Callia Brannhard sat quietly in the large, leather covered chair in the office of her granmother's lawyer and forced herself to stifle a yawn. It was very difficult to stay awake, so she distracted herself by watching all the little Mote-Dancers dance with joy in the sunbeam that illuminated the room from one window. Callia's mother, Elsa Brannhard, was still talking with the lawyer.
"Mrs. Brannhard, it is quite simple, the late Mrs. Brannhard's will was quite detailed on this matter. All her possessions, all her assets, all things that belong to her, with the exception of some few items she indicated were to go to her employees and their children, are to be given to your daughter, Mrs. Brannhard's only living descendant, Callia Dearbourne Brannhard. She was quite adamant that you be denied even one penny of it." Douglas Ingelbert, of Ingelbert, Rheinhold, and Davis, was growing tired of explaining the matter to this woman. The firm of which he was a partner had served the Brannhard family for generations, and he had had the honor of overseeing all of the late Gwennyth Dearbourne Brannhard's accounts since before her husband had died and she had been left with the joined fortunes of two families. "In the event of some tragedy, and Callia cannot inherit the fortune or control the funds thereof permanently, then the late Mrs. Brannhard has given us explicit instructions on finding another young woman to inherit everything, and you are not part of those instructions."
Elsa scowled at him in furious frustration. She would have been a beautiful woman if she weren't so angry. She was tall, elegant, pencil-thin with red hair that was more likely a very well-done afternoon in the salon than the color nature gave her. And she looked nothing like her daughter, who looked, for all the world, as if she wasn't hearing a word any of them said, staring off into nothing through the window. Mr. Ingelbert did not wish to know what the young Mrs. Brannhard would make out of the girl, but it certainly wouldn't be pretty.
Realizing that nothing more could be done right now, Elsa Brannhard turned on one emerald green stiletto heel to go, gathering her purse. "I will discuss this with you in detail later, through my lawyer!"
"By all means, try. I assure you, all has been done in order." Mr. Ingelbert didn't expect a response from the woman, and indeed, didn't get one.
Elsa Brannhard turned an impatient eye to Callia. "Come on, Callia, we're going." When Callia didn't respond immediately, her mother walked over and yanked on her arm. "I said come on." Mrs. Brannhard was at the end of her rope, if she had to deal with this idiot of a daughter one more day . . . and she couldn't even get the girl institutionalized, the money'd all go to some other brat.
Callia looked up at the woman she had been taught to call "Mother" and Elsa Brannhard was shocked to see the expression in her eyes. "I heard you the first time. Yes, I will go home, but not with you."
Mrs. Brannhard was stunned speechless and Mr. Ingelbert merely watched the show, hiding the delight he felt behind one of the best poker faces he'd ever worn in his life. "What do you mean by this?" Mrs. Brannhard asked, breathless with shock.
"I mean that from now on, my home is not with you."
"But-" she sputtered, "but I am your mother!"
Callia looked at her calmly. "No, as a matter of fact, you are not. I am my father's daughter by an unauthorized liason, and it was a prerequisite of the marriage contract that you accept me as your daughter. You are no kin of mine."
Elsa Brannhard looked at Callia in horrified shock. "Who told you that?"
Callia didn't even bother to look at the woman who had married her father for his money when she was only a month old. "My grandmother told me." She turned to the lawyer, "Mr. Ingelbert, would you please start the paperwork for emancipation proceedings? I would like to go to my home as quickly as possible, but I can wait as long as it takes."
Mr. Ingelbert allowed a smile to cross his face as he looked at the fourteen year old girl. "Of course, Miss Brannhard." Oh, she was definitely her grandmother's girl.
Callia sighed in relief as the car turned up the drive to the mansion that had been her grandmother's, and was now hers. It had taken a year, but in the end the court had granted her emancipation, and Elsa Brannhard was forced to give up the hope of getting her hands on the Brannhard and Dearbourne fortunes. For a money-grubbing socialite wanna-be like her father's wife, that was quite a defeat. The woman had kept Callia out of the mansion this long, but no longer.
The car stopped before the front steps and Callia helped herself out and then assisted the servants in bringing the few belongings she actually cared to rescue from Elsa Brannhard's house into her house. It felt so good to call the old mansion hers. It wasn't a large mansion, as they went, it was actually rather small. The Brannhard family didn't believe in ostentatious living, and though several larger mansions were included in her newly-acquired fortune, this one always felt like home.
For that matter, there weren't that many servants, either. There was the chauffeur, Edward Mans, who liked to be called Ed when it was just them, but insisted on Mr. Mans when anyone else could hear. There was the gardener, Eugen Ghislain, a man of incredible talents her grandmother had helped immigrate from East Germany. There was Mrs. Nevins, a young widow from Ireland who had come to work for Callia's grandmother when she had done all she could to save Mr. Nevins when he was killed by a bomb while the older Mrs. Brannhard had been travelling in the British Isles. Mrs. Nevins oversaw matters in the house, everything from answering the door to the cook to the eighteen-year-old college student who helped keep things clean. All of them had decided on their own to work for her as they had her grandmother, and for this she was very grateful.
Callia had chosen as her room one of the ones on the second floor, with a balcony that overlooked the large backyard and the outdoor pool, the indoor one was in the basement, next to the rec room. It wasn't the largest of the bedroom suites in the house, but it fit her needs, and it was the one she had always used when she had come to visit her grandmother every summer.
As much as she missed her Granny Gwen, and would continue to miss her every day of her life, it felt right to call the old house "home".
Unpacking and rearranging took up the rest of the day, and probably would occupy free time for several weeks. Callia loved digging through things, and her grandmother had been a great collector.
Late that night, Callia woke up suddenly. For a minute she couldn't place where she was, but then she remembered, and looked around to see what had woken her up. All was quiet in the room, moonlight streaming in through the large glass doors to the balcony making things look silvery in the shadows. She could feel something tugging her towards the balcony and so quietly slipped out of her bed and walked out to look around.
Though the far edge of the property was a good distance farther than she could see on account of the trees that surrounded the house, she could see a light coming from those trees, specifically, from a grove of trees she had loved to play in as a very little child. Callia looked down at her feet at the Moonbeam Sprites dancing around her and smiled. "Do you want to go look and see what's out there?" she asked them, though she knew they wouldn't talk to her. It had never felt strange to her that she'd been able to see what others hadn't. Only her grandmother had understood, and had never ridiculed her about it, though Elsa Brannhard had, quite often. The Sprites danced faster and Callia took that to mean that they agreed with her. She slipped back into her room, picked up a robe to wrap around herself and quietly went downstairs and out into the back lawn, the Moonbeam Sprites following her steps once she was out under the Moon again.
The tugging on her heart grew stronger as Callia approached the trees and the light there. It wasn't hard to find the place where the light came from, it was a clear place within the trees, where the Moon shone through, illuminating a large rock in the center of the glade. Sprites and Motes and little Dancers of all sorts frolicked here and they seemed to greet her as one expected and welcomed. Other creatures were there as well, purple bunny rabbits and a snowy-white deer also waited. Something about that rock.
Callia walked up to the rock and kneeled next to it. This was a place of real magic. She'd felt it, real magic, a couple of times in her life, only once had she felt any danger from it, and that was a man who'd convinced her mother that Callia needed therapy to bring her back into the "real world". Her grandmother had put an end to that pretty quickly once she'd found out. At that point Callia had stopped telling anyone but her grandmother and those she knew could see them as well anything about the little beings she saw, and only when the magic feeling was warmfuzzy. Over the years, with her grandmother's help, that had become quite a number of people, all over the world. "There are more things . . ." her mind started and she chuckled softly.
Hesitantly she reached a hand out and pressed it to the rock, and much to her surprise, the rock moved slightly. After a moment of stunned surprise, curiosity got the best of her, and she pushed on the rock with both hands. The three-foot-tall boulder moved over to reveal a door beneath it, a small square door that looked like it might be the lid of a box. She took hold of the brass ring and pulled on it, but it didn't open. She looked at it more carefully and decided that she must have been pulling the wrong direction. There was silence in the glen as she pulled in the proper direction and the door opened to reveal that it was, indeed, a box.
Inside the box was a roll of parchment, tied by a green ribbon and sealed with silver-colored sealing wax. There was also a piece of green cloth and it looked like it was wrapped around something. Callia put the parchment roll on the ground next to her and then carefully reached into the box and lifted out the wrapped package. The cloth felt like silk, heavy silk, and when she unwrapped it, she was almost more stunned by the material than by what was in it.
The silken wrapping was an emblem of some sort, emerald green with a silver knotwork border, and within the border was a dove with a rose carried in its beak. It was magnificent. But then Callia saw what the banner had protected.
It was silver. At first Callia thought it was a collar, but then she realized that it was more in the torq style, like a crescent moon bent just enough to conform to a person's throat, and to lie flat against the skin. The edge of the crescent was one long knotwork border, like on the banner, and on the widest part of the crescent, where it would lie just below the throat, was a large oval-shaped stone imbedded in the metal, an emerald green in color, and yet definitely not an emerald. It was about an inch long and maybe three-quarters of an inch wide. Callia held the torque in her left hand and rubbed a finger on the stone, and was startled to see it start to glow softly.
"What in the world have I found?" she asked no one in particular, "and what am I supposed to do with it?"
Callia quickly closed the box and moved the rock back over it, and could almost feel it take back on its full weight once back in place, and then picked up the banner, the torque, and the strange scroll and took off back for the mansion, and her room.
It didn't take her long to get there, even going for as much quiet as possible, and she carefully put the strange items on her bed and then pulled her computer out of a hidden cabinet in the wall, turning it on and letting it run through the warm-up sequence, and then opened a channel to her email/chat lines. Someone should be on, and she needed advice. She quickly typed in a message and then sent it out. If anyone was in the Chat room, they'd get it. It also went out to all the people on the mailing list, so she'd get an answer from someone within a day, depending on the activity. Then she sat back to wait.
From: Lyonesse Rhiannon (rheagan@webnet.com)
To: The People of the One Eye (OneEye-l@telleron.com)Yo, dudes, help needed. I found something and I need advice. It's this necklace, only it's a torq, and it has a green stone imbedded in it. The stone is an oval, about one inch by 3/4ths inch and the torque is a silver metal, and there's Celtic knotwork all along the edge of it. Definite resonance factor here, guys, it's *not* normal. The stone *glows* when I touch it. Thermosensitive??
I found it with a banner, green bordered with knotwork silver, silver dove within, holding a silver rose in its beak. Secondary resonance factor, could have rubbed off from the torq, but I don't know. Also found parchment scrolled with a green ribbon and sealed with silver wax, emblem of a dove.
What do I do with it?
Lyonesse -- Rheagan@WebNet.com
"Sometimes men come by the name of genius in the same way that certain insects come by the name of centipede -- not because they have a hundred feet, but because most people can't count above fourteen." George Christoph Lichtenberg
From: FinnWell, Lyonesse, that's quite a bunch of questions at a time, so please excuse me for the time it took to reply. From Your earlier postings I know that You moved into a new mansion, so I guess that's where You found the items.
My first thought was to ask for the style of the dove and the rose. The knotwork border was misleading me to celtic references. However, I soon had to find out that while knotwork doves do exist, knotwork roses (other than sybolized, symetrical ones) are all but common, and so I guess that both, the bird and the flower are normal style, not knot-patterns. My second take on it is, that is a noble coat of arms, that of Your house to be more exact. Grats! It seems that You inherited more than just a house, however nice it may be.
Question is: what house? what family? If we take the dove and the rose as symbols of the nature of it... it seems to be a rather 'nice' one. I'm not into heraldry too much, so I don't know too much about the 'meaning' to it. I'd try and check out some heraldry newsgroups for it, but I'm lacking a newsserver right now. So the little I know has to do:
Little I know about the rose and the dove. The rose is commonly believed to be a symbol of discretion or secrecy. The dove is used as a symbol of gentleness. Surprisingly it is also a strong Christian symbol: for the holy spirit. The seven virtues of the holy spirit are often represented by seven doves flying towards Christ. But Your dove is a single one, and it has a rose, so I'd not go for the Christian symbolism when interpreting it.
More, but not a lot, I know about heraldic colours. Silver (also considered to be 'white' in heraldry) stands for virtue, pureness and justice. It is associated with the age of childhood. A minor motive is hope, which we will see again in green. It's gem is the pearl, its star the moon. Its day is Monday. At what day did You find the banner? Furthermore, silver is associated with one of the four ... Säfte ... fluids?? of Aristoteles: phlegm. As such it could be a symbol for persistence, toughness or tenaciousness.
Green. Like silver (and together with black) one of the less frequently used colours in heraldry. As a heraldic colour it is commonly addressed as 'vert', but we also find the name 'sinophe'. The latter refers to a certain precious kind of fabric in the 'Niebelungenlied'. 'Sinophe' is probably a reference to the place the fabric came from, the orient; maybe china. It was normally not used for ordinary clothing, but e.g. for a noble's garments. Again a question I'd ask myself if I was You: what fabric is the banner?
More importantly than me bragging with what little knowledge I have about fabrics: Green is usually associated with jolliness, youth (if coupled with beauty), spring, sometimes freedom. Its gem is emerald, its star is venus, the latter is being associated with beginning hope (in love), not fulfillment of it. Here we find the symbol of hope again that we already found in silver. Its day is Thursday.
Whoever brought the elements of the banner together to be his or her coat of arms was not a split personality, it seems. The symbolism of them adds up beautifully.
You have to find Your ancestry Yourself OC, but I hope it helps You to look in the right direction.
The necklace. Unfortunately I'm not a native speaker. It's a 'torque'? It's a "torque \'tork\ n: a force wich produces or tends to produce rotation or twisting [Latin torquere ''to twist'']" (Webster's New Encyclopedic Dictionary)
Hm. However: It holds a green stone. Though You don't say so I guess it's emerald. (It would fit to the symbolism of the colour green) If the celtic knotwork is the same as that on the banner they undoubtedly belong together. You also say it glows when You toch it. If You have someone You trust, I'd have him / her touch it to see if it's indeed 'thermosensitive'. But somehow I don't think so. If indeed You found this on Your family-ground then it could well be that You are the rightful heir to the necklace, and that this is the reason it glows when You touch it. You are speaking of resonance Yourself, remember? To check, I'd have a normal touch it (as I said), and maybe one of us (to make sure it's for You, not just any one-eyed).
Unfortunately I'm not an alchemist, nor a good magician, so I know even less about these things than about heraldry. Keep us informed if You find out something!
Yours,
Finn
____
New Years Day: when the future transforms itself from the Beautiful Promise of Tomorrow into the Ugly Reality of Today, and the disgusting miasma of Now moves into the Rosy Netherworld of Yesteryear.
From: Rian Wanderer (rian@hotmail.com)Listen to me *very carefully* Lyonesse. *Put the torque DOWN.* If it continues to glow--well, even if it *doesn't* continue to glow--begin backing slowly out of the room, open the door quietly, step outside, close the door, and exit the house. Then, once you're in the street, RUN LIKE HELL AND *NEVER*, BUT *NEVER,* LOOK BACK!!!! I cannot emphasize enough this procedure for the proper handling of unknown objects. Believe me when I say that screaming and running into the night is *not* the coward's way of handling the situation--in fact, it's usually a sign of highly refined self-preservation instincts. Of course, under *no* circumstances should you put the torque on *just to see what happens.* It would be faster and less painless to pull the pin on a fragmentation grenade and *swallow* it then to perform that particular action. Hopefully, your brief contact with the object will not have been enough to convince it to keep you--but if it is, I wish you good fortune and the services of a band of stalwart companions, or, failing that, a handy way of escaping fate. Of course, if you *really* need help, contact me at Rian@freemail.com and I'll see what I can do.
Rian Wanderer, President and CEO of Accursed Treasure Holders Anonymous, keeper of the Mask of Tears, leader (under protest) of the Company of Tears, and Captain of the Ship of Doom
From: FinnWell, Rian. If Lyonesse is *anything* like my little girl she already *has* put it on. Not to see what it *does*, but what it *looks like on her*. But OC, no girl is like my little daughter. ::grins:: Believe me: the world out there is full of wonder, and for us that don't live in it's weaponry it can be fascinating and beautiful at times. Sure, caution is never wrong when handling such things. But caution must not freeze You to a state of not doing anything anymore. If there is help nearby she should seek it, period. I'd like to *know* where she found it to continue speculating on its nature.
Finn
____
New Years Day: when the future transforms itself from the Beautiful Promise of Tomorrow into the Ugly Reality of Today, and the disgusting miasma of Now moves into the Rosy Netherworld of Yesteryear.
From: Finn
Subject: ParchmentOh, I forgot: There was a parchment as well! I'd say it might well hold the clue to the riddle we currently see yourself confronted with. Unfortunately it's sealed, and seals are a tricky lot. Breaking rarely is a good idea. (I once met a nordic Sighted - you know, the Viking throwbacks) who said he'd rather break an oath than a seal. Must have had some bad experience. You must not *break* it to read the parchment, of course. A hot knife can work wonders in the right hands. But if Lyonesse *is* the rightful heir to the parchment, breaking the seal might be the starting point for a series of good events as well. 'Steam opening' it might destroy valuable opportunities, then. In the end it's L's decision. 'He who doesn't risk won't win' (Wer nicht wagt der nicht gewinnt) they say over here. But I'm a reckless guy anyways.
Finn
____
New Years Day: when the future transforms itself from the Beautiful Promise of Tomorrow into the Ugly Reality of Today, and the disgusting miasma of Now moves into the Rosy Netherworld of Yesteryear.
Callia carefully read the messages that came across her computer, and felt a twinge of pity for Rian, whatever he had run into had obviously scared the crap out of him. She seemed to remember something a number of months back about his running into some sort of Mask in a trunk his grandfather left him. She started typing again.
From: Lyonesse Rhiannon (rheagan@webnet.com)
To: The People of the One Eye (OneEye-l@telleron.com)Well, for one, Finn, no, the stone is not an emerald. I've seen emeralds enough to know that this isn't one. Plus emeralds don't glow, this stone is magical, somehow. I found the banner wrapped around the necklace, protecting it somehow, with the decorated part on the inside, and the material is definitely silk.
A Torq is a kind of Celtic necklace, usually a badge of office. It might be in other cultures as well, but it's a solid piece of metal, not links as necklaces are today. A torque is more a collar than a pendant chain.
And for both of you, I haven't put it on yet, I'm not that . . . naive, not really. The stone stopped glowing a bit after I stopped touching it, but that might not mean anything. I wanted advice *before* I put it on.
As for being on family grounds, well, Granny Gwen was more like me than anyone else around here, so I suppose it makes sense. Unfortunately, I don't happen to know any other Seeing people around here, not that I can get ahold of without waking up a lot of non-Seeing people.
And I just now found it, today's what? Friday night here in New York.
Lyonesse -- Rheagan@WebNet.com
"Sometimes men come by the name of genius in the same way that certain insects come by the name of centipede -- not because they have a hundred feet, but because most people can't count above fourteen." George Christoph Lichtenberg
Michael Wicker sighed in relief as he sank into his desk chair in his library/study in his simple apartment in Seattle. Work that day had been awful. Of course, he hadn't really enjoyed work since he'd helped that old rich Seeing lady back in New York State. Now her he would have loved working for. When he'd heard that she'd died, it had hurt. When he'd heard that her granddaughter was inheriting everything, he laughed. He'd met Elsa Brannhard and hated her on sight. If ever there was a Sightless mundane he really couldn't stand, she'd been it. The granddaughter he'd also met on several occasions, and they'd liked each other immediately.
With a grin he connected to his email account and also accessed the Chat line for the Sighted. It didn't take long for him to realize that not only was Callia online, but she'd gotten herself in deep.
From: Lyonesse Rhiannon (rheagan@webnet.com)
To: The People of the One Eye (OneEye-L@telleron.com)It's really simple, actually, I found the torque in a wooden box under a stone in the woods in back of the house. The rock should have been a couple tons, yet moved easily and didn't regain its weight until I put it back over the box after I'd pulled everything out. I think it had been calling me.
Lyonesse -- Rheagan@WebNet.Com
Michael gaped in surprise. So the old woman had been hiding more than he'd thought. He quickly scanned through the other messages on the same thread and grew more worried as he went. An old sense, a very accurate sense, was kicking in and he didn't like what he was seeing. Then it hit in full force and he fell out of his chair. "Shit." he muttered, and he got back to the keyboard as quickly as he could.
From: Tam Linn (tam_linn@connection.com)
To: The People of the One Eye (OneEye-L@telleron.com)Lyonesse, get your butt out of that room and into someplace safe! And don't put on that necklace!
Tam
He punched the send button and grabbed a jacket and was out the door a minute later. He hoped he wouldn't get to the old lady's house too late.
Callia read Tam's message in puzzlement, why would he be that vehement? Then she felt a pulling on her nightgown and looked down to see one of the little Nightbabies, a little redhaired one with green-colored wings, looking up at her, very frightened. Nightbabies were harmless, and rather cute, too. Generally they liked visiting with Callia and singing stories. If the Nightbabies were scared . . .
She got up from the computer and got out a backpack and put it on the bed, then she carefully wrapped the torq back in the banner and put the two of them, and the still sealed scroll in the backpack. She reached for the emergency bag she always hid under her bed and was startled by noises downstairs.
Still holding the backpack, she crept over to the staircase and looked down at the entryway, and found herself looking straight into a StoneGoblin's gray-skinned face. StoneGoblins only worked with the mean and nasty Sighted, and that didn't bode well for Callia. With a cry she bolted back for her room and quickly typed in a message and sent it, praying that the connection wasn't severed.
From: Lyonesse Rhiannon (rheagan@webnet.com)
To: The People of the One Eye (OneEye-L@telleron.com)Help!
Lyonesse
Then she quickly grabbed backpack and emergency bag and dove for the closet as the StoneGoblins knocked her door down.
Michael rushed as quickly as he could, and arrived at the old lady's mansion within only minutes of leaving his apartment. At least, that's what he could deduce by checking his watch when he got to the front door, and found it knocked in and several Uglies running up the stairs. Callia called them StoneGoblins because they looked gray like stone and were built about like stone too, hard, rough, and ugly. The Uglies were quickly distracted by him, and separated into two groups, three continued upstairs after, he assumed, Callia, and the rest, five of them, came after him. That was fine by him, five wouldn't take long.
General Ugly tactics involved overwhelming their target by sheer numbers. Usually they weren't too incredibly bright, though Michael didn't hope for that much luck since they'd obviously been sent by someone and they seemed to have a leader who dictated tactics. It didn't take long for Michael to knock all five of them out, leaving them to disappear in whisps of smoke back to their master, if they were lucky. No one bothered to find out what happened to those that never made it back "home". Then he rushed up the stairs after the three Uglies that were chasing Callia.
Callia got to the closet just as the first of the StoneGoblins entered the room. She slammed the door shut and kept moving back in the large walk-in closet that was more than it seemed thanks to a summer spent learning basic construction from her grandmother. In the very back of the closet was a hidden door, she edged it open and squeezed through into the secret room, shutting the door again as the StoneGoblins broke open the closet door and began ransacking the closet looking for her.
Luckily for her, the closet room wasn't the only one in the house, there were a series of them, and not very many people knew about them at all. Callia edged away from the door to her closet and quietly inched towards one of the other doors that would lead to a tunnel-hall that would lead to other rooms. Perhaps she could hide long enough to give any Seeing rescuers a chance to reach her. Maybe she wouldn't be able to. But as long as she kept away from them there was hope.
A different sort of noise filtered in through the wall from the closet and from her room. Some sort of fighting. She squeezed further into the back of the hidden room, ready to run at a moment's notice, but then the noise stopped and she heard a voice call.
"Callia?" she heard a man's voice call out. "Callia, you can come out now."
Callia almost fainted with relief. She scrambled out of the hidden room in the back of the closet and right into Michael's arms. "Oh, Tam! How'd you know?"
"I got online just as the discussion was getting going. My instincts lit up big time."
Callia looked up at the dark skinned man her grandmother had told her she could trust with everything in the world. It felt good to have someone to trust. She reached for the backpack she still carried with her. "So you heard about the torque? What do I do with it?"
Tam put a hand over hers. "Don't pull it out just yet. I need to get you someplace safer than this house. Do you still have your laptop?"
Callia grinned. That laptop was her pride and joy, and one of her favorite gifts from her grandmother. Tam had a gift with things, electronic things in particular, and could make them do things for the Sighted that no one else could. This particular laptop was hooked up with not only a cell-modem that could connect to her email and internet links on a local call from anywhere, but it also worked just as well in the Otherworlds that the Seeing sometimes stumbled into. She nodded and indicated the emergency bag. "I've got it right here."
Tam nodded, smiling. "Alright, come on then, let's get out of here before more Uglies show up."
Then the two of them stood and quietly left the house that was already righting itself of the damage done by the Invisibles that had been there. "Wanna take a magic carpet ride?" Tam asked as they came upon his woven treasure, which just happened to be hovering about a foot off the ground. Callia giggled and Tam helped lift her up onto the white-fringed large-room-sized carpet with all sorts of shapes woven into the borders. "Now, be careful, we don't want you to fall off." Tam jumped up onto the carpet behind her and it lifted up and flew off, looking for someplace safe for them to hide for a moment, eventually settling on an old house Callia had also recently inherited, with a good-sized backyard, that just happened to be empty at the moment. She was still in the process of looking for a family to rent it to.
Once they got somewhat settled, Callia pulled out the laptop. "Do you think it's safe to send a message to the list? They're probably worried out of their gourds."
Tam nodded. "Yeah, tell them you're alright, but don't say too much. Yes," he continued when Callia looked at him with a startled expression on her face, "I know that they're Sighted just like we are, but we don't know if whoever sent those Uglies isn't on that list."
Reluctantly, Callia nodded. "Alright, but Fate's gonna bring us who She's gonna bring us."
From: Lyonesse Rhiannon (rheagan@webnet.com)
To: The People of the One Eye (OneEye-L@telleron.com)Okay, I'm safe. Some StoneGoblins came looking for me. I don't know what all's going on, but I could probably use some help, if you guys know any Sighted with good locationary gifts. Tam Linn just got here and he says "Hi" to all of you. We don't know how they knew to look for me and at the moment we're assuming that it's related to the Torque. Has anyone run into anything like this before?
Advice anyone?
Lyonesse -- Rheagan@WebNet.Com
"Sometimes men come by the name of genius in the same way that certain insects come by the name of centipede -- not because they have a hundred feet, but because most people can't count above fourteen." George Christoph Lichtenberg
From: FinnWell...
Ask Tam Linn about it, but I think that he's going to tell You more or less the same as I'm about to do now: The torque is something of utmost importance. Few among us truly know who and what they are, but You have come across a token that might lead You to the answers to these very questions. The road to such knowledge tends to be interesting, though, so beware! The uglies were nothing but the foreplay to announce what way Your road is leading from now on. While You're with Tam Linn You're propably safe for the moment, so let's say They're playing the trailer now. But the movie is about to begin!
However, it is a great chance for You. Whatever it is, that Your grandmother meant You to inherit, others wish to obtain it as well; and as long as You are not abselutely secure in Your new position, I fear that You will have to fight for it.
Now, what is it that You inherited? The quite noble coat of arm and the torque imply that is some sort of 'noble rank' or position. A title maybe, or rulership over something. Membership, maybe. Belonging to a family or order, wether as it's head or not.
Sorry, I'm starting to speculate again, excuse an old man's babbling.
Two questions: Who sent the uglies, and what is Your inheritance? Answer these and You know the road You have to take.
But since you asked for advice: Go and find out more about the torque. I'd say: try it on! Stil, it's Your neck that would be risked, so You must decide. Tam Linn might help You in this, too. The banner will help You a lot in Your task of finding out more about the torque; I've already sent You the little I know about heraldics to help You there.
A friend of mine with no access to the net (he hates computers) told me about his coat of arms when I told him about Yours, and I was astonished to learn how much it must resemble Yours. It's green, too, with a silver rose even. But no knotwork or bird. He lives close to Edinburgh, works for the Glenkinchie distilleries. He does the only other decent thing to do with malt, except for making beer. But excuse me, I'm straying away from the topic of this post again.
So anyway: his CoA looks much like Yours. It might be that Yours came from somewhere near the place his family comes from: Scotland. Your families might even be related, though in heraldry one can never be sure about these things. Did You ever try Your luck on Genealogy (sp)?
Anyway; You have better things to do then to listen to an old man with lots of time to write down his thoughts while You hardly find the time to think, so I'll stop it. One last thing: Since You asked; yes, I did once encounter a similar situation, but fortunately I had a stronghold to retreat to, where I could weather the storm. Maybe I will write it down one day.
Finn
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New Years Day: when the future transforms itself from the Beautiful Promise of Tomorrow into the Ugly Reality of Today, and the disgusting miasma of Now moves into the Rosy Netherworld of Yesteryear.
Callia read the message from Finn very carefully several times, pondering how she was going to answer him. She looked up at Tam, who was reading over her shoulder. "Well, do you have any comments?"
Tam looked thoughtful for a moment. "Yeah, just one. If you're gonna put it on, please be careful with it. I don't trust it still."
Callia nodded. "I gotta try something." She stood up and put the backpack on the table where they'd sat the laptop. She slowly unzipped the top and pulled out the wrapped bundle that held the torq. Slowly she unwrapped it and held it up to the light for a moment before setting it down and carefully folding the blazon back up and putting it back in the backpack. Then she lifted the torq up and turned to look at Tam. "You're gonna have to type out for the rest of them what happens."
Tam nodded. "Aye, young one, if that's what you want me to do." He took the seat in front of the keyboard and quickly started the message to the group.
Callia paused to look at the torq again for a minute, and then reached up and slid it around her neck and let it rest there. For a moment nothing happened and Callia thought that all their worries would be for nothing. But then the stone began to glow again, and the magic in the room exploded as small, half-inch wide silver-like ribbons shot out from the torque and began wrapping themselves around her body, over the nightgown. Callia screamed a moment in shock and surprise, but it only lasted a moment because as quickly as they came, the ribbons finished their winding and all was calm again. They wound around her chest, to the edges of her shoulders to her waist, and the torq still lay at her throat, but the stone glowed softly. The ribbons were definitely silver, but if she looked carefully at them she thought she could see the shadows of doves flowing over them.
Callia looked up at Tam in shock. "Did you get this?"
He nodded and quickly typed out a description of the, well, armor, that the ribbons had woven around her. "Can you take it off again?"
Callia shrugged and then reached up to take off the torque, and as she lifted it the ribbons unwound themselves and disappeared back into the torque, leaving it the same as before. "Oh, man, this is so strange."
Tam nodded his agreement and quickly sent out the message.
From: Lyonesse Rhiannon (rheagan@webnet.com)
Subject: Putting on the TorqueOkay, it's Tam, typing for Lyonesse. She's putting on the torque.
Holy . . .! Crud, this is amazing. About a hundred little half-inch wide silver ribbons came out of the torque and wrapped themselves around her body, looks like just the upper torso, to the waist and to the shoulders.
She's taking off the torque. They unwound and went back in when she lifted the torque to take it off.
Well, comments anyone?
Lyonesse -- Rheagan@WebNet.Com
"Sometimes men come by the name of genius in the same way that certain insects come by the name of centipede -- not because they have a hundred feet, but because most people can't count above fourteen." George Christoph Lichtenberg
Then they sat back and waited for responses.
From: FinnWOW!
But the question remains: Where did it come from? How old is it? Did Your Granny make it, or did she inherit it herself? If the latter, from whom? Who owned the mansion before her?
And most of all: Who sent the nasties?
Unfortunately I'm a little too far away to be of much help with this.
Hoping that everything will turn out to the best, and wishing good luck,
Finn
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New Years Day: when the future transforms itself from the beautiful promise of tomorrow into the ugly reality of today, and the disgusting miasma of now moves into the rosy netherworld of yesteryear.
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