Phillips Harbour.
Thursday, October 29. Afternoon
While Shaft is tinkering with the Analytical Engine -- it turns out that some of its delicate components in it are out of alignment and need to be reconfigured -- Girard and Horus peruse the Spirit Codex. Horus makes occassional and somewhat cryptic observations on the text; the falcon doesn't sound too impressed by da Vinci's sources and is skeptical of some of his conclusions. Earlier, Shaft had pointed them to the Darklight photograph of the Shelley Manor, and Girard has that and the others spread across the table for examination as well.
Mr. Shaft is nearly ready to test his prototype of the Seal of Solomon shielding device when Miss Townes and Caliban return. As it's midday and the docks are busy, Bernice pretends to tether Slate outside and the horse waits without. The boathouse is attracting more than the usual number of looks from dockworkers and passerbys. That Miss Townes is entering a man's property without a female companion nets her raised eyebrows as well. It's a good thing she won't have to live in this town much longer. One way or another.
As Bernice enters, Phillipe Girard rises to greet her. He smiles warmly; he looks whole, if somewhat worn and distinctly more pallid than she remembers -- though he was always fair-skinned.
The chimpanzee looks a touch miffed at the sidelong looks. As if he weren't a perfectly suitable chaperone for the Doc! He holds open the door for her ostentatiously, then files in after her with a nod to Slate.
Bernice can't help carrying a furtive and guilty look while she hustles into the boathouse, nodding gratefully at Caliban, but the look melts away at the sight of Girard and Horus, her smile radiant, though her round cheeks carry a hint of rose, the doctor recalling the last time she saw the Frenchman.
Looking up from his workbench, Herbert smiles at the arrival of Caliban and Bernice. "Ah, good day Miss Townes!" he says.
Horus remains doing what he seems to do best: relating mystic secrets, and correcting mystic mistakes. Like a dour professor in bird form, he speaks his dry, wizened-sounding words in to the minds of the assembled. Whenever required, and at the request of those present, he 'translates' for chimpanzee, although Caliban's humor is significantly muted by the bird's seeming inability -- or refusal -- to translate comedy in more than his same, dry voice.
The Frenchman's eyes run over Bernice in a way that suggests he remembers it, too. But he meet her eyes politely, even if he does not have the grace to blush himself. "It's good to see you again, Mademoiselle Townes," he says, with a flourishing bow. "I've met your associates. Mr. Shaft has some very interesting ideas, I note."
Hey Boss, the chimpanzee says, waving as he saunters in. Trouble took Miss Marseilles off to show her how to be a coyote. I can't think of a good reason not to be worried about that.
Despite the doctor's blush becoming fiercer, her smile remains. "I'm glad to see you back, Mssr. Girard. You too, Horus!" She walks along with Caliban, and greets the chimp's companion warmly as well. "Hello, Mr. Shaft! We ran across Trouble by chance, and I think we may be making some progress."
"We have bigger concerns than Marseilles running about on all fours," Shaft notes to the ape, and holds up his prototype shielding device. It's a band of metal meant to circle the head above the ears, about an inch wide. Golden circuit-runes have been inscribed on both the inner and outer surfaces, and a small glass vial of glowing green liquid attached to the back provides power.
Smiling to Bernice at the mention of 'progress', Herbert asks, "So, Trouble and Mr. Waite are willing to aid in an attempt to fight the master spirits?" he asks the woman.
The falcon's head shifts, and suddenly he's staring at Bernice with a rather intent focus. He maintains this even after she greets him. Then, Bernice can hear a scholarly, aged voice ring in her head, Greetings, Miss. Townes. Horus's gaze flicks between her and Girard, and then he ruffles his feathers and resumes examining the text before him.
What's the problem, boss? Whatever you've got there looks pretty darn spiffy! The chimpanzee inspects the handiwork.
"The problem is in testing this shield," Shaft notes to Caliban. "I've tried to make it 'one way', with the outer seal preventing external influences while the inner one nullifies the first one for the wearer's own spirit."
The chimpanzee nods thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. So, we need to find Marseilles so she can test it?
The doctor sighs a little, rubbing the back of her head. "I daresay, they're intent on it, Mr. Shaft. I'm concerned they won't consider... er, alternate options. However, Trouble's definately willing to cooperate, and he's going to advise Mr. Waites..." she says the name with a little distaste, "Mr. Waites to find a way to keep the portal from opening too far and too fast, hopefully creating a bottleneck for you to work with." She favors Horus with another smile, then steps closer to see what's being worked on. "Mr. Waites was apparently actually -contacted- by an Otherside Master."
"Yes," Shaft replies. "We need to know if it will work at all, and if so, how it works. With the shielded material we tried before, it was if a person simply vanished from her perception. If that's the case with this device, the wearer might be invisible to spirits but still vulnerable to them. So we have to test both possibilities. Oh.. and if someone with a spirit can even wear it at all when it's activated."
Caliban looks up at this. Wait, what, Doc? I didn't think they could do that!
Girard and Horus are both keeping a respectful distance from the headband in Mr. Shaft's hands. Neither one looks eager to be the one to test it.
Girard shoots Bernice an alarmed look, as well. "That can't be good. What did he say to it?"
Herbert notes the reticence of Girard and Horus, and says, "It can't do anything until the power is flowing, so it is quite harmless right now. Was this contact before or after the 1st of the month though, Miss Townes?"
"I understand that's your plan, Mr. Shaft," Girard says, in the tone of one who's not convinced this will go according to plan.
Looking up from the book, Horus projects, The double seal will not hold. The interior barrier is flawed, and inferior to the True Seal employed on the exterior. It is a master's craft deflected by the speculator's guess -- wood strikes bronze. The bird's gaze then flicks to Bernice, and he, too, seems interested. The overlords speak from beyond the veil?
Bernice's expression takes on a grim cast for a moment, or as grim as her pixielike face allows. "I found the news disturbing as well. It must mean, in part, that they have some idea that we're working against them. Trouble said they 'couldn't find' Mr. Waites, that he was 'too small' or some such. But it offered both he and Trouble anything they wanted, vast power, if only they would open the Portal. It showed Trouble how to do it. I don't believe Mr. Waites responded."
"Don't they always do that to entice Openers though?" Shaft asks. "We should find out if Miss Pau has also been contacted."
The chimpanzee gives Horus a sidelong look. So, say that again so a dumb ape like me can understand that?
"They didn't contact me. But myabe that was their plan. Once I got a taste of beings with vast power, I'd had enough," Girard says, stroking a hand down Horus's back.
Horus shoots the chimpanzee a look, although without much in the way of mallable facial features the 'intent stare' is about all the bird ever gives anyone. Do not trust in the work of this codex. The inner seal is no proof against the Seal of Solomon. The bird's head then cocks, and he adds, To use the contemporary, you are "playing with fire." He then returns his gaze to the book, but keeps on 'speaking.' The overlords spela in times of the great trial, and have before the Game has begun. Human history speaks of gods and devils, of djinn and other wish-givers. Know that some of these tales have their origin with the overlords of the beyond.
"I honestly wouldn't know, Mr. Shaft," replies Bernice, her smile a bit chagrinned. She steps closer to stand by Girard, and looks on with interest at the tinkering. "So what's all this?"
Horus's information dump is momentarily disturbed by the petting, but the bird doesn't seem to mind. He even worries at Girard's finger with his beak after the petting is done.
The chimpanzee volunteers, I'll test it, boss! Then we can see this inner, outer, whatever seal business works or not, right?
Girard takes Bernice's hand when she gestures to the headband. "I wouldn't recommend touching it, mademoiselle. It's safe enough for ... one such as Mr. Shaft. I would not speak for the rest of us, even if it is not 'activated', as he says."
Caliban holds his hands out for the headband. He affects a nonchalant look about the prospect of whatever torture the Seal of Solomon might bring down upon his head if the inner seal does not shield him.
This talk of contacting has inspired me, Girard, Horus says suddenly, his gaze shifting to, apparently, a table. Know that the overlords are powerful. They do not lie of their strength, or their promises. Though not infinate, their influence is vast within their sphere of reality. Know that the veil refuses their entry, and denies their power -- but not the entirety of it. Know that it is possible for the overlords to gaze across the gulf of worlds, and look upon us. To what degree, it is not know. I would feel them watching. And know, Horus's gaze shoots to a window, it is possible to gaze back.
Herbert seems a bit reluctant at first, but then hands the device to Caliban. "The contact pads to power on the outer seal are on the left side, the inner seal on the right. Try the inner seal first, Caliban."
Girard holds his breath, but doesn't try to stop Caliban. He listens to his Companion. "Er ... you're not suggesting we, ah, look back, are you, Horus?" he asks nervously.
The chimpanzee inspects the device. Gotcha, boss. Inner seal first.
Bernice looks surprised, but also quite distracted when Girard takes her hand, and she momentarily clasps his fingers. She seems to forget what she was going to say at first, but then gets a hold of herself, glancing again at the device. "It's the trap, then?"
Nothing appears to happen when the crown changes hands.
Caliban puts the headband on and clicks the right side. He flinches a little but appears unaffected by the experience. Not feelin' a thing, he observes. Now the outer seal?
Horus's gaze flickers to the test subject, lingering a while before he answers Girard. Do you wish to gaze upon your adversary? The overlords draw near, and the veil wanes. The barrier is not as strong as it once was. We may look. A pause, and one might almost think the bird is being dramatic -- or perhaps he's just pausing to let the significance sink in. If we chose to do so.
Shaft watches Caliban for a few moments just to be sure, then gives the nod to try the outer seal.
The chimpanzee scrunching up his face as he concentrates, looking upward as if trying to observe the band. Tickles, he ooks after a deliberation, then catches his boss's signal. He moves up to connect the other side. click Pain! He pulls the headband off, screaming, and flings it away as if it were made of hot metal.
Caliban clutches his head, massaging his temples as if to make sure that it's still attached.
"Well." Girard laces his fingers with Bernice's, not quite consciously. "Know thy enemy and all, but I'm not sure what I hope to learn from seeing these things. Curiosity's got a bad record -- ahhh!" He's cut off by Caliban's scream, looking horror-struck.
Shaft retrieve the crown and turns it off, a frown on his face. "Are you alright, Caliban?" he asks his companion once the crown is 'safe' again.
Bernice gasps in horror, and jerks Girard along a bit when she tears herself away to hurry to Caliban, kneeling down to try to take hold of the chimp. "Caliban! What happened?" Her healer's instinct is already checking for obvious wounds now.
Yeah... The chimpanzee catches his breath slowly. Yeah, boss. I guess the birdy was right, whatever you were usin' on the inner side wasn't enough to protect me from the outer side. He manages a small smile. It's okay, Doc, it's just a good thing we tested it before we actually hadda use it, huh?
The headband is undamaged despite the force of the chimp's throw. The sigils on its outer surface luminescence in faint gold lines until Shaft turns it off. The chimpanzee shows no apparent signs of injury and is physically unharmed.
"You know," Girard says, after a few moments and when it's clear Caliban has suffered no permanent ill effect, "I hadn't thought that a Seal of Solomon with a 'powered' and 'inert' state would work. But I guess that part did."
"Passive shielding requires special materials," Shaft says, turning the crown in his hands. "For an 'enchantment' effect, applying power is needed." He puts the crown on his own head next, and activates the inner and outer seals to see if it has any effect on him.
The chimpanzee reaches up to stop his master, Hey, wait, boss, it's gonna-- he pauses. From what he overheard earlier, the Seal of Solomon affects spirits. If his boss really doesn't have one... He just holds himself ready to wrench the headband off as soon as his master shows any signs of pain.
The doctor fusses longer than necessary, clucking her tongue until she's sure Caliban isn't hurt in a way she can remedy. "Honestly, Mr. Caliban. I hope this isn't how you've always helped test new.. ah, technology?"
What? I put the 'dummy' in 'test dummy', Doc, the chimpanzee quips to Miss Townes.
The crown has no visible effect on Mr. Shaft, although the circuit-runes glow in gold lines again after he powers it. It does look rather impressive, albeit at odds with Shaft's modern and proper British suit.
The chimpanzee scratches behind an ear, relaxing from his previous ready stance. Well, I'll be, I guess the boss really doesn't have a spirit-watcha-thingy in him.
"I don't feel anything," Shaft says, sounding.. disappointed. "Until Marseilles is present, however, we only know the effect it has on a spirit that is wearing it. At the very least.. it gives us a way to deal with someone who is under the influence of a Master spirit."
Bernice can't help giggling quietly, then sobers while she watches Herbert and the crown uneasily with the same tense readiness that Caliban has. When nothing seems to happen, she looks relieved, if a little disturbed, and she stands up straight again. "So it's meant to trap a spirit within a body? Or.. torture one?" That last thought makes her uneasier.
"Or we could attach to the end of stick and wave it at anything that comes through the Portal," the man suggests next.
Well, boss, this means you can't be controlled by a Master while wearing it, the chimpanzee says. If that part works!
"I believe it's meant to make interacting with the body wearing it unappealing to any spirit, madamoiselle," Girard says. "I know it's working with regard to my spirit. I don't want to touch it."
"We still need Marseilles to actually test that," Herbert notes, and powers off the device.
Right, right, remember when I mentioned Trouble was teachin' her how to be a coyote? the chimpanzee points out. Part of my worry is that coyotes are so hard to find when you actually need 'em around.
Horus seems unphased by the commotion caused by Caliban's interaction with the ward-device, and has since moved on to examining the photographs spread out on the table. Girard, if you would gaze upon your enemy, know then that time is required. Divinations must be made.
"If Mrs. Everchild were still with us, she and I might have come up with a way to surround the entire Hill with a switchable seal," Shaft muses. "Then if things looked bad, we could turn it on and hopefully drive the spirits back through the Portal."
"That would be the more conventional approach," Girard notes. "Usually one puts the seal on inanimate things one wants to keep spirits away from."
The chimpanzee blinks. Hey Boss, did we miss Mrs. Everchild's funeral? I wanted to ... Well, pay my respects. He looks saddened, reminded of the grand old woman's departure.
Herbert looks thoughtful, and goes over to the former Darklight Camera.. now used to house the Spirit Lamp. "We can try to summon Marseilles with the Lamp, he notes."
Bernice glances at Girard, and then Caliban. "It wouldn't hurt Marseilles, would it?"
"If it touched her? It would. I believe the test is not only whether she can possess him while wearing it, but if she can exert her other powers upon him. Or if the crown is proof against them as well," Girard says.
"It would be best if she did not try to physically come into contact though," Shaft notes. He turns on the Lamp, and swings the camera towards the south. Depressing the iris trigger to let it 'shine' through the lens, he starts to sweep the device around towards the north in order to cover as much of the landscape as possible.
"Mrs. Everchild's funeral is being held on the 30th," Shaft mentions, having overhead it at the inn. "Do you think we could contact her with a seance before then?"
The sands shift, civilizations rise and fall. Such is the way of mortals, Horus projects, before glancing at Caliban momentarily. Then, he's back to looking at photographs.
Uh, boss? The chimpanzee raises a hand to stop his master from playing around with the lamp too much. You realize, that thing'll draw more than just Marseilles?
Unlike the last time Shaft turned on the Spirit Lamp, Marseilles does not immediately appear.
Bernice mouths, "Oh," at Girard, then looks a little sheepish at needing such explanations, ambling back over to the Frenchman's side, then looking on at the Lamp, feeling somewhat out of place amidst the experts.
"She knows it's a signal," Shaft says, and closes the iris again at the end of the sweep. "I just don't know how the range or spread is affected now."
Well... And we've got witch hunters looking for unusual activity right about now, boss? The chimpanzee moves around to start cleaning up the boathouse, just in case some of them decide to pay a visit right now.
"Only spirits can see the Lamp light, Caliban," Herbert reminds the ape.
When nothing happens, Shaft frowns and concludes, "She must be out of range to see it. She was always right in town before."
Sure, boss, so we get a spirit or two visitin', then they get mad an' things start floatin' around an' smackin' into walls, maybe we get some bodiless voices, the neighbors start complain' we're raisin' a ruckus, then there's Mr. Witch Hunter going, 'Have you now or ever been a witch, Mr. Shaft?' quips Caliban as he gets out the tarpaulins.
"It's ironic that, unless I miss my guess, Mr. Shaft couldn't now or ever be a witch," observes Bernice.
What, there ain't no male witches? asks the chimpanzee.
"Hmmm," Herbert muses, taking the Seal from his head and looking it over, then glancing from it to the Lamp housing. "I wonder what would happen if the Seal were connected to the Lamp?"
"No, he couldn't," Girard agrees. "Not now, anyway. Or a warlock, or any other spellworker. Though he makes a fine imitation of one with those gadgets of his."
Horus, who has been slowly hopping his way closer to the lamp, suddenly pauses. Girard, Horus says suddenly, head tilting. what would you do, were you to know the overlords watch us at this very moment?
The chimpanzee looks worriedly over at his master. Do we have time to build another Lamp if you break that one, boss?
Bernice shakes her head at Caliban. "It's his... 'spiritually null state', I guess you could say?" She smiles at Girard. "I think I'm starting to catch on, if slowly."
"Run?" Girard looks around nervously. "This hasn't suddenly become important, has it?"
Moon 'em, the chimpanzee says promptly. Also, tell 'em "Earth for humans, evil spirits stay out."
Herbert shakes his head to Caliban. "No, the only way we can really test the concept is to inscribe the traditional seal on the lens.. or perhaps just hang the crown over it." Herbert just puts the circlet on the projecting lens body.
The chimpanzee reaches over to put his hand on his master's. Boss, you catch what Horus said?
If by important you mean currently relevant, then indeed it is important. We are observed. A being beyond the veil has its eyes upon us, anwers Horus. You would all do well to heed this warning. The bird then hops closer, trying to get near the lamp.
Even with the iris closed, Herbert quickly flips the switch that powers the Lamp to turn it off.
"It will be cramped, but we might all be able to fit into the darkroom on the Babbage," Shaft says in a whisper. "We can't be observed there."
Bernice clutches her wrists nervously. "I'm going to check on Slate."
The fur on the back of Caliban's neck prickles, and Horus's feathers ruffle, even with the lamp off as well as the iris on the camera closed.
"I'll go with you," Girard offers promptly, walking Bernice to the door. "We should not be alone right now."
Well, sheesh, bird, you could have said it wasn't a hypo-thee-oh-retical question in the first place, the chimpanzee protests. He looks around, then upward, and shakes his fist. Hey! Whoever you are! Earth is for humans! Evil spirits stay out! Belying his apparent confidence however, is his reaching into a pocket for some kind of helpful gadget.
The woman nods grateful agreement at Girard, hurrying to the boathouse door and peeking outside.
"Horus, if I turn on the Seal, what will happen?" Shaft asks the falcon.
Slate is munching on the oats Bernice left for her. She lifts her head and whickers to her mistress, ears pricking. Everything all right?
Horus, who was still moving towards the lamp like so much bug to a bugzapper, stops in his tracks when the crown is placed upon it. His wings sag, and he almost looks ... disappointed? While we are in transit, would you remove the ward from your artifice, and place me upon the lamp? I would examine it. He extends a leg, ready to step up on an offered arm. Unknown, he answers, somewhat distractedly. The lamp, you will relight it and move me nearer?
The chimpanzee looks up and around some more, puzzled that his act of defiance has apparently drawn no more attention than a human would take of an ant amongst others. He shakes his head. Boss, maybe the Lamp drew their attention.
Bernice wears that furtive look again, but if she can't be non-chalant, at least she tries not to be alarming. She lowers her voice as she steps close to the Morgan, patting the horse's neck. "Horus says something's watching us," she murmurs. "Don't know what. Keep a weather eye out, alright? Warn us if you see anything unusual."
It'd be like... It's night, you can't see anything 'cause it's dark, then suddenly someone turns on a light, the chimpanzee says, trying to figure out whether they are still being watched or not. Then they turn it off, but you're still payin' attention to where it was.
Slate nods to Bernice, nosing the woman's hair. I will. I'm glad your Frenchman friend has made it back. She lifts her head, scenting the breeze and ears pricking. It does feel like there's something out there, doesn't it?
"The Lamp looks like their realm though," Shaft says, and opens the back of the camera so Horus can see the Lamp's 'bulb'. "This close to the end of the month, it may be that any magical activity is enough to thin the partition between worlds."
"But Cal is right, I don't think turning the Lamp back on while we're being observed is a good idea."
An excellent analogy, Horus remarks telepathically. Now, I would hear what the lamp has to say. The bird's head jerks to the side, tilted in a contemplative angle. Neither of us can read while the candle is snuffed. His head tilts the other way, and one might presume he was about to speculate out 'loud' again, but the lamp light seems to grab the entirety of his focus. He hops forward, almost stuffing his head in to the space where the light dwells.
The exposed Lamp bulb is.. distorted looking. And the filament inside seems to bend and twist in more than three dimensions.
The doctor brushes her cheek along the side of her companion's face. "I am too. I hope all of us are enough. Something's out there all right. I don't know if I can feel it as keenly as you do... what's it seem like to you?"
Caliban, fur ruffled, suggests, Boss, I think we ought to take the Lamp inside the darkroom. And the rest of us. Yeah. I think that's what we oughta do. He reaches up to shoo Horus from the Lamp so that it can be lifted up from its tripod arrangement.
Like home, Slate lifts her nose to the sky. It feels like home.
It sleeps, Horus projects, and now disappointment is audible, if muted. One might supposed that the bird's range of emotional expression is his telepathy matches that of his face: minimal. It- The shooing motions disturbs the bird's inspection, and after a harsh sounding and very much vocal screech, the bird hops away. Horus takes a moment to straighten his ruffled feathers and, perhaps, his dignity, and then projects, Yes. This 'dark room.' Let us go there.
Herbert frowns at Horus' reaction. "Is the Lamp reacting to something?" he asks Caliban, and double checks the power leads before unclipping them entirely. He also glances at the Engine to see if it's showing signs of 'magical reaction' like it did when Girard arrived.
This time, the Engine is inert.
Likewise, the Lamp looks normal.
They're watching us, the chimpanzee whispers to his boss. He points upward, then at his eyes, and then frowns intently at his boss, before rather hurriedly going about the business of moving the Lamp into the shielded darkroom on the Babbage.
The doctor's green eyes search Slate's equine face, glancing up at her friend's ears. "Home? Like Savoy? Or... something further away?"
Home like you, Slate answers.
In a minute, the group has adjourned to the Babbage's darkroom. Which is a small closet on a boat that doesn't have a lot of room to begin with. It's very cramped now; somehow, Bernice has wound up sandwiched between Phillipe Girard and Herbert Shaft, with Caliban pressed back against the wall next to his master, and Girard by the door. Horus is perched on top of the darklight camera.
The light was only on briefly, but that was long enough to attract all sorts of attention. Good, bad, and amoral entities noticed it flickering. Not long after the humans withdrew from the boathouse, two canines are drawing close to the boathouse. One is a coyote with mottled fur, the other a vixen, a study in black and white. This was the best way out, the coyote tells the fox as he paddles through the water, it's best way not to be seen coming back. When they get inside, however, they find it empty.
Boss, have you gained weight? gripes Caliban. Don't turn that thing on 'til those Master guys aren't lookin', I'm gonna check if the coast's clear.
"Please do, Cal," Herbert says, trying not to move at all if possible.
The chimpanzee gets down to all fours in order to navigate out of the darkroom, then closes the door behind him. He peeks out of the boat to test if the tingling is still present in the air.
Marseilles-fox climbs into the now-empty boathouse, her fur slicked back and lace dripping. Oh, this is creepy, she says to Yotee. Do you think something happened to them? Do you feel that? There's an electrical tingle in the air, and it's familiar to Yotee -- he felt it when talking to the Master spirit a couple of days ago.
Bernice shifts a little, more uncomfortable with her own self-consciousness than the cramped conditions caused in part by her own broad hips. "I hope Slate is going to be all right out there," she frets. Not that the horse would be altogether comfortable in here.
"I do feel a bit guilty leaving her out there. She looked at ease," Girard says, trying to be reassuring. The sense of being watched is gone from the darkroom, but when Caliban steps outside it's back until the door is closed again. "Am I the only one who finds that unnerving?" Girard asks when the door closes.
"We should have asked her to give us an 'all clear' signal," Shaft realizes. "We really can't stay in here for very long."
Meanwhile, in the boathouse, Marseilles's head jerks around to look towards the Babbage. Oh, there's Caliban, she says.
Who's in there? Slate asks from outside. She pulls the faux tether loose and steps hesitantly towards the boathouse door, ears swivelling.
Yes, I feel it. The coyote answers, staying protectively close to the fox. His fur bristles, past encounters bothering him more than the present atmosphere, though it is unsettling. He observes the Babbage.
The chimpanzee peers around. Still being watched, he senses.
Caliban ponders the situation. How patient is this Master spirit going to be in watching the boathouse? Well, there's only one thing to do in such a case. Clambering out of the Babbage, he sets off for the pantry in the boathouse in order to secure some snacks.
The vixen pads to the door. It's me, Marseilles, she says to Slate. Where'd everyone else go? After a brief exchange, they discern that Shaft, Townes, and Girard are hiding in the Babbage's darkroom, after attracting the attention of one of the master spirits.
Horus, who has settled upon the camera as if it were a comfortable next, closes his eyes. Girard, he projects, and his voice is back to sounding studiously neutral. Know that your enemy observes you and your allies. You have yet to meet your adversay face to face, you have not taken his full measure. Know thy enemy is an aspect of conflict that has been recognized throughout human civilization, beyond even nations that I have lived. Before you now, are choices: you may chose to look back, you may chose to speak with them, you may avoid them and their gaze until the day you and your allies match yourself against their resources. The choice, is yours, as always. Know that I will help you whatever choice you pick.
It feels like a Master, Trouble licks Marseilles' ear, after following her over to Slate. A different one than Randall called, it is not starving, no desperate malevolence, and not as strong.
Caliban, still not yet aware of the animals outside of the boathouse, decides on bringing back food that can be eaten in the dark for the humans in case it turns out to be a long wait. Hmm. Cheese. Bread. Dried hard sausages, in case Horus is a meatatarian, and oh, a jug of water and sevral cups.
Girard is acutely aware that cowering in the darkroom with Miss Townes is not, generally, the way to impress women. Although it does make a great excuse to be pressed up close to her. He has an inward struggle with his better nature. Normally, his better nature wouldn't stand a chance against his innate cowardice, but bravado pushes him to take action. "Right." He grips Bernice's shoulders for a moment. "Wait here, Miss. I must face this thing. Let's go, Horus." He opens the door quickly, before his nerve fails.
So be it, Horus replies. The bird's eyes open, and the falcon hops on to Girard's arm as he passes.
"Face it?" Shaft asks, sounding shocked. "How?"
The chimpanzee fills a small sack with victuals and, though there's no one visibly watching, sets about sneaking back to the boat, pausing behind crates and peering around them before his next move. Something about this feeling of being watched inspires him to hide when possible.
"Horus knows. It's ... quite safe, I'm sure." Girard sounds nothing of the kind. He steps outside and closes the door on Bernice and Herbert. Then he strides back to the boathouse in quick steps. "What do we need to do, Horus?"
Bernice huddles a little anxiously where she is, arms crossed. She startles when Girard moves, given pause... then squints in Herbert's direction. "Well... I suppose we haven't any choice, have we? I would imagine such a being has the patience of ages, and two days isn't much of a wait. Unless you have something to advise daft little me that can't be said in front of God and Creation." The doctor looks and feels a bit silly.
Herbert can only sigh in exasperation. "I've no idea what those spirits are even capable of beyond trying to observe us. It may be an attempt at contacting Girard and Horus, as Trouble was contacted. It could be anything. But I don't think the Masters can actually act yet. So... they couldn't hurt us outside."
At the moment, Girard is coming out onto the boathouse deck, Caliban is opening the door to the boathouse, and interrupting Slate and Marseilles's converstation through the door.
Hey Slate, we got company? asks the chimpanzee.
Yes, Marseilles saw the Lamp and came back, Slate answers.
The choice in how to approach your chosen enemy is yours, Girard. Know that while this overlord may watch and speak, the veil of worlds limits its power. In turn might we do the same, look and speak, take our enemy's measure and inquire, threaten, coax, or bargain as it has done. Should nothing come of it, there is this: to face one's enemy using their own method, as a master, is a thing of inner strength and courage. Know that while I decide not your path, I illume it so you may se eit in full: I would have you know your enemy, that you may chose your stance with full knowledge of what you face -- and the consequences. Horus stops a moment to let that sink in, then continues ...
We will employ the same technique the spirit now employs. We will strain the veil, and peer through its waters as they grow thin. One cannot look upon the sea, and see its bottom. One can look upon a shallow basic, and see clearly. We will dilute the barrier until it is clear. The technique is similiar to translocation, and employs similiar mystic techniques. However, we will not be transfering ourselves. We will simply be weakening a barrier, rather than piercing one. I trust you understand sufficently now to perform this without a great deal of instruction, Horus finishes.
* Note to editor, edit out Caliban having already gotten the food, he's heading to get the goodies
Oh hey! Marseilles! The chimpanzee moves to open the door so he can let himself in and get the goodies in the kitchen area. We're bein' watched, looks like the Masters noticed us shinin' the light around. We're keepin' quiet 'til they go away.
"Right, then!" says Bernice briskly. She ventures out, squinting again as her eyes readjust.
Herbert takes the Seal circlet, puts it on and activates it, and then follows after Bernice.
" ... right." Girard blanches. "Yes. I've got the theory down. We can use the pentacle Bernice left inside. Unless Caliban cleaned it up." He steps down the gangplank and is startled by the presence of all the animals. "Mon Dieu!" he exclaims at the sight of Marseilles, who looks like a soaking-wet vixen with dripping black lace covering her back and trailing down her legs and face.
Er, I thought we were keepin' quiet, the chimpanzee ooks to Marseilles. Looking back at Girard, he asks, Change of plans, mister?
Yotee yawns back at Girard, his mouth open wide in a grin. He's soaked as well, a puddle spreading around him. You called. We came.
Bernice hesitates to say anything, so she just smiles at the two critters, fleshly and ghostly, and wiggles her fingers in a little wave. Eventually, she does speak up. "Um...would moving elsewhere suffice, perhaps?"
Shaft comes up behind Bernice, and smiles to see the ghost and coyote. "Ah, you got our signal, Marseilles?" he asks the vixen.
Professor Bird wanted to have another look at the Lamp, the chimpanzee points out. If turning it on draws their attention... He points upward.
Girard turns to look at the others. "I thought you were going to wait in the darkroom?"
Marseilles nods her vixen head to Shaft. Then she swishes her tail, and turns into a girl with pale skin and a black lace dress that drips over her extremities, and fox ears and tail. "You got someone one else's attention,too," she says, unnecessarily.
Horus, the falcon on Girard's arm, takes a moment to peer down at the animals infront of Girard. A ghost, an almagam. Once human, now more and less. She bears a similiarity to the Hill, for her spirit is marked by consumption of another's. The coyote is a spirit of strength, of youth and age all at once, Horus explains to Girard. As for our viewing, know that the overlord already weakens the veil, parts the waters. It cannot break the veil, but it has made our endeavour easier by doing much of the work of parting. It is strong, indeed.
The chimpanzee whispers in an aside to Marseilles and Trouble, That's Professor Bird, er, Horace, no, wait, that wasn't it... Horus! Keeps Mr. Girard there company. Yeah, he always talks like that.
Girard pulls the tarpaulin off of it and steps into the pentacle Bernice made the day before. He kneels to light the candles, nodding to Horus.
"Well, if you were going out to face this thing, we should at least observe," Shaft reasons. He also whispers to Marseilles, "Can you get into my head at the moment?"
Caliban looks worried at the proceedings. Wait, wait, what are you doing? he asks of Girard.
Bernice can't help grinning at Girard. "Wait in the darkroom and just twiddle our thumbs? Might as well be out and about." She rubs her arm as the tarp is pulled away. "I hope my work wasn't too sloppy. It must look a sight to a real ... uh, practitioner."
Yotee scratches at his ear with a hindleg, then sniffs in the direction of Caliban's food.
Marseilles blinks at Shaft, and takes a step back. "What is that horrible thing on your head?"
"A spirit shield of sorts, hopefully," Shaft notes. "Does that mean you can't get through it?"
"It's perfectly servicable," Girard assures Bernice. He straightens the candles and adjusts one of the smudged lines.
The coyote stares at Shaft's headband, tilting his head to one side as he examines it. He renders judgement: Pretty. Painful.
Marseilles sticks her tongue out. "I sure don't want to. Doesn't that hurt? It looks awful."
Caliban, failing to notice Yotee's nuance of food-interest, taps Miss Townes on the hand to get her attention. That, uh, looks like it's guaranteed to get their interest, he confides. Weren't we tryin' to stay low?
"It doesn't hurt me," Herbert admits.
Bernice leans toward Caliban a little. "Well, they know about us already. I think Girard might have an idea. But, you know... Slate said what's watching us feels like home. Like me. Maybe it's not an enemy?"
"Really?" Marseilles takes a step towards him, then forces herself to get another couple of steps closer. She stops a few yards away, still making a face. She extends one hand and then recoils, shuddering. "Oh, but it's so horrid." Her tail bushes out and she beats a retreat.
The chimpanzee looks up at this. Huh. Or maybe he's playing good cop, bad cop?
Since we have gathered, I will explain, Horus projects, telepathically sending his voice in to the assembled minds. It's dry and wisened, suggesting a speaker that might very well resemble a professor. We work now to push back against the veil, to draw its waters thin, and so to look beyond. As the overlord gazes upon us, so now will we gaze upon it, and its doings shall be known to us.
"Well, at least the Seal works as a repellant at close range," Shaft reports.
Caliban reassesses. No long stay in the darkroom for us - instead, it looks like we're going to be undergoing what will look like a very obvious magical ritual. The correct solution to this is... Food!
Caliban goes into the kitchen and returns with a dried, hard sausage to offer Yotee. Hey, Trouble, he whispers in ooks. Mind keeping an ear out an' giving us some warning if someone comes up to the boathouse?
Yes. The coyote answers, which might means he minds or might mean he'll watch, or could just be that he's agreeing to take the sausage. In any case, he's alert and attentive, watching Mr. Shaft at the moment but equally as aware of his surroundings. So for the moment, he's as good a watchdog as any.
Inside the pentacle, Girard continues to work alongside Horus. As he completes his preparations, he stands at the center and raises his arms. Horus perches on his shoulder. A frown of concentration appears on his face.
And so it begins, warns Horus. Soon, we shall see the face of the master spirit.
The chimpanzee settles in to keep an eye on things too. Misgivings about this course of action are clear on his face, but... It's not really his place to stop them, if his master is going along with this.
Herbert watches closely. It'll be good to know if the Seal has any effect on such a being, after all.
The doctor looks on worriedly, hovering near the pentacle, though not so close as to disturb anything. Though her anxiety is plain, a sense of curiousty... no, more a need, a burning need to know keeps her verdant eyes fixed on the scene.
"I don't think ... " Girard starts to say. Then he says something else in French.
Then, for everyone except Mr. Shaft, something Happens.
The shadow of beige and brown wings flare at Girard's back. The world goes grey and empty, marked by the outlines of the people in it: the ghost-girl-vixen, Yotee, Caliban, Bernice, Girard, Horus. Where Mr. Shaft should be is a black emptiness. To Horus, Bernice, and Girard, it looks vaguely familiar as the astral plane.
Ack! We're in a daguerrotype! yelps the chimpanzee.
Then the greyness melts away under the weight of something much, much stranger. It feels suddenly overcrowded with stuff. Stuff that can't be described because it doesn't make any sense. It's like trying to see things with through one's skin, or taste them with one's eyes. Or suddenly being able to see after having been blind one's entire life. There's a riot of information all around them: colors, shapes, sounds, scents, patterns -- and they don't know what to make of any of it.
Yotee coughs, spitting out the sausage in his mouth, spitting out the taste of dust. He remembers now, not substitutions, not the tease of the spirit lamp. This is REAL FOOD! He barks, This is like the hill. Concentrate! Make it into something. I want to EAT this stuff.
Upon Girard's shoulder, Horus stumbles, almost pitching off the man if the bird hadn't suddenly dug his talon in to Girard. //Girard,// he projects, and all can hear him. What's more, they hear something that has never come from the bird's projections before. Even Girard has never felt Horus sound so real, as if Horus had suddenly discovered feeling and put it in to his telepathtic words. That old, dry voice sounds straind, yearning. Girard, I ... I desire. He can't quite seem to express his longing, and for once, Professor Bird lacks the words.
Boss! Boss! Where are you? calls Caliban, momentarily blinded by the nonsensical things all around him. He tries to focus himself and remember where his master was, then to reach out, walk over, and touch him.
"Eat what?" Girard half-expects his words to be inaudible, but they're perfectly clear. "Wait a minute, did I just talk to the dog?"
"Wh-what? Who? Where?" Bernice feels like she's spinning out of control, smelling what everyone is saying. Real food? This must be.. this is the Other? The woman tries to get a hold of herself... Trouble must be talking about the sustenance from the Other side! If HE can eat it... maybe she can too! The woman reaches for whatever she can, like a baby again, to put things in her mouth, or will it to coalesce, or... anything! Really, she's more or less flailing.
To Herbert, everyone is still present, although acting strangely. Caliban is ooking madly, and comes over to grabbed his master's wrist and leg blindly.
To Caliban, he can't feel Herbert at all -- just an uncomfortable, almost painful sensation from being near where he was.
Herbert reaches down and takes Caliban's hand. "I'm right here, Caliban," he says, trying to calm the ape. Wondering what everyone else is seeing, he reaches up to the contacts on the seal.. but pauses. Maybe somebody should stay in the real world after all, just in case. "Can anyone hear me?" he calls to the others.
You see what you will. The coyote informs, sniffing, licking at the air. See what the bird described, see a river with thin ice and fish swimming within. A river, a lake. He hunches over, teeth clenched, intent on his interpretation, though it remains a chaotic mass.
Girard gropes for Townes's hand, lost and confused. The surroundings confound them, rather than appealing the way they do to Yotee and Horus. Townes tries to touch the things around them, and she can feel herself interacting with the environment. But it's in a way that's sensed and not real. Nothing she touches is changed by it. Trying to eat is just swallowing air.
Beyond the riot of bewildering things, there's something else here. That electrical-tingling sense pervades, much stronger; like standing in the heart of a storm cloud.
Caliban feels fear as his hands completely fail to touch anything. Maybe they've been transported into the spirit world? And his boss couldn't have been transported because he was wearing the headband. Wait! Boss! Boss, the pain! he exclaims. We're still here, you're here, but we can only see the spirit world! But without translation, how will his master be able to understand him?
Bernice tries her best to get her hand into Girard's, squeezing tightly when and if she can get a grip. "It... it's here! Herbert?! Y-yes, we hear you!" And she hears Trouble as well. Alright, think, concentrate, see what you will. "A.. a river, iced over, full of trout.."
"Well then, you all look inebriated," Herbert replies. "Is there any danger? Have you contacted the Other?"
You ... you must focus, Girard. Yes. Focus. We all must focus. Remember why we are here, Horus forces out, still sounding shakey, if not quite as strained as he previously did. Know that you will not understand what you see. Know that understanding is not required. Let go of your need to understand, and let it be. It is what it is. A book with words you do not understand, a color you have never seen. Release your grasp on what you must believe to be true, for it is a lie in this place. Open your mind. See, but do not understand. Learn, in time. Girard, greet the master spirit.
The chimpanzee realizes that he's probably manhandling his boss, so to speak, and relaxes his grip on the painful nothingness. Catching Miss Townes's words, he tries to calm down, picturing a river, iced over and with trout swimming just beneath its surface. The thought passes through his mind, Who picked a river, anyway? And why in winter? Couldn't it have been spring instead?
As Yotee concentrates and Bernice repeats his image, the world becomes less strange. Details melt into existance. Ice, a thin shell of it over a river -- and also riming them, dripping from their finger tips and whiskers. Beneath the ice, swarms of fat trout swim. Around the river are trees and bushes, full of ripe, rich fruit. The scent of apple blossoms fills the air. But everything is covered in frost.
In the sky above, a warm sun beats down on them. The sun is strong, mercilessly powerful, but it does not melt the ice.
Herbert really wishes he had the Darklight Camera still in one piece now, so he could at least see what's going on after the fact.
THE ICE IS NOT UPON US, a voice that isn't a voice says. OUR WORLD IS VERDANT. IT IS YOURS THAT IS FROZEN, BARREN. WASTELAND. And with that, the ice vanishes from the river and the fruit -- but it encases the people.
Bernice cowers under the force of the voice, cringing and immobile in her sheath of frost, still desperately clutching Girard's hand. "Wh-.. then why... why do the Others want to come here?"
DO YOU NOT WANT YOUR WORLD TO BLOOM? The voice asks.
Caliban appears to his master as if he had frozen in place. He peers through the ice to see if he can get a good look at this Other.
Insofar as the voice as a point of origin, it's coming from the sun. The sun is huge, filling a quarter of the sky. Immensely powerful.
The woman wriggles in her prison. "We.. why couldn't those who left? They.. they couldn't bloom in this paradise, somehow. Why?"
At one edge of the sky, a storm clouds gather. The sun beats at the clouds, but they form nonetheless, growing closer.
Back in the real world, Herbert starts writing down whatever Bernice says, so he can ask her about it later.
Horus, who's now a glossy ice sculture of a bird, projects. Girard, I have given this matter some thought, and I am of the opinion what we are seeing is not of our will. Though the coyote presses his will, the origin lies with the master spirit itself: it attempts to craft a reality you all will comprehend. It holds the reigns of what we see. Horus's eyes flicker, and he looks up. The sun. Know that once, I, too, once lived within the House of the Sun. I must think on this.
THEY DID. THEY FLOURISHED. THEY GREW AND REPRODUCED. BUT THEY WERE STOLEN FROM US. OPEN THE WAY, THAT WE MAY REUNITE, the sun says. Rays of its light stab at the clouds. There's a sense of a conversation going on outside their hearing, like parents exchanging notes over the heads of their childrn.
Yotee's second thought is about Marseilles, he checks on her to make sure she is all right. His first thought is about food, and the ice thwarts him in that regard. He grinds his teeth, or tries at least, seeing if he can find some freedom. His third thought is about the speaker. There was a reason for all this, wasn't there?
Not as distracted by the food so tantalizingly in reach, Bernice persists. "Stolen from you... how? Did someone from our world take them?"
Girard, know that what you see is a projection that this spirit wishes you to see. It is a metaphor, a mask. Remember this; see beyond its words and its mask. Think carefully, upon what you say and do, Horus warns. The bird continues to stare up, as far as it can while its body is frozen.
LED ASTRAY, the sun answers Bernice. BETRAYED TO EXTINCTION. YOU MUST OPEN AND REUNITE US. For a moment, an image of the serpent tempting Eve with the forbidden fruit appears in their heads. IT WAS NOT OUR CHOICE TO CAST YOU OUT.
The storm grows, dodging the sun's beams to come closer. STAY BACK! the sun shouts at it. THIS IS MY PLACE!
The storm looms, ignoring the sun. OPEN THE WAY, the storm says, AND WE WILL GIVE YOU EVERYTHING. Visions drift through their minds, of all that they might desire.
The chimpanzee shivers. Who can fight the sun or the storm? But maybe looks are deceiving. Someone had to tell them to see a river. He squints and tries to project something of his own into this setting, to test if it can be changed with thoughts. Something small, that no one else will see right away. He imagines a tile, painted with a symbol of protection, resting behind his feet.
"One of your own led them away..." Bernice leads, nudging as best she can while still trembling in her icy prison. "They could not truly have wished to leave your warmth, c-could they? What could have made one of your own try to take them to the wastes? Did they think to have their own power?"
I talked with that one, the storm, before. Yotee tells Marseilles.
The chimp imagines the tile vividly, just the way Miss Pau painted it -- but when he looks back, it's not there.
Caliban sighs, fogging up the inside of his icy shell. Maybe this setting is real somehow, or maybe he just isn't strong enough to change it against the will of this Other. He listens to the Doc, biding his time.
Caliban looks distracted. I didn't know you could fit that many bananas into a closet, he ooks.
Horus stares and stares at the sun, until at last he projects, The aura of the Master Spirit that presents itself as Sun is grand, powerful, Girard. Greater, is its aura, than anything that has walked the material sphere. Know that it speaks truths, but that these truths are not truth. Like the serpent that is has forced us to see, it walks a winding path of truth, twisting it that we might believe. Horus tries to ruffle his feathers, but is held fast. It makes lies of truth and more ... Perhaps, it lies to itself. Horus, taking an uncharacteristicly forward approach, now projects to the Sun and Storm. Your truth is marred; know that we can see beyond. You decieve; why?
THEY WERE BETRAYED, the sun repeats. DECEIVED. MISLED. I ONLY WISH TO SEE US REUNITED. THE WORLDS MUST KNOW BALANCE.
HELP US, the storm urges. Lightning crackles around it. HELP US AND BE REWARDED BEYOND MEASURE. DO NOT, AND BE DESTROYED. Lightning crashes down around their frozen forms, a thunderous roar of power.
Oh hey, that's one heck of a bathroom, it's got hot and cold running water, narrates Caliban, entranced by visions of his desires. Hey, and a pretty lady chimpanzee, with nice warm fluffy towels for when you get out of the tub! Ape, this place has every-- His vision seems to have ended abruptly with the storm's declaration, but embarrassingly, his lips are pressed to the icy wall of his shell. He pulls them off abruptly and looks sheepish.
The woman's 'voice' grows quiet. "So... I see. I can only see what you're showing me, and... and like Horus says, you've shown us the truth." She huddles in her prison. "You're masters in every way. You wish to be reunited, and then... then they can be bent to your whim. As they should rightly wish, is that not so?"
Master Spirits, Horus projects, we hear what you say. Now I ask: what would Unicorn say, to your words? Would stag agree? And the old mother, what of her? Long ago, did these once protect us. Know it was not from mortal man, but from another. Girard, the bird squeezes its talon in to the man's shoulder, do not be lead astray. This is not the truth. I have never been to this place, but I do remember great spirits who have waned. Unicorn, stag, an a matriarch ... In them, I feel trust. They once protected me -- perhaps, from these.
Flowers. Darkness spreading, and Mother trying to save them all and unable to. The Storm, it reminds me of my dream. The one I didn't tell you about. The Storm was the Darkness that consumed the Flowers. Yotee tells Marseilles, still frustrated by his ice prison, and consequently loud enough to be overheard.
Girard's arms, still upraised in his cage of ice, tremble after the lightening strike. The wings at his back twitch beneath the rime of ice. A fog bank rolls over the scene, as Sun struggles with Storm. IS IT NOT THE CREATION'S DUTY, HIS PASSION, TO LOVE AND SERVE HIS CREATOR? Sun asks. WITHOUT HIS CREATOR, THERE IS ONLY EMPTINESS AND DEATH.
The fog thickens, obscuring the verdant landscape and the beautiful fish swimming just beneath the water's surface. they were your judas, Sun says, its wordless voice weaker and more distant. your serpent, your devil. do not trust them, they'll lead you to your destruction. return to us, my children. return.
The chimpanzee makes a move as he senses the veil strengthening, pushing them apart. He tries to put brute physical strength into breaking through his shell.
Marseilles's ears are flattened back. She's focused on her cage as well. It melts around her at the same time Caliban breaks out of his --
And in that moment, the vision dissipates, and everyone is back in the boathouse.
"Hello?" Shaft asks the group. "Are you back now?"
The chimpanzee must look a sight, having been frozen in one pose, then flexing in an effort to shatter his prison He scrabbles at the air emptily, then pats himself down, feeling for whether any ice remains.
Nothing of the vision remains. The shadow of wings at Girard's back melts away, and he falls to his knees. "Mon Dieu."
Bernice blinks those big green eyes once, and they begin refocusing on her surroundings. "Oh... oh, hell!" She immediately claps her hands over her mouth for such a blue swear, but quickly recovers. "I just.. I'm such an idiot! Asking things we already knew. I guess I.. had to be sure." She stamps a foot. "But I should have looked for..."
Yotee picks up his half-chewed sausage. If it still tastes like dust he's going to be very disappointed.
Horus shifts on Girard's shoulder, then inches over towards the man's head and reaches with his beak to pull the hair from out of his face and tuck it behind his ear. And so, you have seen what might be seen, the bird projects in a whisper. What do you make of these overlords, Girard?
It's okay, Doc, I'm just miffed I couldn't try to snatch a bit of the other side to take back, the chimpanzee admits. Ta be honest, I felt pretty useless.
"Miss Townes?" Herbert prompts, hoping Bernice will tell him what happened.
"I hope our God isn't such a -- " Girard finishes with a colorful string of French words. "If you'll pardon my saying so."
Girard pushes himself to his knees. "No, Miss Townes, you were quite right. It's important to get what confirmation we can."
This isn't really satisfying. I'd kill for just one of those trout. The coyote chews morosely. Randall called the Storm. It showed him his fears; it offered everything to me. I don't remember the Sun, and Mother is nicer than both of them.
Horus listens to the string of epiteps, and his head bobs. Though I knew not that world, and so believe it a lie, there was a draw to that place. A hunger. I am uncertain, now, that I am undiminished. Know I have never felt such desire. It is unsettling. Horus remains by Girard's head, working his hair out of his face bit by bit, in what must be a gesture of affection. Unicorn. I recall her, once great. I have heard she yet remains. Perhaps in her is something closer to the truth. I bid you find her if you can, Girard.
Bernice leans down to help the frenchman up concernedly, strong arms helping lift. "I suppose. And yes, those trout did look good. Do you suppose we could have actually snatched one? I mean, the way wasn't open yet... but then again, they clearly could effect us." She pauses, spying Herbert and giving him an apologetic look in turn. "It.. we saw them. TWO of them, Masters. We spoke with them, and they arranged themselves in images we could fathom, one appearing as the.. as a Sun, the other as a Storm. Around us was the bounty of their world, tempting."
The chimpanzee says, Good cop, bad cop routine. The Sun was all 'we mean you well, we make good things happen,' the Storm was 'we can be pretty nice if you cooperate with us but we can be pretty darn nasty too!'
"A Garden of Eden, then?" Herbert asks. "In any case, did they betray any weaknesses or knowledge of our plans?"
With her help, Girard stands. "Thank you, Miss Townes. I don't know ... I'm not entirely sure they did effect us. Just ... the way we communicated with them, so to speak."
The scruffy coyote noses the dark veiled vixen, We should get out of here. The interesting stuff is over, they're just going to talk. I'll show you some more fox ways.
The vixen gets onto all fours, swishing her tail. All right, she says. She dives into the water with Yotee.
As the coyote and ghost leave, Herbert turns to Caliban and says, "We'll need to experiment with the Lamp and Seal inside of the darkroom it seems. I'd still like to see if we could project the Seal effect somehow."