The Haunt of Danzig Ruin

The Barrier

Petrich and Nora laid Anton Kienczny in state atop the marble bench where they had found him wounded in the garden. Nora gently crossed his hands upon his chest.  She then selected the most beautiful of the white roses in the garden and put them in the boy's cold fingers.
            "Go to your Lady Rosemary," said Nora gently to him, "And be at peace." 
             It was all they could offer the poor boy before they solemnly took their leave from the rooftop garden. 
            There was still plenty of hoopla going on all over the mansion from police investigators to members of the press snatching up every bit of information possible, truth or not.
            Petrich and Nora walked among them quite casually, the threaded doll packed away in the knapsack and hanging at Petrich's shoulder.
As they strolled, in single file, with Nora a couple of steps ahead, Petrich could not help but wonder at how remarkably dangerous one could be existing in the Dream Plain, particularly those who lacked a morale compass.  But then another important aspect occurred to him.
           Nothing can be created nor destroyed by their own hand here.
             The cursed threads of the doll were a part of the Dream Plain, just as he and Nora were. It may not have been able to flat out murder Theo Xander even if it had wanted to, so, apparently it chose an alternate choice of reckoning. Anton Kienczny had misunderstood this truth. Crinoline, herself, may have even misunderstood it.
           And then there was the final, most obvious example of not being able to create in the Dream Plain.  Nora had yet to become pregnant, which was of great relief on many levels.  But Nora had given reason for not conceiving.  It was a subject she explained as nonchalant as explaining how to boil water on a stove.
             "Of course, I've not conceived," she said, lightly, in the beginning of their more intimate relations, "I do not ovulate here."
              "Oh. . ." Was all Petrich could say in reply.
               They returned late to their quarters physically, mentally and emotionally drained. After bathing, Nora sat at a mirror vanity, running a brush through her long raven tresses.
Petrich took his turn in the bath and planned to stay a bit longer than usual to simply soak and think.
              Through most of that time he contemplated the numbers Anton had written in the note. Petrich had them memorized and applied them to every mathematical formula he could possibly derive, but none made any sense whatsoever.  Vital information was missing, until. . .
              "I think I have it!" Petrich exclaimed, slipping off the wet bath cloth he had covering his eyes.  "The numbers! They are map coordinates! The geographical directions were missing!"
             Nora promptly unfolded a map over the work table and applied the numbers to the lines of latitude and longitude.
             Petrich, out of the bath, half dressed and hovering over the map stared where Nora's fingertip pointed. They looked at each other and Petrich smiled. "Looks like our next destination is Ecarte Island."
                "And the 3/2?" asked Nora, but then caught her breath and her eyes grew wide. "Could it be the date for the star reading for the new Danzig tapestry?"
               "Could very well be. Crinoline said she'd give us the place and the time." Petrich agreed. "Which would mean we have a couple of months to get there. But there is no real reason to wait. We could leave out by train as early as tomorrow!"
             "Yes, we could, but. . .what about The Unveiling?"
             "What about it? Our course of study is complete, we have all the knowledge we need to construct a new tapestry."
"But consider, Petrich," Nora reasoned, "We would be leaving without receiving our degree in the tapestry arts."
At this Petrich scoffed, but Nora continued.
"We had spoken of making our future observatory into another guild for celestial scribes, and we shall need all proof of accreditation we can get!"
Of course, Petrich could not argue with her logic. Bringing back the art of tapestry contracts would not necessarily be an easy task. Their newly constructed bond contract could not stand as a strong enough example of their mastery without acknowledgment from a highly regarded school of the craft.
Petrich shrugged. "Very well." he sighed, "Might as well finish what we started."
And besides, The Unveiling would take place in less than two weeks time.
Petrich spent much of this time making arrangements. Now that their destination had been made aware to them, all the more he itched to get moving. He wondered what Ecarte Island was to look like, for they would not be seeing the island as they knew it, but how it was two centuries before. But, then again, this was the Dream Plain, so who knew??
When Nora was not sitting at her spinning wheel refining her motor memory skills of spinning unruly wool into fine spools of thread, she was reading all printed media covering the attack of Theo Xander.
To be sure, Petrich was keeping up with the news, as well, and what he found there shocked him, yet it did not. He had seen politics at work in his own time enough to know that politicians will stop at nothing to come out on top of any situation.
According to the immediate news sources, a highly private medical staff had been brought in for Xander's recovery. They had taken over the entire top floor of the guest mansion and absolutely no one could enter without strict vetting. They had even set up physical barriers to protect the ailing scribe from 'terrorists'.
"Terrorists??" Petrich laughed incredulously, reading the very next morning's paper.
Nora had already read it herself and now sat quietly sipping hot tea. "They found their scapegoat in Anton." she replied.
Petrich had expected the narrative to change to Xander's advantage, although he was not at all sure how. There had been plenty of witnesses to what attacked the scribe. None of this was mentioned in the media, however. Perhaps the witnesses had perceived the attack differently, or else convinced that what they saw was an illusion concocted by a rival political house. Most likely, there had been threats to not speak the truth.
The Danzig Incident was now being covered in earnest, especially since the discovery of the deceased Anton Kienczny, was found to have been employed by the Danzig estate. He apparently had allies, for surely he would not have laid himself down on the marble bench and die with roses in his hands, the Danzig family flower. Somebody must had laid him out, and these 'somebodies' were surely still somewhere on the Woxlichen campus.
The simple solution would have been for Xander and his entourage to leave Woxlichen, to the safety of his own residence, but no. Theo Xander was making a point to attend The Unveiling, just as scheduled.
"Nothing but another political stunt." said Petrich with much agitation, wishing beyond all things of leaving Woxlichen behind them at long last. "Playing the victim hero to its full extent."
Nora agreed, of course, but only with a nod of her head. Since the attack, Petrich had noticed Nora spending more and more time at her spinning wheel in quiet contemplation. Her eyes were no longer having to focus so intently on the work of her fingers, for her fingers could work the wool on their own accord. Instead, her eyes seemed to focus on the window, bright, in their violet color and conveying constant deep thought. On her lips was not a sign of sadness or even anger, but. . .something of anxious hope.
Petrich began to watch her a bit more closely and at last reached out to her with his mind.
Alright, Darling? He thought out to her.
Nora blinked and looked over at him.
"Of course," she said, aloud and flashed him a loving smile.
But still, Petrich felt a mental barrier, something Nora had never built between them before. Given his psychic capabilities, Petrich could have breached the barrier without Nora's permission. But between scribes and their beloved assistants, this was seen as a heinous act of betrayal, the equivalent to a man raping his wife.
In all other aspects, they carried on much the same, readying themselves for the Unveiling Ceremony. They traveled to the nearby city of Braum to the renown clothiers there to procure a new wardrobe of clothes, not just formals for The Unveiling (not that anyone would notice them), but also a new set of travel clothes fitting for the weather they would encounter on Ecarte Island.
Petrich could see that Nora was more herself as they shopped. Surely she just needed time away, Petrich concluded, to return to the simple pleasure of the life of a young woman.
Petrich felt relaxed and very much charmed by with Nora's gaiety and flirtatious antics. While on their way back to the Woxlichen campus in a train car to themselves, Nora confidently straddled his lap. She moved against him seductively slow, her sighs mixed with soft whimpers, her fingers in his hair pressing her exposed throat and breasts against his mouth.
Unable to take the pressure any longer, Petrich quickly removed just enough clothing to enter her deeply. 
              He saw the familiar bursts of color flood just behind his eyelids, only enhanced with Nora's soft cries of release at his ear.  And there, just beyond the pleasure was the mental barrier, cracking.  Just as it was to crumble completely away, she thought out to him as it read in Anton Kienczny's note.
             In the event I do not survive, I love you.
Then all was revealed to him at last.