<
<
Sarah checks to make sure she remembered to pick up her phrasebook and maps; presuming the
answer is yes, she takes out her phone.
<
Sarah, thus fortified, dials. She tries Pat's apartment first.
Only the answering machine replies.
Sarah begins to speak before she realizes it's a machine; she pauses, looks embarrassed, and hangs
up on it. Next: Daimon's cellphone.
As they walk for a cab, Daimon's cellphone rings.
Daimon answers the phone again, flipping it open and pressing it against his ears. "Daimon
Lightner."
Sarah pauses. "This is Daimon, not some sort of talking device, isn't it?"
Daimon says "Uh, yeah. This is Daimon."
Sarah sounds distinctly relieved. "Hello, Daimon. This is Sarah. I'm afraid I was duped by Pat's
machine for a moment."
Daimon says "Oh! Hi, Sarah."
<
<
<
Sarah says "I have a bit of information for you, and was curious as to what you might be up to
- I do hope I'm not interrupting?"
Daimon says "No, no, not interrupting. We're busy investigating Stone, and we're about to go rip
apart Terethel's apartment, looking for what something. I don't think we're going to find anything,
but it's worth a try. Do you want to meet us there?"
Sarah pauses. "/Investigating/ Stone?"
<
Sarah says "Ahh... Perhaps I'd better meet you at Terethel's apartment, yes. I think this might need
to be heard in person."
Daimon says "Yes. We're on the trail of Chrisopher's murder, and I think we're acutally going to
get somewhere."
Sarah says "Since our business just converged - /again/ - we might."
Daimon says "Oh, really. Yeah, come and meet us there."
Sarah says "Ah. Yes. I do believe I shall."
Daimon says "Okay, see you in a few, Sarah."
Sarah says "As soon as possible. Good luck."
Sarah hangs up.
Daimon hangs up the phone and gets into the cab.
Sarah goes to /find/ a cab, or trust to the vagaries of public transportation.
A cab is findable, miracle of miracles, for Sarah.
The two cabs speed towards Terethel's apartment. Both groups arrive at about the same time.
Daimon pays the cabbie, figuring that Pat probably doesn't have the cash, with his huge role and
all that.
Pat gives Daimon an amiable nod.
Sarah pays her own cabbie as well, a little heavy on the tip, and a smile and thank-you added.
<
Daimon says "Hi, Sarah."
Hitherby, having achieved her quota of mystified cab drivers earlier today, says nothing until the
cabbie has gone.
Sarah slips out, and calls in return, "Hello, Daimon!"
Daimon starts in toward Terethel's apartment. "Let's go inside."
Both cabs leave, the tips apparently being sufficient.
Hitherby says, "Stealth or speed, Daimon?"
Sarah follows Daimon, wherever he proves to be going. "I have bad news and good news."
Hitherby chrisks.
Pat leads the way in.
Pat leads the way up to Terethel's apartment. All appears just as they left it.
Daimon finds a wall to lean against in the stairwell. He does so. "Oh?"
Pat suggests, "If I take a part of Hitherby in, I can investigate and remain in contact with you. I
have training in the field."
Daimon nods at Pat, since he has diddly training in this, or less.
Sarah says, "That sounds splendid, Pat." She dusts off a step and sits down.
Daimon slides down the wall and settles on the step next to Sarah.
Daimon pulls out a smoke, and lights it up.
Pat neatly picks the lock, and vanishes into the apartment cat-footedly.
Hitherby does in fact send part of herself in with Pat, once again a broach.
Sarah takes a deep breath. "First of all, the stele couldn't be reconstructed." Tones of sorrow,
quiet.
Daimon says "Ah."
Daimon is clearly listening.
Sarah says "However, there's another extant from the same set of funerary tablets. It's in the
Louvre, probably with the other Babylonian and Assyrian material."
Hitherby chrisks softly.
Daimon says "Pat mentioned something about going to Paris this weekend. So you'll be
accompaning him for that particular arm of this journey to check the other stele?"
Sarah blinks slightly. "I hadn't known Pat was already planning to visit Paris. Yes, most likely,
since the Judgment Tether is also part of the Louvre."
Daimon says flatly, "I have an appointment in London at the same time. I'm considering, because
it's personal business, cutting it short and taking a little personal visit to people stationed in Italy.
But don't tell that to Pat.
<
<
Sepharpigeon, still sitting on Sarah's shoulder, cocks its head.
<
<
<
Hitherby murmurs quietly, "Italy?"
Sepharpigeon coos, thoughtfully, "Do you suppose the other people who broke the first stele are
looking for the second stele too?"
Daimon nods. "Christopher's lieutenant is in Italy, which is why I was speaking Italian on the
phone. Maybe I can swing a side trip or a train."
Daimon realizes that his passport is in LA. Okay, well, no train.
Hitherby says "Ah."
Daimon says "I think she needs a followup visit in person."
<
<
Hitherby says "Gosh. I haven't been to Europe since I started working directly for the Great One.
I wasn't even sure England was still there. Wasn't there some war or something?"
<
Daimon _blinks_. "Wha?"
Sarah says, "If you're interested in Christopher's lieutenant, you are /not/ going alone," sternly.
"I do not intend to see you murdered." She pauses, and looks between pigeon and Hither.
Sarah says "England is, ah, still there, yes."
Daimon drags on his cigarette.
Hitherby says "Oh. Well, that's cool."
Daimon says "Either way, she requires a visit."
Sarah says "Ah, yes."
Daimon drags again, eyes flat. He looks off down the hallway. "Anything else, Sarah?"
Hitherby says, "Sephar would be better for another continent than I, because I *can't* move all
my Forces off-continent. But I'm happy to be anywhere as backup."
Sepharpigeon coos, "I was going to go with Sarah anyhow... to translate."
Hitherby says "I mean, I *could*. But if I got stuck in Europe with all of me, something could
happen to the cats."
Sarah says, "There's the Stone connection," quietly.
Daimon perks up a bit. "Yes?"
Sarah says, "Apparently there's a layer of stone /over/ the message on the steles. But David's
Servitors have a particular attunement that can, ah, see through rock."
Sarah says "I'd intended to discuss consulting them with the two of you. If Stone is under some
sort of investigation, however..."
Daimon blinks, suddenly far more interested. "Maybe we should move forward the date of the trip
to tomorrow, if at all possible, then. I have a feeling that when you get there it's going to be gone,
gone, gone...."
Sarah says, "Possible." She grimaces slightly. "The Judgement Tether is located at the Code of
Hammurabi, which I /believe/ would put it close to the stele. Unfortunately, there is, ah, also a
Tether of Theft within the Louvre, which complicates things..."
Daimon says "Sarah, have you called over there yet to see if it's been moved or tampered?
Because if there was a message there that has now been toasted, we _need_ to know what is
written there."
Hitherby whispers softly, "A local Theft Tether makes an excellent scapegoat. I mean, for
Outcasts and demons and such that come looking for the stele."
Sarah says "I'd intended to ask Pat about that; it is Judgment, not Destiny."
Daimon settles back against the wall. "Okay, when Pat is done searching, we'll get him to call the
tether to have them check on the stele, and post a watch."
Sarah says "Also, I think it might be a very good idea if we were not in this area tomorrow."
Hitherby whispers softly, "The best security is having it mysteriously vanish for the duration of
the situation, but I suppose that would be complex. I don't want them reading it."
Hitherby rotates her individual bugs. "Why so, Sarah?"
Sarah says "At least not obviously..." She pauses and blinks at Hitherby. "Ah."
Daimon says "What happens tomorrow?"
Sarah says "I don't have the faintest idea."
Daimon says "Oh."
Hitherby says, "Ah. You were transferred to Fire?"
Hitherby makes a little chitter-giggle.
Sarah says "But the Eldest gifted me with an attunement and another Force, and I've heard that
Liz's Superior has made an appearance..."
Sarah pauses and blinks at Hitherby. Again. This time /over/ her glasses.
Daimon says "Oh."
Sarah says "I'm simply wondering what we're being prepared for, and just how urgent it is."
Daimon says "I think we're knee deep in the hoopla. And quickly sinking in over our heads."
Hitherby chrisks, pragmatically, "If He wished to protect you from something here, tomorrow,
he might have suggested that you move on. If anything, that argues that he wants you to be
involved in something." She pauses. "And not necessarily tomorrow, or earlier, or later."
Hitherby adds, "But you know Him better than I, of course."
Sarah says to Hitherby, "There's a slight difference between being involved in something, and
being massively overwhelmed." She gives a touch of a smile.
Daimon says "You know what they say. 'May you live in interesting times.'"
Hitherby chrisks, "Interesting times always come around one day or another."
Hitherby rotates her individual bugs again. Exercise is very important when you want to stay
limber.
Daimon says "Sometimes a little more then can be normal."
Sarah says "Such as now, perhaps?"
Hitherby says, "Point."
Daimon flicks his first butt down the stairway where it can make friends with the collection of
butts down at the base of the stairs, and lights up a second smoke.
Hitherby says, "Incidentally, Sarah, do you know anything about the unicorns?
You paged Sarah with 'Feel free to know about unicorns - I'm sure they're in medieval manuscipts
a lot. ;)'.
Sarah pauses. "Somewhat. Why do you ask?"
>From afar, Sarah goes and bookhunts :)
Hitherby says "I'm building one, and I wanted to know if there were any details I might have
forgotten about."
Sarah says "Physical construction? I believe they came in a variety of models. Or mythos?"
Hitherby says "The ones Uriel claimed consorted with the Pit."
Hitherby says "I don't mean to distract discussion. It just occurred to me that you might
know."
Sarah says "I believe that would be 'all of them', Hitherby. I could be mistaken."
Daimon says "Why unicorns?"
Hitherby pauses, clicks a few times, and then says, "Ah. I mean the physical construction."
Sarah says "Let me think a moment."
<
Hitherby says, "I thought the Great One would be pleased to see a new one around." She reflects.
"Even, er, if it wasn't really."
Daimon says "Ah."
<
<
Daimon pulls out his UnnoticeableMan shades out of his pocket and slips them on over his nose
without activation.
Sarah says "Let me think. I suppose you're not interested in Ctesias or Pliny, which are, ah,
considerably mistaken. Julias Caesar described it as a huge beast with the form of a stag, from the
middle of whose brow there stood forth one horn, longer and straighter than those known to the
Romans."
<
<
Hitherby chrisks happily.
Hitherby says "I had thought the base to be a horse. Thank you."
Sarah says "The _Physiologus_, on the other hand, refers to it as an animal like a kid - I believe
stag and goat are somewhat closer to each other than to horses, however. Certainly the indication
is of cloven hooves."
Sarah considers. "A white coat, though some texts have the head as being red in color, and eyes
almost certainly an azure blue."
Hitherby chrisks, "I love Destiny." happily.
Daimon contemplates his cigarette. It's long. It's smelly. It's burning. It's a stick of
carcinogens.
Sarah smiles in the general direction of Hitherby's swarm.
Daimon tries to figure out how to broach the subject. He's not sure. He just tries something
stupid. "Pat has me wearing a gun."
The cigarette wreathes a long drift of smoke into the air.
Sarah pauses. "Objectively, I can see how that would be intelligent. On the other hand - my, that
must disturb you."
Hitherby murmurs, "Guns are one symbol of the decline of the world." She pauses. "But just a
symbol; most of the problems are very gun-neutral."
Daimon says "What disturbs me is that it doesn't bother me at all. What disturbs me is the thought
of killing someone doesn't repulse me. What disturbs me is that I look forward to putting a bullet
between some demon's eyes."
Daimon sucks down a drag on his cigarette.
Hitherby murmurs, "Corporeal death - I mean, not of hosts, but in general - doesn't mean all that
much."
Daimon says "No, I'm not thinking of corporeal death."
Sarah says, quietly, "There are, now and then, demons that do need to be removed at least from
this plane. Which disturbs you more: that they exist, or that you might not be repulsed by
removing one?"
Hitherby says "Your gun can soul-kill?"
Sarah says "... Ah. /That/ kind of gun?"
Daimon says "That the thought of killing one, or many, or all of them in the universe makes me
feel good and warm inside. No, sheesh. Not that kind gun. That's just what I'm thinking
about."
Sarah looks notably relieved. "Thank you."
Hitherby chrisks, "Daimon, you hear all the glorious tones of the Symphony, yes?"
Sarah pats Daimon's shoulder.
Hitherby says, "That's what Hell tries to destroy and corrupt."
Daimon says "I do. Of course I do. I... um."
Hitherby says, "A touch of ruthlessness can help." She hesitates. "Thus, we have Malakim."
Daimon says "This isn't ruthlessness. This is... this is vengeance."
Sarah asks, "Is it just?"
Daimon says "I doubt it."
Hitherby says, "Heaven does not endorse vengeance wholesale, but in the right circumstances -"
She hesitates. "If you need closure, well. I like you a lot better than them."
Sarah says "Then act only when you have no doubt - or, in your case, perhaps as little as possible
- and the rest, I think, will pass."
Daimon says "I...." He looks a little bit relieved on Hitherby's words. "It will probably pass, but
right now it's just sitting here," he touches the side of his head. "And here it festers, and here it
drives me slowly mad."
Hitherby says, thoughtfully, "Can you look in your eyes in a mirror?"
Daimon says "I _really_ don't want to."
Sarah says, "That's a pity. They're good eyes."
Hitherby crawls around in a small conga line (without the kicks) on Daimon's shirt.
Sarah reaches into her purse and removes a lady's wallet; opens one side of it and flips credit cards
and ID aside, revealing a small mirror.
Hitherby says, "To be honest, my anger passes pretty quickly. I don't know if that's an angel thing
that will catch up to you or a Kyriotate thing."
Daimon says "I am..." He pauses, and drags, and ponders for a moment. "Have you ever woken
up one morning, and realized that your entire life, ever since the moment you were born, was a
lie? Just a constant lie with nothing meaningful?"
Sarah murmurs, "No; but I know people who have."
Daimon says "Yes I do." He pauses, and says much more quietly, "I feel so ashamed, Sarah."
Sarah puts her arm around Daimon's shoulders - /after/ checking carefully for Hitherhosts. "It's
all right, Daimon. You did splendidly."
Daimon says in a whisper, "It's not Redemption which is doing this to me."
Hitherby says, softly, "Whatever your past, Daimon, remember that the Archangel of Creation,
one of the oldest and wisest beings anywhere, everywhere - endorsed your future."
Hitherby says "Said that future was worth his time, his effort, and his love."
Sarah says, quietly, "I know, Daimon. Though Hitherby is right to speak of that - I wasn't."
Daimon says "I know, but I don't feel worthy. I just feel embarrassed and used and dirty. I feel
like I was nothing but a lie, and worse."
Sarah says, very softly, "My poor Daimon."
Daimon says "It's not my fault. It can't possibly be all my fault. I cannot personally take
responsibility for every act of Hell. I cannot even take responsibility for what has happened to me,
or what I've seen, or a large portion of what I've done. I can't. It's not my fault. But it leaves me
feeling used and dirty inside, and angry, and wanting very badly to be pure and clean and rid of
all of it."
Sarah closes her eyes. "Yes."
Hitherby says, quietly, "We all bear the weight of the world."
Daimon says "So all I want to know is...." He pauses. "All I want to know is that it's okay to feel
depressed and scared and angry. I just want to know it's _okay_."
Hitherby chrisks. "I would not be surprised if God occasionally feels that way."
Daimon nods a bit.
Sarah says, softly, "Not to mention the rest of us." Her arm tightens around Daimon, and her head
dips to touch his shoulder for a moment.
Daimon says "I don't.... I don't want demons to do that to other _people_, humans, angels, I don't
care. No one. No one deserves to feel like this. And I'm very angry inside. Very very angry. I feel
like a victim. I feel abused."
Sarah says quietly, "You have been a victim. You /have/ been abused."
Daimon says "I know. And now I'm angry enough to kill. And this scares the hell out of me."
Sarah whispers, "All of us are, Daimon, at heart; angry and sad; or at the very least many. Or the
War would have been lost long ago."
Daimon says "So it's okay to feel like this? It's okay to be depressed and angry?"
Hitherby murmurs, "If you mean 'is this wrong?' It's not wrong."
Sarah nods to Daimon's shirt.
Daimon looks very relieved for one.
Hitherby says "I figure you've got one of the very best resonances for finding out when you no
longer need these feelings. Until then, you're a Gifter. Give yourself the consideration and
compassion that you need, and the anger, and the upset, ... anything that will help you."
Daimon nods a bit. "I just need a little help getting through this. The want to kill people rattles
me deeply."
Sarah says, thoughtfully, "I will give you one piece of advice, Daimon."
Daimon looks up at Sarah, listening.
Hitherby listens as well, although this is very hard to see.
Sarah says, very solemnly, "/Don't/ talk about this to Shannen."
Daimon says "Can I ask why? Not that I will, now warned...."
Hitherby hums amusedly.
Sarah says, "Shannen's in the service of Flowers; most of the particularly non-violent migrate there
over time. And she's... ah, well, Shannen. I rather suspect she wouldn't understand."
Daimon says "Maybe not. Probably not." He looks at Sarah. "All I ask for is a little understanding
when I just can't take it anymore. I know this will wear off in time, but... I guess I just need a little
love every now and then to help all the wounds heal."
Sarah pats Daimon's shoulder - the far one, given that her arm's around him. "All the time,
Daimon. All the time."
Hitherby attempts to manage a meaningful volume as she comments, "You have it."
Daimon closes his eyes and leans against Sarah. "I love you two so much."
Hitherby marches up and scritches the front of Daimon's shoulder with her strong little bug
legs.
Sarah murmurs, "It's entirely mutual, Daimon."
Daimon takes off his sunglasses and shoves them back in the case in his pocket.
Daimon just cuddles closer to Sarah. "It's so much easier once people know what is wrong."
Sarah murmurs, "I'm glad," and cradles Daimon closer in her arm.
Hitherby scritches.
Meanwhile, in the apartment, all is quiet and still. Nothing seems to have been touched since Pat
was last there.
Pat tries to ignore the scent of week-old blood as he double-checks the place for any changes.
Everything seems the same. The apartment corridor is in grey, has a door to either side, and one
at the far end. On the walls hang a couple of Japanese line drawings of mountain ridges. Decor
seems neo-Scandinavian. The right-hand room is a dining room and small kitchen, the left-hand
room is a working study, and has the marks of the struggle which took place there.
Pat hms, looking over the tapeless answering machine. He walks to the computer again, and
begins looking for Terethel's email client.
Terethel used Windows. The Eudora icon is easily findable.
Pat, having been well-trained by Sephar, shakes his head with amusement and opens up
Eudora.
<
<
<
Apparently Terethel did not use email very much - there are some saved messages concerning
architecture or civic functions, but none that look really ... significant. The cracked monitor hisses
every now and again, adding an eerie tone.
Pat makes a quick mental note of Terethel's slow adjustment to modernity, closes Eudora, and
turns off the monitor again.
There is silence in the rooms. The piles of paper are still where they were thrown from the earlier
struggle. The blood is dried into the floor. The bookcase still lies toppled.
Pat walks over to the papers, squatting by them to scoop them up and look over them.
The papers are a collection of notes. The ones toward what would have been the bottom, when
the pile was upright, look to be architectural sketches. Then there is what looks like some sort of
underground tunnel plan, with several locations marked. On what would have been the "top of
the pile" is a list of scribblings, with a doodle at the bottom.
Pat says "Well. I feel sloppy."
Pat examines the scribbles and the doodles after pocketing the tunnel map.
<
<
To Mazpatiel's sharp eyes, the doodle becomes recognisable as a scribble, though clearly an
inaccurate reproduction by someone trying to do it vaguely. The sigil of Makatiel.
Pat sighs. "Lovely." That paper gets pocketed as well, and he goes back to rummaging through
the stack.
The scribblings say, in a cursive handwriting, "Three - too many? Only one there, nothing obvious.
Need identity check. Not usual for ours. Why Hubble? Didn't _feel_ like one of ours. Bricked up
there too long - why not traced before?" There's a gap in the page, where the scribbled sigil is.
Below that, in the same handwriting, "TECH!?! - not possible. If black op, should not know. C
may. Why not tell S? Deniability? Check for recent bugs, if M connection. If C unaware, may need
audience with D. Wrongthinkful - query? Must not betray."
<
<
Also folded into the stack are two issues of Time magazine, with markers stuck into the pages on
two recent articles about the spread of AIDS and tuberculosis in the third world.
<
<
Pat pockets everything relevant, stands up, and starts looking for physical mail.
There is a fairly obvious pile of opened mail by the desk, but it seems to be just to do with civic
commitments and architectural work.
Pat double-checks just to be sure, then heads into the bedroom.
The bedroom is neatly laid out, with a forlorn pair of dark blue silk pyjamas lying on the bed. The
latest John Grisham is sitting on the beside table.
Pat walks over to the table and the book, shaking it by the spine for inserts.
A Metro ticket flutters out, wistfully.
Pat plucks the ticket out of the air, slipping it into a pocket as well, then looks for drawers in the
table.
<
There is a shallow drawer in the table, in which lies a sketchpad and pencils. The sketchpad is full
of baroque architecture sketches. They're quite good.
Pat riffles through the sketchpad in search of more scribbles, paying only the barest attention to
the sketches themselves.
The final sketch in the set is different from the others - it looks like some sort of underground roof
vaulting, much less baroque than the rest, the shading leading down to an opening in the wall.
<
<
<
Pat fishes the paper with the sigil out of his pocket, and starts looking for similar scribbles on the
sketch.
There is no obvious similar scribble on the sketch, but when he examines it, the opening in the
wall is clearly where the eye of the viewer is intended to be drawn.
<
Pat hms, and studies the opening and the area around it.
By proportionate scale, the opening is perhaps five or six feet high, and three or four feet wide.
It looks as if it has been torn or broken into the wall.
Pat carefully tears the sketch out of the book, folds it, and returns to his search of the table.
<
<
There are absolutely no secret drawers in the table.
Pat looks under the bed as well.
There is nothing under the bed except dust.
Pat checks between the mattress and the box spring.
Pat . o O ( If I were a plot-assisting clue, where would I hide? )
There is nothing beneath the mattress.
Pat stands up, dusts off his knees, and ponders. Then walks to the closet and opens it.
<
<
Elegant suitings drift in the breeze from the open door. Ties dangle from a rack. No bodies fall
out. It is a normal closet - boxers and socks in a drawer on the way down, shoes at the
bottom.
Pat sighs. This is the time-consuming part. He begins methodically searching pockets.
<
<
<
The pockets are all apparently empty. There is, however, a very faint smell of ... mud ... coming
from somewhere at the bottom of the closet.
Pat abandons the pockets as fruitless, and squats to examine the floor, seeking that earthy
scent.
The earthy scent is traced to a pair of trainers which have been shoved to the back and side of the
closet. Though someone has tried to clean them, there are still traces of mud between the
cleats.
Pat comes up with a plastic bag and his pocketknife, scraping some of the mud from the shoes
into the bag.
The fragments of mud drop in obligingly. There isn't _much_.
Pat closes the bag and pockets it, then starts looking around near the incriminating shoes.
There are a few marks on the wood floor of the closet from the mud, but nothing else
obvious.
<
<
<
Pat steps back out of the closet, closing it up and looking around the bedroom a last time.
<
<
<
<
Pat steps up onto the bed, pushing up a ceiling tile as he pulls out his flashlight.
Dust comes drifting out, and stale air.
<
Pat sticks his head and his light into the dropspace, sweeping the beam around.
<
There is nothing particular to be seen, except dust and dryness.
<
Pat comes down from the bed, flicks off his light, and heads to search...the bathroom!
The bathroom is better-smelling than the rest of the apartment, but also very empty.
Pat checks the medicine cabinet quickly, looking for extraneous cans and bottles.
There are no extraneous cans or bottles. The supply of soap seems remarkably low, however.
Pat hms. Personal hygiene is not to be neglected, now. He walks over to the toilet tank and lifts
the lid off.
It looks ... normal.
<
<
Pat nods. Nothing to see here, move along. To the kitchen.
The refrigerator still hums quietly in the kitchen, and a bowl of slowly-drying oranges sits on one
side.
Pat gives the fridge a cursory inspection, taking note of undefrosted freezers, expired mayonnaise,
and other culinary infractions.
All is virtuous inside the freezer. Apparently Terethel was particularly fond of curry.
Pat . o O ( Mental note: Virtuous freezer. Impossible Gluttony involvement. )
Pat gives about the same attention to detail to the cupboards, brief glances for anomalies.
There are plenty of neatly stacked jars of teas and spices, but nothing really odd or unusual.
The living room holds nothing obvious.
Pat lets himself out, then.
Outside, Daimon and Sarah and Hitherbugs are sitting on the stairs.
Hitherby rejoins herself with an inaudible cry of delight. "Why, there's me -- and me -- and me!"
she thinks. "What a great reunion."
Pat says "Nothing's been touched in there."
Daimon wipes his eyes on the back of his shirt sleeve, and turns to Pat.
Daimon says "No?"
Hitherby hums, "So the police didn't find his Vessel anywhere."
Pat peers at Daimon, who seems to have curiously liquid eyes. *peeeeeeeeeeeer*
<
Sarah pats Daimon's shoulder once more, then straightens up.
<
<
Pat shakes his head. "I don't even think he's been reported missing. Which is a good thing."
Daimon brushes himself off and stands up. "That's strange, because he held a job and as a
Mercurian, I would assume that he made human friendships."
Pat says "He may have made excuses. From what I found, he was planning this."
Sarah slips off the stairs and to her feet. "How so, exactly?"
Hitherby forms a broach again, assumingthat Daimon had enough presence of mind not to brush
her off.
Pat starts leading the way down to the ground floor. "He was taking notes on the situation. As
well as drawing out a map and what I believe is a sketch of the sewers proper."
Daimon does NOT brush Hitherby off.
Sarah asks, a touch concerned, "Notes?"
Daimon says "Well, I need to redo my theory then."
Pat pulls a scribble-covered piece of paper from his pocket and hands it to Sarah as he comes up
to the bank of mailboxes.
Hitherby says, "Could you read it aloud, Sarah?"
Daimon says "Sarah discovered some very interesting things about the Stele."
Sarah takes the paper, and divides her attention between walking and reading unless this seems
likely to be disastrous.
Sarah does indeed read aloud.
Hitherby chrisks happily.
Pat sets about working Terethel's mailbox open while Sarah reads.
Daimon says "Woah."
Hitherby whispers atonally, "Terethel originally thought Hubble was a Stone Tether?"
<
<
<
The mailbox clicks quietly open. Inside is a sheaf of official-looking mail, three circulars, two
private-looking letters.
Sarah murmurs, "I'm sure we all know who C and D, and quite likely S, are."
Pat collects the mail with no fuss, slipping it all into the newspaper pocket next to the photo
folder.
Pat says "Sariel, I think. He didn't tell her anything."
Sarah says "Quite likely."
Hitherby mutters atonally, "I don't understand what makes a bug recent."
<
Daimon says "And M."
Pat says "Makatiel."
<
Pat says "Look at the sigil."
Sarah says "I hope so."
Hitherby mutters, "It was *not* the fleas' fault." Feels like she has to say this every week
sometimes.
Daimon peers at the sigil, and tells them that it is indeed the sigil of Makatiel.
Sarah glances toward Hitherby, and smiles. "Of course not. Fleas are, ah, valiant, aren't they?"
<
Hitherby says "And an expert with the dust mote caber toss."
<
Pat looks at his wrist. "We don't have much time."
Sarah asks, "Before what?"
Pat says "Before Daimon and I have a meeting."
Daimon says "We need to follow up on another lead. I don't think it will get us anywhere, but I
want to be sure we have covered all the possible bases."
Sarah says "Ahh. Shall I make myself scarce?"
Pat smiles at Sarah. "Wander the Mall. Feed pigeons. We'll be near the Capitol pool."
Daimon says "I think the fewer of us there are at this meeting, the better. We can reconvene to
sit down and talk about all our notes afterwards."
Sarah says, "I'd prefer to be in reach, if that's at all possible, but I shan't come close enough to
interfere. Would that be all right?"
Pat says "Did you get a new gun?"
Hitherby chrisks, thoughtfully, "So are we imagining that Technology impersonated Stone to get
information from Terethel, or am I completely off-sync with you guys?"
Daimon says "That sounds logical, Hitherby. But that means we need to know what Technology
knows. Remember, that was who blew up the hospital, and they were the ones with a prisoner.
Had. Probably dead by now."
Hitherby hums a Kyriotate scale. "I agree that we need to know what Technology knows."
Sarah nods a touch to Pat. "Before I left the Library, yes."
Pat nods to Sarah. "Stay within range, then."
Daimon says "Which means Sephar, and breaking into Vapula's computers."
Sarah says, "And I think I should catch you up on the stele if at all possible - preferably before
your meeting; it might be useful."
Pat nods. "We can talk on the way?"
Sarah says "If you like."
Pat gestures in the direction of the nearest Metro station.
Daimon follows Pat, hands in pockets, making sure that Hitherbugs are all aboard and comfy.
Sarah, on the way, says to Pat, "The stele was unrecoverable, but there's another one extant from
the same set of funerary tablets. It's in Paris, in the Louvre, probably in the Babylonian and
Assyrian collection. Now, Daimon's told me you're interested in visiting Paris, so you're probably
aware that the Judgment-tether there is also in the Louvre - the Code of Hammurabi, I
believe."
<
<
Pat says "There was someone I wanted to speak with in Paris, yes, but this meeting may make it
unecessary. Daimon does have an appointment in London on Saturday, though."
<
<
<
<
Daimon follows along in silence.
<
<
Hitherby asks, "Could you read the message out loud one more time, in a few minutes? I want
William to have a copy."
Sarah nods a touch. "I'm still likely to go there, at the very least - I'd prefer not to see the stele
disappear to the, ah Theft-Tether in the same area. Or to someone posing as Theft. Which leads
to a Stone-connected problem. - Certainly, Hitherby."
Elsewhere, William amiably agrees to copy the message out.
Pat nods. "I'll come with you, then. I can't see any reason to monitor the interview in
London."
Daimon says "I'm afraid that there were two pronged attacks on both stele at the same time."
Hitherby hums happily to William and quotes it to him as Sarah quotes to her. "It's not really
Animals business," she chrisks to him, afterwards, "but it could be, like, big Heaven against Hell
business."
Sarah says "Apparently, there's a layer of stone /over/ the message on the steles. I'd thought
possibly to ask Stone's cooperation - there's an attunement of theirs that allows them to see
through rock - but given a few things that have come up... perhaps not."
Sarah glances to Daimon. "it's possible."
Elsewhere, William nods and copies it down, putting it in a file marked, "ANGEL STUFF."
<
<
Pat says "I would honestly rather not involve Stone."
<
<
Hitherby says, "Hm."
Hitherby hums a Kyriotate scale.
Hitherby says "Is this a *solid* layer of stone over the message, or is there a gap between the
two?"
<
<
<
<
<
Sarah nods to Pat; tells Hitherby, "I would uess at the latter."
Daimon says "Before you go there, you may want to call the Judgment tether there."
Pat nods. "Of course."
Hitherby says "'Cause if we could make a small hole through the outside layer, I could crawl in
and try and draw what I felt with my legs on the inside. It'd be difficult and imprecise, but it might
be enough for Destiny or Lightning to figure out the message from."
Sarah says "Sephar suggested, ah, ultrasound, I believe. I'm not at all up-to-date on Lightning's
practices."
Daimon says "I think, Hitherby, if we're talking two different densities of stone, then Lightning
likely has sonar equipment which will be able to bounce vibrations off the harder layer through
the lighter."
Sepharpigeon coos, "Yes, ultrasound."
Hitherby says "Fair enough."
Daimon says "I would theorize that they have a layer of plaster or cement over the real message,
which would not be as dense as the granite below."
Pat says "The first stele /was/ granite, then?"
Daimon says "I have no idea. Was it, Sarah?"
<
Sarah says, "Granite, yes, I believe... though I'm more of an expert on paper than rocks."
Hitherby idly asks William, before leaving, "It would be helpful if you got together some little
stones and some cloth squares big enough to hold maybe five pounds of gravel each in with the
edges pulled together and gripped. Like, a lot, enough for thirty loads. Or did I ask that already?
Anyway. Thank you! You've been a great help."
Hitherby swirls out William's door, if it's open, or up next to it if it isn't.
William is keeping a window open for Hitherby. He nods to the Kyriotate's request.
<
<
Daimon nods. "If I was going to preserve a stone message, I would carve it into granite and put
a layer of something much softer, a sandstone or a chalk or a hardened clay, over it."
<
<
Daimon says offhand, "See what you can learn from overdosing on the Discovery Channel?"
Pat nods. "Alright then. We'll pick up after the meeting, then?"
Daimon says "Sure."
Pat notes to Sarah, "The pigeons near the pool seem to like rye best."
Sarah smiles at Daimon - then to Pat. "I'll keep that in mind."
Daimon smiles, softly, at Sarah.
---