A Holiday Tale
A Chronicle for Changeling: The Dreaming
Chapter 1, Turn 11 Summary

Information from the Gamemaster:

Meanwhile, elsewhere...

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"Yes, perhaps he would be a good place to get some answers," says Tess, her voice frustrated. "I don't think I'm understanding much of this. What do you say folks? Shall we head down to the Short North, and see if we can find him?"

"You took the words right out of my mouth, Tess," Jubair says. "I'm all for finding this 'Mr Tweed' but I'm not sure if we should all go. From what I know of Sluagh, I don't think they'd appreciate a large crowd of people paying a visit to ask about legends and prophecy deciphering. In any case, Kelia will definitely have to come."

"You could be right Jubair. A large crowd would probably cause him some stress," Tess agrees. "Perhaps it would be best if just you, Keighvyn, and Kelia go. Maybe Sebastian, if he can't think of anything else to do. Mr. Tweed would understand your desire to hear stories, and he might be willing to do Chris a favor, her being new. I'd feel better if Keighvyn went, for protection. He's not as intimidating as I am either, so he shouldn't bother Tweed much."

Christine narrows her eyes. "Why would I need protection?"

Tess looks at Christine closely for a moment, then grins, "Maybe I want protection for Jubair. He could start telling a really bad story. Those coffee house critics can be murder. Really though Chris, when we picked you up at the University, we were attacked by those black things we were talking about. I'm not sure if they were after you, or me, or the girls, or we just happened to be in the wrong spot," Tess snorts making it obvious what she thinks of that last statement. "Either way, I'd like to make sure that no one I know is in danger."

Chris grins slightly, mischievously. "So you think I need an escort when I go out? I was thinking of going dancing later tonight. That should be fun," she says with a sardonic laugh.

Iain interrupts, "I think you should all stay together, for now. You only think that those creatures were after our lovely sidhe chrysalid here, they might have been after the childlings instead. Besides, Tweed is not easily spooked, even by a small crowd."

"Wait! Tweed..." Tess looks to Keighvyn, "I remember him now. He's Unseelie -- real creep. He might have a grip on what's going on, but I'm not sure anyone here wants to pay him what he'll want for it."

Keighvyn sucks in a breath, his eyes turning into chips of blue ice. "Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to be cautious, just in case Tess's gut feelings are right," he says aloud.

Chris snorts delicately. "What is it you think he'll want? And what is it exactly," Kelia adds, "that makes him a creep? An unwillingness to follow ridiculous convention, or is there something else?"

"Want? Who knows what he'll want. Money, future promises, your first born. I've not heard a lot of nice things about him, so I can't say," Tess says, a bit concerned. "I can't really say what makes him creepy, just a feeling I get when I've seen him." Lowering her voice, she looks at Jubair and Keighvyn, "I've heard he walks in Shadows."

"Speaking of dancing," Kelia comments. "Or were you referring to something other than the Shadow Court?" Chris pauses, looking faintly bewildered for a moment. She scrunches her eyes together and mutters, "Gawd. My life isn't complicated enough."

"Well, there's no point in us cowering in fear just because he might 'walk in shadow.' A Sluagh is a Sluagh and he'll still have information. Most of the time they just want to swap details - info for info, that sort of thing." Jubair looks around. "Let's not hang around anymore - the more information we have by tonight, the better informed we shall be for Kelia's presentation."

"Count me in. Who's riding with me?" Sebastian pulls his car keys from his pocket and twirls them on his index finger. He motions to the door. "Shall we?"

"I'll follow," Chris says. "I know the area. And the hallucinations appear to have stopped. Do you want to ride with me with the girls?" she asks Tess.

"That's fine." Tess says.

Ian smiles, "Good luck. You have my number, and I shall be at court tonight." He bows deeply before Kelia, "I leave thee, Steel Flower, with utmost regret. Au revoir, milady."

Kelia smiles at Ian's courtesy. "Goodbye," she says, nodding respectfully.

Chris, briefcase and travel mug in hand, locks up her house and ushers the girls and Tess into her Pathfinder. She turns the music down and follows the men in their car. At a stoplight, she turns to Tess and asks, her expression a bit bewildered, "'Steel Flower'?" She finishes her coffee before arriving at the tea shop.

Tess smiles slightly. "Perhaps he sees the strength in you. Least he didn't call you Steel Rose."

Chris snorts. "I guess it's better'n 'Yo, Bitch'." she winces and says toward the girls, "Uh, sorry."

******************

It takes remarkably little time to discover Mr. Tweed. Once within the Short North the octet parks their two cars and begins searching the coffee houses one by one, following Jubair's eshu talents for coming to the right place at the right time.

He's in a small, dark café called 'Mandarin Spice' nestled between an occult bookstore on the one side and fetish wear shop on the other. Inside, it's decorated all in black and orange teacups. Tea cup wallpaper, tea cup knickknacks, tea cup floor tiles... It seems the sort of place the Mad Hatter of Wonderland fame would have appreciated. A teen-aged vamp wanna-be appears to be the waitress, she's leaning across the counter speaking with a very fat middle-aged man whose t-shirt proclaims: 'Cuthulu '96: Why chose the lesser of two evils?'. Judging from his demeanor and the fact that he's got a hand on the cash register, you'd guess he is the owner or manager of the place.

There's only one customer, and it's obvious he's Mr. Tweed. He sits in a corner, with a tea pot and cup, reading a thick, leather-bound book. He wears a dark black suit and white shirt of Victorian cut, and a top-hat hangs on the knob of his chair. A silver-handled walking stick leans against his table. His face is pale, like all sluagh, and he has the typical bruised mouth. But his clothing appears impeccably clean, and his hair his trimmed neatly at a very respectable length. All in all, he looks like he just walked out of a Dickens story.

"That's him," Tess says lowly to Jubair. "I'm not sure exactly what we're looking for, so how bout me and the girls sit down right over there." Tess points to a pair of tables close enough to hear normal conversation, but far enough from the sluagh to not seem to be on top of him.

Kelia entered with the rest. She defers to the others for introductions, occupying herself by checking the menu for high-octane coffee drinks. The menu lists over a hundred types of tea, but no coffees at all.

Lisa looks over at the menu board for a moment, then sticks her tongue out in distaste. Looking to Brighteyes and Chely, she says, "Tea drinkers? Or should I see if they have a soda?"

"Can I have a peach tea please?" Brighteyes asks.

Chely coughs, "I think I better have some hot tea please, Miss Tess."

Tess stands up and makes her way up to the counter, stepping next to Chris. She waits for a moment, then gets the counter persons attention. "Give me an Orange Pekoe please," she says. After making sure the counter person has her order, she orders the girls drinks. Once she has them, she makes way back to her little table, and passes out the drinks.

"Thanks, Miss Tess!" Brighteyes says before she politely takes a sip.

Chris looks over the menu and sighs. When it's her turn to order, she says, "Ah'd like the peach ahced tea, please. With lemon." She takes her drink, squeezes the lemon, and stirs it around with a straw. Unlike her coffee, she adds no sweetener. Chris then slides into a seat at the table with Tess and the girls. "No coffee," she grouses softly. "No wonder Ah've never been in here." She smiles, almost laughing.

The teen-aged Goth. girl sullenly takes everyone's order and the fat man gets the drinks. Once finished, they return their discussion of Anne Rice's books.

Keighvyn leads everyone over to the sluagh's table.

Keighvyn inclines his head graciously. "Mr. Tweed, I presume?" He keeps his voice low in consideration for the sluagh's sensitive hearing, and patiently awaits an answer.

The sluagh's voice is a cultured murmur, rather then a windy whisper. "You presume correctly." He takes a slow sip of his tea, "What does the Hawk's hatchling want from me?"

"Greetings. I am Jubair, this is Sir Keighvyn and this is Kelia," he says as quietly and politely as possible. "May we partake in your time and knowledge in order to assist us in translating a prophecy?" he continues as he sits down.

The sluagh glances, unsmiling, at the eshu. "I know the prophecy. Why would I help you?"

At this, Keighvyn gives the others a look that says, "OK, what now?"

Sebastian leans to Keighvyn and whispers as quietly as possible "Time to haggle." Sebastian takes a step towards the table. His voice is a shade lower than usual. "Mr. Tweed, we need information. We know that you have information of many sorts, and that you often trade it. What would you like in exchange for this knowledge? You name your price, and we'll see what we can do."

Before he Mr. Tweed can respond, Sylvana walks to the table and kneels formally to the Sluagh. "My name is Sylvana Kyteler Brechtfeld," she says quietly, "Squire to Sir Emmerich Abelard Brechtfeld of the County of the Buckeyes, and Student of the Great Craft." She stands and brushes several unruly wisps of hair from her forehead. "If there is an item that you need crafted, fixed, or otherwise dealt with, I can help. I offer my services in exchange for the information we seek."

Mr. Tweed puts the tips of his fingers together, forming a triangle with his hands. "I did not ask what you would pay for my help, I asked why I might help you." he murmurs.

He glances at everyone, "I recognize most of you. But the sidhe lady, Kelia, she must be the chrysalid the Countess was warned to expect." His soft murmur somehow carries easily throughout the café. "I require nothing at the moment, tell me what you know, and I shall tell you what I know. Perhaps later, you might grant me a favor. I collect favors, after all."

"All I know is that it's connected to the Nibelungenlied." Kelia says.

Tess watches Tweed over the glass of her iced tea, her intense eyes watching Jubair and Kelia deal with the Sluagh. Setting her glass down, she leans back in her chair.

Mr. Tweed smiles, "As I said, what do you know of the prophecy now?"

Tess speaks up then, "We could quote it to you. Jubair delivered it, as I'm sure you're aware." Her eyes sweep over the others. "I doubt you really need it though hmmm?"

Mr. Tweed smiles and bows his head at the back-handed compliment.

"I've a couple of questions you might be able to handle," Tess says, "What can you tell us about the Fomorians? Have you any thoughts on what the Four Lights that the prophecy might be? And do you know of any people or places that represent the four seasons? Either here, or in the Dreaming?"

Mr. Tweed smiles and murmurs, "Without light or dark there are no shadows..." Ignoring Tess' questions, he looks at Brighteyes and Chely. "What do you think is going on, young ones?"

Tess hovers protectively over Brighteyes and Chely.

Chely gives a small cough but says nothing.

Brighteyes shoots a concerned side glance at the other girl, then focuses her attentions to Mr. Tweed. "I'm not sure... You all are saying very confusing things that makes my head hurt. Without light and dark there are no shadows.. huh.. So you're saying there HAS to be good and bad, and that there are things in between."

Mr. Tweed nods solemnly at the answer, murmuring, "And Night in turn gave birth to day..."

"And bad things have good babies... or something..." She blushes and quickly puts her straw in her mouth, clearly embarrassed.

"Yes. But what does it mean to you? Why are you here?" Mr. Tweed locks his gaze on Brighteyes.

Brighteyes swallows. "To help people. At least, that's why I'm here."

Mr. Tweed nods, then turns to the others, "The seasons are neither light nor dark, they are of the Wild Magic, just as we fae. Yet the four seasons contain great lights of hope against the darkness, do they not? Harbingers of happiness and joy?"

Tess thinks for a moment, then nods. "Each seasons holds a bit of both, beginnings and ends."

"No, no. Think. What does each season hold? Be more literal, less symbolic." Tweed murmurs forcefully.

Tess leans back, her eyes thoughtful, after a moment she murmurs, "Equinox? Solstice?"

"Time?" Keighvyn asks softly, throwing another idea into the mix. "Or days and weeks?" He shrugs. "Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter..." He taps a slim finger against his chin, seemingly lost in thought.

"Indeed," Jubair adds. "Even Winter shall bring happiness in a way, as we will need to band together to survive it. Perhaps it will promote understanding and preparation for a new Spring again... " he trails off.

Chris shrugs. "Each season is marked by distinct climactical conditions. Other'n that, beats Hell outta me." She shrugs again and drinks more tea.

Brighteyes says almost forcefully, "Weather!"

"Beltaine, Litha, Samhain, Yule..." Keighvyn says softly, counting on his fingers, speaking more to himself than to the others.

"Ahhhhh..." Tweed breathes softly, "Holy Days, yes? Cosmic forces falling into alignment, reverence, awe... seasonal. Holy Days, Holydays, Holidays. Yes? Periods of childhood wonder? A glamourous time..." Tweed nods, "There is a great deal of glamour to be had from holidays..."

"The connection between the prophecy and the Nibelungenlied," Kelia says. "Do you know what it is?"

"No. Not exactly. But I suspect you will discover that in time." Mr. Tweed murmurs in return. "There is scroll written by Thomas the Rhymer called a 'On Being an Old One'. Most scoffed at it, and very few copies still exist. Tobias, the Countess' scribe, holds one in his bookshop. You may find some answers there."

Looking at Tweed strangely for a moment, Tess says, "Thank you Tweed, you've been helpful, I hope." Looking to the others, Tess says, "At least it's another step."

Jubair nods agreement, "Thank you, Mr. Tweed. I believe this place you have suggested should be our next destination."

"We owe you a favor some time Tweed, and we will abide by our debt. I warn you now, we shall do nothing to endanger the Countess, so chose some other favor when the time comes," Tess says. She looks to the others to see if they have anything further to add.

Mr. Tweed places a long, spindly hand on his chest, "Why should I wish harm to the Countess? You see only surfaces, warrior. You must begin to see into the depths as well."

With a laugh, Tess says, "Don't judge a book by its cover? Thought that was my line." Looking more closely at Tweed, she continues in a serious tone, "I don't accuse, I merely set the limits of our bargain."

"How very trollish of you." Tweed murmurs, "Good day."

Tess nods her head in respect, and collects the everyone. "Next stop," she says. She leads the girls out to Kelia's car, and opening the door, shoos them in.

**********************

It is only a short drive from the Short North to Tobias' quiet bookshop in the German Village. He is not there, but a heavyset young man with thick glasses who introduces himself as Tobias' clerk is happy to help.

Tobias does in fact have a copy of the scroll, though it is not for sale. Fortunately, Tobias has a liberal lending policy for those on his 'special customer' list, a list which Sebastian, Tess and Keighvyn are on.

Handling the scroll delicately, Tess smiles politely at the clerk. "We will get this back to Tobias as soon as possible," she says. "If either you or he needs it back before we bring it, call me at the Greymayre Institute."

Looking to Christine, Tess says, "I hope you don't mind going back to my place. I think Chely needs to rest." With a wink, she says, "I think I could scare up some caffeine for you there. Might not be the quality you are used to."

Chris squirms a bit. "I like coffee," she says, somewhat defensively. She glances at her empty travel cup. "I am going to have to run by my house, though, before I go to my meeting. I can't see Dr. Schmidt in this," she says. "He's sort of weird like that."

"You're driving," Tess says good naturedly. "I should warn you though, this meeting will be different than any meeting you've been to before."

In the car, Lisa is fairly quiet, the soft rustle of paper as she reads the scroll to herself.

*******************

Arriving at the Greymayre Institute, Tess leads the way into the school, smiling to the security guard with a wave. Quickly, she leads the group back to her quarters.

"Chely, why don't you go lie down? I'll have the nurse bring you your medicine," Tess says to the failing childling. "If anything important comes up, I'll come get you."

Once everyone is settled, Tess says, "I'll read it out loud, so everyone can hear it, then you guys can check it out." With that, Tess starts reading. She quickly falls into a lecturing voice as she reads, but she reads quickly, without faltering on stranger words. When she's done, she sets it on the narrow coffee table before the couch.

Keighvyn keeps his eyes shut as Tess reads, and doesn't open them for a few moments afterward, apparently turning things over in his mind.

Kelia frowns. "So does 'old one' refer to the fae, or to some specific people?" She scrunches up her face. "May I read that myself? I'd also like to make a copy and scan it in to my computer, if that's okay. Y'all have a copier here, right?"

Lisa nods. "Yeah, we got copy machines all over the place, it's a private school," her voice is slightly teasing. "Or you could use my scanner. It's right over there," Tess nods over to a slightly cluttered desk with a laptop computer plugged in, with several gadgets attached. The scanner is a large, poster-sized scanner, used for large documents and pictures.

Chris takes the document and places it on the scanner bed. "How good's your OCR software?" she asks, already busily typing and clicking. She scans each page...

But it won't scan. The scanner reads each page as a blank sheet. Chris tries everything she knows, but has to conclude that something about the document prevents the scanning.

"It seems to me, that these Old Ones, are the same as the Tuatha de' Danann that your uncle mentioned Jubair," Tess says. "As well, the Dark Ones are the Fomorians. And it looks like we are about to be swept up on some fight between the two."

"Are you sure the Dark Ones are just the Fomorians?" Jubair asks. "I doubt they would act alone - perhaps there are non-Fae among their ranks, who serve unwittingly."

Nodding her head, Tess says, "The impression I got, was that these, 'Old Ones' and 'Dark Ones' were separate from the Fae. Iain mentioned something about Tuatha de' Danann and the Fae. Didn't he say that the Fae used to kinda like, serve the Tuatha de' Danann. Serve doesn't sound like the right word, but its all I can think of, " she finishes sheepishly. "He also said there were Greater Darks, and Lesser Darks. He said the Fomorians were the Greater Darks. He said there were Lesser Darks that haunt the Dreaming as well."

Tess thinks for a moment, then says, "The scroll mentions that many of the Dark Ones and their servants don't realize that they are serving the dark at first. It also says that they are capable of tricking people, and I assume Fae, into doing things they would not normally do."

"Maybe those three aspects are all interlinked with the Light and the Dark in some way or another. Which of the three aspects is good or evil is not for anyone to say - as far as I know they just _are_ and the good or evil is linked to how they are used." Jubair pauses for a moment, then continues. "I know it's a stretch and fairly improbable in the context of the scroll, but couldn't it be possible for the Light and the Dark to obey the same maxim? That the Light may not necessarily be inherently good and the Dark inherently evil?"

"What are these Wyld and Weaver that it makes mention of so often. Does it have anything to do with Banality and the Dreaming?" Tess asks.

Jubair thinks hard for a moment. "It reminds me of something that one of my tutors said to me when I was learning Soothsay. He had frequent dealings with 'mages' and they spoke of three forces - Dynamism, Stasis and Entropy. I get the feeling that the 'Wyld' and 'Weaver' that the scroll speaks of may correspond to two of those forces. As to a Banal connection, didn't the scroll say that Banality was the result of the powers of the 'Weaver' being misused?"

Tess scans through the scroll quickly, and says, "'It would, of course, pain them to know it but despite the beliefs of most fae Banality is not of the Dark, but rather the magic of the Weaver, neither Light nor Dark.'" She reads further for a moment and nods to Jubair, "Yeah, it says that the Dark can't corrupt the Magic of Making, or Weaver, but it can corrupt those that use it. A small distinction, but important. I guess my question is, what do they really have to do with the Light and the Dark. Why are they in this scroll?"

Keighvyn opens his eyes, and says quietly, "It says on the scroll that 'the magic of the Wild is often harnessed on holy days.' And Tweed kept mentioning holidays when we talked with him." He frowns. "The next big holiday is Samhain --- Halloween. My uncle Ciaran used to tell me that the veil between our world and the Otherworld is thinnest then --- maybe something big is going to happen then?" His brows draw together. "Like, say, the forces of the Dark making their move?"

Tess nods in agreement, "Yes, the prophecy mentioned that the Dark would be assaulting the seasons. How did it go again Jubair?"

Jubair sighs and rattles the prophecy off again:
"When the Dark comes rising, four lights hold it back.
"Spring, Summer, Winter, Fall, each shall Dark attack."

Nodding her remembrance, Tess says, "Tweed seemed to think that it meant that the Dark would actually be attacking the Holiday, perhaps as the greatest source of 'light' of the season. Does that mean it will be trying to ruin the holidays?"

"Man," Chris mutters, "talk about trick, no treat..."

"From what I've heard so far, that sounds like a damn good conclusion." Jubair thinks for a little while. "The next holiday is Samhain, isn't it? That gives us about two mont-" he cuts himself off when he realizes what exactly is involved in Samhain.

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