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League game, Part III
Sorry for the delay. Here's Dorothy's letter home, continued still further. (Alas, not yet completed.)
Part One
Part Two
When Jay started explaining, it all changed somehow. It didn't feel narrow and dismal anymore; it felt -- oh, how can I explain it? -- it felt like being on an adventure again. It was like the old days, when Glinda had found some trouble in her Book, or somebody had come to the Emerald City with a trouble, and we knew we'd have to go and put it to rights.
Well, this was a trouble and no mistake. Jay called them sirens; they looked to me like mermaids, only ugly and spiny, and from the stories he told, they sounded every bit as ugly as they looked. It seems they'd been chewing into the bottoms of passing ships, and killing everyone aboard. (Jay wouldn't give me the pictures of what they'd been doing. I looked at Mr. Preston's afterwards, and they were dreadful; you can't imagine it. Or, anyway, you shouldn't imagine it.)
And that's what they called us together for: to put it to rights. We were to set off for a place called Glasgow that very night, to find out why the mermaids were sinking ships, and to put a stop to their wickedness.
We spent some hours reading through the files they'd given us. I soon found out that while Jay and Miss Poppins knew about fairy countries, none of the others did -- and they didn't seem inclined to think fairy countries, or any sort of magic at all, were real. But none of them seemed inclined to shout at me about it like Dr. White did, either, so that was all right. After all, there were photographs of the mermaids, and that's a pretty strong piece of proof.
Mr. Preston said it best, really: "Up until this morning, I would have sworn there weren't any such thing as fairy lands. But that was this morning, and before this morning I didn't know about any fish women, either." We talked about that, and about other things, until it was time to go.
Glasgow's a town in a country called Scotland, and it's so far away from Kansas that it might as well be a different world altogether. It's right on the seashore, though the shore itself is mostly rocky instead of sandy. We came there in a kind of airship called a dirigible, which is a little like one of the Wizard's hot-air balloons, only ever so much more complicated to steer.
After we landed the dirigible and hid it, we went to the Three Fishes Inn (Jay's suggestion) and settled in. It's a poky little place, sort of run-down and not very clean, but it was quite close to the harbor and that's what we wanted. Albert, the innkeeper, also said that it had a better record than most of guests coming out alive in the morning, though none of us were quite sure how much to believe that.
That evening we decided to investigate down by the harbor. Miss Poppins told me to stay behind because it was likely to be dangerous, and asked Mr. Wimsey to stay with me. Well, Mr. Wimsey didn't look any happier about that than I was, which is why when the others had left and he asked me "And what would you like to do now?", I pointed at the door and said "Follow them, of course."
He looked delighted, but he didn't agree right away because he was worried that I might get hurt. So I explained to him about the Magic Belt, and showed him how it worked -- he wanted to test it by trying to slap me and seeing what happened, and I let him -- and once he'd seen that I couldn't be hurt while I was wearing it, he said "Well, let's be off then, shall we?"
I like Mr. Wimsey -- he reminds me a little of the Wizard. He talks sometimes like he's just a silly rich man without a thought in his head, but that is mostly humbug, and he doesn't tell me to stay out of all the important parts because I'm just a little girl. I like Mr. Preston too, because he's kind and he's brave, even when things scare him. I think finding out about real magic scared him some, but he didn't act like the hateful doctors and say none of it was true.
Miss Poppins reminds me of Glinda sometimes. She's quiet and gentle and kind, but she's powerful and she doesn't bow to anyone.
I don't know about Mr. Swift or Mr. Danner. I don't like Mr. Cranston. It's a little queer to work together with someone you don't like one bit, and to be a partner to them anyway. I wonder if this is how the Glass Cat and the Pink Kitten feel -- 'cept this is different, because Mr. Cranston seems to think I'm good for something, and the Glass Cat and Eureka each think the other's useless. But I'm wandering from the story.
Mr. Wimsey and I followed the others down to the dock, being careful to stay out of their sight. But before we got there, Mr. Wimsey spotted some wet footprints leading off to one side and down underneath the dock, and we decided to follow those instead. And oh, you'll never guess what we found! -- well, come to think of it, we didn't guess what we'd found right off either. All we saw at first was a stack of big wooden boxes, all marked "J.A.P. Shipping," and the wet footprints all round them. Mr. Wimsey said it looked as though whoever made the footprints was trying to open the boxes -- so we opened one of the boxes ourselves, to see what was inside.
There were two enormous pearls, bigger than my head and shining like a dozen rainbows, packed in wet seaweed. Or at least they looked like pearls; they felt more like india-rubber balls, yielding and sort of leathery. I hadn't any idea what they might be, but Mr. Wimsey said that perhaps they were eggs, and as it turned out he was right.
We took one of the pearl-eggs and were about to head back to the inn, and that's when the singing started.
Part One
Part Two
When Jay started explaining, it all changed somehow. It didn't feel narrow and dismal anymore; it felt -- oh, how can I explain it? -- it felt like being on an adventure again. It was like the old days, when Glinda had found some trouble in her Book, or somebody had come to the Emerald City with a trouble, and we knew we'd have to go and put it to rights.
Well, this was a trouble and no mistake. Jay called them sirens; they looked to me like mermaids, only ugly and spiny, and from the stories he told, they sounded every bit as ugly as they looked. It seems they'd been chewing into the bottoms of passing ships, and killing everyone aboard. (Jay wouldn't give me the pictures of what they'd been doing. I looked at Mr. Preston's afterwards, and they were dreadful; you can't imagine it. Or, anyway, you shouldn't imagine it.)
And that's what they called us together for: to put it to rights. We were to set off for a place called Glasgow that very night, to find out why the mermaids were sinking ships, and to put a stop to their wickedness.
We spent some hours reading through the files they'd given us. I soon found out that while Jay and Miss Poppins knew about fairy countries, none of the others did -- and they didn't seem inclined to think fairy countries, or any sort of magic at all, were real. But none of them seemed inclined to shout at me about it like Dr. White did, either, so that was all right. After all, there were photographs of the mermaids, and that's a pretty strong piece of proof.
Mr. Preston said it best, really: "Up until this morning, I would have sworn there weren't any such thing as fairy lands. But that was this morning, and before this morning I didn't know about any fish women, either." We talked about that, and about other things, until it was time to go.
Glasgow's a town in a country called Scotland, and it's so far away from Kansas that it might as well be a different world altogether. It's right on the seashore, though the shore itself is mostly rocky instead of sandy. We came there in a kind of airship called a dirigible, which is a little like one of the Wizard's hot-air balloons, only ever so much more complicated to steer.
After we landed the dirigible and hid it, we went to the Three Fishes Inn (Jay's suggestion) and settled in. It's a poky little place, sort of run-down and not very clean, but it was quite close to the harbor and that's what we wanted. Albert, the innkeeper, also said that it had a better record than most of guests coming out alive in the morning, though none of us were quite sure how much to believe that.
That evening we decided to investigate down by the harbor. Miss Poppins told me to stay behind because it was likely to be dangerous, and asked Mr. Wimsey to stay with me. Well, Mr. Wimsey didn't look any happier about that than I was, which is why when the others had left and he asked me "And what would you like to do now?", I pointed at the door and said "Follow them, of course."
He looked delighted, but he didn't agree right away because he was worried that I might get hurt. So I explained to him about the Magic Belt, and showed him how it worked -- he wanted to test it by trying to slap me and seeing what happened, and I let him -- and once he'd seen that I couldn't be hurt while I was wearing it, he said "Well, let's be off then, shall we?"
I like Mr. Wimsey -- he reminds me a little of the Wizard. He talks sometimes like he's just a silly rich man without a thought in his head, but that is mostly humbug, and he doesn't tell me to stay out of all the important parts because I'm just a little girl. I like Mr. Preston too, because he's kind and he's brave, even when things scare him. I think finding out about real magic scared him some, but he didn't act like the hateful doctors and say none of it was true.
Miss Poppins reminds me of Glinda sometimes. She's quiet and gentle and kind, but she's powerful and she doesn't bow to anyone.
I don't know about Mr. Swift or Mr. Danner. I don't like Mr. Cranston. It's a little queer to work together with someone you don't like one bit, and to be a partner to them anyway. I wonder if this is how the Glass Cat and the Pink Kitten feel -- 'cept this is different, because Mr. Cranston seems to think I'm good for something, and the Glass Cat and Eureka each think the other's useless. But I'm wandering from the story.
Mr. Wimsey and I followed the others down to the dock, being careful to stay out of their sight. But before we got there, Mr. Wimsey spotted some wet footprints leading off to one side and down underneath the dock, and we decided to follow those instead. And oh, you'll never guess what we found! -- well, come to think of it, we didn't guess what we'd found right off either. All we saw at first was a stack of big wooden boxes, all marked "J.A.P. Shipping," and the wet footprints all round them. Mr. Wimsey said it looked as though whoever made the footprints was trying to open the boxes -- so we opened one of the boxes ourselves, to see what was inside.
There were two enormous pearls, bigger than my head and shining like a dozen rainbows, packed in wet seaweed. Or at least they looked like pearls; they felt more like india-rubber balls, yielding and sort of leathery. I hadn't any idea what they might be, but Mr. Wimsey said that perhaps they were eggs, and as it turned out he was right.
We took one of the pearl-eggs and were about to head back to the inn, and that's when the singing started.
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