Deja vu, that feeling that something ... like this ... has happened before.
Hello? It’s kinda dark.
Sir Martin is riding south with a lot of bucketheads in tow, including Richard, Earl of Bucketheads. North Allerton is their stop for the night. Sir Martin mentions that he stayed in the abbey at Mount Grace before.
Cecily says, “They let you in? Things have changed, dear brother. It’s a priory.” (ed: priory - A monastery governed by a prior or a convent governed by a prioress. aka We shun the world, no talky, go away you silly English kayneggit)
Sir Martin is confused. “But we stayed there.”
Father Barnabas says, “But it’s a priory.”
“Since when?”
“Since, like, always. Duh.”
Sir Martin fetches a map. “See, there. Father Steven was in charge.”
Father Barnabas says, “But the monks don’t speak.”
Sir Martin wonders who it was that went to that priory then, and where he was when it was happening. He was sure that other people were with the person who spent time with the monks who weren’t there saying nothing to nobody.
Richard, Earl of Buckethead says, “It sounds like a mystery for morning,” and Sir Martin agrees.
Hello? Is anyone out there? I could use a little help here.
Vivienne heads back to her chambers, her work in the dungeon finished.
Donal says, “Umm, what about the bodies?”
God Laurens says, “Enough, we got what we wanted. Work on the trinket. And the Duke wants to speak to you. Tell him about Martin and our suspicions about him.”
Hey, he isn’t even really there. What about me?
Donal goes to mess with the guards. “Yeah, there was an accident with the prisoners.”
“What kind?”
“The kind that it’s best not to ask about. Look elsewhere. What’s your name?”
God The guard thinks for a bit. “Barnefild.”
Donal goes looking for the man in charge of the dungeons, Edmund the Quick (a young, attractive widower, once pious and now VIP customer at Catherine the Bawd’s House of Discreet Delights). Edmund isn’t in the watchpost, so he drops a veiled threat to a guard, and a runner goes to fetch Edmund from the den of iniquity. He shows up looking a little tired.
for (i = 1 to many) {
Donal: Ask me no questions, I’ll tell you no lies. There was a little accident. Blame Laurens.
Edmund: wtf happened to my prisoners? They were scum, but under my protection. We got rules, you know.
}
Donal says he’ll provide an explanation, but the Duke wants to keep it quiet for now.
Edmund is really keen to hear this “explanation”, but he’ll wait. For now.
Guys? Yoo-hoo
Thomas is drooling in his dinner. The monks gather up Gwynedd, Thomas, and Gabriel and carry them off. His book bird waits until the coast is clear and flies up into the rafters. They’re talking in Latin. That’ can’t be good.
Gabriel, of course, is just faking. He and Thomas get taken down into the cellar. They take Gwynedd to the chapel.
Oh that can’t be good.
Down in the dark (the only torches are at the foot of the stairs), the monks carry them through a twisty maze of passages, all alike, finally setting them down. There’s rustling from over by Thomas. Gabriel leaps into action. He hits one, and it feels like he’s hit a brick wall. He gets knocked flying and bounces off a wall.
Seems like they can see in the dark. And are strong, fast, ignore most lesser wounds, are merely inconvenienced by losing a limb, don’t like getting poked in the eye (but then, who does?), and can only be killed by decapitation. They don’t bleed, but there’s a sizzling like acid from the places where they get cut open. And there’s seven of them, though at first, only four come to play with Gabriel. He escapes to the stairs, up the stairs, fake!, now down the stairs, but oh, *slam* that’s gotta hurt.
I’d give them a good smacking
The bird gets into the mix, providing a brief distraction and getting smacked for it’s troubles. But it’s nigh-invulnerable, so it bounces back and picks up the torch so Gabriel has some light.
Back up the stairs he fights, and cleaves another head, but he’s gonna get pulled down eventually. He makes a break for it to the stables to find dead perfectly happy horses, grabs one, and rides out to safety. The bird tags along. “What about Thomas? Where’s Thomas? Um, about Thomas.... Oh, and by the way, where’s Gwynedd?”
Um, right here? Hello? Bueler.... Stupid bird.
Vivienne goes to see the Duke and gets admitted quickly. He’s having his meal. “Have you dined?” he asks, inviting her to sup with him. She actually accepts (in your face, Donal). He wants to hear her version of events.
So Vivienne says, “Mt. Grace, spirit, dead baby, murder of two folks, AotLotF (Evil Bastard), diversion from Mt. Grace, investigated nature of murders, seance (Laurens), contact spirit of dead woman.”
The Duke asks, “You speak with the dead?”
“Not usually,” Vivienne replies. “Laurens was persuasive.”
“I hear there were self-rightous knights interfering with your little sinister dabblings in the infernal arts difficulties,” says the Duke.
“Sir Martin was against, came to stop, Laurens attacked (ed: nice frame job, Viv! Viv: Silence, fool.), Sir Martin became angel a fifteen foot (Sir Martin: Hey! Sixteen) winged soldier (Sir Martin: That’s angel! Viv: Shut up, you superstitious buckethead. Besides, you’re not here. Curse these editorial digressions.), we agreed to break off our attempt for the moment, he collapsed, then he and Father Barnabas rode off. Concerned about danger from Florence, we returned.”
“Tersely said,” remarks the Duke. “In any case, Florence is being held.”
Yeah, about that. “I visited Florence to interrogate her.”
“So you count interrogation among your skills? Quillius’ sick little hobbies teachings are vast.”
“Laurens was there to assist,” Vivienne says.
“Yeah, I’m sure he was.”
“So the Dark Man isn’t so much interested in you or your piddling little city York, but rather members of the group, like myself and possibly Sir Martin. And then, oops, Florence burned up and other prisoners died.”
The Duke wonders if Vivienne interrogated them too.
“No, just a boo-boo. My bad.” She pecks at her meal.
“So have you heard from Quillius?” asks the Duke.
Nope, he just left two days ago without leaving word, like he usually does.
“It must be hard studying under him,” says the Duke, “a young maiden needs some pleasure in life. Let me know if I can hit on seduce ride the pony hunt the unicorn help.”
“I am content,” says Vivienne.
Yeah, you’re having dinner.
Meanwhile, the bird/book is showing a portrait of Thomas to Gabriel. He concentrates, but nothing happens. “He must not be awake,” says the bird. Stronger minds can sometimes use the portaits to spy,” proving that it has the same survival instincts of its master....
“Who else do you have?” asks Gabriel.
“Just places. Where’s Thomas?”
“Down in the basement.”
“Gwynedd?”
Right here.
“In the chapel.”
The bird pulls up a sketch of the chapel. “What good is that?” asks Gabriel.
“To show you the layout for a rescue.” It flips to a sketch of Vivienne instead. Gabriel concentrates and gets through.
“Yes?” says Vivienne.
“Yes?” asks the Duke.
“Gwynedd and Thomas were captured by the monks of Mount Grace. I couldn’t stop them. They were strong, and only die from losing their heads,” sums up Gabriel.
“How can we get to you if Gwynedd and Thomas are captured?” asks Vivienne.
“Huh?” says the Duke.
“Gabriel is talking to me,” explains Vivienne. “There’s trouble at Mount Grace. Gwynedd and Thomas were captured, and the monks are extremely difficult to kill.”
“Why capture an artist and a foreign spy Welsh whore singing ox hedgewitch bard?” asks the Duke.
That’s what I want to know.
“I don’t know,” says Vivienne, “but they need help.”
Got that right.
“Then help they shall have. I shall send for my troops.”
Today would be nice.
“They need help now, they may not last until morning,” says Gabriel, “Vivienne, Laurens, and Donal, or just Vivienne and Laurens.” (Donal: Hey!)
Not last till morning? Wait a sec...
A scene change? I thought I was getting rescued.
Donal goes looking for the chancellor (or chamerlain, it’s so hard to tell them apart). He gets the guards instead, and they’ll “pass a message”. He’s fresh out of paper (all those betting slips), so he goes back and writes up a “I’ve got information about the dungeon” note, but runs into Vivienne coming down the hall.
“Gabriel wants the Scoobies,” says Vivienne. “Find Laurens.”
“Look for the dead bodies,” says Donal, “he’ll be around.” He drops the note with the guards.
Vivienne sends a page to find Laurens to tell him to come to Thomas’ room. She and Donal go to Thomas’ rooms, and Donal conveniently has a “key”. There aren’t any useful paintings, just scrawls and the usual assortment of junk. (Thomas: Trebuchet! Everyone: Junk!)
Gabriel calls back. “Found them?”
“Just Donal.” (Donal: Hey!)
“Ok, whatever. Come on through.” He starts to pull Vivienne. She grabs Donal, saying, “Don’t get any ideas,” which just starts giving him ideas. They step through and they’re at the woods by Mount Grace. In the dark.
Gabriel sums up. “Beat up by monks?” is Donal’s wry observation.
“Do you have a plan?” asks Vivienne.
“Nope. Gwynedd sensed some badness had washed down, but she figured Vivienne could see it better.” Sure enough, Vivienne senses a trickle of badness washing down.
Gabriel tells the bird to turn to Thomas’ page again.
Thomas wakes in the darkness –
Hey, what about me? I can wake in darkness too.
– in a room with other tied-up people moving about. He concentrates on his ropes and tries to turn them into something else. The universe holds its breath, but then nothing happens.
Ropes? I can do ropes. Why does he get the ropes?
He scrapes off his blindfold. It’s still dark. He puts his trust in Gabriel, and pesters his neighbors for a while, but they wriggle away without saying anything.
He hears a Voice. “Thomas?”
“Ouch, not so loud. Did the bird find you? His name is Orro.”
“That’s not important right now.” She pulls him through the picture. Thomas mentions the people back there, who he thinks are the monks. Not the monk monks, but the monks. The other monks. Something’s going on....
Gabriel has his doubts.
“They weren’t talking,” says Thomas.
Vivienne tells him to draw Gwynedd.
The End
What?
No, really, it’s The End.
You’re kidding, right?
Ah, you got us.
Alright then.
Psyche. The End.