lady penelope and the cultists of thule
by
david england

Part II

“If you wouldn’t mind, my lady,” Elias commented  as the two of them sat in the parlor of the University’s guest house that evening, “what adventure on Venus was Herr Grossman talking about?  The one before us, I mean.”

Penelope frowned slightly at the memory, then her features cleared again.  “That occurred about three years ago now, a good two years before you and I encountered one another,” she explained to her young assistant.  “That particular assignment, in fact, was the first task I had undertaken in any official capacity as an occasional agent of His majesty’s government.”

Elias nodded, obviously eager to hear more.  “Can you tell me about it?  Herr Grossman mentioned drugs.”  His face flushed slightly and he hurriedly added: “I understand if you can’t.”

Penelope allowed herself a small smile.  Despite his rapid maturation in this last year, Elias was still a young man, with all the typical qualities one would expect.  “I can, Elias, and yes, that is correct.  The prime minister had asked me to conduct an inquiry into a particularly heinous drug trade which had sprung into existence in the months and years prior.  Previous investigations by other agencies of the government had exhausted their efforts with little tangible result.  Lord Salisbury thought that a fresh perspective might yield fruit.”

“Did it?”

Penelope nodded slowly.  “It did, I’m almost sad to say.”

“I don’t understand, my lady.”  Elias’ brow furrowed in confusion.  “Why would a body be sad if you were successful?”

“I was able to track down the ringleaders of the cabal which had been directing the drug trade, but in the process of doing so I discovered that the man assigned to assist me in doing so was, in fact, the shadowy mastermind behind the entire operation.”

“An’ what happened to them?  The ringleaders and the other man, I mean.”

“The ringleaders were, rather conveniently, killed in a gunfight deep inside the abandoned coastal fort they’d co-opted as a base of operations.”

“An’ the other one?” Elias asked.

“Thaumiel Phospheros,” Penelope said quietly, her gaze slipping to a point on the wall somewhere behind Elias.  “He’d asked me to call him ‘Tom.’”

Elias said nothing at first, but Penelope remained quiet.  “What happened to Tom?” he asked finally.  “Did he die, too?”

“I don’t know, Elias,” she replied.  “I honestly don’t know.  When I confronted him, he escaped in the airship—his airship—that we’d taken to the fortress.  I shot it out of the sky with one of the fort’s guns.”  She paused.  “The debris scattered widely over the bay below.  No body was ever found.”

“Do you think he’s still alive?”

“Doubtful,” she answered.  “The viceroy certainly considered the matter ended.”

Elias thought for a moment.  “An’ what does any of that have to do with these runes that Herr Grossman was talkin’ about?”

“Of that, I am unsure,” Penelope admitted.  “One of the more curious aspects of that drug cartel I’d encountered those years before was the fact that their operations were disguised within layers of mysticism and dark lore.  Perhaps Herr Grossman thinks those characteristics similar to the artifacts his office has discovered.”  She shook her head.  “In any event, that is business for tomorrow.  I think it is time for both of us to retire for the evening.  After breakfast, we have an appointment with Herr Grossman at his office and from there, we can make further arrangements once I’ve had a chance to see these runes which are the cause of so much concern.”

###

Penelope rose early.  Following her morning exercise routine, she dressed and sat down at the writing desk in the parlor and drafted three successive letters.  The first was to be conveyed by the good Captain and the Remembrance to the headmaster of her Martian estate, outlining the priorities and tasks she’d set out for the coming harvest.  The second was a reservation for two on the evening ferry and the third was for the telegraph office.  She had just handed the letters to a member of the guesthouse staff for delivery when Elias entered the parlor.

“Apologies, my lady,” he said, somewhat sheepishly.  “I didn’t mean to oversleep.”

“Not to worry, Elias,” she assured him.  “I had a few tasks to get out of the way before breakfast.  You are right on time.”  She cast a glance at the wall clock.  “Shall we eat?”

“Please,” Elias cracked a grin.  “I’m starving.”

Penelope shook her head as she rose from her seat.   “Growing boys…” she commented offhandedly.  An odd look flashed over Elias’ features so quickly that she hadn’t quite been sure of what she’d seen, but she put that aside and gestured to the door.  “Let’s find a nice cafe; our appointment at the Ministry isn’t until later this morning.”

There were several such establishments nearby, as it turned out, catering to the various tastes and appetites (and purses) of the University’s student body.  Penelope opted for a well-appointed but reasonably priced eatery going by the name of The Open Book, which by its posted menu offered a fair variety at a fair budget.  Elias selected a good-sized breakfast platter while she contented herself with tea, biscuits, and fruit salad.  Observing her assistant begin to consume the sizable meal set before him, she noted how his table manners had much improved since that first luncheon a standard year prior.  Not a growing boy at all, she thought to herself.  He’s turning out to be a fine young man.  A fine young man indeed.  A strange sense of satisfaction passed through her along with that thought, then was gone.

“I hope you found your time here instructive, Elias,” she commented.

“I did, my lady,” he replied.  “Though I am very glad to be done with the examinations.”

Penelope couldn’t help but laugh.  “I cannot blame you for that.”

Elias didn’t respond, but grinned and took another forkful of his breakfast.  Soon enough, the pair had finished their meal and Penelope had settled the bill.  Stepping to the curb outside the cafe, she hailed a cab—one of those battery-driven beastless carriages they’d encountered previously—and they set off for the offices of the Reichskolonialamt and their appointment with Herr Grossman.

As they climbed the brief flight of broad steps toward the building’s entrance, Penelope noted that Elias remained a half-pace behind her, only to step ahead as they approached the doors so that he might open it for her.  It was an understated act, without the theatrical politeness which so many men of her own age exhibited during her infrequent yet still necessary forays into the social scene, and the young man’s efforts bore a stamp of authenticity she found touching.  Giving her assistant a silent nod of thanks, she stepped through the doorway and into the entrance hall of the administrative building, Elias following close behind.

From the open hall before them, multiple corridors sprouted, leading deeper into the labyrinth of Germanic bureaucracy.  The target of her initial inquiry, however, was plain enough—a large desk prominently situated in the center of the space, complemented by several sitting chairs set slightly off to one side to service waiting visitors.  An efficient-looking woman of later middle-age sat behind the desk, looking up from the files she’d been arranging as the pair approached.

“Kann ich Ihnen helfen?” the woman inquired.

“Yes,” Penelope replied.  “Baroness Botelier to see Herr Grossman.  I believe my assistant and I are expected.”

“Yes,” the woman answered in mildly-accented English. “Indeed you are.  Welcome, Frei--”  Penelope noticed the surreptitious glance cast at her left hand.  “Freiin.  If you and your assistant would have a seat, I will notify Herr Grossman’s secretary of your arrival.”

“Thank you,” Penelope responded and led Elias to the sitting area off to the side.  Settling herself, she observed the woman draft a brief note and had it to a young clerk she’d summoned with the lifting of a hand.  The message and its bearer disappeared down one of the branching corridors and the woman resumed her filing.

Elias had sat himself in a neighboring seat and now leaned toward her slightly.  “If I may ask, my lady,” he said in a low voice.  “When the receptionist addressed you, what was the reason for the hesitation?  I didn’t catch the word she used.”

“You noticed that,” Penelope replied approvingly.  “Very good, Elias—nuances such as that can be quite useful in our trade.  In this case, however, I suspect she was only wishing to be properly respectful and not mistakenly rude.”  Seeing Elias’ quizzical expression, she continued.  “I had introduced myself as Baroness Botelier, so she was aware of my title.  In German, though, there are two words which might apply: ‘Freifrau’ is used for the wife of a baron , whereas ‘Freiin’ is used for a woman who holds a title in her own right.  She was pausing to check for a wedding band.”  A familiar sense of regret washed over her and then was gone.

Elias thought for a moment, then nodded.  “I see.  That makes sense.”  He looked at her again, then frowned slightly.  “Is something the matter, my lady?”

Penelope shook her head.  “Nothing of importance, Elias.  Only foolish remembrances of childhood dreams.”

“My lady?”

Penelope was saved from further explanation by the return of the messenger, who walked past the reception desk and approached them.   Penelope stood, Elias mirroring her a moment later.

“Freiin,” the young man bowed in greeting.  “Please follow me.  Herr Grossman is expecting you.”

“Thank you,” Penelope replied and the two of them followed their guide back along the way he had come.  Down the corridor, up one broad flight of stairs, and down a second passageway, the young man stopped at one door in a row of several.  The clerk rapped twice on the stout door, then opened it.  Stepping in and to one side, he stated, “Baroness Botelier and guest for Herr Grossman.”  Penelope stepped past him, Elias following just behind, and found herself in an antechamber.  Their guide had already departed, shutting the door.

A second young man was rising from his seat behind a desk, presumably Herr Grossman’s secretary.

“Freiin,” he greeted her without hesitation.  “Welcome.  Please follow me.”  He led the pair to another door on the far wall.  He also knocked twice, then swung the door inward.

“Mein Herr,” he said.  “Baroness Botelier.”

“Thank you, Paul,” came the reply.  “That will be all.”

Paul stepped back from the doorway to allow Penelope and Elias room to pass by, then shut the door behind them.

“You are most prompt, Freiin,” Grossman observed as he rose from the chair behind his desk.

“A virtue my father worked very hard to instill in his heir,” she replied.

“I knew your late father only by reputation, of course,” Grossman said respectfully.  “However, I understood him to be a worthy gentleman.  Please,” he gestured to the pair of chairs arranged in front of his desk.  “Make yourselves comfortable.”

“Thank you, Herr Grossman.”  Elias held her chair as she sat, then took his own a moment later.  Penelope looked at their host evenly.  “I am admittedly curious to see these specimens of which you spoke last evening.”

“Of course,” Grossman acknowledged as he resumed his seat.  Opening a folder on the desk, he withdrew several sheets of thick paper and a smaller number of rectangles of heavier card stock.  Handing these to Penelope, he explained.  “Here we have several sketches and a few photographs of the inscriptions.  The locations of each are noted on the back.”

Penelope accepted the documents, then took several minutes as she examined each one, handing them to Elias in turn.

“And you have uncovered nothing as what these symbols might mean?” she inquired as Elias placed the papers back on the desk.

Grossman shook his head.  “Nothing remotely conclusive.  They have certain similarities to traditional Nordic runes, but are fundamentally distinct from those characters.  Our cryptographers—who are quite good, I assure you—have been unable to extract an underlying text.”

“I thought that might be the case,” Penelope observed quietly.

“Now that you have had a chance to view the figures yourself,” he asked in turn.  “Do you have any notions as to what they may mean?”

“Nothing definite,” Penelope allowed.  “Only a vague sense.  Cryptography is not my area of expertise, but I have been taught...other traditions which may be relevant here.”  She sat back.  “Herr Grossman, this is a puzzle which quite intrigues me.  I see no conflict with my responsibilities to His Majesty’s government, so I am willing to assist you to the degree I am able.”

“I am most grateful.”

“However,” she continued, “there are a few preliminary issues.  I may be a baroness, but I am not a woman of unlimited means.”

“I take your meaning, Freiin,” Grossman answered.  “Rest assured that my government will compensate you for the time and expenses incurred in your efforts on its behalf.”

“Thank you, mein Herr.  It is appreciated.”

“You speak most frankly for one of your class, Freiin, if I may be permitted the observation.  Most nobles of my acquaintance are reluctant to delve into mercantile matters so directly.”

Penelope smiled tightly.  “My father was a practical man, mein Herr, and educated me in a similar vein.  Directness saves time better spent elsewhere.”

“Quite so,” Grossman agreed.  His gaze floated to Elias for a moment before returning to Penelope.  “You have an idea of where you might begin your investigations, I take it?”

“I do,” Penelope affirmed.  “Elias and I will be departing this evening.”  She reached for the sketches and photographs.  “May we be permitted to take these?”

“Of course.  Please do take care to return them.”

“Of course, mein Herr.”  The documents were returned to the folder and the folder found its way to Elias’ hands.  She stood. “I will provide you an update on our progress once I have something to report.”

The two men stood with her.  “I thank you,” Grossman said, bowing slightly.  “I wish you both godspeed.”

###

Each of the settled worlds had its defining feature, Penelope considered silently as she observed the stark Mercurian scenery slipping past the large porthole of their suite.  She and Elias had returned to the guest house to oversee the transportation of their luggage to the ferry docks at the edge of the city, then spent the balance of preparing for the journey ahead.  After a later luncheon and some time spent in the university’s library, they boarded the ferry and settled into the rooms which would be their home for the next few days.

Elias had not held his tongue terribly long after their departure from Herr Grossman’s offices.

“Lady P,” he had said softly, falling back into the more casual form of address he sometimes used when they were alone.  “Where are we going?”

“I’m hoping to meet with a man I know of, an independent research of sorts, who may be able to tell us something about these mysterious runes.”

“Anyone I might have heard of?”

She’d shaken her head.  “I doubt it.  Herr Steiner is not too well known outside of a fairly small circle.”

“But you know of him,” Elias pointed out.

“My father’s view of education,” she’d answered, “was quite comprehensive.  It included a number of subjects which one might tactfully call ‘obscure.’”  As they’d approached the guest house, she’d given a vague gesture.  “I know of him by reputation and by his scholarship.  One of the telegrams I sent this morning was to request this meeting.  We’ll find out when we reach Eisküste.”

A rocking of the ferry brought her back to the present and her contemplation of Mercury’s notable feature.  Vulcan—that whirling world at the edge of the solar furnace—had a fantastical hollow interior, though few people had seen it outside of the Americans involved in the Hephaestus Corporation which mined the crystals that powered this civilization.  For Venus, it was the Great Ocean that covered some ninety percent of the planet’s surface.  Mars had the towering heights of Olympus Mons soaring fair above the wild steppe of the southern highlands.  And though the Belt wasn’t a planet (or, as some researchers claimed, wasn’t a planet any longer), its remoteness at the edge of human settlement and the hardscrabble existence which characterized the people’s living there defined that region well.

But for Mercury, the prize was claimed by the World River, that ribbon of liquid which circumambulated the planet from pole to pole along the interface of its two hostile hemispheres: the Fire World forever facing the Sun and the Ice World forever facing away.  The River was the pulse of the planet, a liquid necklace along which the various cities and settlements were strung like so many gemstones.  There were the usual concessions, of course, for the other Great powers and a few lesser ones, but the planet as a whole fell under the territorial administration of the Austro-German empire, just as Mars was to the British, Venus to the Franco-Spanish, and the Belt to the Russian empires, respectively.

“I was wondering, Lady P,” Elias broke into her thoughts.  “How did you know to contact this man, Herr Steiner, in the first place?  We hadn’t even met with Herr Grossman yet.”

They’d been on the ferry for a day and a half at this point, and would be arriving before noon the day after tomorrow.   Their destination was just to the upriver side of city of Morgen, which sat at the southern pole.  As the World River flowed in a single direction, one spoke of “upriver” and “downriver” when orienting settlements to one another.

“A fair question, Elias,” Penelope replied with a small, knowing smile.  “You might call it something of an intuition.  When Herr Grossman mentioned runes, a thought arose in my mind and I decided to follow it.  A ‘hunch,’ you could say.”

“And after you saw the pictures?”

“The hunch was confirmed.”  She frowned.  “They struck me oddly, Elias.  I cannot say why, but they felt dangerous somehow.”

Elias nodded slowly.  “And you believe Herr Steiner can tell you more?”

“I hope so, Elias.  I very much hope so.”

###

 The ferry pulled into port slightly ahead of schedule, though a tangled tow-line delayed things sufficiently that by the time Penelope and Elias had disembarked and arranged  transportation for themselves and their luggage to a nearby hotel, the time was closer to twelve-thirty.  She wasted no time, however, and no sooner had their belonging been settled in their small suite than the two of them were making their way along a street cutting through the settlement.  She had made some allowances, of course, but had desired to meet Herr Steiner at one o’clock.  Above them, the translucent dome covering the settlement filtered the light into a soft glow.

“How do you know where Herr Steiner lives, my lady?” Elias asked as they walked.

That brought a grin.  “It was one of the items I was looking up in the library before we left.”  She shook her head.  “You should have been paying better attention to our task at hand, Elias, and less to the pretty co-eds.”

Elias blushed furiously.  “I don’t know what you mean, Lady P.”

Penelope laughed, but decided to have mercy on the young man and refrained from further comment.

They continued for several blocks, then turned down a lane.  After a short ways, Penelope halted, examining the house numbers before leading Elias up the narrow walk leading to a rather nondescript cottage in row of similar-looking dwellings.  As they reached the front door, Elias stepped ahead.  “Please allow me, my lady,” he said.  Penelope nodded and watched as he lifted the prominent knocker, rapping it three times.

There was a long pause.  Elias glanced at Penelope, questioning, and made to knock again when heavy footfalls sounded on stone, approaching them from the far side of the portal.  The door opened.

The man in the doorway was only of very modest height, standing perhaps a little over five and a half feet tall, but carried himself in such a manner as to seem much taller.  He had dark hair and piercingly dark eyes.  His collar was slightly askew and he had a mildly disheveled look that was immediately contradicted by the air of energy and focus which surrounded him.  He greeted them somberly.

“Kann ich Ihnen helf…” he began, then stopped.  He examined them for a moment.  “Lady Botelier?” he inquired politely.

Penelope nodded.  “Indeed, Professor Steiner.  This is my assistant, Elias Conner.  I see you received my telegram.  Is this an acceptable time?”

Steiner glanced at Elias before returning his attention to Penelope.  “Indeed it is, Freiin.  Please do come in.”  He stepped aside to allow the pair to enter, then closed the door behind them.  “My parlor is this way.  Please excuse the mess.  I am in the process of packing.”

“Packing, sir?” Elias asked deferentially.

“Yes,” Steiner replied, waving them toward a short couch as he took his seat in an armchair opposite.  “Your telegram, Freiin, was rather timely for your inquiry.  In less than a week I shall be departing these lodgings.”

“Where are you bound, if you don’t mind my asking?” Penelope looked at their host.  “Somewhere off-planet?”

“Your surmise is correct,” Steiner nodded.  “I will be relocating to a settlement in the Belt.  My researches into the subtler, supersensible aspects of aetheric flow require a more remote locale.”  He indicated them with a wave of his hand.  “I am glad that your telegram reached me; it was most intriguing.”

“Thank you for taking the time to speak with us,” Penelope said.  “Your assistance in this matter could be quite helpful.  In fact,” she continued as she drew the folder from her day bag and extended it toward him, “I thought of your earlier research monographs on esoteric inscriptions immediately.”

Steiner took the proffered folder.  “Let us see…” he began, but trailed off as he saw the uppermost photograph.  He removed the small stack of documents, setting the empty folder on a side table just to his right, his attention fixed squarely on the images held before him.  The look of concentration deepened as he silently and purposefully examined each sketch and each photograph in turn, spending no more or less time with one than another.

“You indicated, Freiin,” he said finally, looking up from the papers, “that these inscriptions were found in Morgen and  Dämmerung.”

“I did,” Penelope agreed.

“Do you happen to know where in those cities these artifacts were found?”

“I believe the locations are noted on the reverse,” Penelope replied.  “I take it you deem that detail important?”

“I suspect so,” Steiner answered enigmatically as he turned the documents over and read the inscriptions.  “There are a few points I must verify.  Please excuse me for a moment.”  He rose from the chair and stepped to the far side of the parlor where several boxes sat at the foot of the partially-denuded bookshelves that ran the length of that wall.  Opening one of the boxes, he removed several volumes that were packed within, setting them on the floor, then lifted another book that had been beneath them.  Catching a glimpse of the title as he returned to his chair, Penelope realized the volume a Mercurian atlas of some kind.

Steiner paged through the book, stopping and examining the map on the left-hand page.  He then checked the notation on the reverse of one of the photographs before paging to another section of the atlas and repeating the process.

“As I thought,” he said.  “This is potentially grave, indeed.”

“What have you found, Professor?” Penelope asked.  “Do you have some notion as to the purpose of these inscriptions?”

“I’m afraid I may, Freiin,” he replied.  “And if my supposition is correct, then someone is attempting a terrible working.”  His dark eyes held hers intensely.  “A working aimed at nothing less than binding the immense power of the planet itself!"

Part III

Penelope felt her left eyebrow quirk upwards, quite of its own accord.  “You’ll have to pardon me, Professor, if I find that to be a most extraordinary statement.”  She considered her host evenly.  “Would you be so kind as to explain?”

Steiner waved a hand graciously.  “Of course.  I can certainly understand your reaction.”  He set the book aside and leaned back in his chair.  After regarding his guests for a moment, he continued.

“As you know, Freiin, my inquiries have diverged to some degree from the accepted fields of study, as the latter are seen by academics of today.  While I received my doctorate in the traditional discipline of philosophy and my dissertation was a natural extension of prior explorations, I have since that time ventured into realms less well regarded, yet which are nonetheless of vital import to the human condition.  These subjects are known by a number of labels—esoteric, occult, divine mysteries—though I prefer the term ‘supersensible’ to describe them.”

Penelope nodded.  “Though I am no scholar as such, I have some understanding of these matters,” she said.  “My father’s concept of a well-rounded education was rather, shall we say, comprehensive.”

Steiner gave a small smile.  “It is to your father’s credit, Freiin, that he saw the nature of your education in such a light.  These worlds would be far better if such considerations were taken into account by more people.

“But I digress.”  He gestured to Penelope.  “Given your introduction to those studies, you must then have some concept of the nature of the supersensible forces those disciplines discuss under the various names of the differing traditions.”

“I know of some of the discourses, yes,” Penelope agreed.  “The late Madame Blavatsky’s Ancient Doctrines is one of the texts with which I am familiar.”

Steiner’s brows rose slightly at that.  “A not-insubstantial text.”

“Quite.”  She nodded to her host.  “But you were saying, Professor.”

“These forces,” Steiner informed them, “like those known to the traditional sciences flow through the universe.  And like their better-known brethren, it is theorized that they can be focused and channeled.”

“Such a thing can be done?”

Steiner gave a small shrug.  “I cannot truly say, Freiin.  The boundaries of the supersensible have yet to be explored systematically, something I hope to correct with my ongoing research.  That which is known tends to be shrouded in the opaque language and symbolism of the esoteric.  But the evidence of this working here--” He waved a hand toward the stack of sketches and photographs, “does not bode well, in my estimation.”

“Why would you say that, sir?” Elias leaned in, the set of his expression making it clear to Penelope that he was fully engaged in the professor’s impromptu lecture.

“Though I do actively practice the esoteric arts according to their traditions, my studies nevertheless bring me into frequent contact with the occult scene.  I have a finger on  its pulse, one might say.  Some time ago, rumors of a new group began to surface.”

 “It is my impression,” Penelope interjected, “that there has always been some degree of transience in the esoteric community.  Groups forming, breaking away from one another, falling apart.”

“That is true, Freiin,” Stiner agreed.  “But this particular group of esotericists seemed different to me.  They called themselves ‘The Cultists of Thule.’  While this sort of appellation is not unusual, the rumors indicated that the focus of their studies was the more shadowed aspects of the arts, seeking to bring the supersensible forces to bear within the sensible worlds.”

“To what end?” Penelope asked.  She thought a moment.  “Power?”

“Such would be my supposition,” Steiner replied gravely.  “That is the typical aim for those who seek the darker paths.”

“And you believe that to be the case in this instance?”

“I do, Freiin.”

Penelope’s brow furrowed as she looked beyond the parlor walls, off into the distance.  “This is quickly moving beyond the scope of my engagement with Herr Grossman,” she commented, only partly to herself.  “Yet it is apparent to me that the unknown goals of this equally unknown cabal cannot be to the good.”  Her gaze refocused on her host.  “Is there anything further you might be able to suggest?  What would one be looking for if one were seeking this group out?”

This time it was Steiner’s brow which furrowed in thought.  He said nothing for several moments.  “If my understanding of their intent is correct, Freiin,” he offered finally, “then they would have prepared some chamber for the reception and manipulation of the forces being evoked.  The chamber would have glyphs on its six surfaces—the four walls, ceiling, and floor—identical to those I suspect have been placed at the six poles of the planet.”

“Six poles?” Elias interrupted, clearly confused.

Steiner’s expression was patient.  “Six, young man.  Remember that Mercury is tidally locked with the sun.  In addition to the well-known poles of North and South, this planet also possesses fixed poles facing sunward and spaceward.”

“That makes four,” Penelope observed.  “The other two?”

“The leading and lagging poles along its orbital path, which scientists have rather  unimaginatively labeled East and West, respectively.”

“I see,” Penelope nodded.  “Please, continue.  Where might we look for this chamber you describe?”

“In truth, Freiin,” Steiner replied, “the chamber itself could be located anywhere.  The forces of which we are speaking do not follow the limitation of physical space, but operate by laws particular to their realms.  I’m sorry that I cannot be of more assistance in that regard.”

“I will include all the information you’ve given me in my report, Professor,” Penelope  responded.  “It will be up the territorial government to decide on the appropriate actions.”  She stood, Elias and Steiner following.  “I thank you for your time and your hospitality.  Elias and I should be going now.  We will return to the capital tomorrow”

Steiner gave a shallow bow.  “It is my honor, Freiin.  Perhaps we will cross paths again one day when we have more time to converse.”

Penelope smiled.  “I would look forward to such a time, Professor.  I wish you success in your studies.”

###

Penelope and Elias dined that evening at a small establishment near their lodgings after she had made arrangements for their return journey to Dämmerung the following day.  As the World River flowed in one direction, there were certain efficiencies in taking the “long-way” and  Eisküste was well past the point where a powered journey against the current would have been worthwhile.  Thus, she and Elias would complete their circumnavigation of the planet, taking less than a day longer than the first leg of their travels.

She noticed that Elias had been unusually quiet at dinner, but she decided against prying into the young man’s thoughts.  Her own mind was already beginning work on the brief report she’d draft for Herr Grossman and she was looking forward to getting back to her original plan to return to her Martian estate as soon as her duty to the German government was fulfilled.

It was early the next morning that the two travelers boarded the ferry, opting to break their fast once the journey to the territorial capital had commenced.  After settling in their suite, Penelope suggested that they observe the casting-off from the dining room, an idea to which Elias agreed eagerly.  His quiet demeanor had continued, however, and as they took their breakfast, she finally broke down.

“Is there something on your mind, Elias?” she asked.

He looked startled for a moment, then gave a sheepish grin.  “Is it that obvious, Lady P?”

Penelope couldn’t help but smile.  “I’m afraid so.  A penny for your thoughts.””

He shook his head.  “I’m not sure that my thoughts are worth quite so much, my lady, but there is something—an idea, I guess—that I’ve been debating to bring up to you.”

“You needn’t worry about making suggestions, Elias.  You’re an observant and intelligent young man; that’s one of the reasons I asked you to come into my service in the first place.  Please, do share.”

Elias considered her for a moment, then nodded.  “Well, Lady P, you might remember that you included in my course of studies this last term a class in American literature.”

Penelope frowned slightly at the non sequitur, but gave a nod of her own.  “Yes,” she agreed.  “I do recall that.”

“Well, among the authors we covered was a certain man by the name of Edgar Allen Poe, whose writings were often bleak, but vivid.  One of the stories we discussed was ‘The Purloined Letter,’ something called a ‘detective story’ which describes the search for a stolen document.  It turns out that the letter was hidden right in the open, among a bunch of other documents.  In plain sight, you might say.”

“And how does this pertain to your idea?”

“Well,” he replied.  “It occurred to me that one means of concealing a group like these cultists of Thule might be to do something similar.  I’m guessing your intent is to hand your report to Herr Grossman once we’ve returned to  Dämmerung?”

“It is,” Penelope allowed.  “I believe we’ve uncovered what we can regarding these artifacts and I would like us to commence our journey to Mars as soon as possible.”  She paused.  “I take it you have another suggestion?”

“It would only be a small delay, my lady, but I thought it would be worth searching the capital in the vicinity of the location of that first artifact for any signs of the cultists’ headquarters.”

Penelope’s gaze slipped past her assistant and her eyes narrowed slightly as she considered the idea.  It had merit, certainly, and though she was keen for the two of them to be on their way, something in the back of her mind latched onto the notion that there was more to be discovered in this matter. 

Finally, she came to a decision.  “It is indeed worth doing, Elias.  I believe we can afford another day or two, if need be.”  She looked at the young man approvingly.  “Thank you.”

Elias’ expression broke into a wide grin.  “You’re most welcome, Lady P.”

###

Upon their return to the territorial capital, Penelope first found the two of them appropriate lodgings.  As the ferry had docked mid-afternoon, she thought that move prudent before embarking on the further investigations.  Once their luggage had been transported to their suite, however, she turned to her young assistant.

“Well, Elias,” she commented.  “This was your suggestion.  Where would you like to begin?”

“It had occurred to me, my lady,” he replied with mock-seriousness, “that you might use this as another teaching opportunity.”  Penelope couldn’t help but smile at the young man’s insight, but waved a hand for him to continue.  “So I spent some time pondering that very question.”

“And what conclusion did you reach, might I ask?”

“If we are looking for a ‘purloined letter’ hiding in plain sight,” Elias offered, “then why not begin with the most obvious of locations?”  He paused.  “That is, the office building in whose basement the first of the artifacts was discovered.”

“Given your line of reasoning,” Penelope agreed, “a most sensible suggestion.”  She withdrew the heirloom pocket watch she always carried as a memento of her father and glanced at the time.  “We have a few hours before businesses will typically be closing for the day.  Let’s be about it then.”

As the pair departed the hotel—a far more modest establishment than one of her social standing might typically patronize; she was prudent in her expenditures even when those expenditures were subject to reimbursement, a habit of practicality and honesty that her father had emphasized in her upbringing—the afternoon’s traffic appeared to be in something of a lull, past the lunch-hour commotion, but not yet surging with home-bound workers.  It was without too much effort, therefore, that Penelope caught the attention of a cab-driver and his beastless-carriage.  A few moments later, they were off, bound for the city-center and the office building in question.

The light street traffic made for an unimpeded journey, so it was only a short while later that Penelope and Elias found themselves standing in the front lobby of the Gretz Commercial Center, one of the more historic office buildings in the city, though its reputation came more from the flamboyance of the original owner and financier than from anything about the building itself.  Heinrich Gretz, it seemed, had had something of a taste for lavish parties, cut-throat business tactics, and women—whether those women were at the time married or not—and left sputtering indignation in his wake.  His sudden death under moderately suspicious circumstances several decades ago had been quietly celebrated by some segments of society.  An obligatory, though perfunctory, investigation by the territorial authorities had turned up no evidence of foul play.

On the wall off to left of the marble entranceway, a directory listed the enterprises with offices on the various floors of the building.  Limited in height by the tinted dome covering the city, the building had only five stories above ground, though a further level had been constructed below grade, in addition to the basement (in reality, sub-basement) which Elias had referenced.  There were only a handful of others passing through the lobby, heading toward one of the ground floor office suites or to the staircase leading to the floor above.  She noticed no one heading down. 

“What sort of clues should we look for, my lady?” she heard him ask.  Having voiced the notion of “hiding in plain sight,” as he put it, it seemed that her young companion was having difficulty imagining what such a thing might actually look like.

“I’m not sure, Elias,” Penelope admitted as they approached the directory.  “If this purloined letter of yours is lying about, however, I suspect I’ll know what I’m looking for when we spot it.”

Despite her answer, the more she’d considered Elias’ idea, the more she sensed that he was onto something.  And as she stood before the directory, that sense turned palpable—the very air around her becoming charged with a potency she couldn’t describe.  Her hard, green eyes swept down the listing, questing for the unknown trigger which would tell her she’d found what they were seeking.  Attorneys, a brokerage firm, accountants...nothing.

She stopped at the second name from the bottom.

“That one,” she stated firmly, pointing.  “Lumière Imports, Limited.”  Several threads of possibility converged into certainty.  “Offices on the first sublevel.”

Elias glanced at her, slightly puzzled.  “You’re sure, my lady?”

“Quite.”  She looked to her assistant.  “I’ll explain it to you later, Elias, but for now I’ll just say that there have been a number of subtle hints regarding the nature of this affair which have been nagging at me.  I have a feeling that my suspicions are about to be confirmed.”

“Venus?” he asked as they turned toward the stairwell and began to descend to the floor below.

“Exactly,” Penelope replied.

She offered nothing more as the two of them reached the landing and came to the front door of the office suite.  The window in the door was dark and there were no signs of activity.  A tug on the door handle confirmed that the suite was locked.

“I don’t suppose you have your old tools with you?” she inquired.

Elias gave a knowing smile.  “I never go on an adventure unprepared,” he answered, pulling a small pouch from his pocket and removing a pair of lockpicks.  He glanced about, verifying that there was no one in the vicinity.  “Just give me one moment.”

He must have kept his old skills sharp during his time at the university—though by what means Penelope decided she did not need to inquire—for it was less than the space of two breaths before a quiet snick announced the young man’s success.  He pushed the door open and held it for her.  “My lady,” he said with an obvious pride.

“Thank you,” she replied and stepped through.  Where they stood was obviously designed as a reception area, with a desk set to one side for that purpose and a small seating section opposite.  A wide hall facing them lead further into the suite.

The air was quiet.  Unnaturally so, it seemed to her.  With just a hint of something else, something off.  They looked over the front lobby but quickly turned their attention to the hallway.  Each wall of the corridor displayed two doors, which further inspection revealed to lead to small offices which held little of note.  Penelope found it curious that no papers, files, or account books were in evidence.  At the far end of the hall, a set of double doors stood, firmly shut.

“I see little in the way of business going on here, Elias,” Penelope commented.  “Importation or otherwise.”  She frowned.  “I suspect we may have found your hidden letter.”  With that, she made her way to the far end of the hall and the double doors.  Another lock.

“Elias?”  That off scent was stronger now. 

“Yes, my lady.”  He knelt before the lock and set to work.  The mechanism must have been more intricate than that of the outer door, as it took him more than a minute of effort before the lock yielded.  Hesitating only for a moment, he pushed the doors open.

That scent, Penelope realized as the wave of odor crashed over them, was death.

The chamber on the other side of the double-portal fit Professor Steiner’s hypothetical description almost exactly.  The doorway was set at a corner, leaving the center of each wall available for the intricate runes inscribed within a broad circle some six feet across.  Like a sigil, she considered.  The center of the floor and likewise the ceiling above bore similar designs.  Here was the device by which the cultists had sought to focus and manipulate the energies of the planet.  This chamber was an experimental machine, a potential weapon, a tool of death.

And the evidence of that latter conclusion lay scattered about the chamber floor.

Bodies, twisted in agony, features distorted by fear and pain and decay, slowly decomposing.  Five bodies in total.  All men, though of differing ages as far as could be determined.  How long they had so lain, she could not say, but the corpses were by no means fresh.

A memory surfaced.  My plan had always been…  “to rid myself of these miserable lackeys when I was done with them.”

“My lady?” Elias asked.

She hadn’t realized that she’d spoken that last part out loud.  “It’s nothing,” she answered, shaking her head.  “Only an old ghost.”

Elias frowned at that, but said nothing.

Penelope looked up from the corpse she’d been examining.  They’d found no identification on any of the bodies.  No papers, nothing that said what the group had been attempting.  Whatever had occurred and whoever had been behind it were no longer in evidence.  She straightened.  “I think we’d best depart, Elias,” she announced.  “We should brief Herr Grossman on what we’ve uncovered and allow the territorial authorities to handle the matter.  Our work here is done.”

###

Penelope watched as the ochre sphere of Mercury slowly receded into the aether beyond the glazed port window of her suite aboard the Hyacinth.  It been nearly three days after the discovery of the cultists’ lair before she and Elias had finally been able to depart for her delayed return to the family estate on Mars.  The local police had wished to question the two of them more extensively—as the discovery of so grisly a scene had aroused some suspicion in the eyes of the municipal government--and it had taken Herr Grossman’s intervention to secure their release.  She had given her report of the investigation, along with Professor Steiner’s hypotheses.  These had been accepted and her efforts thanked.  The compensation for her expenses followed quickly.

Her gaze shifted from the window to the young man sitting beside her and found, to her surprise, that his eyes resting on her.  “What is it, Elias?” she asked.

He looked embarrassed to have been caught.  “My lady,” he replied, glancing away.  “It is not my place to ask…” He trailed off.

Penelope felt her left eyebrow quirk upward.  She cleared her throat, suppressing a smile as Elias’ eyes rose to meet hers.  “You may ask anything you like—within reason.”

“And if it isn’t within reason?”

She did smile at that.  “Then I won’t answer you, of course.”

The joke lightened the young man’s mood, it seemed, and he visibly relaxed.  He let out a breath.  “There were a couple of times,” he began, “that you made mention of something that had happened before we met.  Something on Venus.”

“And?”

“And when we found...those bodies,” he continued, “you said something about an old ghost.  I got the feeling that the ghost and the Venus thing are linked somehow.”

Penelope observed her assistant for a few moments, then nodded slowly.  “You intuition serves you well, Elias,” she answered.  “And you are not wrong.”

When she didn’t say anything further, Elias shifted uncomfortably in his seat.  “Is it something your ladyship would be willing to share?”

“You needn’t go all formal on me, Elias,” she replied, placing a hand on his knee.  “There will be a time for such conversations.  For today, however, we shall let the past be the past and allow old ghosts to fade into the depths.”

Her gaze returned to the expanse beyond the window.  “Where they belong.”