Chapter 2 - The Mysterious Island

“Someday this island may become a great nation but in this age it remains one of the dark places of the earth.” said Maynard Quinn. It was twelve days after setting off from New Babbage. The Leviathan’s Bane now carried the rescuers across the treacherous waters surrounding the great island of New Nublar. Captain Maynard, with barely a curse, proved he still had phenomenal skills of navigation by threading the glorious Leviathan’s Bane through razor sharp openings in the coral reefs and finding narrow channels through which he deftly steered the vessel. Finally they arrived at the base of a soaring cliff.

At hardly more than an idle, he brought the vessel right up to the sheer rock wall. The passengers stared with wonder through the windows discerning a dark underwater opening into the side of the cliff just ahead. How could the Leviathan’s Bane possibly fit through such a narrow passage? Within minutes, however, Captain Maynard had successfully surfaced the vessel inside an immense grotto.

“We will leave the ship here.” said the captain. “There is a foot trail just over there.” he indicated a path running along the edge of the water. “It leads to a small opening that will take us to the beach around a hidden lagoon.”

***

“What do we know of New Nublar Captain Maynard?” asked Junie just before biting the tip off the end a cigar then looking around for a light. It was early morning and the party stood upon the sandy beach surrounding the hidden lagoon.

“Not much is known about this cloud-shrouded land other than it is a repository for all that is nightmarish and horrid, that is if you are the type inclined to believe in superstition and local lore.”

“Bugger! if I don’t like the sounds of that.” said Gadget as he took advantage of some crates and barrels to set up a beach side bar.

“I agree with that Gadget kid over there.” said Emerson, “It seems so cliche to brush off superstition and scoff at local lore. That’s an open invitation to bad news.”

“Perhaps I might elaborate.” said Mr. Brother Lapis. “Thanks to captain Maynard’s fine library I have read a great deal about this mysterious island.”

“Okay, hold that thought.” said Emerson raising up his hand. “Before you start educating... Gadget, are you mixing drinks yet?”

“I am sir yes. Wots for you? And Miss?” Gadget looked at Junie. “Bourbon is it?”

“Actually it’s a bit early for that. Can you mix a good cocktail? I like my Old Fashioneds with lime peel and no blasted cherry.” said Junie.

“I 'ave made a substitute cocktail Miss with wot were available to me.”

“Whatever you can muster Gadget. Make it so.”

“That sounds good.” said Emerson. “I'll have an Old Fashioned too Gadget. And I wouldn’t mind taking Miss Ginsburg’s blasted cherry.

“It's a substitute cherry Sir, on account of we aint got no cherries left.”

“Damn that’s unfortunate.” muttered Emerson.

Captain Maynard accepted a dark rum handed him by Gadget with a nod of thanks then checked his pocket watch. “Okay, it is 8:15 am. We have a full day ahead of us and I by nightfall mean to make the River Dharma, the great river that flows from the very heart of this accursed island to the sea. It is on the other side of that large hill. We must hike to the top, then cross over and down the other side. That is where we shall find the tiny village of Macondo. The steamship Mr. Lighthouse hired will be awaiting us there.

***

It was a much more arduous journey than they had initially taken it for. The rise, though not steep, was steady. It wasn’t long before the muscles of their legs began to burn. Three hours into the trek, as they neared the summit, Emerson, Junie and Maynard were beginning to rue those drinks they’d enjoyed on the beach earlier. During a break, it was Gadget who first noticed the stampeding approach of the most astounding prehistoric creatures any of them could possibly have imagined.

“I believe I recognize those from the books of Captain Maynard.” said Lapis. “They are Gallimimus bullatus. An ornithomimid theropod that commonly ran in flocks of 50 or 60 individuals roughly 65 to 145 million years ago. Apparently they are quite bird-like.”

“65 to 145 million years ago! Do you take me for a fool Lapis” said Emerson rolling his eyes. “Prove to me the world wasn’t created in a lab 6 ½ years ago and that all our memories of a time before that haven’t simply been imagined and implanted by others.”

The undercover brother initially reacted to Emerson’s outburst with a look suggesting he wasn't sure if the man were joking or being serious however he quickly determined it to be inconsequential one way or the other. He resumed with his elucidating commentary. “See the uniform breaks... just like the shifting pattern of a flock of birds evading a predator.”

“Ah gentlemen,” interrupted Junie, “I suggest we continue with this palaeontological discussion behind the shelter of that log. They appear to be...”

“Say it!” Emerson interrupted with a smile.

“Say what?”Junie cocked her head.
“You were going to say they appear to be... flocking this way.” Emerson nodded.

“No,” Junie laughed, “that was supposed to be Gadget’s line and you just took it... but you did manage to make it sound adorable.”

“Adorable? Darn! I was kind of going for precocious there.” Emerson leaned back and scratched his chin.

“Ah well,” Junie grinned, “your precocious is very...”

“Sorry to interrupt you two over there but you might want to RUN!” shouted Captain Maynard from the relative safety of the conveniently large log a mere 10 yards to the side. Lapis and Gadget had also made the run and were safely shielded.

Suddenly the flock of screeching gallimimus were upon them. Emerson and Junie grabbed hands and ran as fast as they could. About a yard shy of the log, they stumbled over an unexpected dip in the ground but unbelievably managed to maintain their footing long enough for Lapis to grab them and pull them to safety. Soon all were safe behind the shelter of the log.

***

About mid-afternoon, long after the last of the gallimimus had disappeared amidst the trees, the crew approached the bottom of the trail. About a hundred yards ahead were the rather primitive gates of the tiny village. The gates were open and several villagers waved them on. On the ramparts above, looking out over the top of the wall, several more villagers pointed and shouted in the direction of our crew.

“What are they trying to say?” asked Emerson. “It sounds more like a warning than a threat.”

They stopped, exchanging perplexed glances amongst themselves, when from direction they had come, a horrific and terrifying roar demanded their attention. Turning at once they were faced with a giant beast of truly ferocious intent approaching astonishingly quickly at a full out run.

“Bugger if that’s not the biggest bird I ever saw!” Gadget muttered.

Lapis’s jaw dropped. “That is a Tyrannosaurus rex.” he said in a low voice. “The way I see it we have two options. We can all stay as still as possible and hope it does not see us as he needs motion to focus... or we run like bastards for that village gate.”

“I vote for option bastards.” said Junie over her shoulder as the company hastened to match her most sage retreat.

***

Within the relative safety of the primitive compound, after the gate had been shut and thoroughly secured, the crew had a moment to breathe a collective sigh of relief. While the villagers’ spears were not sufficiently weighted to pierce the prehistoric monster’s thick hide, they proved to be sufficiently annoying to send it back to the jungle.

With the stress of pursuit lifted the crew’s interest shifted focus. They began to consider their new hosts who carried a joie de vie revelry that was truly quite contagious. The natives, brightly dressed in southern isle style, sang and danced in welcome as they placed fresh vibrant leis about the necks of the new arrivals. It soon struck most members of captain Maynard’s crew just how sensually these islanders moved. It was almost hypnotic. The cadence of their speech had that bounce that sometimes leaves you in a trippy place.

But even amid all this colourful pageantry a wretched beige suddenly appeared; a sad cross between a scarecrow and a circus harlequin. As the children of Epicurus parted way for the gaunt stranger’s staggering approach, Gadget commented under his breath, "Looks like this geezer's pissed right up like Emperor Crumb.”

"I know that man." said Emerson to the crew. Then to the man himself, "I know you sir! And so to prove we both serve a common cause, are you not Sir Martin Medeski of Woodshire, former champion of the King and father of Queen Princess, the first of her name?”

“You speak to me of a former life! I serve but one cause now. What can I possibly say of he whose cause I serve?” preached the former knight with a distanced affect and manic fervour: “The man’s enlarged my mind. He's a poet warrior in the classic sense. Sometimes you'll say "hello" to him, and he'll just walk right by you. He won't even notice you. And suddenly he'll grab you, and he'll throw you in a corner, and he'll say, "You can remember the value of Pi by counting each word's letters in ‘Hey. I need a large container of leaves!’"

“Maah-loos! Maah-loos! Maah-loos!” The pretty villagers began chanting.

Chapter 1 - The Stowaway

The Stowaway

“Oh my gods, Lapis!” sighed Emerson Lighthouse with great exasperation. “It’s only been how many hours now… and already you are driving me crazy.” The two men, along with Junie Ginsburg and Captain Maynard Quinn, sat around the galley table aboard the magnificent sub-aquatic vessel The Leviathan’s Bane.

Lapis seemed to shrug off Emerson’s rhetorical complaint as if it were merely some piece of soot which had landed upon his shoulder from above. After an uncomfortably lengthy silence he asked, “To which ‘gods’ are you referring Mr. Lighthouse? I’m curious. Enlighten me please.”

“Oh come on Lapis, there will be time enough for that discussion later, if you know what I mean,” said Emerson. “But first things first; we seem to have a stowaway on board. It is the only explanation for why so much food is mysteriously disappearing.” Emerson looked at Junie and winked.

“I’m sure there are other explanations,” Lapis replied. “For example I’ve observed that you, Mr. Lighthouse, seem quite prone to raiding the ice box at various times... perhaps to satisfy a sudden craving. I’m willing to bet that explains a great deal of the missing food right there.” Lapis furrowed his brow before adding, “besides, how much food could be missing? We’ve been underway less than a day.”

“All right then,” conceded Emerson, “forget the food evidence. Just take a look at ART Hoo though.” He indicated the small clockwork owl merrily bleeping away across the room. “For crying out loud, Lapis! I left him alone in this room for less than ten minutes with nothing more than a simple screwdriver and when I came back he’d been all remodeled. How do explain that?”

“Oh, yeah...” Junie murmured to herself as she leaned in close to focus on the ART Hoo Unit. Then she asked, “what’s wrong with his mouth?”

“He’s got fish lips!” replied Emerson. “I mean who ever saw an owl with fish lips? It’s ridiculous.” Emerson paused for a moment before adding, “speaking of lips... that is a nice shade you are wearing, Miss Ginsburg... a great match to your hair I might add.”

“Why thank you, Mr. Lighthouse,” replied Junie as she held Emerson’s stare.

Captain Maynard made a sour expression. ““Would you two try to limit that a bit? Need I remind you that until we reach the shores of New Nublar, we are all confined to the rather tight quarters of this sub aquatic vessel?”

Emerson broke his gaze with Junie and glanced across the room. He then shook his head and shot Lapis the dirtiest look he could muster when he saw the brother nodding in exaggerated agreement to the captain’s admonishment.

“I think Emerson has a point,” said Junie, returning everybody to the topic at hand. “When I was in my cabin getting changed earlier, I kept thinking I could hear someone, or something, running through the passageways. At one point I swear I heard that someone or something listening at my chamber door... as if they had their head pressed right up against it.”

Lapis looked over at Emerson with an inquisitive expression to which Emerson shook his head and mouthed the words ‘not me.’

Captain Maynard glanced at Lapis and said, “I’m sorry, Brother, this time I’m going to have to side with those two.” He cocked his head towards Emerson and Junie. “I think we have ourselves a little stowaway to take care of.”

Lapis nodded. “The evidence would seem to indicate that possibility.”

“A thorough search of the vessel is in order.” said Captain Maynard.

***

Emerson, Junie, and Brother Lapis made their way down the dimly lit passageway. All was silent but for the sounds of the ship, the echo of their footsteps and the occasional conversational exchange.

“Hey, I was just struck with a thought,” Emerson said.

“Apparently not hard enough,” said Lapis.

After a few moments, Lapis spoke again. “Well? Are you going to enlighten us or keep us guessing?"

“If I tell you, you’ll think I’m paranoid,” said Emerson.

“If you don’t tell me I’ll know you are paranoid,” Lapis responded.

“Well, what if the stowaway is a serial killer? Or perhaps even some kind of alien-like monster? It could be stalking us right now through the bulkheads. It will start picking us off one by one as we get separated from one another and then taunt and terrorize the rest of us with gruesome scenes of bloody body parts and psychological mind games. In the end Junie and ART will be the only two left alive on the ship. The monster stalks Junie throughout the ship until finally, looking determined and all sweaty she uses herself as bait to lure the alien, into one of the sub’s airlocks; then through trickery and cunning, she manages to lock it in the air chamber before throwing the switch and watching with grim satisfaction as the creature is blown deep into the ocean. She then strips down to her undergarments and wanders around the ship looking all forlorn before crawling into her bunk with ART Hoo for the remainder of the voyage to New Nublar. Is that paranoid?”

There was a stunned pause.

Finally, Lapis spoke. “No, that’s not paranoid,” he assured Emerson. “That’s just old-fashioned crazy.”

Suddenly they were interrupted by a distinct yet muffled thump which came from behind a small door leading to one of the galley’s storerooms. The unexpected sound interrupted the discussion as all three investigators stopped... listening. For the first time there really was a sense of silence. Even the ship seemed to be holding its breath in nervous anticipation. From a distance of about ten feet, they watched as the handle of the small door slowly began to turn. The sudden click as the latch released made Emerson and Junie jump. Slowly, the door began to open.

“Bugger! You startled me!” said the wild-eyed and excited urchin as he stepped from the shadowy passageway.

“It’s that Gadget kid who’s been jumping around Wheatstone all week!” said Emerson. “What’s his last name again?” he asked, looking around the room.

“Looks like we got ourselves some scullery service,” said Captain Maynard, entering the room and regarding Gadget with a steely stare.

“As long as scullery involves tending bar,” said Emerson.

“Gadget,” said Junie with a touch of concern, “have you been in there all this time?”

“I was miss...” Gadget affirmed, sounding none the worse for wear, “what with all the absinthe and dancing last night I musta wandered in an’ fell asleep behind some crates on my way ‘ome... but bugger if I weren’t alone in there.”

Just then a second figure stepped from the passageway. At the very moment of recognition Emerson called out “Shoot him Lapis! Now! Don’t waste a second!”

“Are you daft?” shouted Captain Maynard. “Never shoot a gun on a sub-aquatic vessel!”

Lapis pulled his dagger and stepped forward. The dark figure was quick and clearly not bound by Captain Maynard’s rules of submersible combat. The figure stepped forward, taking aim at Lapis with a Navy Colt. Whether Lapis could have disarmed the intruder before being fired upon was anybody’s guess. Before he had a chance, quite suddenly, a single shot rang out!

Emerson’s jaw dropped as he stared at Junie, who held a smoking revolver in her outstretched hand.

“Oh my gods!” he shouted. “Junie Ginsburg, you killed Petharic!”

Lapis looked at the body. “That bastard.”

Photo by Junie Ginsburg. Link

Prologue 3 - Brother's Little Helper

Midnight Mania

“ART Hoo,” said Emerson with wild-eyed suspicion. “I sincerely hope you are not recording certain key words and phrases,” he paused, swallowing several times, “in my own voice,” this point he emphasized with a smack in the chest,“in order to cut and splice them into some devious form of mechanical mischief at some point later in this adventure.”

The wind-up owl just hooted and tweeted in mechanical bleeps that were really quite endearing.

“Great Gods!” Emerson shook his head. “ART Hoo! ART Hoo...” he held up his hand pausing to struggle with some pseudo-philosophical conundrum. “I must say... I am grappling with the concept that you may have some sort of...sentience in there and if you do, what does that say about...” Emerson gave a flourish with his hand, “...life?”

Tweetle-hoot was all Emerson got by way of reply.

“Dammit ART Hoo, why can’t I sleep? What exactly did those church brothers put in that so-called coffee, because don’t try and tell me this is caffeine alone! My mind is racing like a steam engine out of Bump… so much happening all at once. Look! It’s got my foot tapping in nervous energy.” Emerson’s eyes narrowed in on the flashing light on ART Hoo’s breast. “Hey!” he grabbed the bird and held it tight. “Why is that red light blinking?” he gave ART Hoo a little shake. “You did say you weren’t recording this right? Wait!” Emerson paused as if considering something. “Do I sound paranoid android?”

The owl responded with something that sounded like: ‘nah-ah’ carrying the distinct intonation of a wink.

“Listen, since we’re both still up, I might as well tell you what happened today. First, I hired Arnold back as the Major-domo.” Emerson paused to scratch his arms frenetically. “I have to pay him this time so I’m expecting a larger role from my cat friend.”

Emerson started to pace and run his fingers through his hair. “It happened early this evening, I was getting ready to attend a very important date for coffee with Brother Riddler and other church officials and I had just sparked the hookah, when Arnold walked through the front door of the clock. He was all excited to tell me about the new asylum for the insane he so thoughtfully commissioned and had built right here in the neighbourhood.”

By the way Arnold, I’m sure Breezy, Bookworm, Jonathan, and all the Wheatstone residents share with me in the hope you somehow manage keep all that crazy on the inside.

“Anyway,” Emerson shrugged, “I rehired him with some vague (but sincere) plan to pay him this time. For his first duty as the newly reinstated major-domo, I had him accompany me to my meeting with the mysterious members of the clergy from the Church of the Builder.

“It would be a mistake to underestimate the importance of this meeting, ART Hoo, and how crucial it is to the potential success of the mission to save Malus. I need someone with me who, if need be, can match the skills of my young squire in both cunning and fighting talent. Someone from the church, trained in the same style could prove invaluable at the most opportune time.

“You might wonder why I should think I would need such skill behind me? I’ll answer that with a question of my own: ‘Who in their right mind wouldn’t?’” Emerson’s leg continued its staccato tap against the floor as he stared at the little ART Unit. “Right, here is what happened at the meeting.”

Lapis’s Sweetener

“Okay, Major-domo.” said Sir Emerson as he and Mr. Arnold stopped before the doors of the Mnemotechnics Institute on Perdido Street in Babbage Square, “I think we are here. How do I smell?” he asked.

“Like you've chain smoked narcotics for years and never bathed.” Arnold responded.

“Good,” said Emerson as he knocked on the door, “we’re on the same page.”

They looked up as the knock was answered by the young Brother Riddler. While Arnold maintained a discreet air of indifference Emerson flashed a smile in return to the brother’s welcome. It was a larger gathering than Emerson had initially expected with Father Pizzarro, Brother Lapis, Brother Scorpio, and Sister Loxley all present. Nevertheless he was grateful for the audience with such an esteemed organization.

Once the introductions had been made and the expected socially mandated pleasantries were exchanged, including the pouring of the coffee, Emerson began to relate his distressing news to the accompaniment of the rather thoughtful and melancholy tune being plucked on the guitar by Brother Lapis.

“Brother Riddler, I know you and my squire, Brother Malus were close. He told me often of how you would comfort each other after the rather gruelling training at the hands of Br…. er... at some of your tutors. He wanted me to tell you how he had met a princess, helped her regain her crown, was knighted and such.” Emerson allowed this opening a moment to sink in, taking a sip of coffee under the inquisitive and perhaps critical eye of all those present. ‘A little bitter,’ he thought, glancing at his cup, dismissing the odd aftertaste as the Brother’s use of unfiltered water. His face must have betrayed him for Brother Lapis very thoughfully paused in his guitar playing long enough to slide the smaller of the two sugar bowls across the table. Emerson reached for the tiny sliver spoon resting against the lip of the small sugar bowl to sweeten things up. Had he glanced up for a moment, he might have noticed Sister Loxley’s eyes going slightly wide as he stirred in his fourth little spoonful.

“Was he brave?” Brother Riddler finally broke the silence.

Sir Squire Brother Malus was very brave.” Emerson assured him. “He was also very chivalrous. One might overlook the fact that he may have broken three hearts… a farmer’s daughter, an airship captain’s daughter and a queen… in the course of our travels as being merely examples of the exuberance of youth. Of his conduct, the church may be proud, he only turned down one marriage proposal. A rather sticky situation that occurred over a leg of lamb. Fortunately I was able to extricate us from the situation, but I digress.”

Emerson took another sip of coffee before adding another little spoonful of sugar. “A few days ago I received word via an ART unit that there may be something unpleasant happening. About a month ago Malus led a party of soldiers to a large jungle island by the name of New Nublar. This island is truly a lost world... a land that time forgot... a land of the lost. It is, in effect, the very heart of darkness. The horror... the horror of that place is unforgiving.

“Have you been to this island?” asked Brother Riddler.

“I have not.” replied Emerson.

“Then how do you know all these things?” Riddler asked.

“I am well read.” replied Emerson, impressed at Mr. Arnold’s restraint with the potential snide comments. Brother Riddler nodded, accepting Emerson’s explanation.

“I’m afraid the news turns quite dire at this point.” Emerson noticed that Brother Lapis’s song had taken on a rather sombre note. “Somehow in the course of the mission, contact was lost with Malus and his men. There has been no word since. The queen is understandably distraught and has turned to the only person she can for assistance. That, of course would be me, one of the heroes of the revolution.”

Brother Lapis missed a note.

“I have been to see Commodore Dagger to officially request the assistance of the militia, however I was declined. Something to do with jurisdictions and other such trifling legalities.”

This is hardly a matter for the Government,” said Father Pizzaro, “to rescue a single citizen half a world away...” the father paused before adding, “who left on his own volition?”

Emerson missed the rising intonation in the father’s tag, which may have been interpreted as either a question or a subtle accusation.

“As the burden of this rescue appears to have fallen to me, I come to you tonight Father Pizzaro, to most humbly request the assistance of the church in bringing Malus home. Even if you could spare but a single brother. I have already commissioned a ship and a captain. I just need some man-power to help me - preferably someone who knows how to wield a sword.”

“We are not accustomed to doing charity work.” said Father Pizarro.

“Of course not, nor would one expect such of the church.” Despite his outward composure, Emerson started to stress a little at this point in the conversation. What if the church was not willing to provide assistance?This adventure could end before it even started and it all came down to the next three minutes.

Brother Scorpio cleared his throat, "Malus left our order. We are under no obligation to retrieve him. He decided to abandon us. We are not responsible for him. Whatever his predicament may be."

“I have no doubt that Brother Malus is staring death in the eye.” Sister Loxley bit her lip at Emerson’s rather bold statement. “Such an experience changes a man,” Emerson continued, “reorients him to what is important in life. This is a mission to save a young man so full of promise and perhaps return him to the fold.”

Brother Riddler looked to Father Pizzaro. Having presented his case, Emerson sat back in silence, holding tight to his now empty coffee cup, letting the church confer amongst themselves.

(There are some wonderful responses to this post. They can be found  here)

Prologue 2 - The Queen's Message

The Queen’s Message

“I come bearing holiday greetings,” said Junie, smiling as she held out an envelope addressed to the Daggers after Jed had opened the door.

“Thanks,” said Jed taking the envelope. Jed raised her eyebrows as she looked at the card inside. “Mumsy looks so...delightful.”

“She has her days,” said Junie.

Jed shifted her gaze from Junie to the man who stood behind her with a dented mechanical owl cradled in the crook of his arm. “Nice bird you’ve got there Emerson,” she commented.

“Thank you but I think it is a bit defective.”

“That’s a shame.” She looked back at Junie with a smirk.

“I thought maybe Kimika could have a look at it… see if maybe she can get it functioning properly again.”

“I'm sure she’d like to but to what end?” Jed asked. “What’s that bird to you?”

“It is a message of distress from my most sovereign majesty Queen Princess. I believe my young squire, Sir Brother Malus, is in peril, for were he not, the Queen would be appealing directly to his more immediate availability.” Emerson shrugged.

Jed just stared at him for a moment with a look that was quite unfathomable. After a brief pause she looked at Junie with an expression that made one think that it wasn’t a question of if Emerson had been drinking the paint thinner, but how much. She finally said, “I have no idea what you are talking about but it sounds somewhat intriguing, so let’s go and ask Kimika. Follow me.”

***

The dark haired woman stared intently into the now-open access panel on the back of the ART unit, poking at the mechanical guts of the device with a fine tipped screwdriver.

“I think it is just a wire shorting out,” Kimika said. “Perhaps due to the change in temperatures it has gone through… not to mention crashing through your window.”

“Do you think you can you fix it?” asked Emerson as Kimika closed the panels and pushed the little button on its chest.

“Of course,” she replied, putting down her screwdriver before giving ART a mighty smack on the top of its head. Suddenly the static broke and the unmistakable voice of Queen Princess delivered the following message:

Emerson Lighthouse, weeks ago you served me in the Sagrada Lucia Rebellion. Now I implore you to help me once more. Shortly after you departed for New Babbage, putting your personal glory and self-interests above that of the realm, Sir Malus and a band of my most trusted warriors left on a mission of mercy to save the survivors of the terrible Henri Gifford airship disaster. Reports suggested that they had been marooned on a remote jungle island known as New Nublar. Since leaving the landing craft upon the shores the morning of their arrival and setting off into the jungles, we have had no word, no message, and no idea what has become of our greatest soldiers. The realm is on the verge of teetering back into anarchy and I fear what will become of us if our peacekeepers are not found safe and returned to service. We may yet lose this rebellion which we have won. I have placed information vital to any potential rescue mission into the memory systems of this ART Unit. This is our most desperate hour. Help me, Emerson Lighthouse, you're my only hope.

PS. Maid Marion says to say ‘hi.’

***

“Well, I was right,” said Jed, “that was interesting.” She looked at Junie.

Junie grinned from ear to ear as she looked at Emerson. "You met a maid named ‘Marion?” She burst into laughter. “That’s so awesome!”

“Isn’t it? You know what they say about truth being stranger than fiction.” Emerson smiled.

Jed cleared her throat and redirected their attention to the task at hand. “This is all very nice, but what are you going to do about Malus?”

“Right,” said Emerson. “I thought you would take the militia and go save him.”

Jed shook her head. “This isn’t a matter for the militia. Besides being way outside our jurisdiction, I don’t think we can get away with mounting a full-blown military expedition to save one wayward ex-churchman. No, this has to be a private mission. Since this monarch is appealing to you personally, I think you need to be the one to take care of it.”

***

“So what are you going to do now?” asked Junie as they left the Dagger residence.

“I’m not sure,” said Emerson, “but I did get an invitation to go have tea from one of the church brothers. A close friend of Malus’s named Brother Riddler. I think I need to let them know that Malus is missing and in all likelihood in grave danger. Maybe I could talk the church intoproviding some sort of assistance in helping us find him.”