Magic Mirror on the Wall part III

The Royal and Ancient Customs House Ball

The evening air held a special perfume on the evening of 14 Secundus in Carleon; the evening of the social event of the month, the traditional ball at the Old Customs House. Tickets had officially sold out months beforehand. Only those with the contacts or the necessary werewithal to overcome customs officers ingrained reluctance to interfere with ticketing arrangements were able to secure admission.

Those who had arranged their attendance trod the red carpet leading up the stairs of the imposing building. The men were in formal dress and the ladies shone like flowers moistend by a light dew. All looked forward to a sumptuous repast, a musical frolic and a speech from Commandant Fauchet, the famous Montaigne customs official. His attendance held out the promise of a thaw in relations between the Avalon crown and the possibly regicidal Committee of the Revolution. It had even been rumoured that a special presentation of something the Commandant greatly desired might have been arranged.

Two customs officers in full regalia greeted the guests, took their numbered tickets in the foyer of the building and directed their attention to the seating plan. The tickets were placed in a box: save for 10 whose numbers matched those on a short list held by the officers. Those tickets had a number written on them by reference to the seating plan and were swiftly conveyed through a side door by a messenger boy. The holders of those tickets were all placed on the one table near a door leading off the main hall. Table 23.

When fully seated the occupants of Table 23 were a rather odd lot.

Two gimlet eyed jennies dressed in an appallingly gauche style accompanied a pair of hatchet faced brothers. They seemed to know many of those on the other tables but their nods and smiles were universally unacknowledged. Bill and Frank Lobster were a double team. Frank lent the money and Bill guarded the debtors prison. It all worked out very nicely but gentlemen prefer not to associate with their shylocks in public.

Hugh Roberts, the well known art critic, was unaccompanied but had comandeered the spare chair for his crutches. Anyone who bumped into them earned a trenchant glare and an outburst of vitriol.

Reggie Coleson, a conspicuous member of the Explorers Society, was partnered by a rather mousy looking girl in glasses. In fact Felicity was truly beautiful and in the right gown would have outshone any of the other women in the hall but both Reggie and she seemed blissfully ignorant of that fact. She was completely overawed by the surroundings.

Caerwyddich the Druid wore his formal white robe with a sprig of mistletoe and was accompanied by a young woman in a diaphonous gown with a laugh like tinkling crystal.

What machinations could possibly have resulted in the assembly of such a mismatched company ? To answer that question dear reader, we must cast our eyes back two days earlier to Chateau D'Auvergne in that troubled land, Montaigne...

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Avon looked carefully at Piers who had stopped speaking in mid-sentence and assumed an expression like a poleaxed mule. He was almost certain that such interrupted conversation wasn't normal. Avon continued watching Piers intently as a drool of saliva ran from Piers' slack jaw. Now that, he was sure, was not done in polite company. But should he say anything ? Had the others noticed anything awry? Was Piers about to faint as he had or was this the way art affected people? He glanced fleetingly for a cue at Antonio who was facing in the other direction, his eyes following Madame Moore out the door as she left the Gallerie des Glacis. Antonio followed her.

Pistol had seen Piers strange convulsion but he had been warned against following Pistol in anything. Where was Dandelion?

"Are you feeling alright M'seiu" enquired Dandelion looking worriedly at Piers.. "Mmm, yes" said Avon quickly "you do look a bit stunned. Like a glass of water ?"

"Ah, sorry" said Piers. "My apologies" as he wiped the drool from his chin with a shrug. "That sometimes happens, I can't explain why but look at the corner of this painting. A most extraordinary thing. I think its signed somehow".

Now that he had pointed it out all of them could see it. In the bottom right hand corner of the painting was an odd formation of foliage. Three ferns lying over a paintbrush.

"You are quite right, Messieur" muttered Dandelion stooping to examine each painting in the room. "The same symbol appears at that location in them all".

A lively discussion occurred about the meaning or likely origin of the mark. Each had his own views with which none of the others concurred. All however, agreed on one thing. Carleon was likely to be the best source of information regarding Art. Suddenly Piers fell silent while interrupting Pistol. Again a drool of spittle dropped from his slack lips. This time Avon quickly mopped it with his handkerchief just as Piers recovered..

"The web footed servant's ring !" Piers exclaimed. "Wot ring" said Pistol. "Oi saw the body bein' carted off by de peasant citizens and dere weren't nothin' valuable err interestin' like a ring on it".

"Exactly Pistol" said Piers tapping his nose. "There was however a mark where a ring had been worn and the hand itself had callouses like a swordsman".

The party looked significantly at each other. A visit to the peasant citizens seemed in order.

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"Of course, if Oi weren't engaged in official business loike, den nothin, nothin could hold me back from hoppin in and helpin you citizens muck out dat dere filthy pigsty" said Pistol with a ring of sincerity in his voice gazing apprehensively at the spare shovel. "Unfortunately few can choose de manner of dere service and it is moi lot to pursue loins of hinquiry into the sad sad death of de murdered citizen Georges"

"Eh" said Napoleon dropping a pile of muck so it splashed Pistol's boots, improving their appearance, and imbuing the syllable with several shades of meaning, none of them complimentary.

"So by the autority vested in me as Potato Peeler second class in de Freiburg Town Guard oi am authorised to offer 6 Pistoles as expenses for the citizen who has kept the ring taken off Georges corpse safe".

"Sacre bleu" expostulated Napoleon through his walrus moustache. "Dis reeng, which we havent got, is worth much more than that !"

The others watched while Pistol wore the man down to grumbling acceptance of 6 Pistoles. "Take it and be dammned you feelthy Innish peeg" said Napoleon finally. "You know notheeng about bargaining..."

Pistol walked off with his prize accompanied by all but Dandelion who lurked behind the back of the pigsty.

"We weel keep an eye on dem for Citizen Louis" muttered Napoleon. "Maybe we can do them a bad turn, especially de fat one...."

The ring appeared to be made of the same strange metal as the segments of the mirror. It had a pale blue stone and was marked with intricate designs of a Sidhe nature.

"Noice" said Pistol slipping it on his finger. He pulled it, then again, increasingly strongly. It wouldn't budge. "A bit of earwax" said Pistol gathering same and spreading it on his finger. Still the ring was stuck. The others took it in turns to pull at it, some berating Pistol for his foolishness. Nothing worked until Avon grabbed the ring which then slipped smoothly off Pistol's finger onto his palm. "Oi tink you better keep it den Avon" said Pistol shaking his nearly dislocated finger.

When they returned to the Chateau Piers located Louis' bedroom. Antonio and Piers kept watch at different ends of the corridor as Pistol picked the lock and made his way inside. A loose board under the bed (which was oddly placed in the centre of the room) disclosed a trapdoor that led into the Gallerie des Glacis directly underneath.

In the wardrobe Pistol saw a black curly wig, shoes with platform soles and clothes all monogrammed "LM". He picked the lock on the bureau and quickly motioned for Dandelion to read the half written letter inside...

"Dear Monsieur,

Our plans proceed apace. The fool is unaware. His idiot friends are even stupider than the last time we met. The bitch has no idea. Our plans ripen. All we need now is....."

Pistol quickly replaces all the papers and relocks the bureau and door.

A quick conference followed where all concurred that a further trip to Avalon through the mirror was in order. A visit to Reggie Coleson at the Explorer's society, enquiries about Art and contact with the druids could all be made. Suddenly Dandelion opened the door and glanced out but all that could be seen was an unobtrusive servant at the far end sweeping away...

The party made their way to the Gallerie des Glacis and stepped through the mirror in front of Torag's Tor. As the last of them appeared in the cool air of Avalon Dandelion noted carefully the location of where they had appeared by reference to several landmarks. While doing so he saw a piece of turf that showed new growth.

A quick impromptu dig revealed a wedge of the mirror metal buried under the turf. Avon was given same and held the wedge, sliver and ring.

While walking towards Carleon Dandelion told the party of Lucius Malveck and his megalomaniacal schemes on Isle de Bete that Franz and Borstenn had helped end.

As they approaced Carleon the party passed two customs officers who were uninterested in the others but detained Pistol for some time, sharing a drink from the Barrel of Endless Ale. As he rejoined the others Pistol waved some tickets in the air, "Look, look dey actually have real tickets for the Customs Officers Ball..."

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The music swelled enticingly as Reggie and Felicity took to the dance floor. "So tell me Reggie, you know I'm simply dying to find out, how ever did you get tickets to the Ball ?" asked Felicity leaning against his chest. Reggie cast his mind back two days earlier....

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"But we cant just discuss dis here in public" said Pistol to Reggie as he examined the ring provided to him by Avon. "Wot if we're overheard ?"

"Oh absolutely old bean" said Reggie as he led the party from one of the ground floor rooms of the Explorer's Society in Carleon. "Loose lips sink ships, the walls have ears, say no more, all on the qt and very hush hush".

"What language is he speaking ?" whispered Avon.

"Come this way chaps. This is a job for the Pyramids of Privacy. You'll love this, absolutely whiz bang and top hole". "Is it Vendel, Dandelion" whispered Avon. "I don't know any Vendel but I can nearly understand him"

Reggie led the way downstairs through a security checkpoint that examined him and his companions very dubiously. "Let them all through on my personal authority" said Reggie. "If a chap can't trust chaps who claim to have been companions of Franz von Tannen and other chaps that they bring with them who can you trust" he said rhetorically. "Well all right Mr. Coleson if you say so" replied the senior guard reluctantly "but no messes this time please you know how hard it was with the blood and everything last time and the walls just repainted". "Oh that" said Reggie lightly, "that was all of a week ago and couldn't possibly happen again .... again".

Reggie started down a staircase in a large chamber that held two transparent pyramids over two chairs in the centre of the room. The pyramids were connected to several glowing rods and spheres and fat purple sparks hummed off the equipment.

"Now you take that one, there's a good chap" said Reggie steering Pistol towards one of the chairs "Oh and I nearly forgot, new procedure, just need to sign this, purely formal, red tape, official bumpf, nothing to worry about..."

Pistol deciphered the writing laboriously. So far as he could make out he was acknowledging that the experiment he was about to engage in was inherently dangerous with a significant risk of death or worse and that he, his heirs and liegemen would for ever hold the Explorer's Society harmless from any loss, damage, civil war or other adverse consequences etc. etc.

"Sounds fair enuff" said Pistol. "Yer get a lot of dis sort of paperwork in de export/import business too". Pistol pressed his fat thumb on the paper leaving a dirty mark.

"Right, start the machine" yelled Reggie as he sat in the other chair. The transparent pyramids lowered over the heads of Pistol and Reggie and they became surrounded by a purple glow that hurt to look at. They convulsed and their jaws rattled as the effect took hold...

When the pyramids rose and they regained control of their limbs Pistol mopped his forehead with a handkerchief slightly cleaner than his shirt. "Well dat was interestin" he mused to himself "Not sure if dat's were oi'd keep woodcuts of such an explicit nature if oi was him".

Reggie looked at Pistol with some distaste and muttered something about Montaigne brandy and chalk caves. They both appeared considerably subdued and reluctant to disclose what had occurred. "Less said the better" murmered Reggie "Mums the word, soul of discretion".

"So what about the ring ?" prompted Avon.

"Oh that" said Reggie brightning up and removing it from his pocket. "Well its not Syrneth, thats for sure. This type of metal has been seen before. I recall a scholar who was of the view that it came from the Central Mountains of Avalon and might be mined by the Unseelie"

"And the Lady of the Mists, what do you know of her" asked Pistol.

"Well only what everyone knows of course, she's a beautiful woman combing her hair in the northern isles whose flashing mirror lures unwary sailors onto rocks. Perilous to mortals as you know".

"And where, M'sieu could we find out about Art ?" said Pistol

"Oh Art, well Pott Street is where the artists are" said Reggie

"And what do you know of these arms" asked Avon describing the crossed muskets under the triple crown.

"Well that sounds like the arms of Pirem, High King of Breg"

"Well Reggie dats been very helpful" said Pistol. "Oim sure Franz would want you to have two of dese tickets as a token of our appreciation for your assistance".

"The Customs Officer's Ball, how delightful" gushed Reggie. "Social event of the month dont you know, well thats splendid thank you very much.."

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Hugh Roberts laughed uproariously as his crutch caught the liveried waiter in the ankle and sent him and the tray of hot pastries over the floor. "Bloody waste of space" he snarled "Don't you know who I am ?"

"Well actually I know exactly who you are Mr. Roberts" said the waiter in a distinctly unfriendly tone "and whats more I know how you came to be here. And I for one look forward to ...." "Now, now Gary" said one of the senior Customs Officers placing a hand on the waiters shoulder. "There's enough to be done cleaning up this little accident without wasting pleasantries with Mr. Roberts" Gary hurried off as the Customs Officer bowed slightly and departed.

"Whatever could that mean" thought Roberts to himself, casting his mind back to how he had come by the tickets....

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The usual riff-raff of bohemians and fops blocked Pott Street as Roberts walked his crutches down the path. Some scattered as they saw him, others looked at him angrily. Some bid him a good morning in a syrupy voice hoping for a good review. Roberts ignored them all lashing around him with his crutches and cursing them for getting in his way.

Suddenly his crutch hit a bare leg with a length of tartan above it. "Watch where yer wavin those matchsticks yer pukey sassanach cripple" said Mordred eying the critic with an air of suppressed violence.

"Don't you know who I am" snarled Roberts. "I can see to it that you never show a painting in this city again".

"And I can see to it that you'll never need crutches again" responded Mordred reaching for his claymore before Dandelion placed a restraining hand on his arm.

"Have a care for your artistic career, M'sieu" said Dandelion. "One does not unnecessarily anger a critic of the standing of Hugh Roberts".

"What is a critic" asked Avon ? Pistol took him aside to explain at length but Avon still seemed vaguely troubled and not at all sure that he should trust the unlikely explanation given to him by Pistol.

"You're never that Hugh Roberts" challenged Piers. "Am too, smartarse" said Roberts. "Well prove it" said Piers. "If you're so smart whats it mean when you see three ferns lying over a paintbrush in the corner of a painting eh ?"

Roberts drew himself up like a bantam rooster. "It means, my good fellow, that you have the misfortune to be standing in front of an appallingly naturalistic work by that least blessed of landscape artists Bruce Fern aka "Ferny Bill". Thankfully the poor slob was in the debtors prison last I heard of him. Couldn't draw a droopy clock to save himself..."

The strange collection of foreigners looked at each other and started to head off. Before they left the fat one pressed two tickets into Roberts' hand. "Thanks, you need a good noight out" he grinned. "Just say Pistol sent ya"

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"Oh Wyddich" gigled the lithe nymph at his side. "I haven't had this much fun at a mortals party for decades. None of the other druids were able to get a ticket. Did you have to be very naughty ?" she teased. Caerwyddich reflected upon the unexpected meeting that had led him to the Ball....

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"Pistol !" goggled Caerwyddich at the rotund form of his long absent friend. "What are you doing in Avalon ? If anyone sees you they'll have both our guts for garters" Pistol's explanations washed over the druid as they stood in the grounds of Druid House. Groves of oaks surrounded the park like property. "Stop, stop" he said at last. "What can I do that will get you back to Montaigne as soon as possible ?"

Caerwyddich examined the ring that Pistol motioned Avon to show him. "Very interesting, a ring of seeing. This is one of a pair. The other ring, with a red stone, will see what the wearer of this ring sees. Only works one way of course..."

In response to enquiries about the Lady of the Mists Caerwyddich explained that she was Seelie and reputed to have a mortal lover but had not been seen since the return of the Grail.

Pistol explained his idea of assembling the segments of the mirror and putting it back in the stone. "A genuinely altruistic plan" approved Caerwyddich. "Theres nothing of personal gain for you in that at all" he smiled. Pistol seemed about to reconsider the plan in this new light.

Caerwyddich hurried them out of the grounds. Pistol said thanks and that he couldn't stay long anyway and pressed two tickets into Caerwydich's hands. "Peter" said he as they walked off in a solemn distant voice. "If you do not leave Avalon by nightfall then you will meet another old friend".

"What did he mean, Pistol" asked Avon.

"Oh Druids are always goin on about 'if' this and 'then' that Avon. Don't want to take too much notice of it in moi view."

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"So yer see sir its really quite in yer interest to take advantage of Frank's generous 'Customs Ball' special offer" said Bill pushing the face of a recalcitrant gentleman debtor back towards the urinal.

"Quite, quite" spluttered the unfortunate. "Half now, half tomorrow and the last half the day after, how could I refuse ?" "Glad you see it our way, sir" said Bill releasing his hold as a whistle from one of the women alerted them to someone coming down the corrider. The gold flashed as it changed hands and Bill wandered back to Table 23 with a contented smile on his face.

Frank gave him a grin. "Whoever would have thought old Pistol would let us into this lot. Three new loans this evening and looking sharp Bill me old mug".

Bill sighed. "Yeah good old Pistol, funny running into him...."

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"Err, Frank, isn't it" said Pistol eyeing the guard at the Debtors Financial Counselling Service and Prison.

"Bill, actually" said Bill. "Surprised to see you back here Pistol".

"Yeah, well dat was over the unpleasantness with ....

"Frank" said Bill.

"Right, Frank, yes" said Pistol. "Strictly visiting this time tho Bill. We've come to see Bruce Fern".

"Well in yer come then" said Bill leading them into the building. He guided them to the cell occupied by Bruce.

Bruce was passed out on his bunk, bottles of empty Chateau D'Auvergne wine rolling around in his cell. Some astute questioning by Dandelion quickly revealed that Bruce knew a man by the description of Louis and had been stiffed by him for payment. He would appear suddenly in his cell out of thin air ! Dandelion searched and found a teaspoon from Chateau D'Auvergne with a funny stain on it.

The party decided to pay out Bruce's debt and bring him back to the Chateau. Enquiries of Bill established that 7 Guilders was owing with 156 Guilders in interest, expenses, costs, miscellaneous etc. After Dandelion paid that amount, together with the handling and early repayment fee, bringing the total up to some 170 Guilders Bruce promised to work it off for him in paintings.

As they left Bill counting the money once again Pistol thrust four tickets in his hand. "For you and Frank" he said "Fer old toimes sake".....

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"Funny you know" said the Customs Surgeon to his assistant after the Ball was over, removing his sheepsgut gloves and throwing them in the bin. "Funny how all the men said the same thing just before the internal search as they were being held down. "PIIISSTOLLL" really loudly like that as if they were angry with someone, funny eh"