New to Town July 16 (6 Feb 2003) Alice and Agatha search for the Book.

Siege des Anges
This little square is just the same as it always has been, framed by a low brick wall, around four feet high, on all sides. Gaps are placed in it through which paths enter on west and south sides, forming semi-circles which intersect a circle, paved with an irregular pattern of tight-fitting white and black slabs of stones. Trees overshadow the paths and line the edges of this square, all but hiding the center square, in which four benches look onto a bronze statue of an angel facing east, hand drawing (or sheathing, some argue) a sword. Houses border the north and east side, some of a colonial style, others built where older buildings once stood.

Late morning sun illuminates the peaceful little park, when a sudden gust of wind lashes through, rattling the branches and shaking the leaves on the trees. In that moment, four figures appear beside the flag pole. Two are girls, one small and blond, the other tall, red-haired, and nearly a woman. One is a lean greyhound, and the last a great whitestallion, whose mane whips in the sudden breeze. No one is about to remark on their abrupt appearance, and they stand, disoriented, for a moment. Eyes blink quickly as the newcomers adjust to the bright sunlight.

Once she gets her bearings back, Agatha says, "I don't see anybody around, Alice, so I think we should run straight to the manor."

"Yay!" The young blonde of the group bounces on her toes as she blinks against the morning light. "That's my favorite part," she remarks to the older girl beside her. "And I think so too. But do we need glamours? I'm not sure how long we've been away and if someone sees us we may have to explain. And we just don't have time for that now!"

Kuon whines, sniffing the air. Ahearn paws at the ground, looking faintly annoyed. Kuon wishes you to call the King, he says, by way of translation. Kuon whines again, and Ahearn adds, As soon as possible. He's worried something's happened to him. He suggests you use ... a what? The stallion's ears go back, bemused.

"Telephone?" offers the little girl.

The greyhound barks and wags happily at Alice, giving her a lick.

Ahearn adds, Apparently. He said to use one you have to pay for, because that would be closer, the stallion continues, with the air of one who has not a clue what he is saying. And to collect it.

Alice/Angel giggles at the slurp. "I had a lot of practice learning to explain all our neat mortal world things to her Majesty," she explains to the canine.

"Yeah, I have a special number to reach him with," Agatha says, and recovers the little card from her pack before pausing. "A pay phone? Do you have any change on you, Alice?"

Kuon looks about distractedly, one ear cocked toward the little girl. Perhaps he's keeping an eye on their surroundings.

"Ummm, let me look," answers Alice. She rummages through her old-fashioned purse. "I think I spent all my allowance on ice cream."

The greyhound glances again between the stallion and the two girls, and shakes his head. He jerks his nose and barks. Kuon says that ... collecting ... the call ... means you needn't pay for it, Ahearn says, looking more annoyed. Then why did you say 'one they have to pay for,' if they don't have to pay for it? Really, this makes no sense at all. I don't see why you can't just be a human and talk for yourself, shifter.

"Oh, a collect call!" Agatha says, snapping her fingers. "Just as well, since this number doesn't look local. Let's find the nearest phone."

Kuon barks happily and bounces up and down, bounding away from the circle. Ahearn swishes his tail as he watches the greyhound move away. I'm glad that made sense to you, he asides to Agatha.

"I think Ahearn wants you to call -- yes, that," the princess adds, as she digs through her purse. She brings up bandages, pouches of herbs, her Lord Mel doll, and an antiquated mirror, but no coins. "... which is good because I did spend all my money on ice cream. I think I have some money at home, though. In Mr. Piggy Banker." She abandons her search, and follows Agatha.

"Follow that dog," Agatha says, and trots off after Kuon.

Kuon doesn't get far before he turns around to see if the girls are following him. It's not clear that he knows exactly where he's going, though obviously there are no pay phones in the park itself.

"Let's try the school phone," Agatha suggests, turning west towards the Elementary School.

"We should be careful, Agatha. I have friends at school and they might be here. Summer school, and, um, summer band practice. And other summer stuff!" Alice says. "If you like I can try a glamour for you. I'm pretty-truly sure I can glamour myself. And, um, you might worry someone with all that, um, icky blood on you." The princess lowers her gaze at her hands which she wiggles. "Ew. And on me. I forgot about the archer."

The unusual group follows the circular path through the south exit. Ahearn remarks, I feel most conspicuous. Even after he works a glamour to make himself less impressive, he's still distinctly a horse in the middle of town.

"Can you do one of those glamours to make us just seem uninteresting?" Agatha asks, spotting the phone booth. "Maybe you should stay here while I make the call? I can close the door of the booth to hide myself."

"Okay!" Alice replies. She casts a glance at the area of the park they're bordering and wrinkles her brow. "I'll try and be uninteresting. Let me see."

Ahearn adds an air of domestication to his glamour. He eyes the booth on the corner, across the street, and whickers. Best if I stay close by you. I'll give the impression of being tied up and belonging to you while you ... ah... call. People do ride horses here, don't they?

While Alice tries the magic, Agatha starts shedding some of the more easily removed pieces of armor. "Well, yes, but not in town usually, Ahearn," she explains.

"You could be here to horsey-shoe Ahearn," Alice suggests, and then she wiggles her fingers and declares, "Woosh! Ordinary."

Agatha considers that for a moment while removing her breastplate. She regards her padded jerking and breeches underneath with some concern. "Okay, yeah, that's not a bad idea, Alice. Come with me, Ahearn, and if anybody gets nosy I can say we're just in from Danzwyck's ranch. I can pass off my clothes as a special riding outfit then."

In few moments, Alice has finished her task. Both she and Ahearn have a sort of double-image effect to them, that makes Agatha wonder if it'll be worse than useless. Then again, glamour works better on unsuspecting mortals than fey folk who know what to expect. So maybe it'll be all right. The redhead is left only with the decision of what to do with her breastplate and other pieces of mithril plate armor.

"Alice, take the cloak out of my pack and see if you can wrap up my armor in it, would you?" Agatha ends up asking the younger girl. "I'm going to go make the call now," she says, and she gestures for Ahearn to follow her as she crosses the street towards the school.

The white horse follows dutifully, at an ambling walk, like a much-used riding pony. Kuon follows after them, his tail wagging, almost jumping with a mix of anxiety and happiness.

Agatha wonders briefly if Kuon will try to get into the phone booth with her. Having a horse and a dog obviously listening to a phone conversation would be a strange sight, indeed. As it is, I'll need to the leave the door open. Please, just let there not be anyone already making a call, she silently prays.

The redhead reaches the phone booth without incident, and it is, happily, empty. Kuon does jump into it with her as soon as she opens the door. He sits at her feet, staring up, while she dials takes the phone of the hook and dials '0' for the operator.

Alice remains behind to tend to Agatha's armor and moves herself to a nearby bench where she can sort it away more easily. "This stuff sure looks heavy," she remarks to no one in particular. As she moves a gauntlet she pauses to examine it, peers inside it, then sticks her hand in it and wiggles the fingers to talk. "Look, Lord Mel! It's Sir Hand."

A moment later, a matronly woman's voice comes on the line. "Good morning," she greets. "How may I direct your call?"

"It is a great privilege," mouths Sir Hand. Alice drags Lord Mel out of her purse and settles him in her lap. He regards Sir Hand with patient nobility. "Sir Hand, guardian of the, um, hand! Daa-daa-daa-dum!" The gauntleted hand makes a thumbs up and the girl giggles before taking it off and putting it away.

"Hello," Agatha replies, "I'd like to place a person-to-person collect call from Agatha Cunningham to Mr. Richard Kunig at the following number." She then recites the long string of digits from the card.

The operator has to ask Agatha to slow down half-way through. "My, what a strange number," she remarks. "Here, let me connect you. Where are you calling to? Asia? I don't recognize this exchange," she says, in a moment of silence. Then the sound of a phone ringing comes through the line. "Oh!" the operator exclaims. "It must be valid."

As Alice is putting the gauntlet away, a young woman emerges from Kia's shop and walks over to the Siege. She waves to Alice. It's Jennifer Danzwyck, daughter of the stables' proprietor.

Busily placing more of Agatha's things on the cloak (most with only half the fanfare) Alice continues her easy commentary. "I don't think I could move in any of this. It'd be like being a two-foot-" she blinks over the armored boot she was inspecting and lifts a hand to wave to the woman. "Hi!"

I hope it's not that far away, Agatha thinks as she realizes she's been holding her breath while the line rings.

Jennifer strolls across the park to Alice at the greeting. "Hi, Alice. What've you got there?" she asks, curiously. Her eye wanders across the street to Ahearn, and she gets a puzzled look on her face.

The phone rings fives times, giving Agatha plenty of time to fret. Then, "Hello?" comes a man's voice.

"Good morning, or evening, I'm sorry," the operator says, a little flustered. "I have a collect call from Miss Agatha Cunningham to Mr. Richard Kunig. Will you accept the charges?"

"Oh just this magical fairy armor." The blonde shows the boot to Jennifer. "Can you see me okay? I'm supposed to be in disguise so the bad Lord Eoin doesn't notice I'm here. So if anyone asks I'm not Alice. I'm Amy."

There's another pause for Agatha to worry in, then, "Yes, thank you," answers the man.

"Thank you and have a nice day," the operator continues. There's another click as she connects them, then they are alone on the line. "Agatha?" The line quality is surprisingly crisp. It sounds like Mr. Kunig.

"Richard! Err, Mr. Kunig, it's good to hear your voice," Agatha says, smiling down to Kuon. "Kuon was worried that something had happened to you. He thinks Eoin is going to try something in Ainigton, if that makes any sense to you?"

"Yes, I'm rather afraid it does," Mr. Kunig replies. "I am pleased to hear from you, as well. It's been a long time, and I have learned a great deal of interest to me. What do you know of Lord Eoin?"

"Well, we think he's really John Harcourt," Agatha begins, and fills in Richard on what Thomas suspects and what's happening back in Mirari as quickly and briefly as she can. "We just got back, and haven't checked on the Manor yet. Do you have any idea of what we should look for now?" she finishes, out of breath.

"Oh, I see," Jennifer is saying, to Alice, her attention returning from the horse to the little girl. She grins. "Is its faerie power to look like an ordinary work boot, then?"

"Well I'm not really sure it's magic," explains Alice as she peers at the boot. "It might just be regular fairy armor. I think it's magic. But I don't know much about armor. Agatha does, though. Oh, and it looks like a boot because it has a glamour on it which makes things look very plain. But it's really a pretty silver color."

"Yes, I do," Kunig says. "And I believe you are right about John Harcourt. I am in a museum in Los Angeles at present. I've been going through Anastasia Harcourt's effects. It turns out she was working on her memoirs. She has included quite a few details about her childhood, including a game she called 'Mirari' that she played with her two brothers. Did you know she had a favoritestatuette, of a pegasus, that she called 'Ariel?' John Harcourt broke it in a rage. That was the last time she ever spoke to him." He sounds contemplative and sober, as if his mind were wandering. "But I suppose you realize all of that by now."

"Ohhhh," Jennifer says again, smiling. "How very clever. Though I think I should rather have an ordinary boot that looks magical than a magical boot that looks ordinary." She comes around the wall to look at the rest of the objects in the cloak.

Fidgeting with the handset cord, Agatha says, "I know he was angry about it all, but is it really him doing this now, or just something he created and left behind in Mirari? Do you know if he's even still alive?"

"Well if it looked magical, then mortals, which are people from Ainigton, would be surprised by it. So it has to look very plain. It's a big secret." The blonde puts the boot on the cloak and fetches a part of the greaves. "Have you seen anyone new lately, Miss Danzwyck? Maybe named John Harcourt, or something like that, that plays the same Mirari game we do? He'd probably want to know about Harcourt Manor and anyone else who used to play the game, too. He doesn't like it very much. He's not very nice, and he's very tricky."

"I'm afraid John Harcourt is quite dead. He killed himself shortly after Black Monday. Anastasia never forgave herself for that. Nor did her brother, from the sounds of it. She thought that his seances were an attempt to reach John. To make peace with him." Mr. Kunig sighs, sounding sad. "I do not know what connection, precisely, our own Lord Eoin has with the elder Mr. Harcourt. Eoin was the name he used in their game. And," he pauses for breath, "it was John who wrote down the rules of the game. Anastasia wrote, 'He had beautiful handwriting, and he insisted on setting everything down in a great black-bound ledger, and he always used the lovely silver fountain pen Father bought for him. If it wasn't written down, he said, we would quarrel over it forever. He was right. Yet we quarreled anyway.'"

Agatha's knuckles go white as she grips the receiver. "Is the ledger there?" she asks in nearly a whisper. "That must be the key! Whoever has it can change the rules permanently, maybe."

"'Mirari game'?" Jennifer repeats. "Mom and I did see a stranger walking into town this morning, but he looked perfectly nice to me. But -- " Her eyes go to Ahearn again. "Isn't that a new horse? He's not one of Mom's."

"No, it isn't among her effects," Kunig says. "In her memoirs, she wrote that, after she and Bryant refused to make John their King, they stole the book of rules from John, and hid it. They pledged never to write down where they hid it, lest John find out. They thought he would destroy it -- a little odd, perhaps, since he had it when they took it, and hadn't destroyed it yet. At any rate, they only shared their secret with two other players in their game: a boy named Ryan Jordan, and a girl, Clarisse."

Alice follows the adult's gaze to the distant horse and smiles when she sees him. "Oh that's Ahearn, the Lord of Knightsteeds. Or maybe he's the King of Knightsteeds. I forget. There's a lot of rules. And Rules too. But he's nice. A little serious but nice. Don't worry about Ahearn." After a pause to examine the remaining pieces of Agatha's armor, the little girl continues on her line of questioning, asking, "What did the stranger look like? See, he's supposed to look normal. It's a glamour. So you have to think really hard what he really looked like. And I also need to know if he said he was going anywhere or asked any questions or walked anywhere. Very important."

"Clarisse. That must be Tom's grandmother," Agatha says into the phone. "Ryan went into Historie, supposedly. Is there anything else you think may be important?"

"Tom's grandmother?" Mr. Kunig sounds surprised and pleased. "Does she still live in town? The Ainigton operator told me there was a Clarisse Smith in Ainigton, but I didn't know if she was the same woman. I rang her house, but got no answer. I've her address -- can you go to see her?"

Agatha frantically looks around for something to write with, then says, "I'll remember it! What's the address?"

"Oh. He didn't really look normal to me," Jennifer answers, with a smile on her face. "I don't mean he was strange. It's just that he was, well, cute." She blushes a little. "He had short dark hair, and a pleasant face, and he was nicely dressed. And striding along purposefully, like he knew where he was going," she says, focusing on the memory. "Your gloves are doing a much better job of looking like ordinary work gloves than he was of looking like no one in particular, I'd say," she adds with a bit of a grin.

Alice abandons her sorting at about when Jennifer describes the man as "cute". The little girl wrinkles her nose in an "ew" expression but doesn't make a comment until the woman finishes. "Did his eyes look scary? You don't know where he was going, do you? I think that's him, Lord Eoin." She sticks her tongue out as the idea of Lord Eoin being cute catches up with her again.

The sound of rustling papers comes over the phone, then "310 Baum Street," Mr. Kunig answers. "Oh, something else -- there was another book of Mirari, before the book of rules the Harcourts laid out. Anastasia said that Bram found it in Kia's Restoration, back when Kia ran it. It was a kind of antique fantasy travelogue, handwritten. The children used some of the places in it for places in their game. I'm not sure how much of that travelogue is accurate now, for my Mirari. There were no Lords or Houses in the travelogue, for example." He pauses, then adds, "John Harcourt invented those."

Her face still locked in the expression of youthful distaste, Alice takes a moment to twist towards the phonebooth and wave Kuon over.

"Baum Street! That's just a block over!" Agatha says excitedly. "I'll ask about the other book too, just in case. Oh, do you know what day it is today, Mr. Kunig?"

"I didn't get that good a look at him," Jennifer admits, "but I don't think his eyes, or anything else about him, looked scary. Let's see. We were driving out to the junkyard when we saw him, so he must have been walking down Main St, towards the center of town. Except he turned left onto Frost."

"Today? It's Tuesday. July 16th, I believe," Mr. Kunig says.

"Oh, good! Thanks Mr. Kunig, I'll call you back if we find anything at Lady February's!" Agatha says, getting ready to hang up.

"That's very helpful. Thank you." The blonde girl turns back and frowns slightly. "I wonder where he's going. Have to be there first. He's very tricky. If you see him you should be very careful."

Jennifer says, "He didn't look tricky. Are you sure you've got the right man?" She's gazing across the street at Ahearn again.

"All right. And -- Agatha. Be careful. If Kuon thinks there will be trouble .... " Mr. Kunig lets his words trail off. "Have a care, young lady. Do not risk yourself. Nor Alice." Another pause. "Give my regards to Alice," he adds, carefully, with an undercurrent of feeling.

"Oh he never looks tricky," Alice explains carefully. "But he is. He likes to pretend he's someone nice, or he's someone else, and then he'll be tricky when you're not looking. He's a Warlock."

"A warlock? Really?" Jennifer sounds intrigued. "How interesting." She purses her lips thoughtfully.

"I will, sir, and I'll protect her too," Agatha promises, then hangs up the phone and leaves the booth. "Kuon, go get Alice," she tells the dog, and then swings herself up onto Ahearn. "You won't mind giving Alice a ride, will you, Ahearn? We need to hurry."

Alice makes a face. "Nonononono, not interesting. Bad."

Ahearn grouses under his breath as he ambles across the street, maintaining his "harmless pony" pose. Like some kind of pack gelding, he complains. Yes, all right, he concedes, his shoulders tense. He really does seem upset about it. At least she's not Thomas. If we've need to hurry, does that mean I can stop pretending to be inconspicuous now?

"Yes," Agatha tells Ahearn. "We'll need to convince Lady February of who we are, after all," she notes, and looks towards the park from her new vantage to try and spot Alice.

Indeed. The glamour falls away from Ahearn like a veil dropping. Jennifer's eyes widen as he sweeps toward her and Angel, majestically. The Lord of Horses eyes her in return for a moment, then bends his neck to snatch Angel up by the collar, twist, and deposit her neatly between Agatha and his neck.

"Jennifer!" Agatha says in surprise, not knowing if her friend would even recognize her right now. "Can you hand me up that backpack please?" she finally asks.

From atop the Lord of Horses, Alice apologizes, saying, "Oh, it looks like I need to go now." She blinks a little as she reorients herself atop the mighty stallion. "I guess we don't need to pretend anymore either. See, isn't Ahearn pretty? And thanks for your help, Jennifer!"

The other girl is still gaping, open-mouthed. "Wow. Agatha. Where did you get that horse?" She reaches down to retrieve the pack without ever taking her eyes off the horse, and passes it up to the redhead.

"I'll tell you all about it later, Jennifer, I promise!" Agatha says after the swinging the pack onto her back. "Gotta go see a lady about a book right now, though!" she says, and turns Ahearn towards Dickinson Street.

Angel gives the stunned Jennifer one more wave before she's carried off on Ahearn's back. After they've turned from the mortal woman the princess turns to her friend and asks, "We don't need our glamours anymore, Agatha? Oh, and Jennifer said she saw a black haired man walking down Frost. I think that's Lord Eoin. It sounds just like him."

The stallion wheels around in one seamless motion, and canters off. Jennifer stares after him and the two girls until they are well out of sight. "Now that is a stallion," she half-sighs. "Mom will just die!"

As they turn onto Baum, Agatha tells Alice, "He's heading for Lady February's house. She knows where they hid the ledger that has the Rules written down in it for Mirari!"

"Wow!" exclaims the princess. "That's neat! And bad! Very bad. Neat about the ledger I mean and bad about the Lord Eoin going that-a-way. We better go faster because he's probably almost there right now. Jennifer saw him while they were driving."

His ears pricked back, Ahearn says, This sounds very bad indeed, as his long legs consume the ground. It seems to take him no more than two strides to reach Baum, and only another two to gallop past the next block. Agatha sees a house number on a mailbox flash past: 68. They must have a little way to go to reach Tom's grandmother's house.

A few yelps of a dog echo in the distance. Should I wait for Kuon? Ahearn asks mildly.

"Keep an eye out for 310," Agatha says to Alice, and then to Ahearn, "He'll catch up, keep going! Greyhounds are good runners."

"We might even see Lord Eoin walking down the road! Boy will he be surprised!" Leaning forward and tilting sideways (so she can see around Ahearn's neck) the little blonde girl searches for the house number they're looking for. "He's going to get a talking-to. Picking on his sister and now grandmas!"

With a flick of his tail, and a brief nod, the stallion continues in his effortless gallop. It feels almost like flying, smooth and yet filled with energy.

"The real John Harcourt passed away," Agatha tells Alice. "We don't know who this guy will really be," she warns, looking back over her shoulder to check on Kuon as the houses flash past.

Up the street, where the road turns to gravel and trees grow thick along the road, the girls see two people walking towards them. They grow quickly closer as Ahearn runs: one is a grown man, the other a middle-aged woman.

"Oh," replies Angel quietly, drawing back with a faintly sad look. She reaches into her purse and draws out the antique mirror. As she returns her gaze to the road, she asks, "Who's that, Agatha?"

Kuon is a small speck in the distance. They must have gone half a dozen blocks already.

"Hold up, Ahearn," Agatha says as they approach the couple. "We'd better ask them if they're the Smiths, just in case."

The stallion comes to a stop as smooth and effortless as his gallop, only a couple of strides shy of the walkers. "My word," the middle-aged woman says, blinking at the horse. "Is that you, Agatha Cunningham?" she asks. Agatha remembers the woman from church -- she's Tom's grandmother. She doesn't look quite as old as Agatha seems to recall her being. The man with her is wearing a neatly pressed navy blue suit, but he looks so comfortable and at home in it that, on him, it looks merely proper, rather than dressy. He has short dark hair, and kindly brown eyes that regard the trio of horse and girls with an air of bemusement.

"Mrs. Smith!" Agatha says. "Yes, it's me, Agatha. I'm so glad to find you! I need to talk to you about something important, if you have a moment?"

Upon turning to regard the man, Angel seems to become caught in his gaze. She regards him with a stunned, almost fearful expression before she blinks free of it and smiles weakly."Um, hello," she greets the two adults.

"Oh, certainly, my dear," Mrs. Smith replies, smiling. "Let me introduce my friend. Mr. Cortlynn, this is AgathaCunningham, and little Alice Westfield. They're friends of my grandson's. I was telling you about him. Do you know, he plays a game just like I used to with the Harcourts? Fancy that. Girls, this is Mr. Cortlynn. He's from out of town, he's come ..," she pauses, delicately glancing to the younger man, then continues, "come to do some research on the Harcourts."

Mr. Cortlynn smiles pleasantly at the girls. "Pleased to make your acquaintance," he says, affably, offering his hand.

"Don't trust him!" Agatha blurts out. "He's after the ledger that John wrote the Rules in, Lady February! We need it ourselves!"

Angel looks about to continue the exchange of uncomfortable greetings when Agatha bursts out and tells it straight. Following her lead the princess drops her glamour and draws away from the man's hand. Instead she holds up the mirror defensively. "It's true! He's Lord Eoin, the Destroyer, he only wants to hurt Mirari!" she cries.

Ahearn gives a whuffle, wrinkling his nose at the man, his ears swiveling. At Agatha's outburst, he sidesteps away from the young man, who looks quite puzzled by her outburst.

"We -- my word," he says, gaping. "How on earth did you know we were going to have a look at it? I'd only just found out about it myself!" He turns to give a bewildered look to Mrs. Smith.

"And how did you find out about it, Mr. Cortlynn?" Agatha demands.

Mrs. Smith favors both her new acquaintances and the girls with equally bemused looks. "Heavens, girls, what are you going on about? Mr. Cortlynn's just come to Ainigton, and I'll thank you to keep a civil tongue in your head, young lady," she says, rounding on Agatha and waggling a finger at her. "What kind of welcome is this for a stranger? And he knows about it because I told him."

"But how did he know to look you up, ma'am?" Agatha asks, trying to sound reasonable. "Does he even know where Anastasia's journal is kept?"

Mr. Cortlynn still has the same bemused air to him. "Anastasia has a journal?" he asks, quizzically.

"It's at a museum in Los Angeles," Agatha says, looking suspiciously at the man. "If you were really researching the Harcourts, you should have already known that. How else could you even know Anastasia knew Clarisse?"

"He came to Ainigton to inquire about the Harcourts, young lady, and it's common knowledge around here I was friends with them in my younger days," the older woman answers, primly. "And all the rest of us are gone, now, the good Lord rest their souls," she adds, sounding sad. The young man gives her a sympathetic look.

"Then who else did he talk to, to find out it was common knowledge, if he's from out of town?" Agatha presses on. "Has he given you any proof other than just saying he's researching them?"

"Well why don't we discuss this somewhere nice and quiet? Maybe the church, Mrs. Smith?" asks the little girl politely once she seems to calm down. "Our old church is very fascinating, and it's as old as Harcourt Manor, isn't it?"

"I didn't know Anastasia knew Clarisse. Well, that is, not until I came to town and asked at the hall of records. The clerk there said Mrs. Smith was born the year before Anastasia and probably knew her and the other Harcourts. He was very helpful," Mr. Cortlynn adds. "It must be nice, growing up in a small town where everyone knows each other and wants to be helpful." He sounds wistful.

"The church is much too far out of the way," Mrs. Smith says. "But we may as well sit down to talk. Let's go to Foxworthy's," she decides. "It's close to the Siege des Anges anyway," she says to Mr. Cortlynn, "and we can all have a nice root beer float. But only if you promise to be polite, children." She fixes the girls with a stern look, as Kuon, his tongue lolling, comes trotting up.

"The ledger is hidden at the Siege then?" Agatha asks, before turning to smile at Kuon.

"Yes," Clarisse says, firmly. "Now, come along." She starts to march forward down Baum Street, and Mr. Cortlynn offers the girls another, rather confused, smile, then hurries to catch up to her, offering her his arm.

Angel glances over her shoulder to the approaching Kuon and gives him a relieved smile. "Maybe we could get the ledger for Mr. Cortlynn. After all we've been very rude, and it's the least we could do. That way you can tell him all about the Harcourts at Foxworthy's and we can help out too," the blonde offers Mrs. Smith.

"We need to look up something in it for Tommy too," Agatha adds, guiding Ahearn to trot alongside.

Mrs. Smith eyes the two girls, as if she doesn't quite trust their newfound willingness to help. "And what exactly has you two so interested in my old book, anyway? And how did you know Mr. Cortlynn would want a look at it?"

"I'm quite curious to know that, myself," Mr. Cortlynn adds.

"And you could whisper to me where it is because that way you won't really be telling a stranger where it is, like Anastasia asked you not too, and I can get it with Agatha. I'm related to Anastasia so it's not that bad. See," she holds up Anastasia's mirror, "this mirror was hers and we found it. And then I learned we're related, so I've been taking good care of it. I want to learn about my ancestors. It's important to know about things like that."

"We knew that someone who wanted the ledger destroyed would come looking for it," Agatha says to the man, partly to cover up Alice's whisper. "That's why Anastasia hid it from her brother in the first place, because John Harcourt wanted to destroy it. May I ask why you're interested in the Harcourts, Mr. Cortlynn? I have the keys to Harcourt Manor if you'd like a tour."

"We play the same game too," continues the princess, "and I want to know the rules and how it started. It would mean a lot to me, to everyone."

Mrs. Smith gasps. "That's Anastasia's mirror! Where did you get it, child?"

"You're related to the Harcourts?" Mr. Cortlynn looks at Alice. "My word. How so?" He looks a little sheepish at Agatha's question, or perhaps, ashamed.

Mrs. Smith gives Agatha a look, and pats the young man's hand reassuringly. "Never you mind, Agatha Cunningham," she says, sharply.

Mr. Cortlynn shakes his head at her. "No, really, it's all right if they know," he says to Mrs. Smith. "I don't mind. I'm used to it." Looking at the girls, he says, "I'm an orphan. My mother was unwed, and died when I was very young. I was adopted, and only recently I found out a little about my mother. I think -- well, she owned this." He holds out a golden locket, for them to take if they want. "I think she knew John Harcourt. I think ... he may have been my father."

Even Agatha is dumbfounded at how to reply to this. "I'm sorry to hear that, Mr. Cortlynn. I lost my mother when I was young as well," she says. She looks at the locket, but instead of taking it reaches up to touch the one under her own shirt.

Mr. Cortlynn catches the motion, and his eyes drop. "I'm sorry," he says, too. "I know how hard it is."

"We found it. And when I looked inside it told about Anastasia's stories and I liked them a lot. She talked a about her brother Lord Bram, and it's just like our story. And then I learned I'm related to Anastasia and that I was adopted by the Westfields," explains the little blonde girl. She then peers at Mr. Cortlynn and his locket. "I didn't know until very recently who my real parents were either. I'm trying to find out more."

The dark-haired man lets his hand, still holding the locket, drop again. "Then you must understand how I feel," he says, quietly. "I just want to know more about where I came from."

"Mrs. Smith," Agatha asks, calmly, "do you know what became of the old fantasy travelogue Anastasia had as well? The one she found at Kia's Restoration?"

To the dark-haired man, Angel asks, "Is that why when sometimes someone knows about where they come from they don't like it and try to make it go away?" She peers at his locket again and then glances at Agatha briefly before adding, "Some of my favorite stories are the stories Anastasia and her friends wrote."

"Yes. It's with the ledger. We always kept them together," Mrs. Smith answers Agatha. By now, they are back to Nash Street, and Mrs. Smith turns right, heading south. Mr. Cortlynn accompanies her, still supporting her hand with his arm. She looks quite fit, not as if she needed the help.

Mr. Cortlynn answers Angel, "I don't know. I don't feel that way. The Harcourts, they had a lot of problems, from what I heard. But I don't want to make them go away. I feel sorry for them, really. It's such a sad story -- I wish I could help them."

"Where are you staying while you're in town, Mr. Cortlynn?" Agatha asks, and glances at Kuon to see if he's giving any signs of being disturbed by the man.

Kuon is keeping a wary distance from the young man, clearly not trusting him.

Mr. Cortlynn answers Agatha, "I only just arrived this morning, and I didn't know how long I'd be staying. I understand there's a boarding house south of town, so there, if they'll have me."

Mrs. Smith says, "Nonsense. You may stay with me, Mr. Cortlynn. I've plenty of space, the Lord knows."

The young man looks taken aback by the offer. "That's not necessary, Mrs. Smith," he protests. "I don't want to impose."

"Oh, nonsense. It would be a pleasure to have some company," Mrs. Smith says, airily.

"Can you tell me about your mother, Mr. Cortlynn?" asks Angel. She smiles at him a bit more. "Oh and Agatha," she turns to her friend so that just the older girl can see her face. She distinctly mouths the words "Lord Eoin" before continuing, "Don't you think we should get the books for them? I'd think Mr. Cortlynn must have had a very long bus ride to get here."

"That's a good idea, Alice," Agatha says. "Where are the books hidden, Mrs. Smith? You shouldn't have to be digging around in the dirt."

"You can whisper to me if you like. I'm sure Anastasia would like it better that way," agrees Angel.

Mrs. Smith looks at the two girls again. "And if you're so anxious that I not trust anyone with this secret, why should I trust it to you?" she asks.

Mr. Cortlynn had opened his mouth, as if to answer Alice's earlier question about his mother. But as she went on to ask about the books, he closes it, so as not to interrupt.

"Do you trust a stranger more than us, Mrs. Smith? I have Anastasia's mirror, and we're Tommy's friends," replies the little blonde girl. "You have to look in your heart and you'll know who to trust."

"We've been to Mirari too, Mrs. Smith," Agatha says. "Tommy is there now, and if anyone else gets that ledger, things can turn very bad. Things are bad now as it is."

"Yes. You have Anastasia's mirror. And I'm still don't see what right you've got to it, child. It belongs to Harcourt Manor, I suppose. To Mr. Kunig, if anyone," Mrs. Smith says, with the tone of a reprimand. She looks at Agatha. "And you've no business distributing his property to your friends, just because you've got the keys to his house, young lady."

"We found the mirror in Monitor's lair, Mrs. Smith. Not in the Manor," Agatha explains.

"And no more talk of this game!" Tom's grandmother says, in almost a snap. "You're making my head spin until I can't tell what's real and what's just your fantasies." She turns on to Main Street with a sigh. "Perhaps you are all too young to appreciate a nice ice cream soda, but I am quite looking forward to it." They can see the sign for Foxworthy's, just a couple of blocks ahead.

The princess frowns at the old woman's response. After a moment regarding her friend and the two adults she exhales and shakes her head. She turns again to Agatha and whispers to her when she draws close, "Should I tell her who my parents are?"

"Might as well," Agatha whispers back. "Watch to see how Cortlynn reacts too."

Nodding the blonde leans back and after taking in a deep breath says, "Mr. Kunig is my father. It is not odd he should live in Harcourt Manor and that I should have this mirror. Anastasia is a relative." She watches the two adults for their reaction with an apprehensive air.

"What?" Mrs. Smith sputters. "Young lady, that is perfectly ridiculous. Mr. Kunig is not your father. Whatever would poor Mr. and Mrs. Westfield say if they heard you talk such nonsense? And -- even if he were -- that would make you no relation to Anastasia, who is certainly no relative of Mr. Kunig. I think you two have been out quite long enough, young ladies. Such nonsense! This is enough games for both of you. Now, go on home."

"Ahearn, introduce yourself," Agatha whispers to Ahearn.

Mr. Cortlynn's generally nonplussed demeanor only deepened at Alice's revelation. Mrs. Smith's outburst makes him blink in surprise at her vehemence.

Ahearn stops in his tracks. He turns to look at the middle-aged woman, then he lifts his right forefoot and tucks it behind the other in a bow. Out of deference to his riders, he does not dip. My Lady, I am Ahearn, Lord of Horses, and I assure you, those I bear upon my back do not lie.

Angel inhales at being called a liar. "It's true! I swear it's true," she replies woundedly. The hurt expression remains even as Ahearn introduces himself though she straightens and tries to look dignified regardless.

Mrs. Smith's jaw literally drops. She gasps for breath, her eyes widening. One hand clutches at Cortlynn's arm -- then, suddenly, her grip relaxes. Her eyes roll back in her head, and she slumps forward.

"Mrs. Smith!" the dark-haired man cries in consternation. He twists, with surprising agility, to catch her as she collapses.

"Oh, just great!" Agatha bemoans, and dismounts to help. "We'd better take her straight to the Siege. I thought someone who could put up with Tommy could deal with anything!"

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This site serves as a chronicle of sessions in an online roleplaying campaign moderated by Conrad "Lynx" Wong and May "Rowan" Wasserman. The contents of this site are (c) 2001, 2002 by Conrad Wong and May Wasserman except where stated otherwise. Despite the "children's fantasy" theme of this campaign, this site is not intended for young readership, due to mild language and violence.