good luck, Mr. Shaft."
Back at the boathouse, Shaft and Caliban give Hale some time to get the witchhunters out of the center of town, then fire up the Spirit Lamp one more time. They catch several small spirits coming from off the harbour -- perhaps from dead fish caught by the trawlers? -- with lamp on low power, and soon the five empty facets of Trap are full.
"Alright, Cal," Herbert says to the helmeted ape. "Drain off any of them that don't seem likely to object into the batteries." With the trap full for the moment, Shaft powers down the Lamp.
The ape mentally guides the trapped spirits into the battery, making sure to skip the one with Marseilles. He looks relieved that no great complication has ensued. For the time being.
Herbert checks the charge level to see just how much spirit energy they've gained.
Between the fox, Mrs. Albason, the spirit from last night and the five from today, they've got about two and a half full charges on the battery. None of these spirits have been very strong or powerful, unfortunately, and they've expended some power on the Engine since arriving in Phillips Harbour. And there's one charge left in the Spirit Stunner.
"Let's try for some more," Shaft says, and switches the Lamp back on.
The ape nods and concentrates on seeing approaching spirits once more.
The second run nets them another four spirits in fifteen minutes, then nothing for the next twenty.
The ape thoughtfully drains the spirits, then sets the planchet in motion. "THNK THTS ALL FOR TDY," he writes. "HIGH PWR MIT GET ATTN."
"I think we've drawn in everything local that we're going to get," Shaft notes, and also thinks that he battery is probably running out and dimming the Lamp further. "I'm going to switch the Lamp back over to the main battery if you're up it, Caliban."
Caliban looks reluctant, but nods.
After fifteen minutes, the Spirit Lamp hasn't caught anything at high power, either.
"TRY AGN TONIT," the ape advises. "OR CTCH SMTHNG."
Shaft shuts down the Lamp, before further exposure to full power makes them start to hallucinate. "Well, perhaps we will have better luck at night," he agrees.
Caliban doffs the helmet and peeks outside to make sure they're still in the clear.
The four new spirits, once drained, put them up to four charges. Caliban doesn't find much resistance, or sense, to any of this batch. They seem too small and weak to have much personality.
"If we can get this many again tonight, we'll might have enough power to get some higher brain function out of Mrs. Albason," Shaft says hopefully. "If not.. well, we'll have to sift through a lot of possibly locations for the banefire."
The ape puts the helmet on again and writes out, "PLYR LOCS?"
Herbert spreads the best town map they have on one of the tables. "We have our definite ones plotted out fairly well, given the accuracy we have available," he notes, pointing to a few spots marked on the map already. "For Yotee, we'll need to add both of our likely locations and weight them for degree of confidence. I still favor the farm over the mansion, so will rate that location higher, unless you think the mansion is more likely? We might be able to actually investigate the Shelley place for signs of the coyote living there."
Caliban nods thoughtfully.
"TK PICS," the ouija board suggests.
"That will be our excuse for being there, certainly," Herbert nods. "I'll get the camera equipment ready."
"SPRT CAM?"
Shaft considers that, and checks the charge on the smaller battery connected to the Spirit Lamp. "We might get a photo out of it, but we will need to choose where to take the picture carefully. We can only take one shot, after all."
The ape nods agreeably.
Later Monday morning, Herbert and Caliban venture out of the boathouse after stowing the trap back in the Babbage safe. The chimp is armed with the Darklight camera, and his master with revolver and Spirit Stunner. The streets of Phillips Harbour show the usual mix of gossip and business activity. Man and monkey net whispers and looks, as is usual, and some of the hostility of prior days lingers in the air. Still, it feels more peaceful than the day Miss Pau was taken. They arrive at the locked gate to the Shelley mansion without incident.
The grounds are poorly kept but not entirely neglected; someone must be taking care of the place, if not enthusiastically.
Caliban sniff around a bit to see if the scent of Trouble is fresh.
Trouble's definitely been here, but not in the last day or two. Caliban's not sure exactly how old the coyote's scent is.
Herbert peers through the gate, looking for a caretaker's shed or other sign of human presence. "Hello, is anyone there?" he eventually calls.
The monkey tries to communicate this to his master making use of the sun and winding his hand back around the clock a few times.
The mansion -- which has one unfinished wing, though the main structure is complete -- is the only building on the property. No one comes out at Herbert's call, and the property looks deserted at the moment.
Nodding, Shaft gets the idea of 'a few days ago' and frowns. There's never a way to tell the ratio of exposure time to how far into the past the camera might reach.
"Well, we may simply have to shoot through the gate," the man concedes, and starts to set up the camera to do so.
The gate is iron, and about eight feet tall, with bars spaced two or three inches apart. It would be troublesome for Mr. Shaft to climb, but trivial to the chimpanzee.
The ape points at himself, then bounces a finger over the fence and inside.
Herbert has to get the lens right up against the bars in order frame the picture. All that's left is the focus point: a living person. He looks around to see if anyone is nearby before nodding to Caliban.
Caliban nods, then looks around to see if anyone's looking, before essaying a climb-over and look-around.
Making various needless adjustments, Herbert looks busy while waiting for Caliban to finish his exploration, just in case any locals are likely to show up.
This section of town doesn't get much traffic, and the townspeople are used to Herbert taking picture by now so his behavior doesn't attract addtional attention -- at least not right away. Caliban has to wait a few minutes for some people walking past to get clear, then he can vault over and safely inside.
Just like old times, casin' the place in broad daylight, the monkey thinks. Except the place is kinda... run down.
Caliban's search of the premises turns up only one real oddity: a white flower planted in a clay bowl, perched in the open frame of one of the unfinished walls of the north wing. Apart from that, the place is as one would expect: dusty, shrouded, empty, incomplete.
The ape looks at the flower thoughtfully, then sniffs it to see if it's fresh.
It's alive and growing in the dirt within its bowl. It's a cheerful-looking flower.
Caliban reports this fact to his boss, pointing it out. Maybe a picture of that would shed some light on things.
The flower is in the north-facing wall of the north wing, and the front gate is on the west side, so Mr. Shaft has to walk around to the north side of the iron fence to get a look at the flower.
Unable to scale the fence, Herbert can at least use the camera lense to zoom in. "Well, there's our focus, I suppose," he mutters as he tries to get the flower in perfect focus and centered. "If there's been any activity, it should be near that flower."
Click!
It's a pretty flower.
"Well, let's get this developed and find out if Miss Townes had any coyote encounters last night," Herbert says, smiling to Caliban as he works to unmount the heavy camera.