Vellum and Green Vitriol
Copyright © 2007, S. Y. Affolee
The Third Conjuration
Seal XXV
I awoke to darkness and the splattering of rain on the window. For a moment, I was disoriented about my location until I registered the somewhat sterile smell of my blanket. I reached up, fumbling for the switch, and soon light flooded the berth.
It was then I noticed the relative silence and the stillness. The train was not moving. The lack of noise had jolted me awake. Hastily, I tugged on my kimono and shoved my feet into a pair of slippers. I opened the berth door and peered out.
The compartment corridor was dark and empty. Apparently no one else had noticed the stopped train. Or at least not enough to be awakened by it. I made my way to the door of the next compartment and knocked.
The door opened almost immediately. Rhys stood on the threshold, his dark hair sticking out at odd angles and his pajama top partially unbuttoned. He rubbed his face, attempting to wipe the sleep from his eyes. Finally registering me at his doorstep, he managed a leer.
"So, are you going to finally going to collect on your winnings from the poker game?"
"Maybe next time," I said, wanting to put that off as much as possible. Maybe indefinitely. "The train stopped."
"Oh, it's probably nothing. We're probably at a station."
I turned to the corridor windows and peered out. "I don't see a station."
"It's too dark to see anything."
"I don't know."
"Go back to sleep, Ana. When you wake up tomorrow morning, the train will be running again and we'll be well on our way to Haven."
"I hope you're right."
* * *
It was at breakfast when the bearer of bad news came.
I was buttering a scone. Someone had delivered a hot pot of tea. Outside, the landscape was rolling away, just as Rhys had predicted. The bleak moors were now replaced with craggy, uneven hills as if a demolition team had wandered into the area before us and had decided to blow up the landscape, just because they could.
There was no rain in the morning although the sun still appeared weak as it occasionally peered out from behind thick clouds. The scenery was not completely devoid of life either. A moment ago, I had thought that I had spotted a herd of deer roaming about. But that didn't make much sense since there was little cover on the ground. I amended my deduction to goats--unfortunately nasty creatures that like nibbling on paper.
"We'll be in Haven before nightfall," Rhys said as he took a sip of his coffee. In front of him was a plate of scrambled eggs, toast, and was that kippers? I fought a shudder as I concentrated on his comments. "Haven has a reputation for harboring an astounding number of well connected book collectors. I am sure we could probably go into any book shop, inquire about Archibald Chesterfield, and get some information."
"You sound awfully confident. Wouldn't it be easier to just go to the telephone exchange? I'm sure they have a directory where we can find his address."
"That sounds entirely too sensible."
"It is sensible. Why, we could just call up the operator and have someone else look for his information while we sit back. We don't even have to wait for Mr. Severin to find it."
"I would feel more comfortable if I did contact him. Think of him as a backup."
I narrowed my eyes as I swallowed some tea. "Actually, I don't know if we should trust Severin. You only know him on a professional capacity. He knew we were driving out to Fairmont. It is quite possible that he--or rather he had his assistant--take Al."
He seemed to think about that for a moment. "It is possible. But neither Severin nor his assistant knew anything about Al."
"How about this--they think Al is the Liber Tutelarum."
"That is more plausible. I suppose Severin could be regretting his decision to sell that book to Chesterfield on a discounted price so he had his assistant take it to get a greater profit. But my gut feeling tells me that Severin is not that unscrupulous."
"Maybe your intuition is wrong."
"Hm."
"Excuse me, ma'am. Sir." A stout man in the rail line's uniform came up to our table. He wore a cap with a long brim that failed to disguise the beady eyes above his red nose. "Is your destination Haven?"
"Yes," said Rhys. "What seems to be the problem?"
"We had a bit of an accident last night."
I raised an eyebrow--mostly directed at Rhys.
"An important part of the engine became non-functional."
I wondered if something broke or had just fallen off.
"Of course, as you can see, that part is not vital to move the train. However, it will become extremely important when the track goes into the mountains. I'm afraid this line's termination will be at Newcomb. You will have to find alternate transportation to Haven or wait for the train coming next week. I am terribly sorry for the inconvenience."
"I suppose we shall have to take this up to the transportation department for a refund for an incomplete trip," I said.
"Come now, don't be so harsh. I'm sure it was an accident," Rhys replied.
"You've never been stranded..."
"I've heard all of that before. That didn't stop you from admiring that Rochet-Schneider."
I shut my mouth and concentrated on my scone.
The stout man gave a small bow. "Again, my sincere apologies. If it is of any comfort, Newcomb is only half a day's drive to Haven. Our estimated time of arrival is at five PM."
"You didn't have to sound so annoyed with him," Rhys told me when the man went to the next passengers. "He has to apologize to everyone. I do not envy his job."
"Perhaps I should be sorry. But I was right that something was wrong when the train suddenly stopped last night."
He concentrated on his own breakfast. "No one likes people who say, 'I told you so.' It gets on people's nerves."
"It gets on your nerves, you mean."
"Exactly."
"Look, I would be perfectly happy if I was proved wrong. But I suppose I can look on the bright side. The train is moving. It just can't get over the mountains and into Haven."
"Yes, there's that."
"Have you ever been to Haven--being the well traveled antiquities consultant and all? You seem quite knowledgeable about the book collectors there."
"I just hear gossip, that's all. I haven't been to Haven before, really. For one thing, it's too far and in this day in age when we can communicate by telephone or telegraph or even by letter which can be relatively quick," he shrugged, "there isn't even a need to travel so far."
"So you haven't been to Newcomb either."
He shook his head. "It could be a city or a small village for all I know. But I can tell you one thing. I am not looking forward to getting into Haven."
"Why not? It can't be worse than any other big city."
"You forget--Haven is throwing a carnival for All Hallow's Eve shortly. I have a feeling it is going to be a mad house compared to the celebration in other places."
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