The prompt here is a little too specific to work seamlessly into Lord Derby's epilogue, since I'd have to explain why a character is known as the tailor without having it mentioned in the last year at all. So we'll take a detour....
The tailor's lost suit Isabella Bonfontaine sat at a desk in the Norwich Reading Room watching as the young woman on the other side set out book after book in front of her. Each book was opened and then laid slightly overlapping so that a specific set of pictures could be seen. Isabella's face was impassive, though partly because the left-side was immobile due to a stroke many years earlier. "Let me get this straight," said Isabella finally. Her voice cracked a little from the dry air in the room, but she controlled it quickly. "You want me to find a suit? A cloth garment? That's been lost for over three hundred years?" "Yes," said the woman opening the books. "But it's not like there aren't clues to its location." "That's not the issue," said Isabella. She tried to control her voice, but she couldn't escape the feeling she was talking to a particularly slow child. "The issue is that there are no fabrics, natural or man-made, that would survive for three-hundred years without some effort being made to preserve them. Unless this suit has been buried, or put in a vault of some kind, or looked after with obsessive levels of devotion, moths, bacteria and small mammals have eaten it. Without at least some guarantee that someone wanted to preserve it, this is a fool's errand." "Do you believe in magic?" Isabella could almost appreciate the effect the stroke had had on her face at times like this, as it made it much easier to hide her emotions. She did believe in magic and had seen various instances of it throughout her career. She'd located two Books of Miracles and watched as incompetent idiots had attempted to use them for their own venal ends, and watched them come to bad ends as a result. But she absolutely wasn't going to tell a complete stranger this. "I can see you don't," said the young woman. She smiled, looking slightly sad. "I know I must sound a bit... weird, but this isn't any suit, it's the Tailor's suit. Johannes Tailor, who is a direct-line-of-descent student of John Dee. The suit was especially created for him by angels under his control, and it was intended to make magical working easier. It's got the names of eight hundred angels woven into it, and it cannot rot, be torn, or even be dirtied by the impure. And all of mankind is impure." Isabella decided not to comment on that, as she would have been harsher about the general state of mankind. "That would make this an artefact," she said, her voice now deeper, slow and deliberate. "Ah," said the young woman, blushing. "I suppose that might be true." "My rates go up," said Isabella. "Where is your suspicion for its last location?" "Pompeii," said the young woman. "The most reliable accounts of Johannes's last days are of him going to Italy, reportedly to visit Pompeii and speak with the dead there." Isabella sighed and sat forward. She pulled the books towards her. "Let's see your research then," she said. She rubbed the bridge of her nose with finger and thumb. "I rather think that this is going to be guarded a lot better than anyone bothered to write down." "Why do you think that?" "Experience."
2 comments:
The prompt here is a little too specific to work seamlessly into Lord Derby's epilogue, since I'd have to explain why a character is known as the tailor without having it mentioned in the last year at all. So we'll take a detour....
The tailor's lost suit
Isabella Bonfontaine sat at a desk in the Norwich Reading Room watching as the young woman on the other side set out book after book in front of her. Each book was opened and then laid slightly overlapping so that a specific set of pictures could be seen. Isabella's face was impassive, though partly because the left-side was immobile due to a stroke many years earlier.
"Let me get this straight," said Isabella finally. Her voice cracked a little from the dry air in the room, but she controlled it quickly. "You want me to find a suit? A cloth garment? That's been lost for over three hundred years?"
"Yes," said the woman opening the books. "But it's not like there aren't clues to its location."
"That's not the issue," said Isabella. She tried to control her voice, but she couldn't escape the feeling she was talking to a particularly slow child. "The issue is that there are no fabrics, natural or man-made, that would survive for three-hundred years without some effort being made to preserve them. Unless this suit has been buried, or put in a vault of some kind, or looked after with obsessive levels of devotion, moths, bacteria and small mammals have eaten it. Without at least some guarantee that someone wanted to preserve it, this is a fool's errand."
"Do you believe in magic?"
Isabella could almost appreciate the effect the stroke had had on her face at times like this, as it made it much easier to hide her emotions. She did believe in magic and had seen various instances of it throughout her career. She'd located two Books of Miracles and watched as incompetent idiots had attempted to use them for their own venal ends, and watched them come to bad ends as a result. But she absolutely wasn't going to tell a complete stranger this.
"I can see you don't," said the young woman. She smiled, looking slightly sad. "I know I must sound a bit... weird, but this isn't any suit, it's the Tailor's suit. Johannes Tailor, who is a direct-line-of-descent student of John Dee. The suit was especially created for him by angels under his control, and it was intended to make magical working easier. It's got the names of eight hundred angels woven into it, and it cannot rot, be torn, or even be dirtied by the impure. And all of mankind is impure."
Isabella decided not to comment on that, as she would have been harsher about the general state of mankind.
"That would make this an artefact," she said, her voice now deeper, slow and deliberate.
"Ah," said the young woman, blushing. "I suppose that might be true."
"My rates go up," said Isabella. "Where is your suspicion for its last location?"
"Pompeii," said the young woman. "The most reliable accounts of Johannes's last days are of him going to Italy, reportedly to visit Pompeii and speak with the dead there."
Isabella sighed and sat forward. She pulled the books towards her. "Let's see your research then," she said. She rubbed the bridge of her nose with finger and thumb. "I rather think that this is going to be guarded a lot better than anyone bothered to write down."
"Why do you think that?"
"Experience."
Greg - yeah, I could see how that might present some difficulties... glad you found another avenue to take this prompt down :)
Oh, you went with Isabella! Good choice :D
This is an intriguing search. I hope we get to hear what happens next at some point.
Post a Comment