We have made some unexpected allies, and have revealed some startling foes.
 
The judgement of the Dwarves’ council was swayed in our favour by a very elderly gentleman, Caller Ringründer.  This man took considerable trouble to come up from the depths to meet us in person.  He seemed delighted not only with Mrs Salmalin (the young Witch of Darlston) but also with me, whom he has also pronounced a Witch (I have endeavoured to take it as the compliment it was intended to be).  He made much of our ancestors and antecedents. More surprisingly, he was delighted to müersonally, though this was some centuries ago).  The Caller is plainly a man who loves a good story.
 
When he and his considerable entourage departed, we had a little interlude for tea and a visit from Mrs Engelbert Stahlmachersson, a most sensible and kindly lady.  Our food was prepared for us by Bey, who had returned, along with our horses, when we were examining the area of Gate 11.  We had a bit of an accident and one of the teapots was spectacularly shattered.  Mr O’Flaherty also discovered a small artefact tucked into his pocket:  a small silver snowflake, which Mrs Salmalin determined was some kind of beacon for the Fey of the so-called Winter Court.  I personally put paid to that with a nice sturdy iron mallet and a convenient anvil.  This discovery, alas, alarmed Bey, and he instantly rearranged all of the luggage to search for other hazards of this kind.
 
Meanwhile, when Caller Ringründer returned to the deliberations of the Council, he acted to speed the decision in our favour by singing a stirring ballad. He sang in a fine baritone with words of a very old-sounding dialect.  I was fortunate to hear him singing by listening covertly through a sort of dumb-waiter arrangement in the service corridor by the kitchens.  This song appealed so strongly to the emotions of the assemblage that we were shortly invited to travel through any gate we wished at our convenience, and escorted by soldiers who seemed more honoured to walk with us than suspicious of our intentions.

We travelled downward through a series of lifts, and were handed off to a new group of guards with deference and ceremony at each change of lift.  On about the 7th change, we were riding downward with some 12 guards (the lifts are very spacious) and a Caller when I noticed that Hauptmann Stahlmachersson's sword was glowing.  He had previously indicated that it does this when confronted with certain dangerous powers.  I quietly alerted him and then Mrs Salmalin on my other side.  She began chanting very quietly to herself as I noticed that none of the guards had the particular stone-and-iron scent I associate with dwarf people, and that all of them carried bronze-bladed weapons instead of iron or steel. 

It was not very long before these surrounding foes turned on us.  They proved to be a sort of Winter Court creature called Goblins—they looked mostly like the dwarf people, at least when wearing Dwarf clothing.  Imagine my surprise when one of them shucked off his armour and extended a set of very improbably scaly wings.  This happened after we began to get the upper hand in the battle—which didn’t take long with Mr O’Flaherty throwing the goblins in every direction, and Hauptmann Stahlmachersson swinging his sword about.  I have heard the expression “like a hot knife through butter” many times in my life.  In this case, it was grotesquely apt, and the floor was soon slippery with smouldering goblin ichor.

At the beginning of this brawl, Mr O’Flaherty had reached right over the nearer foes and grasped the ceremonial helmet of the Caller with us—He spoke with the voice I knew as Caller Baforsson, but when his helmet was removed, it was not a dwarf, nor yet a goblin, but something else entirely—an oversized amoeba of unformed blackness, which stretched and reformed like melting india rubber as we watched.  It sprouted new appendages with club like hands covered in spikes, which tore into whatever it struck like metal or sharp fangs instead of formless tissue.  I took only a glancing blow, but my clothing and some of my skin were quite lacerated.

It seemed most expedient to give Mr O’Flaherty and Hauptmann Stahlmachersson as much scope for action as possible.  I steered Mrs. Salmalin into a corner where she could undertake her chanting and I might have a chance of defending her—I could only hope whatever action she was planning might be strong enough to overcome the unintended dampening effects of my proximity.  Of course the quarters were much too close for my pistol, but I had my (rarely used!) knife and the longer of my hatpins, and the steel was far more effective than one would expect from weapons of such small size.  I was able to deliver a few decisive kicks as well.  How rare that I should face opponents with whom I have an advantage of height and reach!  --though certainly not of mass nor of strength.
 
I had one other skill at my disposal, which I have never heretofore used in battle--in a fit of uncharacteristic inspiration, I started Singing.  It was the ballad that Caller Ringründer sang, the one which speeded our cause.  I hoped it would signal our allies among the dwarf people that we could use some assistance, but might also show our immediate opponents that we were not afraid.  I flatter myself that it contributed to crushing the confidence of the goblins fighting us.  I have never thought the Accomplishment of singing was really useful to the young ladies I trained up, but perhaps I will have to rethink that belief.

The Gentlemen and I were finishing off the goblins--save one or two which had escaped through a hole on the ceiling of the lift (using those improbable wings), when Mrs Salmalin completed her ritual. Her work had the effect of solidifying the dark amoeba.  It had grown an amazing array of spines from its dorsal surface--like a very large porcupine.  Mr O'Flaherty struck it at that moment.  Its spines went straight through the wall of the lift, and we screeched to a halt as the spines were embedded in the wall of the shaft outside.  The creature screeched as well. 

At just this moment, we heard the sound of feet on the top of the lift, and we prepared for another assault of goblins--what a relief to find it was actually Caller Schucternsson, intending to rescue us.  Someone had found the bodies of the company of guards who were meant to accompany us on this leg of our journey, all killed or direly injured, and deprived of their uniforms.  Caller Schucternsson had leapt into action.  Strangely enough, he had a sort of rocket contraption, similiar to those occasionally employed by Wilhelmina or Dr Wilson, which he had used to come down the elevator shaft.

The Dwarves used some kind of iron bindings to restrain the dark creature, and we proceeded to question it.  Mrs Salmalin used a truth-finding method on it.  I found my usual ability to intuit the truth of someone's statements quite confounded by the fact that the creature had no face nor comprehensible posture.  Yet, now that the game was up, the creature seemed perfectly happy to tell all-- with gloating satisfaction, I thought.  The creature told us that it had been under orders from the Fey Winter Court to worm its way into the Mines and sow dissension among the dwarves--in order to bring the unhappy people to the allegiance of the Winter Court (and consequently away from their monarchs' peaceful relations with the peoples of the surface world).  It had murdered and replaced Caller Baforsson some 2 years ago, and had been causing subtle kinds of trouble since then.
 
Its choice to further the interests of "the wolves from the castle" in their kidnapping seems to be merely taking an opportunity to create more fear and mistrust.  It told us it had been approached by the Captain of the Guard of von Ebersbach Castle, who had heard that this particular Caller  was willing to subvert the law.  The Captain had arranged with "Baforsson" to bring the captive Arnwulf through the mines to baffle pursuit and to speed them on to Carpania. 

The Captain had plans to bring Arnwulf to a particular witch in Carpania, who could transfer a curse from Wolfgang von Ebersbach to Arnwulf.   It seems likely that the Captain's goal is to free Wolfgang von Ebersbach without regard to the effect on Arnwulf.  The dark creature was especially delighted that the transfer of the curse, which is actually a state of possession by a powerful creature called Fenris, would in fact give Fenris a much more powerful host.  Let us remember that Arnwulf is the son of a djinn-fey and a powerful witch.  He is young, and might be easily corrupted by such an entity.  This Fenris could do a great deal of destruction with Arnwulf's powers.  Not only are we rushing to rescue our friend's son, but also to prevent unleashing something truly awful on all of us.  Of course, the creature could be lying, but we must investigate, and quickly.

We left the creature in the custody of the Dwarves, since so many of its crimes had been against their people and their laws, and we can hardly transport it as we continue our mission.  We proceeded to Gate 19 and the surface as evening was coming on.  We found and followed traces of a group of werewolves.  Just a few miles away from Gate 19, one set of wolf tracks veered away, and seemed to be going toward a set of lights some distance off.  Hauptmann Stahlmachersson identified the lights as a county manor of Count von Freiheff--Sir Cosmo's distant cousin and near doppelgänger.  That man seems to turn up everywhere when something unsavoury is afoot. I am afraid that before this trip is over, he may have to be Dealt With.

We have travelled for some miles, and we have made camp for the last few hours of the night.  I am sitting up in a tree--it seems a little safer from werewolves, though no doubt they could get me if they were determined.  Many of my colleagues are not quite equal to climbing at present, so I will have to use my vantage point to keep watch over them. 


Thursday, 9 September, 1875

We have boarded a train here in Durchenwald, en route to Ostrau.   Much has happened today, and all of us are dog-tired, including the dogs.

This morning as we broke camp, we picked up the trail of the Wolves, and noted them splitting into 3 groups.  I also found the tracks of what looks like an enormous bird, with a footprint and walking pattern much like a chicken.  Each of the feet is 3 feet long--  If it were a chicken, it would be some 15 or 20 feet tall, and at least 12 feet across the breast.  Mrs Salmalin's scrying showed her our wolves, but they vanished into a "veil."  She further saw an elderly woman climbing into a cauldron shaped like a mortar (complete with a pestle), and it lifting from the ground and flying.  This would appear to be the legendary magical creature called Baba Yaga.  In folk tales, she lives in a house which walks about on the legs of a chicken and she flies around in a magical mortar.  I had taken these tales for some kind of metaphor or allegory when I read them.  Who would want to live in a ridiculous walking house?
 
We followed the most likely trail, the road to Durchenwald.  We met another creature, I think it was what is known in Britain as a Redcap--a small creature, but a type reputed for murdering travellers.  It was sweeping the road, obliterating all the tracks we were following.  It was grumbling to itself as it did so.  We asked it what it was doing and whether it had seen the party we were looking for.  It claimed it was sweeping the road at the behest of a witch--Lady Rosamund.  She had ordered this sweeping, but had neglected to tell the Redcap to avoid us or to mislead us.  Perhaps it was not happy at being peremptorily compelled to do this chore, or perhaps it is simply its native love of mischief, and it gleefully told us all about the werewolves going by with a young wolf on a leash, going toward Durchenwald.  It might be lying, but Durchenwald would be a logical destination, with a sizeable train station.

As we learned this, it was also interesting to note that I could hear a small female voice issuing from Hauptmann Stahlmachersson's pocket, where he was carrying the mirrored locket.  The voice was cursing in a most shocking fashion.  We will need to find a better way to secure the mirror, or Lady Rosamund, wherever she is,  will be perfectly aware of all our doings.
 
We hiked on, and proceeded directly to the train station.  While Hauptmann Stahlmachersson went to the police station and the telegraph office, I inquired of the ticket agents whether they had seen anyone matching our descriptions of the Captain, or Frau Metzger, or anyone with a young dog.   It proved that three similar parties seemed to have gone out from the station--at least 2 must be decoys. One party went to  Stamburgh, one to Nesseldorf, and one to Ostrau. 

I was approached by a reporter--I think there must be journalists who spend all their time just waiting around the train station hoping something interesting will happen.  In retrospect, I must ascribe my decision to involve the Press to poor judgement brought on by utter weariness.  Knowing that we had only a 1 in 3 chance of guessing the correct direction for our targets (because we are guessing--logic has not provided sufficient guidance), I hoped to make the going a little more difficult for the kidnappers in case we followed the wrong trail.

 I explained to the reporter that I was looking for a kidnapped child and I described the kidnappers--the Captain I described by his human aspect, but I indicated that he might be accompanied by dogs or wolves.  It was the journalist who asked if I meant they were werewolves and I carefully neither confirmed nor denied it.  Oddly, werewolves seem completely commonplace in this part of the world, and this idea was not regarded with any particular scepticism.  Or perhaps I misjudged the type of periodical, and this story will appear in one of the local dime novels.  This retelling of our story might be more accurate than average, at least.

We had a little time before our train.  Mr O'Flaherty vanished to a pub, and Mrs Salmalin had sought out a more respectable inn with a private parlour where we could rest briefly and she could have privacy and quiet for scrying.  She tried to find Frau Metzger with little success--she was still obscured. 

I left Mrs Salmalin to her work and went to find Mr O'Flaherty.  I located him in an alehouse just a few doors away, but quite different in ambiance and clientèle--not suitable for Ladies, I should say.  Nonetheless, I strode in to inform Mr O'Flaherty that we would be going to Ostrau in just under 2 hours. Before I could make my way out, I saw a man coming down the stairs, trying not to let me see his face.  Of course I followed him out of the building, and after a moment I recognised him as Professor Dulch, whom I had met during our previous trip to Prussia, and whom I knew to be an anarchist agitator. I signalled Mr O'Flaherty that there was trouble, and he came out to assist.

Hauptmann Stahlmachersson came down the street to join us at that very moment, and also recognised the man--he was supposed to be in prison in Prussia, not roaming about in Carpania.  The Hauptmann challenged him, and he took to his heels.  Naturally, we pursued, and as we drew close, he turned and drew an etheric pulse weapon.  He fired, and everyone on the crowded street was instantly felled.  I had been partially shielded behind a rather sizeable bystander, so I kept my feet despite the sharp shock followed by tingling disorientation.  Since I was only slightly scorched and not dead, I can only imagine that this was some variant of Sir Cosmo's most recent invention, the not-so-lethal pulse weapon.  How this ridiculous Anarchist got one is a mystery we must solve.
In any case, I was well enough to pursue the man, as was Mr O'Flaherty, and we captured him handily.  He protested that he was innocent, that he had been released from prison, and was working as a "consultant" for the Prussian government.  He insisted that we must either release him (not likely) or take him to the Prussian Embassy in Potsdorf.  Hauptmann Stahlmachersson took him in hand and off they went to the police station.

As we were assisting the many passers-by who had been stunned or injured by the discharge of the weapon, I heard a strange voice.  I looked around and saw no one who could be speaking thus.  The voice proved, to my great dismay, to be a non-corporeal entity which had taken up residence in my head.  The voice was, is, cheerful, curious, almost childlike.  It says its name is Hugo.  Mr O'Flaherty also hears it.  It seems harmless and amiable, but persistent and extremely annoying.  It is unable to resist its impulses to comment on everything and likes to rifle through our memories like a library.  It can convey information to each of us separately, or  together.  It does not seem to interfere with our actions, or with our independent thoughts, except insofar as to be a distracting nuisance.

Mrs Salmalin attempted to diagnose the problem, but in doing so has been contaminated with the Hugo effect as well.  I am not sure how we will dislodge it, I can only hope we can find a way before I lose my temper entirely.  For the moment I have eased the problem by making an imaginary broom closet and putting Hugo in it.  He seems to stay there, mostly, especially if I think about a good book for him to "read" out of my memory.  


Friday, 10 September, 1875
(very early)

By questioning some of the vendors and station personnel in Ostrau, we have learned that Feldwebel von Ebersbach (she has been promoted from Gefreiter since out last visit to these parts) had come through, and we have decided to follow her.  She is at least a day ahead of us, and will be tracking a fresher trail.   She also would know the Captain of the guard by scent, as well as knowing Arnwulf.   So we are aboard a train again, this time en route to Kosel, just on the Carpania side of the border with Poland.
 
During our stop in Ostrau, Mrs Salmalin repeated her previous intelligence-gathering tactic and, accompanied by Mr O'Flaherty, she found a quiet private salon in a nearby inn, where she could attempt some scrying.  She reported that Frau Metzger is still shielded from her view; she confirmed that Feldwebel von Ebersbach had passed through, and on a surprising note, she said that Helen MacGreggor and the MacGreggors' ward Aaron Sloane had passed through on their way to Potsdorf.  I am somewhat concerned that something urgent has happened to the Inspector, but Mrs Salmalin says Helen did not seem upset, and I expect that I would have heard through the DFT if anything dire had happened to him.

In a strange diversion, Mrs Salmalin roamed all over the centre of Ostrau looking at the town's clocks.  Mrs Salmalin explained that Hugo told her that many of the clocks were "in pain." I take this to mean that they were malfunctioning.  We have postulated that this is related to the phenomena occurring in London around the time we left for the continent.  To Reiterate:   several very precise clocks, all built by Carpania's premier clockmaker Hugo Zacharias, were losing time.  The combined observations of Mrs Cuthbert, Wilhelmina, and Sir Cosmo determined that the malfunction was due to loss of charge in the crystals that power them.  The public clocks of Ostrau, also built by Master Zacharias, have been exhibiting similar failures.  Mrs Salmalin, with help from Mr O'Flaherty, was able to infuse power into the failing crystals, until Hugo declared them "better." 

This entire matter of clocks being powered by crystals is a bit on the mystic side, and therefore outside my perceptions.  Mrs Cuthbert did tell us that the crystals had been charged with "a little piece" of Master Zacharias' life force.  I have reason to surmise that Zacharias' other inventions, such as the remarkable clockwork prostheses used by many war veterans here in Carpania,  may also have this "piece" of Zacharias, and this is the source of the Hugo effect.

The strapping gentleman who inadvertently shielded me from the etheric pulse weapon wielded by Professor Dulch had such a prosthetic arm.  Is it possible that the fragment of Zacharias was pushed out of that clockwork arm and into Mr O'Flaherty and myself when the etheric pulse passed through it?  I have no way to test the hypothesis at present, short of allowing myself to be shot with an etheric pulse.  I would just as soon avoid that, as potentially harmful not only to myself but also to my unborn.  For now, I will simply have to endure the Hugo's presence, and hope we can find a solution when we rejoin Sir Cosmo and Mrs Cuthbert. 

Meanwhile, we have sent a necessarily short report to Potsdorf, via both coded telegraph and Sgt Frazer.  Considering how garbled the information I receive from the Sergeant typically is, I hope my report will not be too unclear and will not cause undue anxiety.

Just now we passed an extensive lake, and we could see lights from various manors and hunting lodges on the far side.  Mrs Salmalin woke from her doze and peered out the window, saying there was some kind of strong aura out there.  I could see a rowboat out on the water, and in it was none other than Hauptmann Schneider of the Prussian police.  He was engaged in some very improbable night fishing, and it was obvious to me that this was simply a rather weak cover for observing at least one of the Manors.  Several of the manors were flying foreign flags, indicating they were occupied by owners or temporary tenants of various extractions.  It was difficult to tell if there was one in particular of interest to H Schneider.  According to Mrs Salmalin, there is a large cache of autinite in one of the larger outbuildings of a lodge flying the arms of Prince Heinrich of Niederlausitz.  What could be going on there?  One of the other lodges is flying the Union Jack, and we have determined from the various other arms on display that  it is being rented by Lt Wooster's uncle, Admiral Whipple, whom we know to be in Carpania at present.  He is also known for outlandish inventions, some of which have been moderately successful.  Could he be involved with the autinite project nearby? 

We will need to investigate this--later.  For now, we have urgent work to pursue, and we will need to be rested to continue our search.

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