Holiday Weekend and DoW Snippet

Trust UR Story Neil GaimanIn the past, part of my “real” job was writing a weekly motivational message.  I was basically “ghost writing” as/for the Senior Executive Service level director where I work, but he never made any secret of the fact that I wrote his messages.  (That was a couple of “Directors” ago.)

People would ask me (especially if they knew there were stressful or disappointing things going on) how I wrote such motivating missives week after week after week.  Well, believe me there were many weeks that I didn’t think I could write a single uplifting word.  But whenever I got started writing a message, I found that I was encouraging myself as much as I motivated my audience.  And if I heard the smallest whisper that I had lifted someone’s spirits, it sent my own faltering heart soaring.

That’s how I feel here, when anyone says I’ve buoyed them up in some small way — and that’s what keeps me coming back with a new chapter for you every weekend.  So I hope never to leave you completely adrift.Lazy Cat fluffy sad

However, it’s a holiday weekend here in the USA, Memorial Day.  And I am in desperate need of recharging my emotional batteries.  I haven’t gotten to do any of the actual writing for the next episode.  Copper and the woman in trousers still stand in astonishment as the alchemist delightedly watches his submarine rise to the surface of the water.

I do want to provide some entertainment though.  So here’s a snippet from my unpublished work The Dead of Winter.  A few of you may have seen me comment that I’d love to see this massive book turned into an anime series.

Just like live-action television and movies, some anime is gratuitous (I’m sorry, the story isn’t more interesting just because you throw in over-blown gore in fight scenes, or nudity for no real reason. And a preteen in a garter belt is just plain wrong — I don’t care what your excuse is.  See what I mean?  It’s just like regular TV.)  But I find some anime preferable to other forms of film. It can be beautifully done, particularly the backgrounds.  Here’s a video with some examples of the kind of anime into which I’d like to see The Dead of Winter made.

(There are movie clips here.)

My story has a wide cast of varied characters, but the heroine is a twelve year old girl, Emlyn. The snip below is early in the story, from Emlyn’s point of view, in the cold place her world has become.  Within The Dead of Winter I also built a world with many nations, traditions, religions, styles of dress, and societies — and magic.  I hope you enjoy this little visit to the world I built.

From The Dead of Winter

First Dream – Winter Is Coming

It was neither light nor dark, though there was a strange half-light.  The dim shapes of furniture seemed familiar as Emlyn looked around the room.  She went to the window, but could not see anything beyond it other than gray darkness.  Goosebumps pricked her arms.  She took the shawl she was required to use to cover her hair and wrapped it around her shoulders.  She felt like she should know this room; and it disturbed her that she could not place it.  Worse she felt that she should remember not liking it.

She turned to go to the door and leave, but a musical tone pierced her ears, surging in volume, but then dissipating.  As the tone died she thought she heard a voice.  Emlyn shook her head, trying to clear it.  She moved toward the door, and the sound blended with the rustle of her skirts, but she was sure she heard it again.  She froze, listening, with her hand reaching for the doorknob.

“Winter is coming.”

Emlyn tilted her head.  Had she heard correctly?  Then it came again more clearly, but still little more than the sound of dry leaves, “Winter is coming!”

DoW 06-15-2013She turned toward the sound, but saw nothing more than the oddly familiar room.  Then suddenly he was there, across the room.  He was a stranger to Emlyn, yet she felt that she knew him, even though she couldn’t see his face clearly.  Shadow seemed to cling to him even more than it did to the rest of the room.  “Did you hear that?  Was it you who spoke?” she asked.  He seemed to rush closer to her, though his feet didn’t move.  She drew back.

“No,” he replied, “but it’s true.  Winter is coming.  The Winter.  The Winter of the ages.  I know those fools have tried to stifle knowledge, but don’t tell me you haven’t at least learned about that.  You of all people should know about the Winter.”

It was plain that she didn’t know what he meant, and that seemed to make him angry.  Her hands gripped her shawl tightly.  Suddenly afraid, Emlyn didn’t know how to respond.  The voice came again, louder, “Winter is coming.”  She blinked and he was only inches away from her.

Emlyn awoke with a start and sat up in her bed.  She let out a relieved breath.  She was safe in her little room.  Then she heard it in his voice.  “Winter is coming.”  He stood at the foot of her bed.  Emlyn thought the dream must be clinging to her, and she rubbed her eyes.  He was still there.  She blinked hard.  He moved toward her and sat on the side of DoW_Cvr_Art-1the bed.  As she felt the bed shift with his weight she screamed.

Her cry roused the household.  Afanen, her sister, was there first, and then her father and brother-in-law crowded into the tiny room, demanding to know what the trouble was.

“There was a man,” she said before she could stop herself.  Their expressions were first astonished and then scandalized.  Emlyn tried to take the words back by saying, “It was a dream.  Just a nightmare.”

Her sister cut her off and exclaimed, “I had gotten up and was on my way back to bed when I heard her – mumbling in her sleep about winter.  She kept saying that winter is coming.”  Afanen wore a bemused smirk that suggested Emlyn was just a silly girl and not to be taken seriously.  She had told people often enough that there was something odd; something wrong about Emlyn.

“If she’s dreaming of men in her room, then it’s time she had a husband,” Dewydd, her brother-in-law said, barely hiding his leer.

“It was just a dream,” Emlyn defended herself.  Her sister and brother-in-law left the room to go back to bed, whispering to each other.  She heard her sister giggle as the door to their room closed.

Her father sat down on the bed, on the same place where he had sat.  Emlyn cringed, wondering if somehow her father would be able to tell that someone; or maybe some thing had just sat there.  He had gone pale, and she thought his voice shook a little.

“Winter, you say?” he looked intently at her as he asked.  “Winter is coming?  As if it was more than just winter?”

“Well yes, that’s how it was in the dream,” Emlyn told him.  However, her father sat looking at her coldly.  He seemed to appraise her, trying to determine her honesty, as if he had caught her in some mischief.

“Where have you heard of this?” he demanded as he stood.  She only looked up at him in confusion.  “It is not allowed for this to be taught.  This is blasphemy!  Where have you heard it?  Have you eavesdropped on the elders when they meet?”

“It was only a dream,” Emlyn stammered, “a nightmare.  Why are you angry?  I don’t understand.  I haven’t done anything wrong.”

Foschi_Winter Landscape with Paseant Family

***

I promise to be back next weekend with Episode-18 of  Copper, the Alchemist, and the Woman in Trousers

Update — I should have shared this to begin with. Now most of you won’t even see it… but here is a “pitch” for The Dead of Winter that will tell you about the story.  https://teagansbooks.wordpress.com/2013/03/02/pitchapalooza-the-dead-of-winter/

 

Copyright © 2012 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

All images are either the property of the author or from Pinterest unless stated otherwise.

 

Copper, the Alchemist, & the Woman in Trousers: Episode 17

Orpheus Smoky Mary float Mardi Gras

Mardi Gras Locomotive. Happy we’re back on track & ready to dance (Click here)

Back on Track

Last time I hit a bump in the road (or rather the railroad tracks).  However, the Victorian locomotive is back on schedule and running at full steam.

John W. Howell gave us the very first set of “things” to guide the plot of this pantser serial.  Happily later he sent a second set of three, which I’ve held in reserve.

You’ve heard about John’s great book, My GRL, and the first chapter is available for preview at his blog. But what you might not know about is a really cool radio interview he did.

Except for two second sets of “things,” the serial’s cupboards were bare. There was nothing to drive the train… (A second set of three things was also sent by real estate professional and cooking blogger Suzanne DeBrango.  Those will inspire the plot and setting for Episode-18.)

Alastair Wong the elder was a very minor character in both Three Ingredients serials. The set of “P” words John provided drove this plot to a connection with a different character from Three Ingredients 2, a Ghost in the Kitchen.  Those of you who were around for that story will be pleased to see this connection.

When I started “decorating” it seemed to me that the Victorians had a particular liking for mushrooms. If you think you see a theme in this episode, you are not mistaken.

The steam engine has reached the station.  All aboard!

From last time…

Cornelis held out his harmonic tuner.  A faint current of green streamed from the tuner all the way down the hill to the washing machine.  The machine wobbled, gurgled, and creaked.  The wringer started to turn again, the magic pulling the tablecloth on through as we watched.

Alchemically inscribed phosphorescent lettering appeared on the tablecloth.  The Dutchman shined the light on the cloth as it finished rolling from the mangle. 

It was in large glowing green script.  I read the word aloud, 

“Daddy.”

17.  Pistachio, Penne Pasta, Porcini

Mushrooms Hat VictorianMy first thought wasn’t exactly a thought.  All cogitation was clogged in a bottleneck of befuddled ideas.  The first thought that got through the blockage was relief that Copper was up at the pavilion.  It would be awful if the supernaturally printed word, Daddy, got her hopes up for no good reason.

I wasn’t feeling too optimistic myself, and to be honest, I was losing my sense of trust. And that single, magically written word brought out all my suppressed concerns.  As if it wasn’t bad enough that I experienced occasional twinges of distrust for Ignatius Belle (who turned out to be Copper’s half-brother), it also bothered me that I had begun having doubts about Copper’s father, Calvin Hixon.

Granted, if Hixon was abducted, he probably had no chance to leave a warning or reason.  But what if he left of his own accord?  The notion was so awful — had he willingly left his daughter with no explanation, and worse left the child on her own?

Other than his unfortunate money situation, Calvin Hixon appeared to be utterly brilliant.  Could the circumstances be more complicated than an abduction?  Did Hixon stand to somehow see a financial gain from the situation?  Could he be involved in his own disappearance?  Oh surely not, I told myself.  I’m over-analyzing things.Alice Mushroom Victorian

Most often the simplest answers are the correct ones.  But was running away as simple as being abducted…?  Had Calvin Hixon suddenly run away from his adversaries, perhaps thinking he would lead them away from his daughter, thereby keeping her safe?  I’m still over-analyzing, I admonished myself.

“Felicity,” I heard my name and realized that Cornelis had called it more than once while I pondered the unpleasant thoughts about Calvin Hixon.

“Do step back,” the alchemist told me.  “Something unexpected might happen,” he said as he reached into that supernatural void through which he sometimes fetched things.

“Unexpected?” I said sardonically, knowing how often Cornelis’ tricks tended to go awry.

To my surprise he produced the long map we had been looking at on the terrace.  The area on which he had used the harmonic tuner still gave off a greenish glow.  However, the phosphorescent script “Daddy” on the table cloth had begun to dim.  Cornelis noticed that with a frown.  Hurriedly he placed the map atop the cloth.

He held up the harmonic tuner and gave it one sharp clear ring.  The tiny ping of a sound reverberated and grew.  I felt the vibration at the base of my spine.  I could feel the sound spreading outward all around us.  In the distance the big gong in front of the pavilion gave a mighty boom, the volume of which was magically transported into our midst.  I put my hands over my ears, involuntarily squeezing my eyes shut.

Cautiously, I opened one eye.  The map was copied onto the tablecloth.  At first the drawings of topography overlaid the word “Daddy,” but then the script blazed through the map.  The word shone with eye-searing chartreuse light, before stabilizing and diming to a flat pistachio green.

***

Kinkaku-ji Temple Sunset

Kinkaku-ji Temple Sunset

I don’t know if it was a meteorological effect or if it was residual magic from the previous night, but when I got up the next morning, the sky above Alastair Wong’s home blazed with yellow clouds at sunrise.  No wonder they called it the Golden Pavillion, I thought.

Cornelis said he wanted to get an early start, but judging by the activity of the household staff, I suspected they were always up at that hour.  As I admired the sunrise, the alchemist drove up in the little steam engine.

Mushroom swing Victorian girlsIt didn’t seem like there could be enough room, but Cornelis, Copper, Alastair, and I all managed to get on the road locomotive.  To my surprise, Victoria, who was so taken with Copper, insisted on coming along.  I wouldn’t have thought one more person, not even a tiny woman like Victoria, could fit on the locomotive… and she carried a large picnic basket too.  Yet somehow the tiny woman and the big basket managed to fit.  When I saw the hint of a green aura surrounding the alchemist I understood how the group of us managed to get onboard.  One of his tricks had made room for everyone.

We would part company with Alastair and Victoria when we reached the Pacific.  Wong would take the road locomotive back to his pavilion estate for safekeeping, while Copper, the alchemist, and I continued our journey.

I looked a question at the basket Victoria carried.  The night before, all the noise and vibrations from the harmonic tuners had given me a headache — and I still had it.  So I was probably frowning fiercely.  Victoria looked a bit uneasy.

“It will be past time for a meal before we reach the ocean.  Copper is a growing girl and must eat,” the tiny woman said with a sharp nod that would have settled any row.  I tried to reign in my smile, because I truly did take her seriously.Mushroom ad Victorian

“Besides,” she turned and spoke to Cornelis in a flirtatious tone that took me completely by surprise.  “You will love what I’ve done with the porcini mushrooms you mentioned earlier,” she added, and the Dutchman’s eyebrows shot up toward his hairline.

“Ah yes,” the Dutchman sighed.  “Porcini are God’s great gift to humanity, a mushroom delicate enough to flavor a sauce, yet vigorous enough to stand up to a grilled steak.”

Really…, I thought.  Should he encourage the tiny woman by flirting?  And Could Victoria actually be attracted to Cornelis?  The idea seemed not merely imaginative and impractical, but just plain impossible.  I scratched my earlobe as the idea took root.  Then I had the wicked thought that I’d like to see an argument between Victoria and Cornelis.  The Dutchman would surely get his comeuppance.

“What are you smirking about?” Cornelis asked quietly.

“Oh?  Did it seem so?  It was just a bit of indigestion,” I said with no attempt to hide my expression.

Victoria held tightly to Copper’s hand as the steam engine barreled toward the ocean.  The tiny woman’s eyes were huge with astonishment for the speed at which we traveled.  However, it was clear that she possessed a fierce determination.  She would not have gone back if the chance was offered.

***

Burrell Road Locomotive

The sun was directly overhead when Cornelis slowed the road locomotive.  We were on high ground overlooking a blue river.  Below I could see a collection of log cabins of some sort.

“Look, it’s a fort!” Copper exclaimed.

“Have we really journeyed so far so fast?” Alastair Wong said in a tone of amazement.

“What do you mean?” I queried.

“That is Fort Clatsop,” Alastair explained though I looked at him blankly.  “It was built by the explorers, Lewis and Clark and their expedition.  They spent a difficult winter there before getting back on their way.”

“And they were hungry, you may be sure,” Victoria interjected, causing Alastair to chuckle as she pulled out the large picnic basket.  “That is a fate we shall not share with the explorers,” she said to our oohs and aahs as she opened the basket.

The woman surely could not have a single drop of Italian blood in her veins, but she laid out a feast worthy of any great Italian chef.

Mushrooms Victorian ad 2“Dear Victoria!” Cornelis exclaimed and bowed.  “This is a feast worthy of the 15th-century legend, Maestro Martino de Rubeis!”

“Who?” I couldn’t help asking, even though I knew my question would meet with derision from the alchemist.

Cornelis put on a mournful face and shook his head, muttering about my lacking education.  So naturally I had to tweak his nose, so to speak.  “Oh, did you know him then?” I made my question a playful taunt.

The Dutchman narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips.  “The 15th-century, the fourteen hundreds I remind you — that was quite before my time, as you well know.  I wasn’t even born until the year 1572,” he said and continued without missing a beat.  “Maestro Martino was a culinary expert unequalled in his field at the time.  He was quite the celebrity.  He was the chef at the Roman palazzo of the papal chamberlain, the Patriarch of Aquileia.  The Maestro Martino was called the prince of cooks,” Cornelis lectured.

Then he wriggled his bushy blonde eyebrows.  “So of course I did not know the Maestro in the fourteen hundreds,” he said and paused briefly.  “I did, however, meet him during his cursed afterlife.”Vintage kitchen bouquet ad

Though I knew I should not encourage Cornelis, I took his bait yet again.  “Cursed? How so?” I asked.

“The poor soul pissed off the Pope.  Enough said.  Please pass the porcinis,” the alchemist said.

That naturally prompted animated questions from everyone.  Cornelis loved to have an audience and he told the tale of the cursed chef and his acquaintance with him most vividly while we enjoyed Victoria’s Italian feast.

 

Menu

Antipasti

Warm Mediterranean Olives with rosemary and lemon zest

Insalata de Compo: Mesclun salad with cherry tomatoes

Primi

Penne Alla Vodka:  Penne pasta with tomato, cream, and vodka sauce

Risotto Ai Porcini:  Risotto with pecorino cheese, porcini mushroom and fresh basil

Secondi

Salmone in Padella:  Pan-seared salmon filet

Menu credit:  Scottadito.com

 

Needless to say, we were all quite pleasantly stuffed.  Alastair lit a beautifully carved pipe.  I faintly heard Victoria humming what I suspected was a nursery song from her home, as Copper rested her head in Victoria’s lap.  I was feeling rather sleepy in the sunshine myself.  Cornelis looked infinitely far away in thought as he toyed with a last spoonful of penne pasta in his plate.

“What’s on your mind, Dutchman?” I intruded on his thoughts.

“The next leg of our journey,” he replied, still examining the pasta.  “I need to summon our transportation.”Mushroom faries Carrousel

He picked up a piece of penne and held it up to his eye, looking at Copper through the pasta cylinder.  Copper giggled.  I told the Dutchman that he was a bad influence.

“Copper, could I see your mystic monkeys bell?” he asked the girl.

“Why not use the harmonic tuner that is more familiar to you?” Alastair asked quietly in a voice edged with concern.

I was in agreement with Alastair Wong in his newfound concern about Cornelis and his tricks.

“You are right,” Cornelis told him.  “Ordinarily, in the working of magic it is best use implements to which one has become attuned.  However, in this case the harmonic tuner that Copper has always thought of as her mystic monkeys bell was a gift from Daddy.  And that is whom we hope to find.  So the more elements relating to him, the better.”

Copper reverently handed Cornelis the second harmonic tuner.  A detailed carving of the fabled three mystic apes — see no evil, hear no evil, and speak no evil surrounded the bell.  He looked down at the scraps of pasta in his plate and arranged three pieces of penne end-to-end.  Then the alchemist held the harmonic tuner over them and flicked the bell with his fingernail.  It gave off a sharp ping sound.

Chicks Mushroom VictorianThe pasta glowed greenly.  The aura intensified until I had to shield my eyes.  When the supernatural light abated, a jade flute lay where the penne had once been.

The alchemist picked up the flute and played a trilling series of notes.  Then he abruptly stood.  “Shall we?” he asked, and we gingerly made our way down the steep hill to the water’s edge.

Once there he piped the same notes again.  Cornelis looked at the water unconcernedly.  I looked at him impatiently.

“I don’t see anything.  What’s supposed to be happening?” I wanted to know, but the infuriating man ignored me.  “Should you do it again?” I asked motioning to the jade flute.

The Dutchman’s mouth twitched to one side in a dissatisfied way.  “Perhaps I should…” he speculated.

As Cornelis raised the flute to his lips the water started to bubble and gently swirl.  He lowered the flute without playing another note.  He wriggled his bushy eyebrows and grinned.

“You’re going to love this,” he told Alastair.Mushrooms Victorian christmas

Wong looked somewhat apprehensive.  After all, he certainly had reason to be concerned, after the wayward alchemy caused his washing machine to break down the storage building door, and do assorted other damage at his hot spring.  But he quickly caught the contagious gleam of excitement in the Dutchman’s eyes.

The movement of the water became intense.  Something was rising to the surface.  Involuntarily I took a step backward.  Victoria took Copper’s hand and pulled her several feet away from the shore.

For a moment I thought a whale was breaching.  Then I realized it was no living thing.  Wong beheld the sight with gaping mouth, but I had the impression that he at least thought he knew what was coming to the surface.  Expressions of worry and wonder were at war on his face.

When the entire large shape was in full view, I still didn’t know what it could be.  “Cornelis…” I began, but found I was at a loss for words.  “Wha—”

Cornelis Drebbel clasped his hands and a gleeful expression lit his face, as if he beheld something he had long missed.

“It’s my submarine!” he crowed.

Drebbel submarine

***

Don’t get off the steam engine yet — here’s the recipe for this episode.  It’s something for all the carnivores out there!  Bon appétit!

Recipe:  Porcini-Crusted Beef Tenderloin with Truffle Butter Sauce

Porcini-Crusted Beef

Photo and Recipe Credit:  Epicurious.com

***

Copyright © 2015 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

All images are either the property of the author or from Pinterest unless stated otherwise.

Rewind — Copper, the Alchemist, & the Woman in Trousers: Episode 16

Somebody hit the rewind button…

Inside a magic lantern in the collection of the Children's Museum of Indianapolis

Inside a magic lantern in the collection of the Children’s Museum of Indianapolis

Believe it or not, I’ve been losing sleep over this all week…  Some of my readers said they were confused by the last sequence if Episode-16.  I see that as a serious flaw in me, both as a writer and as an editor.

Just as the English language is vastly different in different parts of the world, so are the many forms of writing.  Software manuals are a world away from biographies. Speech writing has little to do with writing poetry.  Copywriting is quite different from fiction writing.  In writing a serial — though it might later be pulled together as a novel, it has to be presented in a much different way than the novel, which gives the reader the entire story at once.

Even though I meant it as a play on words last time, maybe I really did “mangle the mangle.”  The last part of Episode-16 left some of you bewildered.

Serials and fantasies are strange beasts, and this story is both.  Serials expect a reader to have a better memory than anyone is likely to have — and they demand that I repeat myself, since there’s a time-gap between publications.  Fantasy demands mental agility, and leaps of thought from both the reader and the writer. As the cherry on top, this serial is pure pantser spontaneity.  Even if part of this “game” was revising, I don’t have the time.  I already give this serial the time I should be dedicating to writing novels…

Don’t think I’m going to make a habit of this — it’s a one-time thing; a sort of experiment in serial-story-blogging.  (Somewhere in one of my “About” pages I describe everything about Indie, including blogging, as part of my grand experiment.)  I’ll take one shot at clarifying that part of the episode, addressing each of the things that confused some readers. Then I’ll either move on or move out.  Also, if I’ve broken it down too far, I’m certainly not trying to belittle anyone.  I’m showing my clarifications in bold, so you can decide for yourself. Don’t feel like you have to tell me.

Hopefully this will give a boost to anyone who might have fallen off the steam locomotive. (And now, hopefully I’ll be able to finish Episode-17.)  Let’s take the Laterna Magica backward to the last part of that mangled episode…

Someone please get the lights…

Three slide projector with dissolve transition (1886)

Three slide projector with dissolve transition (1886)

***

A subtle green aura emanated from the alchemist, alerting me that he was doing one of his tricks.  He turned the harmonic tuner onto its side and rolled it around on the map in the area Wong indicated.

“Where were you going, raven?” the alchemist murmured the question making it part of the magic he worked.

At his words, the topography on that part of the map blurred and became three dimensional.  Then a part of that area took on a phosphorescent glow.

Although mesmerized by the magical transformation of the map, I was vaguely aware of faintly padding footsteps.  I turned to see Copper, wearing a dressing gown and slippers.  She clutched something wrapped in a scarf to her chest.

“Miss Copper,” Alastair Wong addressed her in a playful tone that was likely meant to distract her from what we were doing.  “You needn’t have come down here,” he told the girl and then turned to Cornelis and me somewhat awkwardly.Copper with Flowers

“I suggested Copper go back to bed when she saw me in the hallway.  I apologize that I made a bit of noise, and she got up to see what the bother was.  Copper I hope I didn’t frighten you, in a strange place, trying to sleep,” Wong told her.  “I said that I was bringing boring grownup things to show you,” he turned and said to us.

The girl must have begun to worry that she was about to get into trouble for leaving her room at so late an hour.  She hadn’t even noticed the phosphorescent glow that meant Cornelis worked his alchemy on the map, but then, Alastair may have blocked her view.

“Yes, but I had a favorite thing to show you too!” Copper told him, clearly wanting to participate.  “Because you’ve been so nice.  This is my favorite thing that Daddy gave me.”

Suddenly I realized that Copper held her cherished “mystic monkeys” bell, which her father had given her.  It was an ornate bell with detailed carvings of the fabled three mystic apes — see no evil, hear no evil, and speak no evil.  It was also a harmonic tuner.  Yes, a magical implement with powers similar to the tuner Cornelis was using at that very moment.  The night we ran from the Hixon estate, the two harmonic tuners being in close proximity had a profound effect.  The magic the alchemist worked that night went out of control when the other harmonic tuner’s influence became involved.

I glanced at Cornelis for his reaction.  The alchemist was so focused on his trick with the map that I wasn’t sure he had even noticed Copper’s entrance.  He was completely absorbed in his work.  “What will we find here?” he muttered over the map as he rolled his harmonic tuner across the glowing area, asking the alchemy to show him what or who was in the area of the map that his harmonic tuner touched.

“Here it is,” Copper said proudly, and before I could shout a warning, she unceremoniously plopped the second tuner right onto the map on which the alchemist worked his trick.

LightningOnce again the inadvertent influence of the second harmonic tuner had an unpredictable effect on the magic Cornelis was working.  The existing harmonic sound from the Dutchman’s tuner quadrupled.  A varicolored aura made a rainbow around the bells and the map.  The sound seemed to vibrate through the entire world.  Then I felt it inside my throat, and just as before, I couldn’t help wondering if my voice would take on that dual harmonic sound when I spoke.

Alastair must have felt the bizarre sensation as well.  He put his hand to his throat.  The tiny woman dropped her tray to the paved terrace.  Fine china shattered, the sharp noise blending with the harmonic sound.

As I said, the sound seemed to vibrate throughout the entire world.  The magic reached far and wide.  In the distance I heard noises that I couldn’t quite define.  It reminded me of the sound of men scuffling, but it sounded heavier than that.  Then I heard a crash from that area, and I knew it had to be the work of the alchemy gone awry.  The din was followed by clacking and clanging sounds.  The louder noises were enough for me to know the commotion came from the hot spring.  The magic had traveled all the way down there.

Everyone turned at once, ready to race toward the sounds and the runaway magic.  Thankfully I had the presence of mind to tell Copper to stay where she was.  Even better, with a wise wink, Victoria, the tiny woman took the girl’s hand and led her to the kitchen with the promise of a serving of the apricot Charlotte.  I heaved a sigh of relief and followed Cornelis and Alastair toward the disturbance.1880 Woman laundry

When we reached the hot spring I saw that the door to one of the small gold-painted buildings was off its hinges.  The wayward alchemy affected the washing machine.  It had somehow bumped and thumped its way out of the storage building, under the influence of the magic.  It looked as though the machine had clambered around until it was caught between two maple trees.  Every few seconds it gave a futile bump to the trees.

“There’s something in the mangle,” Cornelis muttered, and I was sure that was also the magic at work.

“What’s that you say?  Oh yes, the mangle.  Here they call that part the wringer,” Alastair said absently as he looked in astonishment at the rogue washing machine and the damage it had done.

When the washing machine made its magical escape from the storage building, the washtub had been dragged along by the machine, halfway to the spring.  I remembered the young man putting a tablecloth in the tub to soak.  I suspected that was what hung from the mangle, or wringer — the magic having pulled the cloth into the wringer.  When I cautiously walked over to the still grumbling machine, I found that I was right.

Cornelis held out his harmonic tuner.  A faint magical current of green streamed from the tuner to the washing machine.  That had another effect on the washing machine.  It wobbled, gurgled, and creaked.  The mangle started to supernaturally turn again, pulling the tablecloth on through as we watched.

“All that hubbub and the cloth is not clean,” Alastair said, surprising me with his acerbic wit.  Of course he had no concern about whether the table cloth was clean.  Rather, he jokingly referred to something he saw; something the enchantment had put onto the cloth.

He was correct, there was something on the tablecloth, but it wasn’t simply dirty.  It looked like writing — phosphorescent writing.  Cornelis flicked the tuner with his fingernail, causing a faint ting sound and then the tuner cast a bright light like a torch.  The Dutchman shined the light on the cloth as it finished rolling from the mangle.

A word had been written by the rogue magic that resulted when Copper accidentally added a second harmonic tuner to the magic worked by the alchemist.  It wasn’t something anyone would want to wash away, because it was never part of the laundry.  As I said, that was only Alastair’s wit; a joke.  It was a magically provided clue, resulting from the alchemist’s spell. 

It shone in large glowing green script.  I read the word aloud.

Daddy.”

daddy

 

***

Photo/image credit: Wikipedia

Copper, the Alchemist, & the Woman in Trousers: Episode 16

Did I mangle the mangle?

Victorian schoolroom

English is an amazing language.  It’s amazing because with words that have the same spelling as another word but have a different sound and a different meaning… and then words that have the same sound as another word but are spelled differently and have a different meaning… Well, it’s a wonder we can communicate with one another at all.

Then we added to the chaos when words came to mean different things depending on the country in which you live…  But of course, that confusion can sometimes be entertaining!

(Speaking of entertaining — although this might be stretching the term… I’ve added a little work in progress treat at the very end of this post. I hope you enjoy it.)

Hugh RobertsThe “three things” for this episode were provided by Hugh Roberts at Hugh’s Views & News.  I had to do my research — but that’s the fun part.  A case in point would be the word “mangle,” one of Hugh’s things.  (And yes, I know.  I’m strange that way about enjoying research.)

Hugh blogs and tells stories about “everyday life,” which of course is often more interesting than any fiction.  Even so, you’re likely to find entertainingly unexpected posts amid the “everyday.”  He also does book reviews at Lit World Interviews.  I hope you’ll visit both sites and get to know Hugh.

 

Just one more thing.  It’s National Train Day!

national train Day

You know I had to add that. I just learned about it from Dan Antion at No Facilities.  Meanwhile, I believe our steam locomotive just chugged past the window.

All aboard!

From last time…

Then I suddenly saw what had been there all along.  A resemblance.  Copper’s face was full with youth, while Ignatius had masculine angles, but their features were very much alike.

“They’re related,” I said amazed.  “And closely I’ll wager…?”

“Hixon was youngish in the portrait…  I remember you asking Copper about it.  She indicated that he was much older when she was born,” I commented as assorted bits fell into place.  “But he had no previous marriage…” I started but did not finish my sentence.  “Oh.”

“Yet that’s not to say that Hixon had no other children.  I didn’t just prowl around, as you put it, at Hixon’s estate.  I went to Belle’s office at the Inn, and to his bedroom.  Based on letters Ignatius kept, he is the illegitimate son of Calvin Hixon,” Corenlis revealed.

“So he is Copper’s half-brother?  Why would she distrust him so?” I thought aloud.

***

16.  Moustache Cup, Apricot Charlotte, Mangle

The tiny woman who had shown me to my room when we arrived at the beautiful family estate of Alastair Wong appeared with a coffee and tea tray.  She had told me she was named Victoria, after the Queen.  She motioned more than asked if I would like more coffee.  Victoria seemed rather excited when she turned to the Dutchman.  At first I thought it was simply because of Mr. Wong’s admiration for the alchemist.  However, it turned out there was a little more to her enthusiasm than that.Mustache Cup

“Sir, mayhap you like this cup?” Victoria suggested to Cornelis as she lowered the tray to our table.

Smiling brightly she picked up a teacup with the same pattern as the rest of the dishes, but it was of a slightly different shape.  It must have been specially made to match the rest of the china, and she was obviously both proud of the cup and delighted to have the chance to offer it to a guest.  Inside the cup was a semicircular ledge.  The ledge had a half moon-shaped opening to allow the passage of liquids and to serve as a guard to keep a mustache dry.

“Look Cornelis!  Why it’s a mustache cup,” I exclaimed.

Cornelis Drebbel had a mustache and a short pointed beard, and bushy blonde eyebrows.  When he was in a playful mood, or a sarcastic mood, he wriggled his eyebrows.

Where Sheriff Bullard, back in Copper’s home town, had a very thick mustache — as was the fashion, Cornelis wore his neatly trimmed.  While Bullard would have desperately needed the special cup, it was not as much of an issue for the Dutchman.  However, I gave him a little nudge with my elbow when it looked like he might decline the cup.  With another look at the tiny woman, he seemed to realize that it was important to her.

So Cornelis, bushy brows wriggling flirtatiously, made over the cup and smiled when Victoria filled it with coffee.  The woman was obviously overjoyed to have someone use the cup.  I thought she must have put a lot of effort into having it made.Mustache protectors

A soft chuckle caused me to turn.  Our host, Alastair Wong had come back downstairs.  He carried a large roll of paper.

“I thought you were going to turn in early, my friend,” Cornelis told him.

The tiny woman turned at the sound of Alastair’s voice.  She was still all smiles.  “I feared that tonight no one would eat dessert — and it turned out so well.  It would have been a shame that you did not get to enjoy it,” Victoria said as she hurried away, presumably to get the dessert.

I gasped when I saw what she brought.  Sticky sweet glazed apricots peeped out from a golden brown cinnamon sugar crust, dusted with white powdered sugar.  When I asked what it was called, she told me proudly that it was an apricot Charlotte.  It was irresistible, so everyone had at least a bite before going back to the reason why Alastair had come back downstairs. “So did you find a second wind, as they call it?” Cornelis asked.

Map Columbia River Basin Lg Dams“It was my intention to retire early,” Wong admitted ruefully.  “However, sleep eluded me.  I couldn’t stop thinking about the raven you told me about — the one that tried to carry a message about your whereabouts.  I kept wondering where it might have been going.  When I realized you were still up, I thought it might be helpful to look at a good, detailed map,” he added and motioned for us to move to a long table where he unrolled the map.

“This is a beautiful work of cartography,” I admired the map, which covered part of California, Oregon, Washington, and southern British Columbia.

“We are here,” Alastair said pointing to a golden dot on the map.  “And I expect you were approximately… here when you were spotted?” he asked, pointing to another location and Cornelis nodded.  “So we know the bird was headed north of that area,” Alastair said motioning in a large circle.

“That covers a lot of ground,” I said in a dejected tone.

“Ah!  Perhaps we can be at least a little more precise,” Cornelis offered.Tiffany Arabesque bell

The alchemist reached into his coat and produced the device that looked like an intricately worked silver bell.  Wong’s eyes widened in obvious recognition.

“The harmonic tuner!” Alastair exclaimed interestedly.  “My grandfather told tales of its magic!  But wait.  It is not going to cause the large gong to sound again is it?  The hour is late, and I wouldn’t want to disturb the household.”

“Neither would I, my friend.  This time the tuner will have a different purpose,” Cornelis said, but I knew how often his tricks didn’t go as planned.

A subtle green aura emanated from the alchemist.  He turned the harmonic tuner onto its side and rolled it around on the map in the area Wong indicated.

“Where were you going, raven?” the alchemist murmured.

At his words, the topography on that part of the map blurred and became three dimensional.  Then a part of that area took on a phosphorescent glow.

Dressing gownAlthough mesmerized by the magical transformation of the map, I was vaguely aware of faintly padding footsteps.  I turned to see Copper, wearing a dressing gown and slippers.  She clutched something wrapped in a scarf to her chest.

“Miss Copper,” Alastair Wong addressed her in a playful tone that was likely meant to distract her from what we were doing.  “You needn’t have come down here,” he told the girl and then turned to Cornelis and me somewhat awkwardly.

“I suggested Copper go back to bed when she saw me in the hallway.  I apologize that I made a bit of noise, and she got up to see what the bother was.  Copper I hope I didn’t frighten you, in a strange place, trying to sleep,” Wong told her.  “I said that I was bringing boring grownup things to show you,” he said to us.

The girl must have begun to worry that she was about to get into trouble for leaving her room at so late an hour.  She hadn’t even noticed the phosphorescent glow on the map, but then, Alastair may have blocked her view.

“Yes, but I had a favorite thing to show you too!” Copper told him, clearly wanting to participate.  “Because you’ve been so nice.  This is my favorite thing that Daddy gave me.”Wise Monkeys statues

Suddenly I realized that Copper held her cherished “mystic monkeys” bell, which her father had given her.  It was an ornate bell with detailed carvings of the fabled three mystic apes — see no evil, hear no evil, and speak no evil.  It was also a harmonic tuner.  The night we ran from the Hixon estate, the two harmonic tuners being in close proximity had a profound effect.

I glanced at Cornelis for his reaction.  The alchemist was so focused on his trick with the map that I wasn’t sure he had even noticed Copper’s entrance.  He was completely absorbed in his work.  “What will we find here?” he muttered over the map as he rolled his harmonic tuner across the glowing area.

“Here it is,” Copper said proudly, and before I could shout a warning, she unceremoniously plopped the second tuner right onto the map on which the alchemist worked his trick.

Auras 2 BodiesThe existing harmonic sound from the Dutchman’s tuner quadrupled.  A varicolored aura made a rainbow around the bells and the map.  The sound seemed to vibrate through the entire world.  Then I felt it inside my throat, and just as before, I couldn’t help wondering if my voice would take on that dual harmonic sound when I spoke.

Alastair must have felt the bizarre sensation as well.  He put his hand to his throat.  The tiny woman dropped her tray to the paved terrace.  Fine china shattered, the sharp noise blending with the harmonic sound.

In the distance I heard noises that I couldn’t quite define.  It reminded me of the sound of men scuffling, but it sounded heavier than that.  Then I heard a crash from that area.  The din was followed by clacking and clanging sounds.  The louder noises were enough for me to know the commotion came from the hot spring.

Everyone turned at once, ready to race toward the sounds.  Thankfully I had the presence of mind to tell Copper to stay there.  Even better, with a wise wink the tiny woman took the girl’s hand and led her to the kitchen with the promise of a serving of the apricot Charlotte.  I heaved a sigh of relief and followed Cornelis and Alastair toward the disturbance.

When we reached the hot spring I saw that the door to one of the small gold-painted buildings was off its hinges.  The washing machine had somehow bumped and thumped its way out of the storage building.  It looked as though it had clambered around until it was caught between two maple trees.  Every few seconds it gave a futile bump to the trees.

Kinkaku-ji Temple Sunset

Kinkaku-ji Temple Sunset

“There’s something in the mangle,” Cornelis muttered.

“What’s that you say?  Oh yes, the mangle.  Here they call that part the wringer,” Alastair said absently as he looked in astonishment at the rogue washing machine and the damage it had done.

The washtub had been dragged along by the washing machine, halfway to the spring.  I remembered the young man putting a tablecloth in the tub to soak.  I suspected that was what hung from the mangle, or wringer.  When I cautiously walked over to the still grumbling machine, I found that I was right.

Cornelis held out his harmonic tuner.  A faint current of green streamed from the tuner to the washing machine.  That had another effect on the washing machine.  It wobbled, gurgled, and creaked.  The wringer started to turn again, pulling the tablecloth on through as we watched.

“All that hubbub and the cloth is not clean,” Alastair said, surprising me with his acerbic wit.Laundry washing machine

He was correct, there was something on the tablecloth, but it wasn’t simply dirty.  It looked like writing — phosphorescent writing.  Cornelis flicked the tuner with his fingernail, causing a faint ting sound and then the tuner cast a bright light like a torch.  The Dutchman shined the light on the cloth as it finished rolling from the mangle.  In large glowing green script I read the word aloud.

Daddy.”

***

Where will the mystically inscribed word, Daddy, take our characters? I hope you’ll be at the station when the steam engine returns to the platform.  The next “things” are from author John W. Howell. What kind of trouble can Pistachio, Penne Pasta, and Porcini create?

By the way, look for Hugh Roberts to be featured in the new theme for the “Sunday Show” at Sally G. Cronin’s Smorgasboard, Variety is the spice of life.

And now, here’s the recipe for this episode.  Bon appétit!

Recipe:  Apple & Apricot Charlotte

 Apricot-apple Charlotte

Photo and recipe credit: Taste.com

 ***

Here’s a special treat — for reading to the end!

A trailer for my main work in progress, Atonement in Bloom.

https://animoto.com/play/OgE0TBW4wn1BM68VZ7wVrQ

***

Copyright © 2015 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

All images are either the property of the author or from Pinterest unless stated otherwise.

Five Star Review and guest post – Atonement and a Funny Thing Happened to Me by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene

teagan geneviene:

Don’t be confused — It’s not Sunday yet… But I am tickled pink to be featured in a preview / kickoff of Sally G Cronin’s new theme for the Sunday Show.
> Sassy and sagacious, Sally is also among the most generous people I know in her unfailing support of authors and bloggers. Not only did she share my silly little story for her new theme (A Funny Thing Happened to Me…), she also gave my novel “Atonement, Tennessee” the five-star treatment!
With all this, believe me, I had no trouble making it over the mid-week hump, thanks to Sally.
> Mega-hugs to you all. Have a wonderful Wednesday, and a thriving Thursday.

Originally posted on Smorgasbord - Variety is the spice of life:

five-star25

Teagan is very kindly helping me promote the new Sunday Show that begins this weekend with the effervescent Hugh Roberts from http://hughsviewsandnews.com/ – a great start to the new series.  I have some great guests already lined up but you can never have too many talented people to interview so please see the link at the end of the post.

Teagan is a wonderful support to bloggers and my weekend would not be complete without an episode of her current ‘interactive’ serial.. more about that later.  In the meantime here is a look at her book Atonement and one of her latest reviews for the book.

atonement-video-cover-copy

About the Book

Esmeralda Lawton is sick of the big city. “Ralda” was betrayed until trust became a theoretical concept. So it’s a dream come true when she buys an old estate, complete with historic cemetery. Okay, she isn’t excited about the cemetery, but…

View original 1,353 more words

Copper, the Alchemist, & the Woman in Trousers: Episode 15

Writing ChallengesT_Victorian letter

Teresa (Tess) Karlinski of How the Cookie Crumbles, an irreverent view of life after sixty-five sent the “things” for this episode.  You may know her from her Gravitar handle as Cut the Crap.

If I had to assign a letter of the alphabet to Tess it would be “V” – for vibrant, vivacious, and for the vivid imagery in her writing. V_Victorian

She posts a weekly travelogue of her venturesome trip to China, as well as absolutely marvelous short-short stories that result from the various challenges into which she dives with vigor. One of those challenges is the “100-Word Challenge for Grownups.”  She turns flash fiction into a varicolored art form.

Tess has short stories in anthology volumes including “Slices of Life” and “Palpable Imaginings” .

Personally I’d be interested in seeing what tales Tess would make from the three things she sent.  I can already imagine the venturesome stories she’d tell.

Whether you are a serious writer, or you dabble for fun, try a writing challenge. (Melissa at Today You Will Write also posts fun writing “prompts.”) You could even see what you come up with for one of the three things in this episode.

The Flying Scotsman

The Flying Scotsman

For weeks I’ve been dropping subtle hints about the character Ignatius Belle.  This episode will reveal something about the handsome innkeeper.  But will it add transparency to the tale or will it thicken the plot?  Will it be a reason to trust him?  You’ll have to decide for yourself, because the steam locomotive has reached the platform.  All aboard! 

***

Last time The Alchemist intercepted a raven carrying a spy’s message about our trio.  Then new/old character Alastair Wong found his way into the story.  Finally we learned the name of “the Woman in Trousers.”  Read on to see what the “things” bring us now.

15.  High Button Boots, Washtub, Coffee

Kinkaku-ji, The Golden Pavilion, Kyoto City, Japan

Kinkaku-ji, The Golden Pavilion, Kyoto City, Japan

I explored the grounds of the replica of the Temple of the Golden Pavilion, which Alastair Wong called home.  At first it seemed strange that anyone would build a copy of a Buddhist temple in an out of the way corner of the Pacific coast.  However, for that moment in time, it felt like everything about the place was perfect.  As I stood on the banks of the crystalline lake and looked at the building in the golden light of evening, its beauty nearly took my breath away.

Copper ran down a manicured path that wound through Japanese maples.  Their crimson leaves were a darker shade than the new penny color of her hair.  She wore a yellow frock and high button boots.  I wondered at her change of dress, because I didn’t think those clothes had been in the big flowered carpet bag she packed before we left the Hixon estate on that frightful night.

“Felicity, Felicity!” Copper cried.

Having learned my real name, Felicity Deringer, it was as if Copper couldn’t say it often enough.

Victorian boot right“You look fetching in that yellow,” I commented as she skidded to a stop beside me.  “I don’t remember that dress.”

Copper twirled, making the full skirt swing out to a circle.  Apparently she thought that was answer enough.

“Cornelis asked me to find you,” she told me.  “He says it’s time to get dressed for dinner.”

I still wore the travel stained duster and trousers in which I’d arrived.  A tiny woman dressed in a beautiful kimono had showed Copper and me to the rooms that would be ours during our visit.  Copper was fascinated with the woman and she in turn seemed quite taken with the girl.

In my room I found a brush and used it to clean my clothes as much as I could.  However, I didn’t feel presentable enough for a dinner table… certainly not for the elegant affair I expected Alastair Wong would want to have in honor of Cornelis Drebbel.  Wong seemed to almost idolize the alchemist.  I sighed and followed Copper on the uphill path toward the house.

Copper led me on a circuitous route.  It certainly didn’t lead directly back to the house, but I had no objection to wandering a bit.  Our path crossed another paved walkway and the breeze brought me a burst of humidity and an unexpected scent.  For a moment I thought it was lavender, though I had not seen any growing on the grounds.  Then I recognized it for detergent scented with lavender.1880 Woman laundry

“Do you smell that?” I commented, thinking out loud as I followed my nose down the new path. (If you want to know more about Victorian laundry…)

Ahead I saw a row of small but well-kept outbuildings.  They were designed in a similar way to the main house, and were painted a golden yellow.  Moving a few steps closer I saw a hot spring and the steaming pool of water it fed.

An older woman and a young man rolled a washing machine away from the hot spring and into one of the little buildings, apparently finished with their laundry chore.  They had been making good use of the natural water feature.

The young man ran back outside and hurriedly picked up a washtub.  I heard the woman tell him to put the tablecloth in it to soak.  He managed the task in a couple of quick motions.  Then he closed the door to the storage building and ran up the path to catch up with the woman.  I noted she was remarkably spry for her years.

I was tempted to stop and soak my feet in the steaming pool of water.  Actually, a bath in it would have been even better.  Just as I had the thought I realized that the other two outbuildings might be changing rooms for precisely that purpose.  I expected they were filled with towels and bathing accessories.

Flying man w umbrellaCornelis appeared with a pop sound.

“I might have known you’d find this place,” he commented drolly.  “You’d best come back and change.  We don’t want to offend our host by being late for dinner.  There’s certainly no time for a leisurely bath in a hot spring,” he chided me as if he knew I had been thinking of doing exactly that.

The Dutchman’s tone was mildly annoying to me.  The fact of the matter was he probably meant to irritate me.

“Cornelis, don’t you think I should make an excuse and skip dinner.  I could claim to have the vapors,” I suggested reasonably.

“Don’t be absurd!” the alchemist said indignantly.

“But look at me!” I insisted, spreading my arms to show my rumpled dirty clothes.

Cornelis Drebbel made a little tut-tut noise and shook his head, looking put upon.  “Well you don’t think I meant you to wear that do you?” he asked drolly, with a wave of his hand toward my grubby attire.  “That’s why you need to hurry back and change.  Honestly… How you underestimate me,” he added with a pout.  Then with a sharp pop he disappeared.

***Navy embroidered Victorian gown

An involuntary gasp escaped my lips.  “It’s absolutely exquisite!” I said in awe as I picked up the gown.

It was navy blue velvet.  The skirt was heavily embroidered in paisley designs of gold, lavender, and rose, as were the three tiers of the bustle.  A smaller scale of the same pattern was displayed around broad cuffs and a deep neckline.

“Cornelis, where did you…  How did you…” I sputtered to the alchemist’s delight.  He loved it when he managed to render me speechless.

“Don’t worry,” he said.  “I found it in one of the forgotten crates back at the abandoned church compound.  I popped back to get the crate that was addressed to Alastair,” he explained and I knew he meant his trick of popping or disappearing.

“You moved the entire crate!” I exclaimed.  “It was rather large,” I spoke in concern.

The Dutchman waved away my comment.  “It’s not as though I carried it on my back.  Besides, all the heavenly bodies were aligned in a most helpful way,” he informed me.

Lady writing letters“Oh,” I said, not understanding a whit.

Suddenly I remembered the love letters we saw in Wong’s open crate.  They mentioned a woman named Phanny.  However, I had not seen a woman at the estate who was likely to be her.  I wondered what had happened to that romance.  I supposed it was not a particularly happy ending if he was here and she was not.

At dinner I learned enough to gather my own conclusions.  Mind you I didn’t come right out and ask.  I do have a few social graces despite my rebellious nature.  Civility and manners are important.  I just can’t abide corsets and bustles.  Even if I did wear a bustle with the lovely embroidered velvet gown…  Didn’t I did mention that I have a weakness for pretty things?  Even so, nothing was going to make me wear a corset.

Union Station Savannah, GA

Union Station, Savannah, GA

However, I digress.  Alastair Wong was a fascinating man.  It was amusing to me that he had a British accent as he sat at the table in a traditional kimono.  It bore what I assumed was his family crest — a white lion.  As it turned out, Wong was born in England.  However, he entertained us with lively stories of his visit to Hong Kong, from whence his family originally came.

“I was surprised to find you back on this coast.  I thought you were in Savannah, on the Atlantic coast,” Cornelis commented casually, and a frown flitted across Alastair’s face.  “Oh my.  Don’t tell me heartache drove you away,” the Dutchman said.

I blushed, feeling Cornelis shouldn’t have brought up such a thing.  I pretended to give my full attention to the beautiful plate in front of me.  We were served an amazing five course meal.

*********

Menu

Roasted Corn – Wild Rice Cakes with Smoked Salmon and Horseradish Cream

*********

Glazed Breast of Quail on a bed of Baby Greens with

Wild Huckleberry Vinaigrette

*********

Pistachio Encrusted Veal served with a Red Onion Orange Compote, with garden fresh vegetables

*********

Assortment of Cheeses with Grapes, Port Wine

*********

Coffee, Tea, Tisane

*********

Alastair sighed exaggeratedly, making fun of himself.  He waved it away as if it was nothing, but a deep sadness was reflected in his dark eyes.

“I did come here for a much needed change of scene,” he said, but Cornelis raised a skeptical eyebrow.  “And yes, for a bit of healing.  You’ll remember that I have family here and in San Francisco.  My branch of the family tree adventured to the Atlantic coast.  I’ll return there eventually,” he reminded the alchemist, and Cornelis nodded.1903 Girl 2 Horses postcard

“Yes, I fell in love.  It is well accepted for a man to be many years older than his bride, and not criticized.  She was young, this I knew.  However, she had been orphaned.  I did not know at first that a few years before I met her, she had lied about her age to avoid being institutionalized,” Alastair told Cornelis.

Copper gasped.  Our host had just brought up her greatest fear — the orphanage.

“Do you mean they would have put her in an orphanage?” she confirmed, as our host nodded.

“Of course, she was of legal age by the time we fell in love.  Albeit that is still a very young age,” Alastair continued.  “Even at that, she was several years younger than I thought.  But as it turned out, I wasn’t the one who had a problem with it.  I would move heaven and earth for Phanny. Regardless of the wealth and comfort I could offer her, Miss Phanny is a woman with her own mind.  She doesn’t tend to be one who is burdened by the conventions of society, much as I expect you feel,” he said turning to me.

I couldn’t help smiling.  I thought I would like to meet the young Miss Phanny.

Victorian courtingSo I was surprised and confused that our age difference bothered her so much,” he continued.  “I do have a large extended family in Savannah.  Perhaps that contributed to her discomfort.  Matriarchs can be rather intimidating, particularly to a young woman who is not used to a large family.”

“No doubt,” Cornelis said in a sardonic tone.

I stuck out my foot to kick him under the table.  And he said I  was the one who spoke before I thought.  Really.  He was a fine one to judge.  As usual, he knew what was about to happen, and made his form momentarily lose its solidity.  My foot passed right through him and bumped against his chair.  That also caused me to shift in an awkward movement.

“Are you well, Miss Felicity?” Alastair Wong asked in a concerned voice.

“Just a cramp in my foot,” I replied with a quick glare at Cornelis.

In the chair next to me Copper was nodding off even as she finished her dinner, though she denied it emphatically.  She reminded me that she hadn’t even had dessert.  I felt a little guilty, knowing we adults had talked animatedly throughout dinner.  Dessert would typically have already been served. Copper pensive

I promised Copper she would get her dessert the next day.  Then the same woman who showed us to our rooms when we arrived at the pavilion took Copper up to her room.  The girl smiled brightly at the tiny woman.  I knew the two had connected the moment they met.

“Worry not Copper.  I will make sure they save you some Daofu fa.  It is sweet.  You will like it,” the woman told her as they walked down the hallway.

“My day began at an unusually early hour,” Alastair began and stifled a yawn.  “Also you have had a most trying journey.  I apologize if I have kept you late.  I shall retire now so that you may either go to your evening’s rest, or stroll around the grounds to further relax tight muscles.  Or perhaps you would like dessert served outside, whatever pleases you,” Wong said with a bow and a friendly smile as he left.Mauve teacup Wileman Co 1893

Cornelis poured coffee for the two of us from a silver pot.  “Shall we take dessert out on the terrace?” he asked.

We moved outside.  The Dutchman held the decorative wrought iron chair as I arranged the dratted skirt and bustle so that I could sit at the little table.  After he took his seat, he looked at me with a very odd expression on his face.

“Cornelis, are you certain you’re well?” I asked in concern.

“Well?  As in healthy?  My dear, it’s not as though I’m alive in the normal sense of the word,” the alchemist replied.

The man was so exasperating.  “You’ve been acting strangely ever since you popped off to the Hixon estate and did all that poking around,” I reminded him.

The Dutchman produced a leather portfolio.  He opened it and withdrew two sketches.  They were beautifully drawn.

Basil Gill 2“Cornelis, I didn’t realize you were such an artist.  You have true talent,” I said admiringly because I could tell it was true even before I had a good look at the drawings.

“Not so much talent as a hundred years to practice.  I drew designs of my inventions, but my hand wasn’t very deft until about a hundred years after…” his voice trailed away and I gathered he didn’t want to be diverted from whatever his subject was.

The sketches were both portraits.  It came as no surprise that one was of Copper.  He had captured her personality perfectly.  However, I was puzzled to see that the other sketch was of Ignatius Belle.  I praised his artistry again, because I couldn’t imagine why he would choose Ignatius, whom he completely distrusted, as his subject.

The alchemist heaved a great longsuffering sigh.  “Honestly woman, you can be absolutely maddening,” he told me in a droll tone with a sad shake of his head.  “I have given you hint after hint,” he grumbled.Woman tea close

“What?  So you’ve been acting so damnably strange because you’ve been trying to manipulate me into seeing something rather than simply telling me?” I asked, and the only thing that kept me from being angry with him was how badly his manipulation had failed.

It did make me feel foolish too, but I refused to take that bait.  He motioned for me to look at the sketches again.  I looked.  I shrugged.

“Perhaps if I color them,” he muttered and waved his hand.

Magically Copper’s cheeks became rosy in the drawing.  Her eyes became blue.  In the other sketch, Belle’s eyes turned brown.  Then the girl’s hair glowed with coppery red color.  In the other drawing copper highlights came to the hair of Ignatius Belle, then a moment later the brown color followed.

“You’re pointing out the fact that Ignatius has copper highlights in his hair?” I asked feeling befuddled.

Then I suddenly saw what had been there all along.  A resemblance.  Copper’s face was full with youth, while Ignatius had masculine angles, but their features were very much alike.

“They’re related,” I said amazed.  “And closely I’ll wager.  How did you deduce this, Cornelis?”

“It was the portrait of Calvin Hixon,” he told me, and I realized that I had paid very little attention to the painting; it was so standard and uninteresting.  “The coloring of the hair was the same as your innkeeper’s.  When I went back, I saw the family resemblances.”

mauve Table SettingI sipped my coffee as I thought.  “Hixon was youngish in the portrait…  I remember you asking Copper about it.  She indicated that he was much older when she was born,” I commented as assorted bits fell into place.  “But he had no previous marriage…” I started but did not finish my sentence.  “Oh.”

“Yet that’s not to say that Hixon had no other children.  I didn’t just prowl around, as you put it, at Hixon’s estate.  I went to Belle’s office at the Inn, and to his bedroom.  Based on letters Ignatius kept, he is the illegitimate son of Calvin Hixon,” Corenlis revealed.

“So he is Copper’s half-brother?  Why would she distrust him so?” I thought aloud.  “Sibling rivalry?”

“It’s highly unlikely that she knows about the relationship,” Cornelis told me.  “In one of the letters Hixon offers to announce it to the community; that his long lost son has come home.  Actually it was a son he never knew he had.  Belle was the one who wanted to keep it a secret.  He was the typically prudish Victorian in that respect.”

“However, Belle practically begged to work with Hixon on his inventions.  I gather that they spent a lot of time tinkering and inventing, at least for a while.  I’m not certain, but something must have soured in the relationship.  I just don’t know what, or how important it was,” Cornelis admitted.

“Ignatius Belle is Copper’s brother… or rather half-brother.  Why didn’t I see it?” I murmured.

Then I cast a withering look at Cornelis to stop him from making any disparaging remarks about me “not thinking efficiently.”

***

So… we’ve learned our dashing innkeeper is Copper’s half-brother, though she doesn’t seem to know it.  Why would Copper dislike him so intensely?  Jump aboard the steam locomotive again next time with when the “things” are from Hugh’s Views and News.  Guess which of “Moustache Cup, Apricot Charlotte, and Mangle” will create a connection to the blood that links those two characters.

 Don’t leave the train yet!  Here’s this episode’s recipe. Bon appétit!

Recipe:  ToFu Fa (Sweet Soy Pudding)

 ToFu Fa

Photo and recipe credit:  Chowtimes.com

Copyright © 2015 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

All images are either the property of the author or from Pinterest unless stated otherwise.

Copper, the Alchemist, & the Woman in Trousers: Episode 14

What’s in a name?

Last time I promised that this episode would reveal the name of the mysterious Woman in Trousers.  Her name shifted and altered in my mind throughout the week.  But yes, the “things” finally led to the naming of the Woman.  I thought to pay homage to a character from an all but forgotten novella I wrote in my teens. I was quite taken with the name I gave the heroine at the time, although now it seems silly. However, her surname was appropriate to the setting of this serial, so I kept her last name.  No, I’m not going to tell you right now.  (Winks.)

Guy Fabdon? See the Gwydion fab Don myth

Guy Fabdon? See the Gwydion fab Don myth

I’m fascinated with names and their meanings. It’s difficult to reign myself in when I start researching names for characters in my novels. I can spend hours happily digging up a suitable name if I’ve been inspired by mythology (as in Atonement, Tennessee) or pouring over ancient meanings and word origins because I like the meaning of a name to fit the story (as in The Dead of Winter — unpublished, but maybe one day an anime series — yes, I’m dreaming).

Appropriately enough, the “things” for this episode came from Randstein, known to some as Dan, and to a select few as Damnit Dan — I see him laughing now at that unexpected introduction.  The “Damnit Dan” part is a joke. And I, for some reason, feel the need to call him Daniel.  However, some of you might remember seeing him here for my previous serials commenting from Willy Nilly To and Fro, the Philosophy of Inanity.

Dan changed his moniker to Randstein and created a new blog Hyperion Sturm, to explore a different side of his writing than he gave us with “Willy Nilly.”  While I’ve been giving you episodes of my “interactive” steampunk serial, Randstein has shared chapter by chapter a compelling work, In Search of the Garden of Darkness and Light.Randstein

He gives literary voice to stories from his heart and soul.  I once told him that while I write entertainment, he writes literature.  I hope you’ll spend some quality time at Dan’s beautifully, mindfully written blog.

I wish I had been able to find the rich historic background he shared with me about “silk brocade of a white lion,” (one of his things) but it eluded me…  Before that steam locomotive elusively leaves the station, let’s get on track with this episode.  All aboard!

14.  Pen Knife, Indian Head Penny, Brocade of a White Lion

I wondered if my insides might fall out, so jarred was I from the rough ride of the road locomotive.  The green countryside went by in a prolonged blur, so fast did the alchemist propel the road locomotive.  Cornelis’ knuckles were white as he tightly held the controls.  From time to time he cast a worried glance at Copper or at me.  That meant he felt he was doing something that put us in danger.

The unnatural speed at which we traveled had to be risky.  I could tell by his grim face and the faraway look in his eyes that he gave his full attention to every aspect of our journey.  He used his tricks to scan the path ahead for dips and holes that could prove deadly at the speed we traveled.  Meanwhile he cast his senses out in every direction to check for signs of any of our adversaries.

Girl with CherriesI reminded myself that there were three sets of foes, not just the group with the hydrofoil.  We seemed to have left the woman commander, her crew, and their tracking chimpanzee behind.  However, the other two groups might be anywhere.  I scanned the landscape anxiously, but everything ran together because we were moving so quickly.

When my eyes moved again to the alchemist’s face, I had another fear.  His complexion was gray.  Even the alchemist must have his limits, I told myself.  What would happen if he severely overtaxed his energy?  Cornelis had used a great deal of vitality, being in two places at once, to gather information about our adversaries.  I decided we had traveled far enough to safely take a break.  Else Cornelis might break.

We stopped amid several sweet cherry trees, heavily laden with fruit.  I climbed onto one of the tall back wheels of the little steam engine so I could reach into the branches.  Taking a pearl handled pen knife from my trousers pocket I gathered the bountiful cherries.Pen knife

Shamelessly, I leapt to the ground.  I wouldn’t have been able to do that if I wore a voluminous skirt, bustle, and corset!  Why women put up with wearing such things all day every day, was beyond me.  Yes, I did have a weakness for pretty things, including gowns.  However, who would wear such things (especially corsets) all the time, when practical, comfortable trousers were to be found?

A smile spread across my face when I saw Copper had climbed a nearby tree.  The sun shone warmly on the bright hair that resulted in her name.  Arms and legs wrapped haphazardly around branches, she ate cherries right there in the tree.  She was lucky to be too young to have to contend with the culturally required fashions of the day.  I wondered if as she grew into womanhood she would rebel against foolish social norms as I did.

Cornelis was unexpectedly at my elbow.  His sudden appearance startled me, as it often did.  That never failed to amuse the alchemist.  His bushy blonde eyebrows bobbed and a smile played on his lips.

“You were supposed to be resting,” I chided.  “You still don’t look well.  Where did you get to so quickly?” I asked the Dutchman.

“I was just doing a bit of reconnaissance; checking the area for signs of anyone we might not want to see,” he answered.  “Call it intuition if you will, but something tickles at the edge of my awareness.”

1924 Little Dipper Champagne adHe leaned against the locomotive and stared absently at the treetops.  Suddenly he became rigid.  Without moving a muscle he whispered, “Quick.  Give me that knife!”

An emerald aura suddenly engulfed the alchemist.  Cornelis took the folded pen knife and its white mother of pearl handle reflected the green glow.  He drew back his arm and threw the knife.  It sailed end over end high into the trees with a whirring sound.  As it disappeared from view I heard a soft thud followed by the rustling sound of something falling.

The Dutchman and I ran toward the trees.  Copper was still playing in the tree she climbed and didn’t appear to notice what we were doing.

We stopped at the fallen body of a raven.  It reeked with the odor of carrion it had eaten.

“Is it dead?” I asked.

“No, it shouldn’t be.  Although it is stunned,” the Dutchman replied.

There was blood on the bird’s beak, but I didn’t think it was from its most recent meal.  It held a bit of fabric from a white crinoline.

The alchemist and I exchanged wondering looks.  “So,” I began in a speculative tone.  “This raven attacked the woman who led the group on the hydrofoil.  That should mean at least two of the three groups are actively working against each other,” I said and Cornelis nodded with raised eyebrows and a pursed mouth as he pondered the idea.

Basil Gill (1877-1955) as Ignatius Belle

Basil Gill (1877-1955) as Ignatius Belle

“Coincidentally, the raven protected Ignatius when it attacked the vessel following him,” I continued.

“Or perhaps not so coincidentally,” the Dutchman answered to my annoyance.  “The raven might well belong to Belle.”

Have I said Cornelis Drebbel could be insufferable?  If I took one step forward as far as his attitude about Ignatius Belle, then I took two steps backward.  My lips tightened as I paced, trying to control my temper.  Normally I’m not so irritable, but I was exhausted, and the events of the past days had been utterly distressing.

“And look at this,” Cornelis said quietly as he removed a tiny brass cylinder attached to the bird’s leg.

He extracted a small strip of rolled parchment from the cylinder and read it silently.  I asked what the message was.  Cornelis said it was some sort of code.

“It seems to mention us being at the abandoned church and the direction in which we left.  The way this is written, I can’t be certain if we were actually spotted there or if someone tracked us there.  Either way, they were not far behind us when we left the riverside.  However, given the speed at which we traveled, no one could have kept up with us,” the alchemist said and his expression became pinched.

Lovers Eye BroochIt wasn’t helpful, but once again I spoke before I thought.  “But the bird kept up with us,” I murmured, not intending to be in any way critical of Cornelis — his unique abilities had saved us.

One side of the alchemist’s mouth turned down in a wry expression.  “Yes, it just might have kept pace with us at that.  Perhaps,” he said deep in thought.  “But I took us on a backtracking, convoluted route.  Ravens fly ‘as the crow flies,’ that being directly from one spot to the next.  They have a broad wingspan so they’re fast, but they don’t have the magically enhanced speed that we used.  So it seems more likely that the raven was flying due north from the riverbank, and intersected our path here,” Cornelis suggested.  “It will resume its flight north while we will turn to the west.”

“I neither like nor trust coincidences, but I suppose that is the most likely answer,” I muttered.

The raven began to stir as we turned and walked away.

“I think we can relax for a while now.  This message won’t be delivered,” Cornelis said and the tiny parchment became a flame that burned and was instantly gone.

We walked back to the steam engine.  Copper was still where we’d left her.  “She’s truly a delightful girl,” he commented, following my gaze.  “And such a gorgeous head of hair,” he added with a sidelong glance at me.

Copper

Copper

I nodded my agreement and smiled, mildly surprised at his words.  Cornelis was more likely to compliment someone’s intellect than their appearance.  Copper looked at us, cherry goo decorating one corner of her mouth.  I chuckled and shook my head.

“The group with the hydrofoil seems to have taken Ignatius Belle’s bait.  I suppose he did a good job of leading them away from us,” the Dutchman added, looking rather surprised to hear himself speak those words.

He stepped up into the road locomotive and sat on its floor, feet dangling boyishly.

“Do you really think he might be working against us, Cornelis?  After all he’s done?” I asked of the tall handsome innkeeper.

My question was only half rhetorical.  Cornelis Drebbel could be churlish, obstinate, and infuriating.  However, I knew full well what a quick mind he possessed.  I would be foolish to completely dismiss his opinion, no matter how unjust I felt it was.

Steampunk Woman pants“Something has been bothering you ever since you shimmered off to the Hixon estate and wherever else you went prowling.  You looked as though you’d had an epiphany,” I said with a perplexed expression on my face.  “Why do you refuse to discuss it?”

“You actually do have a good mind,” he gave me unexpected praise.  “But you really must learn to use it more efficiently.”

Of course he would give a compliment with one hand and take it away with the other.  I sighed in exasperation.

I often thought that after I obtained the skull of Cornelis Drebbel, he felt an odd sense of responsibility for me.  Likewise I felt responsible for him.  I supposed things could be utterly miserable for Cornelis if the wrong person possessed his skull.  I had never used it to coerce him — well, not often anyway.  I had certainly never misused it or caused him discomfort.  I mused that each of us recognized our responsibility to the other.

A faint green glow surrounded Cornelis.  That meant he was ever so lightly touching power.  Perhaps he needed to replenish himself after scouting the area and bringing down the raven, I thought.

Cornelis hopped down from the locomotive.  I heard a tiny metallic ping.  Something seemed to have fallen from his pocket.  However, I knew that the alchemist didn’t tend to carry anything on his person.  He could just reach into that magical void and bring out most anything he needed.  He turned to pick up the small thing from the engine’s floor.  Then he tossed it to me.1864 Indian Head penny

“For luck,” he said as I caught the bright new Indian Head penny.

The sunlight glinted radiantly off the penny.  For a moment I was reminded of the coppery highlights in Ignatius Belle’s hair during that moment when the sun shined down on him in the abandoned church.  It transformed him from a handsome man to one who looked angelic.

When I looked up I saw that Cornelis was watching me intently.  I turned and walked away before he could make another comment about me being “smitten.”

***

The road locomotive roared up to an iron fence with a large ornate gate.  I felt we were in the middle of nowhere, so I wondered what sort of property lay beyond the gate.  If the iron work was any indication, it was an impressive estate.

Perhaps, I abruptly realized, it was not as remote as all that.  There was a light salt tang in the air.  We were near the Pacific coast.

Iron GateI gazed at the iron, artfully crafted into twists and swirls.  At the center top was the letter W.  As I looked from the massive gate to the alchemist the question must have been plain on my face.

“When I told your dashing innkeeper that I had old family friends in the area, it was no lie,” Cornelis explained.  “Although it wasn’t exactly true to say they were on the way to rescue us.”

During my acquaintance with Corenlis Drebbel I had met few people that he admitted knowing well.  I was quite surprised that he had a friend there, in a place that was so foreign to him.

“Don’t worry.  I sent word that we were coming.  We are expected,” Cornelis reassured Copper and me.

I looked down doubtfully at my travel stained long coat and trousers.  Copper had tiny bits of mud splattered on her face from a large puddle the steam engine crossed.  I took out a handkerchief and wiped her face.  The girl drew back, annoyed.  However, she relented when I reminded her that she was about to meet friends of Cornelis, and should look her best.

The alchemist reached into the large carpet bag Copper packed when we left her home.  It was black with a floral design done in shades of mauve and red.  He produced what looked like a fancy silver dinner bell.  However, I knew it was actually an alchemically amazing device — a harmonic tuner.  He gave it a single ring, and it produced the harmonic tones that inspired its name.  I was sure the Dutchman’s tricks combined with the properties of the tuner to let it be heard much farther away than was natural.Tiffany Arabesque bell

In the distance beyond the iron gate, a large deep gong sounded in answer.  A green aura flickered around Cornelis and the heavy gate swung open.  The green glow intensified when he started the road locomotive.  I felt the steam engine shift and lift slightly.

“Are we levitating?” I asked in surprise.

“Not completely,” the Dutchman replied.  “It wouldn’t do to ruin a fine lawn with tracks from this heavy machine, now would it?”

These people must be special friends indeed, if Cornelis is showing so much concern for the grounds, I thought.

Soon we reached an amazing structure built in the style of a Buddhist temple.  The noonday sun made it seem golden where it sat on the edge of a clear blue lake.  The beauty of the structure and the serenity of the setting left me speechless.

“What a funny house,” Copper said.  “But it’s pretty.  I wonder what it looks like inside.”

Kinkaku-ji, The Golden Pavilion, Kyoto City, Japan

Kinkaku-ji, The Golden Pavilion, Kyoto City, Japan

“You shall soon see,” Cornelis promised with a smile.  “It’s a replica of Kinkaku-ji, the Temple of the Golden Pavilion.

“Kenny-coco-jeez?” Copper attempted the foreign name.

“That’s actually better than my first attempt at saying the name,” Cornelis chuckled.

An attractive Asian man of indeterminable age stepped out of the house to greet us.  His traditionally styled silk robes bore a brocade of a white lion.  He smiled broadly at Cornelis then bowed hastily before hurrying forward.  The two men shook hands and bowed to one another again.

“All my life I heard stories of you, Cornelis Drebbel,” the man gushed.  “It is such a great honor to meet you.  I think a small part of me doubted that my grandfather once possessed your skull.  No dishonor intended to my ancestors, of course.  To finally meet you!  It is an honor indeed.”

Cornelis waved his hand modestly, denying any honor was due him.

“I’ve looked in on your welfare many a time Alastair.  Unfortunately, up until now I have not been able to pay a proper visit,” the alchemist told the man.  “Ladies, I present to you the descendant of the revered Koxinga of the Seas, descendant of Po Tsai — one of my peers in life, and grandson of Sung Wong, this is the illustrious Alastair Wong,” Cornelis announced grandly, causing the other man to blush and protest humbly.Koxinga ship

I murmured what I hoped was something appropriate.  I confess that there was something regal about Mr. Wong’s bearing that brought out my awkward side.  I curtsied in response to his bow.  Copper tried to imitate the bow, causing him to smile and wink.

Cornelis continued the introductions.  “And now I present,” he said with a flourish that caused Copper to giggle.  “The inimitable Miss Copper Hixon, and the irreplaceable Miss Felicity Deringer, who makes my existence bearable,” the alchemist added to my astonishment.

Alastair Wong bowed over my hand and kissed it in a most courtly way.  “Miss Felicity Deringer, it is my great pleasure to meet you.”

***

Be sure to be at the station next time.  The steam locomotive is on schedule and the route is planned — Next time something is finally revealed about the dashing innkeeper, Ignatius Belle.

We didn’t have a food “thing” this time, so I took “cherry” (on which the pen knife was used) from the beginning of this episode as my recipe item.  I didn’t have to search far for a recipe, because I wanted to feature one of the chefs from a new blog group, The Dinner Party Collective (TDPC).  I heard about this from Suzanne Debrango at A Pug in the Kitchen who is also one of the chefs.  So through TDPC I found Sandra and her cherry trifle at Please Pass the Recipe.

Bon appétit!

Recipe:  Cheat’s Choc Cherry Trifle

Cheats Choc Cherry Trifle

Photo and recipe credit:  Please Pass the Recipe.com

http://pleasepasstherecipe.com/2014/09/30/choc-cherry-trifle/

 

 

Copyright © 2015 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

All images are either the property of the author or from Pinterest unless stated otherwise.

 

 

 

 

 

 

***

Copyright © 2015 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

All images are either the property of the author or from Pinterest unless stated otherwise.