May 14, 2010 -- Boston, Mass.
It was raining ? one of the cold, drizzly rains that turned everything grey and brought out the smell of wet concrete from the sidewalk. By the time Vidya had set up her trip back to Boston, it was too late for lilacs ? but Roland had decided to come along after all. Now the curls were pulled out of VeeJay?s hair by the rain, and she laughed as she pulled Roland down the street toward the Mugar Memorial Library. They?d gotten onto the T at Harvard Square ? the stop was practically right next to her apartment ? and after a change of trains at Park Street, Vee was back in her home territory. 4.4 million people lived in the Greater Boston Area, and she thrived in the crowds and bustle, lit right up. ?C?mon, slowpoke! He?ll be waiting for us ? I didn?t expect that delay at Kenmore.?
Roland had been completely swept away by the city of Boston. The oldness of the buildings, the trains, the busy harbor and the busy streets were so much like New Brittany, and yet so different that his head was always turning to one place or another, frequently missing the sights VeeJay pointed out on their whirlwind tour. Stubbornly he had refused to hack his hair off or clean up his short beard, but he fit in better than he thought he would -- just another young man in what was a college town for many thousands, sporting a messy ponytail and plenty of scruff.
Even tugged over a curb by VeeJay's hands, even in an alien land, the knight was graceful on his feet. "You know we didn't have to stop for sandwiches, Vidya -- they were very good, I'm not complaining, but the line was very long..." He turned his head to squint curiously at her. "Why do so many people here pack into the tiny little sandwich shops? You'd think they'd wait in line for the fancy places..." Things were different in New Brittany, and often in little ways.
?No, they just call ahead for reservations to the fancy places ? they don?t want to waste time.? Vee laughed, then ? because they?d certainly wasted enough time waiting for the sandwiches. ?Besides, I was hungry. And Darwin?s has the best hoagies in Cambridge.? They were crossing a broad red-brick terrace, and then Vee took the low, broad steps that led down to the Library two at a time. The building fronted Storrow Drive, and right behind that was the broad sweep of the Charles River.
Vidya hadn?t missed Roland?s fascination with the city, and his curiosity about it thrilled her. She knew very well he wouldn?t move to Boston, but she?d missed the city more than she?d realized until she came home. If he liked it here, it would be easier to talk him into coming back here with her when she visited. Of course, if he came back very often at all, he?d have to meet her siblings? which wasn?t something she wanted to think about just now. So she shook her head, and pushed open the door to the library. ?Now, if I were Professor Shaughnessy, where would I be??
If he came back with her very often, he'd have to spend a lot of time ironing out the details with SPI. Earths that didn't know about other dimensions never took kindly to people that "didn't exist"...
Roland found his bearings very quickly: his eyes flickered between signs and the ends of the long bookshelves, and in a short time he figured out where the Frankish epics were most likely to be. "Over there," he pointed.
Earths that didn?t know about other dimensions also never took kindly to the people who believed that those other dimensions did exist. People like Professor Shaughnessy, who was indeed nose-deep in the Frankish epics ? a Gallican text, really, with the original text on one half of a page, and the translation to Old French written on the other half. The professor was old, in his late 60s or early 70s, with soft white curls of hair that hadn?t been cut in far too long. He was mumbling to himself as the pair approached. ?Stupid, stupid. Can?t they read? Plain as day it says it, right here ? a visitor not from this land, a holy knight. Not from this land. Idiots.?
Vee had been able to hear the mumbles from the end of the stack, and she giggled when she got just a little closer. ?Still ranting and raving, Professor?? She never had believed him, before, but her teasing was always good-natured and her interest in his lore had kept the unlikely pair friends long after she graduated.
Sir Roland Gravois heard the professor's words clearly; Malcolm would have frozen in something like terror and Seamus would have happily seized the opportunity to blow his mind, but Roland was Roland, and so he bowed his head humbly and politely and let the others speak, not opening his mouth until he was introduced.
His hand hovered near his hip during his little bow, where the hilt of his sword would have been -- or where it actually was, somehow hiding beyond sight and detection. The knight was stoic, but nonthreatening, though inwardly his heart sang at imagining Vidya happy in college under this batty old man's tutelage.
?Vidya!? The professor was one of the very, very few who called Vee by her given name. He snapped closed the book in his hand and turned with a smile to face the younger pair. The sharpness of his bright blue eyes gave lie to the uncut hair, mumbling, and worn elbows of his jacket. ?And this must be the young man you wanted me to have a talk with. Tell me, young man, do you believe in fairies??
That was exactly the sort of question that normally evoked wariness in people meeting Professor Shaughnessy the first time. Vee?s laugh bubbled out again, one she couldn?t have suppressed if she?d tried. ?Professor Shaughnessy, I?d like you to meet my Roland. He?s very interested in Frankish and Breton travel history. Roland Gravois, this is Professor Michael Shaughnessy; he?s just about the best professor I ever had.? She left it up to Roland to answer the fairy question, though.
"Your servant, Professor Shaughnessy," Roland replied with a smile as he extended his hand for a shake, "and... I would have to say that I do, though I have not met very many." It was one of the few social tricks he had picked up from spying, pairing a smile with an uncomfortable truth to make people take it for a lie.
One thing he had not learned as well was hiding every detail on his person. An encircled cross rested not quite out of sight on his collarbone, its symbols glittering under the library's lights, though small and obscured enough to do little more than hint at their nature.
If VeeJay had known how Roland intended to make his effort at deception, she would have warned him against it. As it was, she clapped her hand over her mouth, trying to stifle another burst of laughter, and whirled to face away from the pair while she regained her bearings. Her eyes were shining bright yellow-gold with mirth over the seal of her palm.
?Hah! Smart boy. They aren?t what most people think, you know.? Professor Shaughnessy snorted while he slipped the book in his hand back onto the shelf. ?This Saint Christophe, for example, he was one. A visitor. They?re scattered here and there throughout history. Saints, devils, holy men, fairies. Europe seems to have attracted most of them ? or kept better records, anyway. Your Bretons? Littered with the travelers.? And then the old man?s eyes narrowed, locked on the glitter and flash at Roland?s neck. A finger twisted by arthritis jabbed out at the symbol. ?Where did you get that?? He asked it accusingly.
Roland first gave a significant, questioning look to Vidya, and to the professor it likely spoke volumes. Should I tell him?
Michael Shaughnessy?s expression didn?t change, but that questioning look from Roland to Vidya filled him with a sudden measure of glee ? and trepidation. Too many people had mocked his belief in the travelers; he didn?t think Vidya would do something like that, but he?d been fooled before. But if it was what he was beginning to suspect?
Meanwhile, VeeJay had managed to subdue her laughter enough to answer Roland with a wordless shrug. If you didn?t want to tell him, we shouldn?t have come. Might as well.
Rather than explain in words, Roland unclasped the necklace carefully, reverently, and handed it to Shaughnessy. The symbols were not the same as the original Order's, but they were similar. Only the Egyptian eye was completely new. "Sir Roland Gravois," he whispered as he bowed his head and introduced himself anew, "Knight-Captain of the Holy Order of Saint Aldwin, and your humble servant. I... am a traveler, as you would call it."
Age-spotted hands took the necklace as carefully, as reverently as it had been passed over. He was already mumbling to himself. ?Yes, yes, the bear, the fist ? could have gotten those from Bede, though ?? And then the professor broke off to look sharply at Roland. ?Saint Aldwin was never associated with the Eye of Osiris.? It was almost accusing, but there was no less care when he offered back the necklace. Light danced in his eyes, as he hovered on the edge of believing this solemn young man.
"The mark of the spy agency of my liege, who has renewed the Barony of Sainte-Ouen as St. Aldwin in another world," he explained simply, accepting the necklace and replacing it. He looked down at the symbols, touching them with his thumb, and looked back up at the professor, and then he repeated his introduction -- each word in the French variety of Newbreton, a linguistic mish-mash that only occasioned its way into the rarest, most obscure documents -- the variety most academics laughed at and tossed aside.
It was a mish-mash that left Vidya completely in the dust - but she smiled her too-wide smile as the fluid introduction set Professor Shaughnessy to dancing. Literally - he actually jigged a few small steps in the aisle, practically cackling to himself. Then he regained his dignity, put a hand over his heart, and gave Roland a small bow. When the professor replied it wasn't as fluent as the knight's introduction, and sounded as if he were more familiar with reading the words than speaking them. But it was unquestionably in the same dialect, a short phrase. "I am honored to meet you," perhaps.
"The honor is mine," Roland replied with a slow smile, reverting back to English, "and since you are a good man and a friend of Vidya, I will spare you any more of what I call French."
His eyes were alight from seeing the Professor jig -- in ways both large and small, Roland had become a knight to see others happy. Even confirming this energetic old man's academic suspicions filled him with joy, and it showed in his face. He looked over at Vidya and winked.
Her laughter bubbled out at the wink, and not even the sudden of the appearance of the head librarian at the end of the aisle giving them stern looks could quell her delight. She did try to muffle the chortles, though her next words were quietly unrepentant. ?That?s French the way I?m human.? Another giggle slipped out, and she shook her head with a swing of black curls. ?Sorry, sorry. Professor, we really do need to ask you about Breton travel history ? only it?s, well, Travel history, you see??
The academician?s eyes sharpened again, and he let out a satisfied breath of air. ?Ah. So that?s why you came to me.? It could have held resentment, but instead Michael Shaughnessy seemed quietly happy that someone came to him for his knowledge instead of with suspicion and mockery. ?Well then, what do you need to know??
"In reading Saint Christophe, any of the other Travelers, have you..." Roland frowned and paused; his eyes went to one corner, then the other, and he listened. They had in fact been making a great deal of noise for a library, which was the perfect cover for a spy, thief or assassin to creep closer. The tension relaxed, slowly, and he began again. "Have you found any stories of what happened to a disappeared Breton knight and nobleman, Baron Charles DeMuer... or have you ever heard the name, Teobern?"
Vee had shut her eyes when Roland tensed ? her eyesight wasn?t nearly as good as her hearing, so she concentrated on listening. But the sounds from the rest of the library were reassuring ? quiet breathing and the flip of pages from two aisles over, the reference librarian assisting a customer at the desk on the second floor. The Mugar Library was really only very crowded near finals; right now it was practically deserted. Reassured, she opened her eyes again and looked back and forth between the Professor and her knight.
Meanwhile, Professor Shaughnessy was muttering to himself again ? a habit that came of too much time alone. ?DeMuer, DeMuer, no? too many disappeared noblemen. But Teobern, where was that name? What was I??? While his words escaped, tinged with his native Irish accent in his excitement, his gnarled fingers were skimming over the edges of several books. Abruptly, they stopped on one and he pulled it out. ?It?s a place name, yes??
"A city of part-elves," Roland muttered with a faint nod, "and it still stands to this day..."
?No, no, no? it was destroyed, oh, hundreds of years ago, in an earthquake?? The Professor answered absently with a wave of one hand before he went back to flipping through pages. Abruptly he looked up, however, and speared Roland with a sharp look. ?Wasn?t it??
"I took VeeJay to a ballet there last week," Roland replied, dipping his head a little. Then he leaned in to peer at the pages as they turned, curious about the story behind the disaster. "Earthquake, you say..."
The title of the book was one that belonged to the ?fringes? of accepted serious historical inquiry. ?Disasters of the Middle Ages: The Hand of God At Work?. Published sometime in the 1950s by the look of the cover, the works it referenced were much older. The professor tapped one print of a faded painting on a church wall. In the elongated, stiff style of the early 900s, it clearly showed a small village built on cliffs near the ocean. The next scene in the painting showed humans dancing with ? well, with their pointed ears and tilted eyes, the high cheekbones ? they could only be elves; a priest seemed to be railing against the festival off to one side. And the last scene in the trio showed the cliff breaking off into the sea, with small bodies tumbling down into the water.
"Teobern." After a moment, once he was sure Roland had seen all three panels clearly, he turned the page. This was a black-and-white photograph of cliffs over the ocean, overgrown foundations broken off right up to the edge of the cliff. Beneath it, the caption read, "Reputed site of Teobern, 1925."
The last photograph was on the facing page; it had been taken from a narrow gravel beach below the cliffs, looking up. From this angle, several of the foundation walls actually overhung the edge. Halfway up the cliff, shadows outlined the edges of a cave system. This caption read, "Caves beneath Teobern, 1925."
Roland frowned at the caves and shook his head. "No, no," he breathed. "There are no caves there, only a pile of..." He trailed off and looked up at the ceiling.
"...Vidya... I do not think the Travelers arrived in Bretland."
Professor Shaughnessy looked back and forth between Roland and Vidya. Obviously the sequence meant more to the knight than it had to the scholar. VeeJay frowned, her brows drawing together. "What do you mean?"
He put his index finger on the picture of the caves. "They came through here. It all makes sense now..." And the young knight began producing documents, a few outlines he had written on a typewriter himself, and spread them out around the book.
"The Travelers spoke Newbreton, yet it is not clear, not exactly, where they arrived. What is known is that they arrived in this world... consorted with the locals... and came under the suspicions of the priests in their company." Rapidly he flipped back to the earthquake sequence, the dancing elves and men, the disapproving priest, the earthquake. "There was a disaster -- the great leader 'Carolus' perished -- but with the aid of God, they saved the city. And..."
Roland's fingertips traced a sequence of runes they had translated. "...'the way home is lost'."
"Oh... oh!" Vidya breathed it the first time, exclaimed it the second. "I see. But then -" She frowned, thinking over what she knew about the story, and the locations involved. "What about those caves in the city?" Pulling out her glasses, she shoved them onto her nose and bent over the book. The professor was reaching for the typewritten notes, eager to learn more about the "Travelers".
Roland passed them over. "Collapsing the caves would explain the earthquake... and there could have been more than one incident. Seven centuries ago was the first time Teobern's numbers and power sharply declined, Silas was telling me... Eighty years ago was the last time. When we arrived, only a few hundred part-elves sought shelter in Teobern any longer."
Mumbling unintelligibly to himself, the Professor started reading, practically devouring the notes and outlines. Vee nodded while Roland spoke. ?So this world was a waypoint? And when the caves came down?? She trailed off, and looked at the last picture thoughtfully. ?But they?re not all collapsed. Maybe there?s still a way? or another way through??
A stranger's smell wafted in, but Roland was not used enough to Arctos' skill to notice it, not before Vidya.
"We should return to Teobern immediately," Roland said. "The Baron must be -- " He froze, then, as a floorboard behind a bookshelf creaked.
Before Roland had stopped speaking, Vee had already jerked up her head, her nostrils flaring. She?d heard the quiet steps and breathing earlier, but paid them no mind until the front door opening carried a swirl of air past the woman and toward their tight huddle. Her lips pulled back from her teeth, but it was no smile that twisted her mouth. ?Demon.?
Click-click-click. High heels tapped on the polished wood floor, moving toward the end of the bookshelf. The scent of demon was apparently musk, lilacs, and a very, very faint hint of copper. With VeeJay?s curt word, Morana had abandoned her attempt at silence ? and discretion. Fingers of her left hand were twisting, but her right hand still held the book she?d been studying. ?Collected Legends of Northern Italy.?
The world was suddenly thrown into a different, harsher kind of relief for Roland -- colors muted, only objects of interest bolded. He saw both motion and the threat of motion. Arctos' gifts were perfect for a hunter and a fighter.
"Vidya... the professor must leave now," the knight said, fingers flexing at his hip where a sword had just flickered into being. His feet ground into the floor as he was prepared to parry and strike. "I will see you both soon." Roland was perhaps not capable of hatred, but whatever passion his gaze harbored, it was equal to Morana's challenge. He did not fear her, and would fight any devil to see his charge protected.
The professor, still deep in the typewritten notes, took a moment to surface. He was obviously confused as he looked from Vidya?s suddenly feral countenance to Roland?s preparations to the attractive Persian woman at the end of the aisle. ?What? What?s going on?? Were-creatures were known in his world, even given legal rights, but demons were still a myth. The greatest trick the devil ever played on humanity?.
?Oh, darling, don?t run off so soon. I?ve missed speaking with a colleague, and your Professor seems simply charming.? Her eyes were dark brown, her cheekbones high and her focus went right past the knight as if he weren?t holding a sword at the ready in her path. Her smile was warm and delighted on VeeJay and Professor Shaughnessy. ?I?d love to speak with you both.? The word ?speak? was timed to match a flick of her fingers toward the two; soundless void sliced down the aisle with a promise of pain.
Leaving Roland to intercept the attack, Vee dropped the book she was holding and grabbed Professor Shaughnessy?s left arm. ?We?re leaving ? now.? If she could have picked up the old man and carried him without notice, she would have. As it was, they were moving faster than Michael Shaughnessy had managed in nearly fifty years. The papers were still clutched in the Professor?s fist as they hurried for the library door.
Roland's sword did not merely intercept the attack -- he had learned a few new tricks since the Order's last combat with demons, and the attack whiplashed its way past Morana into the wall behind her. His aim was off, but it was still close, and Roland did not stand and wait for the result, either. He closed the distance at a sprint, throwing his shoulder towards her as he jabbed his sword at her gut. A loud snarl erupted from him as he attacked.
Morana?s laugh was a throaty counterpoint to the ripping snarl. She had to drop the book in her hand to dodge the sword-strike, but the shoulder she moved into ? pressing fluidly up against the knight, moving like water. Skin-to-skin contact was her goal, and the play of black-edged red in her eyes flashed when she heard the library door slam closed. The scent of ozone filled the air as sparks from the ceiling flashed ? cameras shorting out.
Something crackled and sizzled over his left hand and he jerked it away with another growl. He nearly tripped over the book, backed up close to a tall shelf, and stared hard at the laughing woman. She was right to be so confident, as the knight's tricks were still few compared to hers. "You are expanding your horizons, demon... I thought Christian people were beneath you," he said as he collected the book on North Italy with one hand, then took another step back. His shoulder hit the shelf, and he could back away no further.
"Darling, everyone falls - and it's always delightful when a Christian realizes he's damned. But then again, do animals even have souls?" Morana glanced at the book in his hand, and then back up to his face with a brilliant smile. "You are just deliciously sweet, though. Such a strong moral compass. Where would your Baron be without you, do you think?" One step toward him, two, deliberate and measured. The next sounds from her throat were in no human language, guttural and harsh.
One step, two... wait for it... her words had begun, which gave him just a little bit longer...
"You won't find out today." Roland slipped suddenly around the shelf's corner, and at the same moment, the towering bookcase came crashing down on top of Morana, dumping thousands of volumes with it.
Thousands of volumes that battered ? and then fell unobstructed to the floor. Those caught in the path of her sudden Step were sliced- oddly, through the covers, half-books and pages fluttering free before the heavy bookcase landed with a shattering crash. The few other patrons of the library jolted to their feet ? silence suddenly broken with an explosion of babbles and fear.
Outside, in one of the odd corners left by the building?s designers, black-edged red flashed, vanished. Scraps of paper and leather fluttered to the ground, leaving frost on the paving stones that melted nearly as soon as it appeared. Morana?s sculpted features were contorted with rage, the guttural words she?d begun fading to a hiss. A deep breath before her expression smoothed to contemplation. ?Well. Wasn?t that interesting?.?
((Adapted from live play with thanks!))
It was raining ? one of the cold, drizzly rains that turned everything grey and brought out the smell of wet concrete from the sidewalk. By the time Vidya had set up her trip back to Boston, it was too late for lilacs ? but Roland had decided to come along after all. Now the curls were pulled out of VeeJay?s hair by the rain, and she laughed as she pulled Roland down the street toward the Mugar Memorial Library. They?d gotten onto the T at Harvard Square ? the stop was practically right next to her apartment ? and after a change of trains at Park Street, Vee was back in her home territory. 4.4 million people lived in the Greater Boston Area, and she thrived in the crowds and bustle, lit right up. ?C?mon, slowpoke! He?ll be waiting for us ? I didn?t expect that delay at Kenmore.?
Roland had been completely swept away by the city of Boston. The oldness of the buildings, the trains, the busy harbor and the busy streets were so much like New Brittany, and yet so different that his head was always turning to one place or another, frequently missing the sights VeeJay pointed out on their whirlwind tour. Stubbornly he had refused to hack his hair off or clean up his short beard, but he fit in better than he thought he would -- just another young man in what was a college town for many thousands, sporting a messy ponytail and plenty of scruff.
Even tugged over a curb by VeeJay's hands, even in an alien land, the knight was graceful on his feet. "You know we didn't have to stop for sandwiches, Vidya -- they were very good, I'm not complaining, but the line was very long..." He turned his head to squint curiously at her. "Why do so many people here pack into the tiny little sandwich shops? You'd think they'd wait in line for the fancy places..." Things were different in New Brittany, and often in little ways.
?No, they just call ahead for reservations to the fancy places ? they don?t want to waste time.? Vee laughed, then ? because they?d certainly wasted enough time waiting for the sandwiches. ?Besides, I was hungry. And Darwin?s has the best hoagies in Cambridge.? They were crossing a broad red-brick terrace, and then Vee took the low, broad steps that led down to the Library two at a time. The building fronted Storrow Drive, and right behind that was the broad sweep of the Charles River.
Vidya hadn?t missed Roland?s fascination with the city, and his curiosity about it thrilled her. She knew very well he wouldn?t move to Boston, but she?d missed the city more than she?d realized until she came home. If he liked it here, it would be easier to talk him into coming back here with her when she visited. Of course, if he came back very often at all, he?d have to meet her siblings? which wasn?t something she wanted to think about just now. So she shook her head, and pushed open the door to the library. ?Now, if I were Professor Shaughnessy, where would I be??
If he came back with her very often, he'd have to spend a lot of time ironing out the details with SPI. Earths that didn't know about other dimensions never took kindly to people that "didn't exist"...
Roland found his bearings very quickly: his eyes flickered between signs and the ends of the long bookshelves, and in a short time he figured out where the Frankish epics were most likely to be. "Over there," he pointed.
Earths that didn?t know about other dimensions also never took kindly to the people who believed that those other dimensions did exist. People like Professor Shaughnessy, who was indeed nose-deep in the Frankish epics ? a Gallican text, really, with the original text on one half of a page, and the translation to Old French written on the other half. The professor was old, in his late 60s or early 70s, with soft white curls of hair that hadn?t been cut in far too long. He was mumbling to himself as the pair approached. ?Stupid, stupid. Can?t they read? Plain as day it says it, right here ? a visitor not from this land, a holy knight. Not from this land. Idiots.?
Vee had been able to hear the mumbles from the end of the stack, and she giggled when she got just a little closer. ?Still ranting and raving, Professor?? She never had believed him, before, but her teasing was always good-natured and her interest in his lore had kept the unlikely pair friends long after she graduated.
Sir Roland Gravois heard the professor's words clearly; Malcolm would have frozen in something like terror and Seamus would have happily seized the opportunity to blow his mind, but Roland was Roland, and so he bowed his head humbly and politely and let the others speak, not opening his mouth until he was introduced.
His hand hovered near his hip during his little bow, where the hilt of his sword would have been -- or where it actually was, somehow hiding beyond sight and detection. The knight was stoic, but nonthreatening, though inwardly his heart sang at imagining Vidya happy in college under this batty old man's tutelage.
?Vidya!? The professor was one of the very, very few who called Vee by her given name. He snapped closed the book in his hand and turned with a smile to face the younger pair. The sharpness of his bright blue eyes gave lie to the uncut hair, mumbling, and worn elbows of his jacket. ?And this must be the young man you wanted me to have a talk with. Tell me, young man, do you believe in fairies??
That was exactly the sort of question that normally evoked wariness in people meeting Professor Shaughnessy the first time. Vee?s laugh bubbled out again, one she couldn?t have suppressed if she?d tried. ?Professor Shaughnessy, I?d like you to meet my Roland. He?s very interested in Frankish and Breton travel history. Roland Gravois, this is Professor Michael Shaughnessy; he?s just about the best professor I ever had.? She left it up to Roland to answer the fairy question, though.
"Your servant, Professor Shaughnessy," Roland replied with a smile as he extended his hand for a shake, "and... I would have to say that I do, though I have not met very many." It was one of the few social tricks he had picked up from spying, pairing a smile with an uncomfortable truth to make people take it for a lie.
One thing he had not learned as well was hiding every detail on his person. An encircled cross rested not quite out of sight on his collarbone, its symbols glittering under the library's lights, though small and obscured enough to do little more than hint at their nature.
If VeeJay had known how Roland intended to make his effort at deception, she would have warned him against it. As it was, she clapped her hand over her mouth, trying to stifle another burst of laughter, and whirled to face away from the pair while she regained her bearings. Her eyes were shining bright yellow-gold with mirth over the seal of her palm.
?Hah! Smart boy. They aren?t what most people think, you know.? Professor Shaughnessy snorted while he slipped the book in his hand back onto the shelf. ?This Saint Christophe, for example, he was one. A visitor. They?re scattered here and there throughout history. Saints, devils, holy men, fairies. Europe seems to have attracted most of them ? or kept better records, anyway. Your Bretons? Littered with the travelers.? And then the old man?s eyes narrowed, locked on the glitter and flash at Roland?s neck. A finger twisted by arthritis jabbed out at the symbol. ?Where did you get that?? He asked it accusingly.
Roland first gave a significant, questioning look to Vidya, and to the professor it likely spoke volumes. Should I tell him?
Michael Shaughnessy?s expression didn?t change, but that questioning look from Roland to Vidya filled him with a sudden measure of glee ? and trepidation. Too many people had mocked his belief in the travelers; he didn?t think Vidya would do something like that, but he?d been fooled before. But if it was what he was beginning to suspect?
Meanwhile, VeeJay had managed to subdue her laughter enough to answer Roland with a wordless shrug. If you didn?t want to tell him, we shouldn?t have come. Might as well.
Rather than explain in words, Roland unclasped the necklace carefully, reverently, and handed it to Shaughnessy. The symbols were not the same as the original Order's, but they were similar. Only the Egyptian eye was completely new. "Sir Roland Gravois," he whispered as he bowed his head and introduced himself anew, "Knight-Captain of the Holy Order of Saint Aldwin, and your humble servant. I... am a traveler, as you would call it."
Age-spotted hands took the necklace as carefully, as reverently as it had been passed over. He was already mumbling to himself. ?Yes, yes, the bear, the fist ? could have gotten those from Bede, though ?? And then the professor broke off to look sharply at Roland. ?Saint Aldwin was never associated with the Eye of Osiris.? It was almost accusing, but there was no less care when he offered back the necklace. Light danced in his eyes, as he hovered on the edge of believing this solemn young man.
"The mark of the spy agency of my liege, who has renewed the Barony of Sainte-Ouen as St. Aldwin in another world," he explained simply, accepting the necklace and replacing it. He looked down at the symbols, touching them with his thumb, and looked back up at the professor, and then he repeated his introduction -- each word in the French variety of Newbreton, a linguistic mish-mash that only occasioned its way into the rarest, most obscure documents -- the variety most academics laughed at and tossed aside.
It was a mish-mash that left Vidya completely in the dust - but she smiled her too-wide smile as the fluid introduction set Professor Shaughnessy to dancing. Literally - he actually jigged a few small steps in the aisle, practically cackling to himself. Then he regained his dignity, put a hand over his heart, and gave Roland a small bow. When the professor replied it wasn't as fluent as the knight's introduction, and sounded as if he were more familiar with reading the words than speaking them. But it was unquestionably in the same dialect, a short phrase. "I am honored to meet you," perhaps.
"The honor is mine," Roland replied with a slow smile, reverting back to English, "and since you are a good man and a friend of Vidya, I will spare you any more of what I call French."
His eyes were alight from seeing the Professor jig -- in ways both large and small, Roland had become a knight to see others happy. Even confirming this energetic old man's academic suspicions filled him with joy, and it showed in his face. He looked over at Vidya and winked.
Her laughter bubbled out at the wink, and not even the sudden of the appearance of the head librarian at the end of the aisle giving them stern looks could quell her delight. She did try to muffle the chortles, though her next words were quietly unrepentant. ?That?s French the way I?m human.? Another giggle slipped out, and she shook her head with a swing of black curls. ?Sorry, sorry. Professor, we really do need to ask you about Breton travel history ? only it?s, well, Travel history, you see??
The academician?s eyes sharpened again, and he let out a satisfied breath of air. ?Ah. So that?s why you came to me.? It could have held resentment, but instead Michael Shaughnessy seemed quietly happy that someone came to him for his knowledge instead of with suspicion and mockery. ?Well then, what do you need to know??
"In reading Saint Christophe, any of the other Travelers, have you..." Roland frowned and paused; his eyes went to one corner, then the other, and he listened. They had in fact been making a great deal of noise for a library, which was the perfect cover for a spy, thief or assassin to creep closer. The tension relaxed, slowly, and he began again. "Have you found any stories of what happened to a disappeared Breton knight and nobleman, Baron Charles DeMuer... or have you ever heard the name, Teobern?"
Vee had shut her eyes when Roland tensed ? her eyesight wasn?t nearly as good as her hearing, so she concentrated on listening. But the sounds from the rest of the library were reassuring ? quiet breathing and the flip of pages from two aisles over, the reference librarian assisting a customer at the desk on the second floor. The Mugar Library was really only very crowded near finals; right now it was practically deserted. Reassured, she opened her eyes again and looked back and forth between the Professor and her knight.
Meanwhile, Professor Shaughnessy was muttering to himself again ? a habit that came of too much time alone. ?DeMuer, DeMuer, no? too many disappeared noblemen. But Teobern, where was that name? What was I??? While his words escaped, tinged with his native Irish accent in his excitement, his gnarled fingers were skimming over the edges of several books. Abruptly, they stopped on one and he pulled it out. ?It?s a place name, yes??
"A city of part-elves," Roland muttered with a faint nod, "and it still stands to this day..."
?No, no, no? it was destroyed, oh, hundreds of years ago, in an earthquake?? The Professor answered absently with a wave of one hand before he went back to flipping through pages. Abruptly he looked up, however, and speared Roland with a sharp look. ?Wasn?t it??
"I took VeeJay to a ballet there last week," Roland replied, dipping his head a little. Then he leaned in to peer at the pages as they turned, curious about the story behind the disaster. "Earthquake, you say..."
The title of the book was one that belonged to the ?fringes? of accepted serious historical inquiry. ?Disasters of the Middle Ages: The Hand of God At Work?. Published sometime in the 1950s by the look of the cover, the works it referenced were much older. The professor tapped one print of a faded painting on a church wall. In the elongated, stiff style of the early 900s, it clearly showed a small village built on cliffs near the ocean. The next scene in the painting showed humans dancing with ? well, with their pointed ears and tilted eyes, the high cheekbones ? they could only be elves; a priest seemed to be railing against the festival off to one side. And the last scene in the trio showed the cliff breaking off into the sea, with small bodies tumbling down into the water.
"Teobern." After a moment, once he was sure Roland had seen all three panels clearly, he turned the page. This was a black-and-white photograph of cliffs over the ocean, overgrown foundations broken off right up to the edge of the cliff. Beneath it, the caption read, "Reputed site of Teobern, 1925."
The last photograph was on the facing page; it had been taken from a narrow gravel beach below the cliffs, looking up. From this angle, several of the foundation walls actually overhung the edge. Halfway up the cliff, shadows outlined the edges of a cave system. This caption read, "Caves beneath Teobern, 1925."
Roland frowned at the caves and shook his head. "No, no," he breathed. "There are no caves there, only a pile of..." He trailed off and looked up at the ceiling.
"...Vidya... I do not think the Travelers arrived in Bretland."
Professor Shaughnessy looked back and forth between Roland and Vidya. Obviously the sequence meant more to the knight than it had to the scholar. VeeJay frowned, her brows drawing together. "What do you mean?"
He put his index finger on the picture of the caves. "They came through here. It all makes sense now..." And the young knight began producing documents, a few outlines he had written on a typewriter himself, and spread them out around the book.
"The Travelers spoke Newbreton, yet it is not clear, not exactly, where they arrived. What is known is that they arrived in this world... consorted with the locals... and came under the suspicions of the priests in their company." Rapidly he flipped back to the earthquake sequence, the dancing elves and men, the disapproving priest, the earthquake. "There was a disaster -- the great leader 'Carolus' perished -- but with the aid of God, they saved the city. And..."
Roland's fingertips traced a sequence of runes they had translated. "...'the way home is lost'."
"Oh... oh!" Vidya breathed it the first time, exclaimed it the second. "I see. But then -" She frowned, thinking over what she knew about the story, and the locations involved. "What about those caves in the city?" Pulling out her glasses, she shoved them onto her nose and bent over the book. The professor was reaching for the typewritten notes, eager to learn more about the "Travelers".
Roland passed them over. "Collapsing the caves would explain the earthquake... and there could have been more than one incident. Seven centuries ago was the first time Teobern's numbers and power sharply declined, Silas was telling me... Eighty years ago was the last time. When we arrived, only a few hundred part-elves sought shelter in Teobern any longer."
Mumbling unintelligibly to himself, the Professor started reading, practically devouring the notes and outlines. Vee nodded while Roland spoke. ?So this world was a waypoint? And when the caves came down?? She trailed off, and looked at the last picture thoughtfully. ?But they?re not all collapsed. Maybe there?s still a way? or another way through??
A stranger's smell wafted in, but Roland was not used enough to Arctos' skill to notice it, not before Vidya.
"We should return to Teobern immediately," Roland said. "The Baron must be -- " He froze, then, as a floorboard behind a bookshelf creaked.
Before Roland had stopped speaking, Vee had already jerked up her head, her nostrils flaring. She?d heard the quiet steps and breathing earlier, but paid them no mind until the front door opening carried a swirl of air past the woman and toward their tight huddle. Her lips pulled back from her teeth, but it was no smile that twisted her mouth. ?Demon.?
Click-click-click. High heels tapped on the polished wood floor, moving toward the end of the bookshelf. The scent of demon was apparently musk, lilacs, and a very, very faint hint of copper. With VeeJay?s curt word, Morana had abandoned her attempt at silence ? and discretion. Fingers of her left hand were twisting, but her right hand still held the book she?d been studying. ?Collected Legends of Northern Italy.?
The world was suddenly thrown into a different, harsher kind of relief for Roland -- colors muted, only objects of interest bolded. He saw both motion and the threat of motion. Arctos' gifts were perfect for a hunter and a fighter.
"Vidya... the professor must leave now," the knight said, fingers flexing at his hip where a sword had just flickered into being. His feet ground into the floor as he was prepared to parry and strike. "I will see you both soon." Roland was perhaps not capable of hatred, but whatever passion his gaze harbored, it was equal to Morana's challenge. He did not fear her, and would fight any devil to see his charge protected.
The professor, still deep in the typewritten notes, took a moment to surface. He was obviously confused as he looked from Vidya?s suddenly feral countenance to Roland?s preparations to the attractive Persian woman at the end of the aisle. ?What? What?s going on?? Were-creatures were known in his world, even given legal rights, but demons were still a myth. The greatest trick the devil ever played on humanity?.
?Oh, darling, don?t run off so soon. I?ve missed speaking with a colleague, and your Professor seems simply charming.? Her eyes were dark brown, her cheekbones high and her focus went right past the knight as if he weren?t holding a sword at the ready in her path. Her smile was warm and delighted on VeeJay and Professor Shaughnessy. ?I?d love to speak with you both.? The word ?speak? was timed to match a flick of her fingers toward the two; soundless void sliced down the aisle with a promise of pain.
Leaving Roland to intercept the attack, Vee dropped the book she was holding and grabbed Professor Shaughnessy?s left arm. ?We?re leaving ? now.? If she could have picked up the old man and carried him without notice, she would have. As it was, they were moving faster than Michael Shaughnessy had managed in nearly fifty years. The papers were still clutched in the Professor?s fist as they hurried for the library door.
Roland's sword did not merely intercept the attack -- he had learned a few new tricks since the Order's last combat with demons, and the attack whiplashed its way past Morana into the wall behind her. His aim was off, but it was still close, and Roland did not stand and wait for the result, either. He closed the distance at a sprint, throwing his shoulder towards her as he jabbed his sword at her gut. A loud snarl erupted from him as he attacked.
Morana?s laugh was a throaty counterpoint to the ripping snarl. She had to drop the book in her hand to dodge the sword-strike, but the shoulder she moved into ? pressing fluidly up against the knight, moving like water. Skin-to-skin contact was her goal, and the play of black-edged red in her eyes flashed when she heard the library door slam closed. The scent of ozone filled the air as sparks from the ceiling flashed ? cameras shorting out.
Something crackled and sizzled over his left hand and he jerked it away with another growl. He nearly tripped over the book, backed up close to a tall shelf, and stared hard at the laughing woman. She was right to be so confident, as the knight's tricks were still few compared to hers. "You are expanding your horizons, demon... I thought Christian people were beneath you," he said as he collected the book on North Italy with one hand, then took another step back. His shoulder hit the shelf, and he could back away no further.
"Darling, everyone falls - and it's always delightful when a Christian realizes he's damned. But then again, do animals even have souls?" Morana glanced at the book in his hand, and then back up to his face with a brilliant smile. "You are just deliciously sweet, though. Such a strong moral compass. Where would your Baron be without you, do you think?" One step toward him, two, deliberate and measured. The next sounds from her throat were in no human language, guttural and harsh.
One step, two... wait for it... her words had begun, which gave him just a little bit longer...
"You won't find out today." Roland slipped suddenly around the shelf's corner, and at the same moment, the towering bookcase came crashing down on top of Morana, dumping thousands of volumes with it.
Thousands of volumes that battered ? and then fell unobstructed to the floor. Those caught in the path of her sudden Step were sliced- oddly, through the covers, half-books and pages fluttering free before the heavy bookcase landed with a shattering crash. The few other patrons of the library jolted to their feet ? silence suddenly broken with an explosion of babbles and fear.
Outside, in one of the odd corners left by the building?s designers, black-edged red flashed, vanished. Scraps of paper and leather fluttered to the ground, leaving frost on the paving stones that melted nearly as soon as it appeared. Morana?s sculpted features were contorted with rage, the guttural words she?d begun fading to a hiss. A deep breath before her expression smoothed to contemplation. ?Well. Wasn?t that interesting?.?
((Adapted from live play with thanks!))