~Hakurei Shrine~ > Patchouli's Scarlet Library

And What Alice Found There

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KimikoMuffin:
That was an awesome chapter.

Whelp, now we've got another canon Touhou character revealed, more or less. Alice, Yukari, Cirno, Tewi ... and Medicine.

BT:
I thought the doll was just going to end up as Shanghai or something. This was super nice.

Wild Witchy West:
This just keeps getting better and better.

(And if the lost doll is destined to become what it's hinted to become, then it's a tad ironic given that that hill is supposed to dispense death instead of life.)

I also just wanted to say that seeing non-Vancian magic in Gensokyo is amusing. :]

ninryu:
Such an intense chapter! I die to know what happen next. Next chapter, where are you?!

Yayifications:
Consciousness returned to Minerva in an instant, sharp and piercing. She quickly sat up on the bench, and then wished she hadn't.

The early morning sun cast its rays across the floor, even as it illuminated the sad, pathetic sight of one foreign witch huddled on a bench in a corner. Some considerate passer-by had laid a blanket over her as she dozed through the cold, wet night, still in the bedraggled remains of the dress she wore to the festival. It was a minor miracle that all she had to show for her exhaustion and chill was a splitting headache that made the world seem to throb in sympathy.

Compared to the others, she had gotten off lightly.

Minerva had refused to leave her post just inside the Hieda mansion, even as she was politely but firmly refused entry into the inner chambers where everything was happening. A great many people had been roused out of bed the previous night, and hustled into the rooms where Aya and Alice had been taken with some urgency. Minerva lost count once the number of visitors reached double digits, but after a certain point, she could guess their respective destinations. The ones who had a medical bearing were bound for Alice, and the prognosis was promising, if delicate; Alice's heart was strong, and given enough rest and medication, she was expected to return to full health in due time.

The ones carrying assorted religious paraphernalia intended to ease the passage of souls to the next world were all for Aya.

The residents of the mansion were still largely in shock, but Minerva had already seen the looks directed her way when the rescue party had finally returned that night. None of them had been so blatantly accusatory, of course; this was Gensokyo, and everyone understood. But they also understood whom to blame.

Seiji had been overwhelmed by his newfound experiences with the paranormal, and he had gladly accepted Minerva's gentle suggestion for him to go home. He promised to return the next day, refreshed and ready to assist in any way he could.

Minerva had offered her own help to the household staff, but had been rebuffed, politely as always. She dared not press the issue: Minerva Margatroid, foreign magician and self-proclaimed youkai hunter, had done enough damage for one night.

The activity within the mansion had fallen into the droning cadence of distant ritual, after the first few frantic hours. Minerva had ensconced herself on her corner bench, and succumbed to sleep. Even now, after she had woken, the rituals continued.

Minerva stood, feeling every ache from the night's exertions. Too many questions left unanswered, and too many suspicions left unproven.

Too much guilt to bear.

Attempts to straighten out her dress were met with predictable failure, and so Minerva could only try to ignore her lack of dignity when the patriarch of the Hieda family emerged to meet her.

Minerva noted the dark circles under his eyes, and the weary lines on his face. Yet his expression was utterly impassive, hiding whatever emotions he might have had as he faced the one most responsible for his niece's current condition.

The Hieda patriarch gazed silently at Minerva, as though rehearsing a mental script. Minerva returned the stare; contrition had never come easily to her, and if she was going to face the consequences of her actions and inactions, she would do it with her head high.

"The little girl is doing well," Hieda finally said.

"Thank you, Hieda-san," Minerva replied. Had she used the wrong honorific? Nothing in Hieda's expression betrayed his thoughts. Damn the language and its over-complicated social structure, anyway. "How is Aya-san?"

Hieda proceeded to the next line of his script, as though he had not heard. "The Hieda family will, of course, continue to sponsor your research, if you so choose. Your rooms will be kept as they are, and you will retain full use of the mansion, as before."

And Minerva would have to endure the stares of every servant in the house. Not to mention what Miho would say when she returned; a messenger had been dispatched to Nagano some time earlier. Miho was close to her cousin; how would she react when she heard of what had happened?

"I appreciate the offer, Hieda-san," Minerva said, "but I have..." Torn your family apart. "I have imposed too much upon your hospitality already. I will make arrangements for other lodgings as soon as convenient."

Hieda blinked very slowly at her. "I see. Then we will care for the child until she recovers, for it is not advisable to move her at the moment. You are free to visit her as you please, of course. And you may have use of your rooms in the house until... arrangements are made."

Minerva tried not to read that as a statement on her untrustworthiness as a guardian. "You have my gratitude, Hieda-san. For that, and for everything your family has done for me."

Hieda grunted in acknowledgement, almost imperceptibly. "Very well. That is all." He turned to leave.

"No, it's not," Minerva suddenly said. "Hieda-san, I am truly sorry for what has happened. I should not have let Aya-san follow, and I should have kept a closer eye on her. There is nothing I can say in my defense, and I know there is no recompense I can give."

Hieda was still for a moment, before taking a deep, calming breath that seemed to go on forever. When he finally turned back to Minerva, his expression was impassive once more. "There is nothing to apologize for. She is the Child of Miare. It is done."

"What does that-" But Hieda was already striding away, and Minerva could not help the edge of desperation in her voice: "May I see her, at least?"

Hieda did not face her. "No," he said, "you may not."

And that was that. Minerva stood alone and silent, while the mansion bustled around her, servants pretending not to notice, pretending not to care. All emotion had drained from her, ever since the night in the field of deadly flowers, and it would be some time before the receptacle would fill once more.

Gradually, a certain thought percolated through the blank expanse of nothingness in Minerva's mind. The thought said, in a diffident manner, that it might be time for her to change out of her ruined dress, at the least.

It was a good idea, and Minerva decided to follow it. After all, good ideas were to be treasured for their rarity.

Minerva took her time in the baths, and by the time she emerged in clean, pressed clothes, she was not feeling quite as sorry for herself as before. There was not getting around what had happened, but now Minerva could face whatever would come next with grace.

Her first stop was to the room where Alice was resting. This had apparently been chosen for its excellent ventilation and natural lighting, allowing for optimum convalescence of patients. The only fault Minerva could find in its design was that it was in the Japanese style of architecture, which meant a bedroll on the floor instead of a proper four-poster.

Alice was fast asleep, her breathing laboured. She looked worryingly pale, and her forehead was cold and clammy to Minerva's touch. A basin of hot water and several towels had been prepared beside the bedroll; a sickly smell in the air bore evidence to the effects of poisoning from the lilies of the valley. Someone had changed Alice out of her kimono and into loose, light clothing; Minerva wondered if the kimono would be cleaned or burned.

Minerva daubed away Alice's sweat with a towel, for lack of anything more meaningful to do. Minerva's knowledge of medicine extended to folk remedies and scattered fieldcraft, along with whatever lessons in practical anatomy she had picked up over the years. Nothing that would allow her to second-guess the doctors here, certainly.

A maidservant poked her head into the room, peering suspiciously at Minerva. Minerva guessed that she was the designated medical assistant, watching over the patient.

"Please make sure Alice eats something when she wakes up," Minerva told her quietly. "I don't suppose you have a recipe for soup- oh, yes, you'd be more familiar with rice porridge. I, er, I'll leave you to it, then."

Minerva let herself out, stalking the corridors in a discontent mood. Violet Hearn had called her the greatest magician in the world, and yet she could not even help a single child.

Or save her friend, for that matter.

Her path led her outside, to the alchemy shack behind the mansion. The irregular light of dawn shrouded the boundary between field and forest, and Minerva stopped at the edge, facing a pool of shadow.

"You can come out now," she murmured.

Minerva had seen a wide enough variety of optical illusions during her time with travelling fairs. A mass of conflicting shades, blotches of what appeared to be random colours on canvas, would suddenly coalesce into a picture of a horse, or a man, or some other otherwise mundane image that leapt out of the chaos as though by magic.

It occurred to Minerva that magic may, in fact, be responsible for this particular illusion, as the dappling of light and shade detached itself from its fellows, and was revealed to be a young woman who could not have been there a mere moment before, had Minerva not known about her presence prior.

Minerva took the opportunity to get a better look at her, now that the light was better. The young woman was dressed in plain, simple clothing, almost designed to pass for something any young Japanese lady of reasonable means would wear on a day without important occasions marked on the schedule. Only a closer inspection would reveal certain peculiarities that made the entire ensemble not quite conventional; the mysterious lack of needlework or weaving in the cloth would have been a significant clue.

Of course, any notice attracted by the young woman would have been more due to her flaming red hair. Some quirk of the lighting gave it an uncanny shade that reminded Minerva uncomfortably of fresh blood.

The woman bore this scrutiny in faintly amused silence. "English, or Japanese?" she finally asked, using the former language.

"English," Minerva replied in the same. "How do you know English in the first place?"

The woman tapped the side of her head. "I could say that it came to me in a flash, when we met in the field of flowers."

"When you touched my mind," Minerva said. "I had intended to borrow some power from the sample of gas collected from that cave behind the shrine. I had not expected, well..."

"A familiar?"

"For a start. Are we even under a formal contract, between master and summoned servant?"

The woman shrugged. "Formal? No. But still a contract in most of the ways that matter, nonetheless. Everything else is ceremony and ritual. We can go through all of that if you'd like," she added helpfully.

Minerva sighed. "Never mind. What else did you take from my mind, in that moment of summoning?"

"Less than you might imagine," the woman admitted. "Randomized pieces, certainly. Unattended shards of knowledge. Enough to understand the situation, both the immediate and the general. You wanted to get out of that field, and needed my power to do it. Voila, you are out of the field, and back among civilization. Such as it is, in your opinion."

This woman was clearly dangerous. "And what are you?" Minerva said. "Where did you come from? Or did you spring fully-formed from my imagination?"

"Ah, but that would be much more suited for yourself, Minerva," the woman noted. "Goddess of wisdom, crafts, and magic. Which would make me, in some small way, a servant of knowledge. I commend your choice of nomen."

"My thanks, but you have not answered my question."

"I come from... hm. I'm not sure what the proper term is, here in the human world. There is a name I've heard used before, in Japan... Makai? Probably translated as a world of magic. Or, alternatively, a world of devils."

Minerva paced around the woman with slow, deliberate strides, as though appreciating a museum display. "And once again the traditions of Japan run aground on the mystical writings of Europe. I am fairly certain you do not resemble any of the demons listed in the Lemegeton, and Solomon never evoked a spirit as you."

"Did he not?" the woman challenged. "How do you know this is my true form?"

"I concede the point. But I seem to have bound you as my familiar, however unintentionally, and until the terms of the contract are fulfilled, I should be in no overt danger from your actions. Am I correct in assuming so?"

The woman curtsied. "As you say, my mistress."

"Swear on it," Minerva commanded.

"Excuse me?"

"Swear that you will be worthy of my trust, and that you will not betray me, while the contract is in effect. Swear that you will not knowingly cause me harm, and that you will assist me to the best of your abilities in all that I require."

The woman rolled her eyes. "I do so swear, upon my true name, that I will abide by the terms of the contract as stated," she recited impatiently, "and that I will bring no harm to you and yours. I also swear to serve you to the utmost of my abilities, and protect both you and that child I know you are so worried about. This I swear upon my true name, upon all my other names not quite as true, upon the honour of my kind, upon both my world and this one, upon the rather queasy examples of comestibles you call English cuisine... Minerva, this has all been done. It is implicit in the contract. I could go on if it makes you feel any better, but I could no more break the terms of the contract than I could, say, bring the dead back to life."

"Can you?" Minerva said, curious.

"What? Of course not. Simply beyond my power. Why do you ask?"

"Never mind." Minerva pinched the bridge of her nose. "I know I must be overlooking far too many possible loopholes for a self-proclaimed devil to exploit, but it has been, as you well know, a busy night."

"I promise, in the event that I should end up betraying you, that I shall give ample and explicit notice beforehand," the woman said. "Possibly in an affidavit. Would that satisfy you?"

"It would be a start," Minerva said. "I presume there is nothing in this contract that deals with the matter of an irreverent, almost disrespectful tone."

"Fawning subservience is optional."

"And if I command you to adopt such a clause, you will make things even more inconvenient for myself through a pretense of vapid idiocy, I would assume."

"Including an interpretation of orders that may or may not be a tad too literal," the woman agreed. "Die ich rief, die Geister, werd ich nun nicht los."

"Thank you for your Goethe." Minerva reached out to touch the woman's scarlet hair. "I'm afraid you'll be rather conspicuous if you venture out among the other humans of the village. I don't suppose you have some sort of disguising magic prepared?"

"Not at the moment, but I am aware of a potent spell for that purpose," the woman said. "I call it a wig. Or possibly a hat."

"For that, you may hide in the shadows until I have need of you, for all I care," Minerva said sternly. "How did you do that, by the way? The camouflage was most effective."

The woman spread her arms. "You do not see the wings?"

"What wings?"

"Then I cannot explain in a way you will understand," the woman said solemnly. "When you can see the wings, then you will know."

More riddles. Minerva was getting tired of riddles. "What should I call you?" she wondered.

"Does it matter?" the woman said. "I've been called many things, by those who summoned me in times past. 'Devil' and 'Demon' are always popular. 'Servant' for those who revelled in their superiority, 'Lady' for those who did not. And, of course, for some unfathomable reason, a great many instances of 'Temptress'."

"Quite appropriate," Minerva said.

"I don't see how. It isn't as though I lead men down the path to damnation-"

"Oh, but you do. You are a creature of magic, and your very presence signifies power. Power that, by its very nature, leads people to do what they might not otherwise have done. And you, my scarlet devil, will be companion and witness to these acts of... of human perversity."

The woman nodded slowly. "And when humans are on the brink of a precipice... there is, very often, the unaccountable urge to leap headlong into the abyss."

"Thus do I borrow from Poe," Minerva said, "and name you something that has been by my side for as long as I can remember. Something that has been at every human's side, perhaps. In so naming you, I remind myself of your presence, and am better able to guard myself against the whisperings of the Imp of the Perverse."

The newly-christened Imp winced. "Not a name I would have chosen for myself. But it will serve well enough." She straightened. "And? What would you have your Imp do, Minerva Margatroid?"

"Stay hidden for now," Minerva ordered. "I shall return later to give further instructions. There is a certain clearing in the forest I want you to see, but I cannot guide you there yet; Alice needs me here."

The Imp nodded. "As you wish."

"Imp. Before you go."

"Yes?"

"I would just like to... express my gratitude. For your help, last night. If you hadn't lent me your power, events would have gone quite badly." More than they already were.

The Imp smiled. "You are most welcome, Minerva," she said, as she vanished into the shadows.

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