Landon in Landon

[Wired*Nun]

The night is cool and clammy, as the usual Landon mists start to rise off the Thales. It amuses me every time I think of it to have found a shadow of London with my own name...or was it my unconscious desire when seeking this shadow? The things we will never know...I wonder if Jack London felt the same way...A cry comes off the street. "Landon! Landon Delacourte!"

"Stop the cab, good fellow." Landon opens the hansom door to see a plump, but spry bearded fellow approaching. He is well-dressed in conservative fashion...Asmundson. John Asmundson. A fellow member of the Cross and Roses Society, a man who seems to have boundless interests and endless energy. He fancies himself a mage, artist, detective, scientist, occultist, investigator, explorer, and who knows what else. Quite good, actually, in the sorcery deparatment, for this Shadow. Even seems to be able to execute some kind of local shadow Trumps, of inferior effectiveness but excellent style.

Asmundson hops into the carriage, putting his walking stick between his knees and taking off his hat. He is dressed up for a formal event. "Heading for the party, are you too?" he asks. "I hope you don't mind, but my cab lost a wheel back there and I thought I was going to have to hoof it up the hill. Can't arrive at the Mayor's of Landon's party with perspiration on my brow, now can I?"

[Wired*Nun]

"Oh, as you remember, I was heading for the Continent to investigate some reported possible lycanthropy near Toulon. However, it turned out to be nothing, so I tried to look up an old friend of mine, but he wasn't in...so, nothing but a lot of boring travel, really. Thank God for trains, though, in the civilised world! What would we have done if we live a hundred years ago! Mon Dieu, it was the dark ages! No gas, no steam, cottage industry...hardly different from King Corvin in Avalon, eh, what? Ahh, that's good, you always did have a fine cellar. Oh yes, where was I, ahhh...my latest project, yes. Something I've been working on, off and on for some time. A children's book! What do you think of the idea?"

[Wired*Nun]

"Hmm yes, well, that's what I though you would say. However, this is going to be the most magnificent, the most unusual children's book, ever. Kings, princes, sultans and presidents will pay millions for a copy, and think it a bargain. I cannot tell you why, oh no, I cannot, not yet, but suffice to say that the world has never seen its like. I shouldn't even be telling you this, but you're such a stout and discreet fellow, and a member of our Society, I know you will not leak anything before it's time."

[Wired*Nun]

"Well, I don't know that it may have effect on the fate of the world, oh no, but certainly...on my own fate! And my pocketbook! But, I have said too much already. Look, we are about to arrive, let us speak of this some other time, and conduct ourselves like the good gentlemen we are, the better to impress the ladies present. I'll tell you what, my friend," he says, tapping Landon lightly on the chest with the head of his walking stick, "as soon as I get the thing worked out, I'll let you see the first test, all right? And then we shall see who's crackpot scheme is whose, eh, what! Look lively now, where was my invitation...ah, there it is." He steps out of the carriage after Landon, ("Help me down, old boy, too many butter tarts, you know, and the bad knee") and fluffing his lapels, marches on in with Landon to the party.

[Wired*Nun]

The party passes quickly. The last Landon sees of Asmundson, he has a buxom dowager on his arm, and they are heading off for a tete-a-tete - or maybe just a late snack!

The next couple of weeks pass quickly too, when a message arrives from Asmundson. "Greetings, Landon. Regarding that matter we discussed, please visit me at your earliest convenience, and we shall see what we shall see." - A

[Wired*Nun]

[According to Webster's, "erstwhile" means "former." Did you have a falling out? I am going to assume the meaning was simply unclear, for now.]

Arriving at Asmundson's sprawling rundown mansion, Landon observes many signs of disrepair. What a perfect place for a mad renaissance man to live. Saves a lot of money, not maintaining anything. His one batman opens the door, an old fellow with a ramrod-straight gait and one tail of his butler's tux...bitten?...off. The man is imperturbable as Arthur sniffs the his hand. "Follow me, sir, the master is waiting for you in the Laboratory." How droll. Wonder if John fed him that line. At least he didn't say, "You're wet."

Following the man's deadly slow tread impatiently down the stair to the basement laboratory, Landon reflects on his last visit, more than a year ago. Asmundson had been working on a time machine. There was certainly something to that time machine, if nothing more than too much Direct Current. It had sputtered, and melted itself into a pile of slag. It was amusing to watch him flapping about, trying to put out the nascent fires. Arthur had laughed at that one, too.

"Ahh, come in, come in, I am so glad to see you." Arthur greets Asmundson like an old friend, and vice versa. He has cleared away a section of his capacious basement, and recluttered it to become an art studio of some sort. A number of small paintings are scattered about on easels, along with pencil drafts and sketches.

As Landon examines them, moving about the room, he sees that they are all quite good, and depict storybook scenes of anthromorphic animals in traditional roles - a hedgehog housekeeper, a gypsy tortoise, a vole inkeeper. "So, what do you think, my good man?"

[Wired*Nun]

"Ah yes, but you see, that's not the important part. I have discovered something remarkable. I have discovered a way to bring the pictures alive! At first I thought I was going mad. I am sure you will too, when I tell the tale fully. So I decided to bring you and show you, so that you will know I am not mad, and you can share in its wonder. And its profit, too, I might add."

Landon looks around with the pattern lens, and spies something unusual...on one easel, covered in a cloth, something emanates. It reminds him of Trump, but not exactly.

Walking over to that selfsame easel, Asmundson prepares to pull off the cloth. "This is it. This is the first painting that I have done that didn't fade in power. When you regard it, you will see it come alive for you!" He draws off the cloth with a flourish and waits for Landon to inspect his work.

From a few feet away, the small six by eight inch painting isn't much to look at, but he does feel the trump-like power of the thing.

[Wired*Nun]

"The story? I have been experimenting with western cabalism, the art of inscribing signs for magic, as well as the Judish Kabbalach, a related, perhaps, older, wisdom. I happened upon an ancient manuscript, written in an unknown language! This was some years back, in Egypt. I haven't said anything about it because until recently I had no way of translating the language." Here he strides over to another workbench and picks up a large round pieces of glasslike substance. It also glows with some kind of trumplike energy. Picking it up, he holds it out to you. "Take it, it won't hurt you. But it will translate anything! ANYTHING! I can translate all of the lost documents of the world, revolutionize archaeology, and everything! But the first thing I tried it ouit on was the ancient manuscript, as I had been burning with curiosity for years. And once I started reading, I became fascinated, and have been working day and night...except for that one night out of course, a man has to have some time off."

Here he looks crestfallen. "Unfortunately, I can't find the manuscript. I don't know how, but I have lost it...somehow. But the results!!! The results I have proven! I can draw a picture of the fantastical, and watch it as if on an animation screen - only, not by gaslight using spinning wheels, but just as in life! One can watch as long as one wants, as if looking through a window. Try it, man, look for yourself!"

[Wired*Nun]

The image of the idyllic storybook place does indeed come alive. Landon can see the picture come to life, then it is as if he is standing in a window, looking at an idealized village. Walking, talking rabbits, bears, porcupines, squirrels, dressed in clothings and carring on picayune tasks abound. A sign in the background reads, "The Jolly Vole Hotel." Better than any movie on Shadow Earth...not a hint of unreality. It must be a shadow of someone's childhood imagination... Landon feels as if he could step through. It must have some reality on some level. Arthur wuffs as he sees the squirrels.

"Good chasing," Arthur growls. It's an eager, rather than threatening, growl. "Please?" He looks up at Landon pleadingly. "Want to chase, please?"

"See, I told you, you can see it too!" Landon hears from behind him. "Isn't it marvelous? We'll make millions!"

[Wired*Nun]

The fading cry of "Delacourte!" is all Landon hears as he steps into the image.

All of the village inhabitants in line of sight stop and stare. Then a cry starts from all around - "Cymaq" is what it sounds like. "Cymaq! Cymaq! Cymaq!" They rush forward, smiles on their faces, until Arthur begins barking madly. "BACK! BACKBACKBACKBACKBACK!" He barks. His hair is up on his spine and he growls mencingly. "Too many, Lan, too many of them," he snarls.

The crowd pulls back with a gasp. Everyone falls silent, except for one bunny baby whe begins crying like s fire siren. A badger bobby steps forward carefully, his baton quivering in front of him. "Now hear, you, you have to curb that hound, I say. Make him sit, get a muzzle on him. It's not safe." Cries of "Yes!" and "Muzzle him!" are taken up by the crowd.

[Wired*Nun]

The badger bobby looks puzzled, and says, "You're not Cymaq." Is that a name? A race? A political party? Some other identifier? Everyone around looks cresfallen, and most of them turn and go back about their business, shaking their heads.

The ones that are left include the badger, a vole ("Hello, Jolly T. Vole, Hotelier, nice to meet you, if you have need of a room, we're the best in Fern Hollow), a bull ("Trundleberry's the name, Baron Beauregarde Trundleberry), and a hedgehog ("Sally Hedge, pleased to meet you"). Oddly, they are all about the same size, more or less, as if all the animals, large or small, had been redone into human scale. The Baron is on the big side, perhaps 6'6" plus horns. Vole is short and fat, about 5'6".

They all are peering at him, as if not knowing quite what to make of him. "He looks like Cymaq!" "Except for the dog." "And the fur." "Oh yes, his fur is yellow, isn't it." "Maybe all Cymaqs look alike?" This and suchlike goes on for as long as Landon will let it.

[Wired*Nun]

"He looks like you!" Yes, just like you!" "He looks like a Cymaq." "Only without the dog" "Yes, and different fur on his head." It goes on and on. I guess all badgers or rabbits would look alike to me too, without a lot of practice.

[Wired*Nun]

Trump contact is very slow in coming. In fact, he only has time for about two seconds of faint contact before it fizzles. It's not blocked, it just...veers of in some strange direction...maybe it's diverted.

[Wired*Nun]

[Exactly what does "having pattern brought to mind" mean here? As in "summon the sign," which allows you to look though it? I am assuming so. Or is this "pattern defense?"]

The attempt to reach Merlin seems to work slightly better. Landon can perhaps say a couple of words before the contact fades again.

Looking at the Trump Lens through the Pattern Lens, he sees it contains some kind of Pattern and Trump energy, commingled, and imperfect. There is a flaw in the matrix, which feels like a sliver in the finger of his mind...it doesn't react to the Pattern Lens, though.

[Wired*Nun]

The reading indicated he should settle down permanently and live happily every after.

No, that can't be right...

Another reading indicates he should be trying to rescue a fair maiden in distress...or maybe it means he is in love with his mother...he's not sure.

Hmm....one more try...

This one indicates that he should treat others as he would like to be treated.

[Wired*Nun]

Shifting shadow, Landon comes round the bend to see a small, almost toy car parked on the side of the road. Looking inside, he sees there are pedals. It is pale blue, with lighter and darker patches, something like a blue sky with clouds.

[Wired*Nun]

This time, the result is a somewhat bigger car, red, convertible, bucket leather seats, and really...nice...pedals. Still, it would probably be faster than walking, at least on the road.

[Wired*Nun]

Landon rides along. It seems he can effect small changes, or even large ones, that are consistent with this type of shadow. Whe he wants a restaurant to appear, the Peggy Piggy's 50's Diner appears, full of farm animals in denim overalls. When he tries to get a gas station, it's Jonny-Boy's 3-in-1 Oil and Shoe Store. Trying to change things up a bit, he shifts to a winter landscape, and soon, passes a white woman in white fur under white ermine in a sled being pulled behind white horses. A small boy with glasses is riding along, and he hears, "Oh do shut up, Edwin," as he goes by.

[Wired*Nun]

Landon cries out in frustration, "I've had enough of this game. Show yourself, who ever you are!"

As the echoes die out, he hears the sound of the sleigh being turned around. The White Witch is coming back toward him.

[Wired*Nun]

The White Witch smiles and says, "What a nice doggie! You don't look like you belong here. Just the kind of person I like. Are you cold? Get in under the fur with me and you can have some Turkish Delight with Edwin here." "Oh yes, it's jolly good! May I have another piece, please?" says Edwin. "Well we must save some for mister...what did you say your name was?"

Arthur growls and says from the passenger seat, "I don't like her."

[Wired*Nun]

A puzzled look crosses her face. "Cymaq? I don't believe I've ever heard of them. But really, if you are cold, you should be coming along with me to my castle. Bring your charming little...vehicle, if you like."

It's getting cold.

[Wired*Nun]

She passes under snow-laden trees to her palace of winter. Her guards are warmly dressed and fat, but there are shivering peasants crying for food along the side of the road. She ignores them and head in the gates.

[Wired*Nun]

She conducts you into the courtyard, then into the palace. Taking Edwin by the hand, she leads him inside to a warm room and a sumptuously set table. All manner of food is here, and Edwin starts eating noisily. She sits down and starts eating, delicately, indicating Landon should do so as well. "So, what brings such a valiant knight to my neck of the woods?," she asks.

[Wired*Nun]

The food is fabulous, wonderful, better than anything he's ever tasted. In fact, he just can't stop eating. When he is so full he can hardly stand it, a waiter brings in a big bowl of soup. Although he is ready to pop, he can hardly stop himself, but interestingly, the more soup he eats, the less hungry he feels. Good! Because now he can do it all over again, and he commmences eating again. Edwin is doing the same, and the White Witch's absence sometime during the meal goes unnoticed by either male.

[Wired*Nun]

[Just select the text, hit the I, it will un-italicise it.]

Landon brings his Pattern Defense to mind, and he is free of the compulsion. He also sees the bowls are filled with nothing but fluffy snowflakes, and his mouth is almost frostbitten.

Arthur continues to gobble away, as does Edwin.

[Wired*Nun]

[Well, defensive spells are generally something to quickly defend against an attack. However, you can cast any spell from scratch, if you have time. Better, however, is to use your Pattern lens to examine the spell, then unravel it, like Merlin did on Jasra.]

[Wired*Nun]

Not a real problem, this magic is fairly basic. He unravels the spell on Arthur in a few minutes. If he wants to, he can do the same with Edwin.

[Wired*Nun]

He looks up at Landon, saying, "Oh my, that was funny. I just couldn't stop eating. Hullo, my name's Edwin, pleased to meet you sir. Do you know the way back to my room? I came here through my wardrobe. I know that doesn't make much sense, but it's true." He looks around. "Hullo, those fellows are coming for us, I think, we had better run."

What the boy says it true. Arthur's hackles are up and he is growling, and Landon can see that a troupe of a dozen or more guardsmen are coming into the dining room and heading for the three.

[Wired*Nun]

Arthur dashes off towards the interior of the castle, Landon following with Edwin's hand firmly in his. A moment later he has the White Witch cornered in her bedroom, hiding behind her covers and saying, "Nice doggie, nice doggie." She is holding out a bit of Turkish Delight for Arthur.

[Wired*Nun]

"Ummm...whatever I have, of course. What do you want to know? I don't know who any Cymaq is, or what that means." Landon thinks she is telling the truth, for the moment, anyhow.

[Wired*Nun]

"How to get out of where? I have the whole of the land in thrall to Winter. I know there must be Someplace Else because this boy came from there, but I don't know where it is. I planned to do to you what I do to everyone, enslave them, and have them serve me. What else is power for?"

[Wired*Nun]

[? What next?]

[Wired*Nun]

[OK...keep going...is there something you need me for?]