Vellum and Green Vitriol
Copyright © 2007, S. Y. Affolee
The Second Conjuration
Seal IX
Greenglass Station smelled strongly of exhaust tinged with a heavy oily smell as if someone had set up a frying stand nearby. Perhaps someone had, only to be removed by the authorities for not having a permit. The station itself was a dirty cousin to Grand Central in Colchester, instead of marble, the platforms and the station floors were an unadorned concrete, the only concession to decoration the curling iron railings and the thin wrought iron girders holding up the roof embellished with rough swirls.
Most of the passengers departing the Midland Express headed straight towards a line of cabs just outside the entrance to the station, fiats painted in a garish shade of yellow, whose drivers were holding signs indicating that they were heading to Cairnpapple. At the curb, Rhys set down our luggage.
"Watch these for a moment, will you? I’ll try to get us some transportation to town."
"Good luck," I said under my breath as he strode away. Judging from what the woman at the Colchester station had said, there was going to be a flock of people heading to Cairnpapple for the holidays. And for the drivers, a longer drive would be more profitable than a short jaunt into Greenglass downtown.
From what I could glean from my own knowledge, Greenglass was located in the center of the country, in the middle of some rather difficult terrain. On the last leg of the journey, the Midland Express had taken a rather circuitous route around a rather large hill that could have arguably been a mountain. It was a rather odd route, come to think of it. It would have been more efficient to have just blasted through a mountain and laid a track through a tunnel.
"Miss Rutherford?"
Turning my mind back to the present, I focused on the man in front of me. He was somewhat young, perhaps in his mid-twenties, and he was wearing a different sort of driver’s uniform--one that broadcasted the fact that he was employed privately by someone very well to do.
"I’m sorry. You’ve got the wrong person."
"Excuse me, miss. I’m expecting someone who was supposed to be here from the Midland Express. Well, it is quite a crush here--difficult to find one person here."
"Yes, I suppose so."
He tipped his hat and disappeared back into the crowd.
"I see you’ve been chatting men up while I was gone. Planning on leaving me?"
I tilted my head up to meet Rhys’ gaze. "Of course. Practically everyone else is a much more pleasant conversationalist than you."
He picked up the luggage and bent his head towards the end of the station to indicate that I was to follow him to whatever transportation that he had managed to snag. "Well, conversation isn’t exactly my strong point."
"Then what is your strong point?"
"You’d probably argue that it isn’t," he replied enigmatically. "At any rate, I have managed to obtain a cab to take us into Greenglass proper."
"Impressive." I regarded the black fiat as the mustached driver came to secure our bags in the back of the automobile. "It’s not yellow."
"Not all of the autos in the fleet have been converted, ma’am," said the driver as he opened a door to let us in. "The newer cabs have been painted yellow before they were put into service. They’re also being used for the long distance trips to Cairnpapple."
"This is an older model, then?" I said. "Afraid that this might break down in the middle of the journey away from civilization?"
"My boss isn’t afraid of such things," the driver replied. "But rest assured this won’t break down in the middle of your trip."
"So he says," I sighed.
Rhys chuckled. "Don’t pay any attention to her. She’s a cynic."
"I see." The driver turned on the ignition and slowly pulled out of the line of cabs being loaded with holiday travelers. "You said you wanted downtown Greenglass, sir. Which address?"
"The Greenglass Hotel." At my inquiring glance, Rhys added, "It’s a nice place. I’ve stayed at that establishment before when I came here on business. There’s also a restaurant there and a hot spring spa in its basement."
"I drove a visiting scientist to the Greenglass Hotel once," the driver interrupted. "He said he was a geologist. He told me that Greenglass is in a very unique geological area that has a lot of hot springs here. There are quite a few Roman baths around if you look around--dating to the time of the Roman occupation, I believe."
"If that’s true," I said, "then the museums at Greenglass will have quite a few curiosities from the classical era."
"Probably," said the driver. "I’ve never visited a museum, to tell you the truth. I’m just the driver. So what are you two doing in Greenglass? Visiting relatives? It’s rather unusual at this time of year for tourists. Usually everyone wants to come to Greenglass for the summer holidays. In October, people are just passing through on their way to Cairnpapple for their silly new age holidays."
"We’re on vacation," I said, before Rhys could open his mouth and blab something outrageous. "We just wanted a place to relax."
The driver nodded just as he turned down a road that headed into the downtown district. I could see the tops of buildings and what looked like a gleaming museum or opera house in classical style--not so surprising considering the city’s history. "Greenglass is just the place for relaxation--especially since the majority of the people are going to Cairnpapple. If you ask me, it’s the perfect choice, really. I hate crowds when I’m trying to relax."
"I suppose you’re not for going down to the coast for summer holiday then," said Rhys.
"Good God, no. Of course, the missus would vehemently disagree with me. She loves the beach. She says it’s the place to see and be seen. I’d say such things are a bit scandalous these days with the kind of fashion that is popping up."
"Well, I suppose some fashion these days is deplorable," I said. "But I think beachwear these days is actually quite practical. Just consider twenty years ago. To go swimming, women had to don these long heavy dresses. You’d be more likely to drown in those things."
The driver had an odd look at his face when he glanced back at us. "You’re a suffragette, aren’t you?"
"And what’s wrong with lobbying for a right to vote?" I retorted back.
"You’re one brave man," the driver told Rhys.
He grinned. "Well, you’ve got to admit that it makes things interesting."
The fiat soon turned into a busy main street with mostly automobiles but few pedestrians except for the ones debarking and boarding other cabs. The driver, heedless of whether or not his passengers really wanted to hear him yammer on, gave a running commentary as if he were the tour guide.
There was an imposing church crowned with a rosette of stained glass which the Bishop of Canterbury had visited a few months before to perform a wedding ceremony for the daughter of a friend of his. Then there was the Greenglass museum which was housed in a rather derelict structure that appeared to have originated from some time before the Roman occupation. The gleaming classical building I had spotted before was indeed the opera house which was having an all Mozart week: The Magic Flute on Saturdays and Sundays, The Marriage of Figaro on Thursdays, and Don Giovanni on Fridays.
"Isn’t that a bit taxing on the opera company?" I asked. "Or are there separate groups of singers for each piece?"
"I have no idea, ma’am," the driver replied. "All I know is that this is a special week when they’re playing Mozart all the time. On the rest of the days, the orchestra will be performing some Mozart symphonies. To be honest, I only hear the broadcasts on the radio after dinner, if they happen to be doing it."
"If I were a musician," said Rhys, "I’d be sick of Mozart before the week is over."
"Well, no one is forcing you to go to the opera," I told him.
A block later, we passed the Greenglass auction house which was a brown three story building in a neoclassical style. I felt my fingers itch at the prospect of getting into that place to see if they had indeed obtained a copy of the Liber Tutelarum. Apparently sensing my eagerness, Rhys quashed it by saying that the auction was probably closed at this late afternoon hour. They were usually open during the mornings and on particular times in the evenings when there were special auctions going on. Ten minutes later, the driver pulled in front of a white rectangular building with the name "Greenglass Hotel" painted above the front double doors. A doorman in a burgundy uniform stood at attention.
After paying the driver and getting our things together from the back of the cab, a bellhop appeared seemingly out of nowhere and offered to take our bags. The inside contrasted from the cool, darkening outdoors with its warm lighting and plush carpeting. A clerk, dressed in a similar style as the doorman, did his work behind a polished mahogany counter. The clerk seemed happy that we were taking separate rooms--perhaps with all the tourists going to Cairnpapple, the number of patrons to the hotel during the colder seasons was normally fairly low.
Our rooms were on the second floor, with Rhys’ room right across from mine. As the bellhop carried my things into my room, I noticed Rhys gazing down the hallway with an odd expression--as if he were trying to puzzle something out.
"What’s wrong?"
He shook his head. "It’s nothing. I just thought I saw someone I knew, but you know how some people just look like other people by coincidence. Maybe it’s just because they were dressed the same."
"Maybe you just saw an associate of yours when you came here on business before," I suggested.
"Maybe." He didn’t sound particularly convinced, but he didn’t appear alarmed either. "It’s actually quite close to supper time. Why don’t we meet down in the front lobby in about half an hour? I know this pub not quite far from here that has a surprisingly diverse menu."
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