I had a window seat on my flight into Trier.  It was my first 
visit even though my sister has been going to the University of 
Trier for two years.  I kept meaning to visit, but one thing after 
another came up, and finally, it took a kidnapping to get me to 
come look for her.

       Okay, to be precise, she vanished and her roommate called me.  
Normally, I wouldn't worry.  Lucy likes to vanish.  She loved hide 
and seek as a child, and she often would just spontaneously hide 
and wait to see if anyone would come looking for her.  In addition, 
she often disappears for a week or two at a time on impulsive 
sight-seeing trips, so her roommate, Clarisse d'Elgaud didn't call me 
as soon as she probably should have.  

                                    *         *         *

       Clarisse was in a panic, but panic is her natural state, so I 
wasn't too worried at first.  She started babbling at me in French.  
Even with magic, these international phone lines don't work too 
well, so it was hard for me to understand what she was saying.  
Luckily, I do speak French, though not as well as I speak German.  
"Slow down, Clarisse.  I can't understand anything you said except 
something about losing your shoes."

       "Lucy has been gone for three weeks!  I can't get the police to 
take me seriously!"  Probably because of the time she thought 
werewolves were following her everywhere, I thought.  She 
continued, "You've got to come find her!  I don't know who else to 
ask, and I'm really worried about her."

       I nodded, which did no good, since she couldn't actually see 
me.  "Right.  Do you have any idea what might have happened to 
her?"

       "Well, there was this guy she was seeing...I think he did 
something."  She began to talk more slowly, which it made it easier 
for me to understand her.

        "Right.  Anyway, you can tell me everything when I arrive.  
It'll take me a few days to make arrangements.  I'll send you a 
telegram when I know for sure when I'll be there."

        "Come as soon as you can!"

        I did.  Lucy is a bit of an idiot, just like I used to be when I 
was her age.  Probably she had eloped with some bohemian painter 
again.  She never quite got over our parents dying, and now I think 
she's worried that she'll die before she has a chance to even get 
married.  It doesn't help that being quite wealthy tends to attract 
men who drool at the scent of money.  I've had to swat quite a few 
of her would-be boyfriends that she couldn't tell were just after 
her money.  Probably it was simply more boyfriend trouble, I 
thought.  

                                    *         *         *

      While normally I like having the window seat on a zepplin 
flight, Trier sits in the middle of a literal blasted heath, which I 
didn't want to have to look at for hours.  The whole countryside 
around it for miles is a wasteland created by the magical weapons 
that ended the Great War with a big messy bloodbath.  While a lot 
of people worry about another Great War, I doubt it will be 
between Germany and France, because fighting over that border 
just isn't worth it.  I wouldn't want to lead an army through that 
either.  Things live there that aren't worth disturbing.  I could see 
something huge, long, and tubular slithering across a hill far below 
us.  It was far larger than any worm should be.  The mere fact that 
I could see it from a zeppelin high in the air was disturbing.  

      I could see Trier off in the distance, a tiny oasis of humanity 
and non-hideous life in the middle of devastation.  Like 
Luxembourg, Andorra, the Long Isles, San Martin, Liechtenstein, 
Draco, and the Grand Duchy of Alnwick, it has somehow survived 
the death of most of the petty states of Europe.  Well, it's not so 
surprising in Trier's case.  It has the premier College of Magic in the 
world, which is why my sister is there.  My sister inherited her 
strong magical aptitude from her parents.  The sorcerors all tell me 
I could be as strong in magic as Lucy, but magic rarely cooperates 
with me, so I tend to stick to science and technology.

      Lucy, on the other hand, has a knack for it.  It's the only thing 
she takes seriously.  Unfortunately, she mostly uses it for frivolous 
purposes.  One of the first spells she ever mastered was to put frogs 
in my bed, for example.  If she ever gets a purpose in life, she'll be 
a dangerous person, though.  

      I started getting that little buzz in my head that happens when 
I feel magic.  Some mages are really good at it;  I'm not.  You have 
to practically turn me into a toad before I notice anything magical 
is happening.

        I looked around casually, trying to pretend I wasn't worried 
that some idiot was summoning an efreet to light his cigar.  Not that 
I've ever seen anyone do that, but that's how the Hindenberg 
disaster happened.  Luckily, the guy was also good enough to save 
most of the people present, but he wouldn't have had to save them 
if he hadn't set the whole thing on fire.

        Anyway, I'm rambling.  It was some idiot in a suit with a 
scantily clad sprite in his lap.  Several people were gawking, others 
were sighing or making disapproving noises.  While I suppose the 
ideal to place to summon a flying fairy would be in the air, I'd 
rather not have to deal with some idiot who can't wait until he 
lands to get his jollies.

        I turned and stared out the window, not that I wanted to look 
at that either.  That's when I saw another zeppelin approaching out 
of the storm front to the south.  It was coming on at a fast clip.  It 
must be one of the highly magic-augmented models, I thought.  The 
one I was riding in was able to reach speeds of about sixty miles an 
hour due to a low-grade magically augmented engine.  This one 
must have been going twice that, pushing the edge of zeppelin 
speed abilities, even with magic.  

       What caught my attention, however, were the guns mounted 
on it.  I'd never seen a military blimp before.  I wonder if it's 
French, NACO, or from Trier, I thought.

       The answer was 'd:  none of the above'.  As it drew closer on an 
intercept course, I began to worry.  What if a war broke out since 
we left Paris?  This wasn't too likely, but given France and 
Germany's past histories, it wouldn't have surprised me too much.  

        The captain interrupted some song by the Swenson sisters 
that I hadn't really been listening to anyway, with an 
announcement on the radio.  Yes, I have the money to take zeppelin 
flights with all the amenities.  Wealth has its privileges.  "Ladies 
and Gentlemen, I must regretfully inform you that we're about to 
be robbed by air pirates.  I suggest you cooperate, since otherwise 
we will be blown into tiny bits and go down in history in a way 
that none of us want to be remembered."  He sounded quite 
apologetic.

        I swore mentally.  Great.  Why couldn't they rob me on the 
ground where I wouldn't have to worry about both falling to my 
death if something goes wrong and losing my luggage?

        I dug a few things I would need out of my purse and headed 
to the Zeppelin bathroom once the pirate 'ship' started to get fairly 
close.  Luckily, no one on the flight knew me, so I might be able to 
get away with this.  If not, I'd probably be a grease spot and 
wouldn't have to worry.  If I was a more sensible person, I would 
have just accepted the loss of my valuables and protected my 
secret identity, but sometimes I can be as flaky as my sister, or at 
least as stubborn.

         I did have the sense not to go into the bathroom and walk out 
in my combat gear.  Getting out my mask and fixing it on my face, I 
mumbled the quick spell that activates its powers.  It's one of only 
three magical items I've ever gotten to work right all the time.  
Basically, it's a little black mask like the ones you use at a 
masquerade, but with an enchantment so that it actually does hide 
your identity.  Everyone who saw me would see me differently, and 
all of them would see me wearing my trademark fedora and 
trenchcoat.  Normally, when I use this, I wear a trenchcoat and 
fedora anyway, but most of my gear was packed away in my 
luggage.  I got my pistols and double checked to make sure they 
were loaded, then tossed the smoke bombs into my pockets.  

       The next step was to kick off my high heeled shoes, so they 
wouldn't slow me down.  Also, I wouldn't want them where I was 
going.  One of the lines that secures the balloon to the cabin of the 
zeppelin ran just outside the bathroom window.  It wasn't supposed 
to be openable, so I had to break it.  Everyone else was too busy 
being boarded to notice.  I clambered up the rope and then started 
clambering across the top of the balloon.

       By now, you might be wondering what a wealthy socialite like 
myself, Jane Drummond, was doing, trying to take on an entire 
zeppelin full of would-be pirates by herself, or why I was carrying 
guns, smoke bombs and a magical mask in my purse.

       The answer, as you no doubt can see coming is that I'm no 
ordinary socialite.  For three years now, I've been 'The Pearl', 
world-famous vigilante, heroine, and frequent doer of very 
stupidly heroic things.  I was about to find out if this was one of the 
more stupid things.

                                    *         *         *

The Trier Adventure

Reprinted from 'Strange Tales of Adventure' #46 (October 1936)

Ghostwritten by John Biles for Jane Drummond.

                                    *         *         *

       I looked over at the other blimp.  It was about as close to us as 
it could get.  Looking down, I could see they'd run a walkway 
between the two, doubtless aided by magic.  Whoever was running 
these pirates must be fairly well off and magically adept.  They 
must have known a good arms dealer as well, given there were five 
machine guns mounted on the this side of it, although none of them 
could aim up.  The zeppelin itself was a few years out of date.  The 
gondola needed a new paint job, although you could see someone 
had bothered to paint over the French flag before they stole it, or 
after they salvaged it from the wastelands.   

        The easy way to do this would have been to pick them off as 
they crossed the gap between the ships, then shoot their balloon 
and watch them slowly sink out of the sky.  Pretty quickly, once 
they started fighting, they wouldn't be able to elevate their 
machine guns enough to shoot at us.  I never do anything the easy 
way.  There was too much risk that they'd seriously damage the 
ship before they went down, or even kill someone.  I had to make 
sure the machine guns wouldn't be turned on us.  

        My sister would probably turn the guns into petunias, but 
then, she'd be too busy screaming and panicking to think of that.  I 
simply backed up, mustered my courage and ran forward, leaping 
onto the other zeppelin's balloon.  It wasn't too incredibly 
terrifying, which is probably a testament to my lack of sense.  I 
scrambled down another rope on the other side of the zeppelin.  As 
I had guessed, no one on board their gondola was paying any 
attention to the side that didn't face our blimp.

        I kicked in the window and tossed a pair of smokebombs into 
the room.  The five bored goons sitting by the windows on the far 
side watching our blimp were still turning around when I landed in 
the room.  I moved swiftly, knocking two of them out before they 
could even pull out their own pistols.  The other three couldn't see 
well enough to shoot me, but they tried anyway.  One of them got 
shot by his friends.  The next-to-last one tried to grab a chair and 
flail away and still hadn't realized it was bolted down when I 
smacked his head into it.  The smoke cleared just in time for the 
fifth one to realize I was standing next to him with my pistols 
drawn.  He dropped his guns and I knocked him out.

       It would have been time for the next part of my plan, but I 
hadn't quite planned that far ahead.  I found their radio, still tuned 
to the air traffic frequency, or so I hoped.  With my luck, I could 
easily have been broadcasting my voice all over Trier.  "Hello?"

        The voice of the pilot came in tinnily over the radio.  "Yes?"

        "How many bandits do you have on your craft?"

       "Is this the Trier Zeppelin port?"  the zeppelin pilot asked.     

       "This is The Pearl.  You don't have to worry about the machine 
guns.  How many more people do I need to beat up?"

       "The what?"

       Okay, maybe I'm not world-famous yet.  "Look, I'm here to 
help.  How many of them should I be expecting?"

       "Ten," said a voice in French nearby.  

       I turned.  The rest of them had come back while I was busily 
yacking on the radio.  

       Two of them had Tommy guns, while the others had knives, 
baseball bats, pistols, and other things I really didn't want pointed 
at me.  They were all fairly young, strong, and stupid looking, 
except for the guy who had spoken earlier, who looked a lot 
brighter.  He was wearing an old French Airforce uniform.  I prayed 
this meant he was a veteran and not actually still working for 
France.  His English was very good.  "So, Dr. Harcourt was right.  You 
were on this flight."

       I had no idea who Dr. Harcourt was.  "Who?"

       "I never thought that hyper-numismatics thing of his would 
work, but I see that he is even more of a genius than I thought.  
Drop your guns, now."

        I did so.  I didn't want to be shot, and I was curious as to how 
someone could predict my presence using something related to 
'coin-collecting'.  Probably the man hadn't remembered it correctly.  
Also, I had my smokebombs ready if I needed them.  Well, I had 
two more.  I don't carry tons of them in my purse, or I wouldn't 
have room for anything else.  "I guess we'll all just blow up 
together."

        The goons all stared at me strangely and I realized they 
probably didn't know English, so I repeated it in German and 
French for their benefit.  The leader wasn't dumb enough to believe 
me, but his goons were a few cards short of a full deck.  They all 
panicked, and I seized my chance.  
            
      Saving one smokebomb, I tossed the other one at their feet, 
then sprung into action.  Grabbing the tommy guns and tossing 
them out the door so they could fall into the wasteland was the 
easy part.  Avoiding getting grabbed or shot to bits by ten 
panicking men was the hard part.  The smoke cleared, and I 
scampered out the door and up a rope onto the balloon with several 
of them in hot pursuit.  Luckily, they couldn't shoot up at me 
without risking shooting the only thing keeping them from 
plunging thousands of feet to their death.  

       Once I reached the top, I sat down and got ready to get out my 
pistols...which were on the floor of the gondola.  I sighed.  I'll have 
to do this the hard way.  Luckily, beating up people trying to climb 
up the side of a blimp isn't too hard.  All ten of them at once would 
have kicked my butt, but one at a time, it was easy.  

       Not being too stupid, they retreated after the first three.  They 
disconnected the bridge to the other blimp and began to turn south.  
I started trying to think of a plan.  They could easily just go home 
and stomp me once they landed.  

       While I was thinking, the balloon suddenly shuddered.  I could 
hear a low hissing noise and we began to slowly sink.  I looked 
down and saw the businessman's sprite shooting arrows into the 
balloon.  She was somewhat better dressed than before.  Probably, 
he summoned another one, I thought.  I wish I could ever get 
summoned things to do what I want.  I gave up on summoning 
after the winged pony incident...I'll tell you about that some other 
time.  

       I shouted, "I don't suppose you can give me a ride back to the 
blimp I rode in on?"

       The sprite flew up to me, avoiding a hail of bullets from the 
goons below.  It stared into my eyes and I got the goosepimply 
feeling again.  I'm going to end up one of those love-slaves in 
faerieland, I thought.  

       I didn't.  She smiled.  "Take my hand."

        After I took her hand, we did the Peter Pan thing.  Yet another 
feat of magic I wish I could do well, but most flying magic takes 
forever to set up, and it's hard to be sure it won't wear off at the 
wrong time.  Behind us, the zeppelin slowly sank towards the 
wastelands.  I could see the big worm thing heading for the likely 
crash site.  "Did they manage to get away with much stuff?"

       "Luckily, they didn't have time to take too much before they 
ran back to deal with you."

        We got to Trier without too much more trouble, other than 
that I had to steal my own luggage from the zeppelin and dodge 
customs to avoid answering unwanted questions.   Much as I 
wanted to go finish off those guys, I suspected the worm would do 
my job for me, and I had to find my sister before I could running 
off on another adventure, anyway.

                                     *         *         *

       Lucy rooms in a very nice apartment with Clarisse near the 
university.  With a little effort, I managed to get a cab.  Of course, 
no one was home and I ended up sitting outside the apartment 
with my luggage for an hour.  Somehow, Clarisse and I had jumbled 
our communications, and she had intended to meet me at the 
airport.  When she finally arrived, I got my possessions stored 
away and sat down with Clarisse to have some tea and cookies and 
to try and find out what, if anything, Clarisse actually knew about 
what was going on.

      "So, you think she ran off with her latest beau?"  We were 
speaking in French, of course.  

       Clarisse nodded, much calmer than during her phone 
conversation with me.  We were both sitting in some of the nice 
plush Italian chairs she and Lucy both favored.  I think they cost 
too much to clean, but they are very comfortable.  "She's been 
seeing this fellow, Franz Bourchier, and..."

       I blinked.  "Is he French or German?"

       "I think his mother is German, and his father is French.  He's 
native to Alsace."  

       I didn't have to ask why he had left Alsace, given its current 
status as a blasted wasteland.  "Go on."

        Clarisse took another sip of tea, then put down her cup and 
stared into it, idly twirling her finger through it, which seemed 
quite out of character to me, given that Clarisse does an even better 
snooty rich person act than Lucy and I.  Mostly because it isn't an 
act for her.  She muttered something I couldn't quite hear, then 
stared into the cup some more.

        I blinked.  "Is something wrong?"

        She passed the cup of tea to me.  I could see a face reflected in 
it, a handsome, but diffident young man with short, neat black hair 
and a bushy mustache.  "That's Franz.  He's known Lucy for over a 
year, but they only started seeing each other about two months 
ago.  He's rather disgustingly bourgeois.  Totally unworthy of her.  
Prattles about Byron and that Freud person all the time.  I can't see 
what Lucy sees in him at all."

       I nodded.  "So what does she see in him?"

       "He's not bad looking and he is a fairly talented student of 
magic when he actually bothers to study.  But he's so lazy.  I think 
he's after her money."  Clarisse sighed.  "I tried a divination spell, 
but something blocked it.  Either she doesn't want to be found, or 
someone is keeping me from finding her."

       "Well, I'll see what I can do.  I have the resources to hire a 
private investigator, and I know the consul, so I'll lean on him.  I'm 
sure he'd love to help."  I looked at the cup again.  "So where does 
this fellow live?"

        "He's moved, and his landlady wouldn't tell me where."

        "Well, tell me where he used to live, and I'll see if I can be 
more persuasive.  Also, what did she take with her?"

        "I'm not sure.  Why don't you take a look in her room and see?  
I'll have Marcia start working on dinner.  I'm sure you must be 
hungry."  She got up and went to the kitchen.

        I smiled faintly.  No one would ever accuse Clarisse and Lucy 
of being starving college students.  Not with their own maid.  I 
headed into Lucy's room and began planning the investigation.

                                   *         *         *

       Lucy's room told me several things.  First, I was pretty sure 
she hadn't left Trier, since her passport was still here.  In fact, it 
had been renewed just a few days before her disappearance.  
Secondly, there was no sign of force, and she had packed a logical 
complement of clothing, yet left most of her possessions behind, as 
if she expected to return.  I knew from past experience that Lucy 
never goes anywhere permanently without at least two weeks of 
clothing in her possession.  Yet, there was some clothing missing.  
Clearly, she had expected to be gone for a while, maybe a week, I 
guessed, but not as long as she had been gone.

      Unfortunately, her most recent diary volume had gone with 
her, wherever she was.  The one before it stopped four months ago.  
Other than amusing doodles of me, her pet cat, Clarisse, Prime 
Minister Clarendon of Britain, someone identified as 'Professor 
Haarbeck', who was dressed as Napoleon, some man waving a 
sword in the air named ŒProfessor Von Heiligigelı and two girls I 
didn't recognize, it had nothing of interest.  Clarisse identified the 
two girls as "J. J.", the owner of some dive called the Three Kings, 
that Lucy and Franz had visited several times, including dragging 
Clarisse there against her will once, and another girl named Eugenie 
Thiers, who was a French friend of Lucy and Clarisse.  

       This also brought on a brief rant from Clarisse about how Lucy 
had taken up drawing and was neglecting her studies.  I got some 
directions to various places from Clarisse while we ate dinner, and 
she showed me a map of Trier, which I did my best to memorize 
the broad outline of, which insured I would only get mildly lost 
instead of horribly lost.

        Marcia provided excellent service.  Marcia is huge and old and 
has been working for Clarisse's family since the death of Napoleon 
I, I sometimes think.  She is in her sixties, and probably weighs 
more than Clarisse and I put together.  However, being close to two 
meters tall means that she actually isn't too fat.  Most of it is 
muscle, I suspect.  She makes a great contrast with Clarisse, who is 
shorter than me, barely more than five feet, with long wavy brown 
hair and an incredibly skinny figure.  We're distantly related, but 
in one of those convoluted ways that defies coherent definition, 
involving divorces and annulments and third cousins and whatnot.  

       "So, the investigation starts tomorrow?"  Clarisse asked.

       "I think I'll go down and talk briefly to that girl, J. J., at the 
Three Kings, then tomorrow, I'll go see the consul and go to the 
university.  I'm sure Consul Collins can recommend a good private 
investigator to help me."  

       "He was utterly worthless when I went to see him."

       "You have to know him, or he gets lazy.  I'm sure I can get him 
to help.  I have him wrapped around my finger."  I was 
exaggerating, but we have known each other for a while, and our 
families are old friends.  Why the Dominion sent him off to this 
blasted wasteland, I don't know.  Probably some escapade 
embarrassed the Prime Minister again.

       "Well, if you really feel you must visit that dive, I'll go with 
you.  Safety in numbers and all that."

        "Thank you very much.  I'll feel much safer."  If I'm lucky, I 
won't have to save you from something, I thought.  

                                   *         *         *

      The Three Kings was a nice little inn, the kind of thing we don't 
have any more in the Dominion, run by a cute kid named J. J., 
although she looked like the type that would strangle you if you 
mentioned her age, so I didn't.  I surmised that Clarisse had 
probably done that, as I couldn't think of any other reason that J. J. 
would stare at Clarisse as if she thought Clarisse was Dillinger in 
disguise.  

       While J. J. took our order, I took the chance to ask a few 
questions.  "Hi, I'm Jane Drummond.  I understand my sister comes 
here a lot."

      She looked at me for a moment, tilting her head slightly, then 
said, "I thought you looked familiar.  Yeah, I haven't seen her in a 
few weeks."

       Clarisse was going down the menu, muttering the word bad 
over and over in French as she pointed at several items.  I hope she 
doesn't speak French, I thought, or Clarisse is going to regret she 
never learned when to shut up.  

        "She's been missing for a few weeks.  I'm trying to find her.  
Can you think of anything she might have said?  About a vacation 
maybe?"  I was hoping it was just one of her stupid impulse trips, 
but that didn't seem too likely.

         J. J. shook her head and frowned.  "Missing?  Nope.  I haven't 
seen her boyfriend around lately, either.  The last I saw of them, 
they were arguing over whether Count Basie or Alvin Walker has a 
better orchestra."  She shrugged.  "Probably not much help, I 
guess."

       Clarisse laughed faintly.  "I doubt that Count Basie has 
abducted her."

       We ordered our food.  I asked J. J. a few more questions, but I 
could see this was a dead end.  I enjoyed my meal, but this kid 
came downstairs and stared at me through my entire meal.  

       He was a cute little munchkin, but he was rather bulkily 
dressed for the weather.  Some people wear jackets all the time, I 
guess.  Clarisse got up and went to the ladies' room, and the kid 
came over to me.  "You're the magic lady's sister."  It wasn't a 
question.

       I blinked.  "You've met my sister, little boy?  I'm Jane.  What's 
your name?"

       "Iım not supposed to tell anyone.  Your sister gave me some 
candy once.²

       ³...²

       He smiled.  ³I hope you find her.  I think she did something to 
herself with her magic.²

       ³Like what?²

       He shrugged.  ³Dunno.²

       Clarisse came out of the bathroom and he scampered off.  
Weird little kid, I thought.  We finished our meal and went home.

      I got up early the next morning.  Clarisse went off to class, 
having promised to meet me at noon and help me find the people I 
wanted to talk to at the University.  I easily got a cab ride, 
especially since I was paying in pounds, which are good just about 
anywhere, and more importantly, because I paid him twice his 
normal rate.  We soon arrived at the Consulate.

     The Dominion Consulate in Trier is a dump compared to most 
Dominion Embassies.  I knew Randolph was probably making off 
with the repair funds, assuming there were any.  It's not so much 
that Randolph is corrupt as that he seems to be genetically 
predisposed to spend vast amounts of money, which has to come 
from somewhere.

       An entirely bored looking Dominion soldier was standing in the 
doorway, wearing the trademark blue and white uniform.  I think 
we have some of the best uniforms in the world, although I'm glad 
they finally got rid of those silly looking furry hats they used to 
wear on this sort of duty.  Anyway, I said to the soldier, "I'm here 
to see Ambassador Collins."

       The soldier looked up at me, assessing me.  "Did you just say 
something in English, or am I asleep again?"

       "You're asleep."  I tried to walk past him, but he stopped me.  
Not quite as stupid as he looks, I thought.

       "The Ambassador gave clear orders he is not to be bothered 
until after noon."  He yawned.  "He was up late on business."

        "Was she blond with blue eyes?"  I asked.  

       The soldier nodded, then shook his head.  "Not that kind of 
business!"

       "That came after he went clubhopping?"

        The soldier nodded again, then shook his head again.  "No, of 
course not."

       "Can I speak to someone else on the staff?  I need to see him 
on important business, but I can't give my reasons to anyone who 
hasn't taken the Diplomatic Service's oath."

        "They all say that,"  he said.  

        I heard movement.  Someone was peeping down from an 
upstairs window.  I said loudly, "Well then.  I need to see the 
Ambassador before the people following me force me to reveal the 
details of the Nice incident."

        The soldier blinked.  "The what?"

        I saw the shade fall shut above and smiled.  That should get 
results.  "See?  You don't even know what I'm talking about.  Now, 
do I get to see the Ambassador or do we take our chances with the 
details of this getting out?"

       He hemmed and hawed a bit, then the doors flew open, and 
Ambassador Collins grabbed my arm, pulling me inside.  I laughed 
a little.  He stuck his head out and looked around, then slammed 
the doors.  "It's wonderful to see you again, Jane."

        "And a pleasure to see you, Randolph."

        You're probably wondering by now what the Nice incident 
was.  Well, I'm afraid I can't tell you since it would embarrass 
Ambassador Collins.  Suffice it to say that he had a little adventure 
in Nice about a year ago that I had to help him out of that he would 
rather forget and prefers that no one ever learn about ever.  Not 
that I'd really blab on him, but I don't think he believes that.  It 
also gives me something useful for teasing him with. 

       We walked through the consulate, which looked much nicer on 
the inside than on the outside, to his office, or at least to someone's 
office.  I suspect he spends more time in the attic than his office.  
There was dust on his chair.  He sat down.  "What brings you to 
Trier?  Planning to attend the ceremony thing at the University?"

       "Ceremony thing?"

       "Five hundredth anniversary of the university library or 
something.  I have to attend.  Know any good spells to make you 
look like you're attentive while you're actually sleeping?"  He sat 
back in his chair and leaned back against the wall as he usually 
does.

       I laughed.  "Maybe if I find my sister in time, she can help you.  
She's gone missing.  I'm hoping you either know something about 
this or can give me some hints.  I know she needed to have her visa 
renewed around the same time she went missing.  Did you see 
her?"

       Randolph stared off into space, probably thinking about some 
woman instead of what I had asked him.  "We had a little talk and I 
went to this delightful little club called the Silver Ball with her.  
This friend of hers was there.  She had the most..."  He trailed off, 
then turned back to me.  "Anyway, she wasn't planning to go 
anywhere when she got her visa renewed, but she did mention she 
and her new boyfriend were planning to try some kind of magical 
ritual in a book he had gotten.  Binding genies into cigars or some 
such silly thing."  

       "Binding genies into cigars?"  That did sound silly.  Probably he 
wasn't paying attention when she was talking.  "Her boyfriend 
being a fellow named Franz Bourchier?"

       Randolph nodded.  "A total bore, but she seems to dote on him.  
If I may say so, your sister has no taste in men whatsoever."

       I nodded.  "I know.  Did she say anything else?"

       He thought a moment.  "Nothing important, unless Renoir is to 
blame for her vanishing."

       We both laughed, then discussed other matters for a while.  I 
made my good-byes and headed for the university.  The 
ambassador was nice enough to loan me a car, although I suspected 
he was actually loaning me some member of the staff's car.  I took 
it anyway.  It could be useful.

       The University of Trier is like a trip to the Middle Ages.  The 
buildings are all ancient, covered with gargoyles, some of which are 
alive.  There are dozens, maybe hundreds of towers, some of them 
jutting out of each other, rising from virtually every building.  

      I passed a circle of students gathered around one of the 
instructors, who was trying to teach the intricacies of levitation 
theory.  One of his students had apparently learned a little too well, 
and was now hanging from one of the aforementioned towers.  

       Conversations in French and German surrounded me, with the 
occasional voice speaking in English, Dutch, or Flemish.  There were 
a lot of students on the move, and I guessed that I had arrived 
during a break between classes for most of them.  

       I had an hour and a half before Clarisse was supposed to meet 
me;  I had scheduled more time for getting Ambassador Collins to 
meet with me than I had actually needed.  Normally it takes at 
least an hour and several vague threats to get his time if it doesn't 
involve fun, women, money, or horse-racing.  I don't seem to count 
in the women category anymore, not after...well, I'd better not tell 
that story either. 

        I cornered a passing student and said in French, "Excuse me, 
but do you know where I can find Professor Heiligigel?"

        The man stared at me for a moment, then said in rather bad 
French, "Why you seek him deliberately?"

        I tried German.  "I need to talk to him about my sister."

        His German was much better.  "He seems too old for that sort 
of thing to me."

        "Not that sort of thing!"  I calmed myself down.  "I think she 
took a class from him."

       "Poor girl," he said.  "He has an office in the Vanderhoek 
building, I think.  He might be there."

        I got directions and headed for the Vanderhoek building.

                                   *         *         *

       Von Heiligigel's office looked like the large artillery shell he 
had in the corner had gone off in it.  Things were stuffed 
everywhere, and much of the furniture was slightly damaged.  A 
few things caught my eye.  He had a nice very old photo of Paris 
being shelled during the Franco-Prussian war.  I suppose a French 
person wouldn't find it to be so nice, but it was mounted in a hand-
carved mahogany frame and the photographer had been quite 
skillful.  He also had apparently framed several death threats and 
an official order of termination by the NACOs.  For those of you who 
don't keep up with politics, the NACOS are the party that has been 
running Germany since Hitler's coup in 1933.  The National 
Communists or some such thing.  

      "Please sit down, Miss...?"  He pointed to an available chair.  Von 
Heiligigel himself looked to be around sixty or seventy, but in quite 
good shape for a man of his age, smartly dressed in an old German 
army uniform.  Unlike my sister's drawing of him, he wasn't 
carrying a sword.  

      "Miss Drummond.  Jane Drummond."  I batted my eyelids and 
did my best to look pathetic, as I sank into the battered, but quite 
comfortable chair.  "My...my sister Lucy is missing, and I'm hoping 
you might know something about it."

       "Ahh, that's why she's been absent.  I assumed she'd realized 
that she had better things to do with her life than studying military 
science.  Why she was taking my class, I have no idea."  He paused.  
"Not that I'm saying military science is a waste of time for 
everyone, but given that she seemed the type who is likely to be 
using her magic to do parlor tricks for her husband, family and 
friends for the rest of her life.  Also, she was failing."

        I blinked.  "Really?  Lucy's never failed a class in her life."  
Even if it took bribery once.  

      He shrugged.  "You can't teach a fish to fly.  Well, without using 
magic to cheat.  I think she only took the class to be with her 
boyfriend, that Franz fellow.  He's failing too, but he's failing 
because he's lazy."

        "I think they may have run off somewhere.  She does this sort 
of thing a lot."  I sighed exaggeratedly.  "Luckily, our parents left 
me the business instead of her, or I think she would hock it to pay 
for her next vacation."

        "I'm afraid I can't offer much help, but I will keep my eyes 
open.  If there's been some sort of kidnapping, give me a call, and I 
will gladly offer you what aid I can.  I have had some experience 
with such matters."  He had the look of someone struggling to look 
modest and failing.

        His name suddenly clicked in my brain.  "Why, you're the 
famous general, aren't you?"  No wonder he had a picture of Paris 
being shelled on the wall, I thought.  I gave him my best smile.  "I 
will definitely call you if feats of arms are called for.  I couldn't 
fight my way out of a wet paper bag.  If she has been kidnapped, 
then I..."  Faking a look of extreme worry, I stared at the floor.  "I 
have money, but finding someone reliable is always so hard."

         He smiled and took the bait.  "I have no need for money.  
Should you need that sort of help, just give me a call."  He gave me 
his phone number.  "You can also reach me by coming by," he said, 
writing down his home address, "but it can be dangerous to come 
by before the assassin or assassins of the day have been dealt with, 
so I don't recommend it."

         I took the note and laughed a little.  Assassin of the day?  I 
wasn't sure if he had a good sense of humor or was going senile.  
Then I noticed the framed death threats again.  "Thank you ever so 
much!  I was really worried.  I tried talking to Ambassador Collins, 
but he's so busy and all."  I got up to leave.  "Well, I'll go before I 
eat up any more of your time.  I have to meet a friend."

        "Good luck."  He paused.  "Oh, you might want to go talk to 
Gustav.  I believe your sister had some dealings with him and her 
boyfriend.  He tutors students for a living."  Von Heiligigel sighed.  
"So much he could do with his life and he wastes it on these people 
who can't...anyway, enough rambling."  He got up and opened the 
door for me.

         I curtseyed, and he smiled.  After I got out of sight, I took off 
running so I would be able to meet Clarisse in time.

                                   *         *         *
     
       The rest of my trip around the university mostly only taught 
me things you can find in any common tourist guide.  However, I 
did find out one thing of importance, namely where Franz lived.  
Gustav's place was closer, so I went to see him first.

       He lived in a far more trashy hole in the wall than I had 
expected from someone who tutors mages for a living.  His room 
was much better kept up than the rest of the building, though.  

        Gustav himself was dark haired and skinny, with an 
extremely serious look.  It was a look I recognized from a few 
encounters with mages who were more dedicated than my sister.  
"So Van Heiligigel recommended me to you?"  He smiled a little.

       "I'm not looking for tutoring.  My sister apparently had some 
dealings with you, and now she's missing."  Making my voice 
plaintive came easily to me.  

        He frowned.  "Are you insinuating that..."

        I interrupted him.  "I'm sorry.  That came out wrong.  She is 
missing, and I'm hoping you might have some idea why.  My sister 
is Lucy Drummond and apparently, she and her boyfriend Franz 
both came to you for help with their schoolwork."

       He relaxed and thought for a moment.  "I remember her.  She 
had a lot of talent.  I did some research for her on genies.  
Apparently, her boyfriend had purchased a book that claimed to 
teach better methods for summoning and binding them than are 
commonly known."  He got up and got a folder off a shelf and paged 
through it.  "Ahh yes, here's the results.  She never did come pick 
them up.  I've also tutored her boyfriend.  He might make a great 
mage one day, but at the rate he's going, I'll probably have 
grandchildren before he graduates."

         Memories of an unfortunate childhood incident with genies 
flooded into my head.  I had a pretty good idea what had likely 
happened, or at least a lurking suspicion.  "So what was the name of 
the book?"

        "It's supposed to be an French translation of a Latin 
translation of an Arabic original.  The title was..."  He paged through 
his notes.  "The Five-fold Path of Power Over the Djinn."  He put 
down the notebook.  "I think it's a fake.  I couldn't find any 
references to it anywhere, and the University library has a very 
thorough collection on genie lore.  Also, I couldn't even find out if 
the publishing company actually existed."  

       "In other words, she's probably done something to herself by 
experimenting with a defective magical tome,"  I said flatly.

       "Well, most fake magical tomes don't actually do anything, 
good or bad.  It's damaged or miscopied authentic ones that tend to 
be dangerous."  He sighed.  "I hope you're not right."

       I got up.  "So do I.  Thank you very much for your help."  I 
pulled out a hundred pound note.  "For your trouble."

       He shook his head.  "I couldn't take it.  Not for the little help I 
could give you."  

        "Give me the notes you made for my sister, and you can 
consider this payment for your research."  I had to get him to take 
the money.  I couldn't stand to see a scholar living in poverty like 
this.  He seemed like a nice fellow and honest.  For that matter, no 
one deserved to live in a dump like his apartment building.  I kept 
expecting to see the rats taking over by armed force.

       He handed over the notes and took the money, though he still 
seemed reluctant.  "You're quite generous."

       "And you've been quite helpful.  Have a good day."

       I took my leave and headed back to Clarisse's apartment to get 
a few things from my trunks.  Jane Drummond had done all she 
could.  It was time for the Pearl to go to work.

                                   *         *         *

       I had to try the spell to disguise the ambassador's car five 
times to get it to work right.  I would have looked a little 
conspicuous driving what looked like a coach made from a 
pumpkin, which is what I got the first three times.  Lucy would 
have no doubt gotten it right the first time, but I hadn't cast this 
spell in a while, and I kept forgetting the arcane formula, which 
was embarrassing, since I had designed this spell for a final exam 
back when I was in college.  This sort of thing is why I usually 
leave the magic to Lucy.

        The car was now a Damlier-Benz instead of a Studebaker, and 
quite nicely styled, if I do say so myself.  I climbed in and roared 
off across town.  Soon enough, I arrived at Franz' apartment 
building, which made Gustav's home look like the Whitman-Astoria 
in New Amsterdam.  I walked in the front door, passing the 
obligatory drunken bum on the doorstep.  I soon reached the third 
floor, and paused outside Franz' door to make sure I had loaded the 
right bullets into my pistols.  

        Bullets enchanted to hurt magical creatures cost a pretty 
penny, but I have money to burn.  Still, I don't like to waste them, 
so I rarely carry them.  One pistol was loaded with mundane 
bullets, the other with 'Monster-stopping specials', as the ad copy 
boys on Monroe Avenue like to say.  

        What I was expecting was that she'd ended up being taken 
hostage by a genie again.  This happened back when we were little 
and Dad had foolishly left a genie lamp lying around.  I still don't 
know where he got it or why he was dumb enough to leave it 
where an eight year old could get it.  

      Genie lamps are for fools, anyway.  Sure, you get 'wishes', but a 
decent mage can usually do the same things for you, and usually he 
or she won't try to twist your wording to ruin you.  
        
       Anyway, she'd somehow freed the genie, and it took her 
hostage to try to escape back to Arabia or Persia or wherever 
genies come from.  I suspected she had tried to summon the genie 
to get revenge on it or some such stupid thing.  If I was lucky, it 
would still be hanging around.   If not, I'd have to hire a really good 
mage to track the thing.  There was also the worst case scenario, 
but I didn't want to think about that.

        When the door opened without me having to pick the lock, 
and I found Franz sitting at a table eating lunch, the worst case 
scenario became a lot more likely.  He turned and stared at me. 

        "Okay Franz, what have you done with Lucy Drummond?"  I 
didn't bother leveling a gun.  He looked scared enough already.  I 
cursed mentally.  He must have screwed things up and done 
something to her.

        For a moment, he simply stared at me, then he started to cry.  
"I didn't realize it would go so badly!  We thought the rite would 
work, not bind her into a lamp!"

        I cursed and walked over to him.  "You bound her into a 
LAMP?"

        "It was a very nice lamp," he said hopefully, then his face fell 
again.  "So nice, my landlady hocked it to pay my rent."

        I contemplated kicking him out the window and seeing if he 
made it all the way to the river.  "So, after Gustav told you it was a 
fraud, you tried it anyway?"

        "I wanted to wait, but she got tired of waiting for him to finish 
his research and insisted!"  He stared at the floor and cried some 
more.  "I'm sorry!  I didn't mean to do it!  Please don't shoot 
me...um...who are you?"

         I struck a dramatic pose, one of the best parts of my 'job'.  "I 
am the Pearl, a warrior for truth, justice, and the Dominion way."

         He gave me a weird look.  "You read a lot of pulp magazines, 
don't you?"

        I sighed.  I need a better slogan, but I can't hire an ad agency 
without giving away my secret identity.  "And you seem to read a 
lot of fraudulent guides to magic.  So why haven't you gone and 
gotten her out of the pawnshop, you moron?"

         He stared at the floor again.  "If I could afford that, she would 
have been able to pay my rent, and she wouldn't have been 
hocked.  As it was, my landlady threw me out because of the back 
rent I still owed her, and I ended up in this hell hole."

        Only with effort did I resist my impulse to hurl him out the 
window.  "So where was she hocked?"

        "Zwingler's Pawnshop on Mars Avenue."

         "We're taking a little ride.  Come with me."

         He came.

                                   *         *         *
   

        "I'm very sorry, Miss Burl,"  the clerk began.  

        I cut him off.   "That's PEARL."

        "Yes.  Of course.  I'm afraid we just sold that lamp a little 
before closing, yesterday."  The clerk looked at an inventory list.  
"A Dr. Harcourt."  The clerk blinked.  "Hmm.  There's a note for 
you."

       I blinked.  "For me?"

        "It's addressed, 'To that meddling would-be heroine, the 
Pearl'.  You think that's you?"  She handed it over to me.

        Franz and I both looked at the note.  It was written in that 
difficult to read Germanic script.  "That's me."  I took the note.

       It read, 'In yet another triumph of Hyper-Numismatics, I 
predicted that you would come here looking for this lamp, so I'm 
leaving this note to let you know I intend to use it to destroy you 
utterly!  And not being an idiot, I plan to do it safely, from a 
distance, where you will never find me, let alone stop me.  Don't 
bother looking for a return address this time!  I never make the 
same mistake twice!'  It was signed, Benton Harcourt, Ma.D.  I 
laughed a little and wondered again what hyper-numismatics 
actually was.  At least now I would be killing two birds with one 
stone.  He must be seeking revenge on me for the Zeppelin incident, 
I thought.

        Franz sighed.  "I'm sorry.  Not much we can do now, eh?"  He 
stared at the floor, which seemed to be his response to just about 
everything.

        "Actually, there is something we can do.  When you know 
magic, you don't need return addresses.  They have taught you how 
to track people with their possessions, right?"  I would have tried 
doing that with Lucy, but Clarisse had already tried, and if she 
couldn't do it, I knew I'd never succeed.  

        He smiled a little.  "I'm not very good at it, but I'll do it.  I 
really do care about Lucy, you know."  He paused.  "Why are you 
looking for her, anyway?"

        "I was hired by her sister.  Let's go, Franz."

                                   *         *         *

      According to the spell, Dr. Harcourt was holed up in  the 
Wallenstein Hotel, along with a few other people.  Apparently, he 
had some spells against scrying up, so we couldn't get much more 
detail than that.  He did have a doctorate in magic to go with his 
'hyper-numismatics', after all.  I left Franz outside the hotel.  "If I 
don't come out in the next two hours, go to Clarisse and let her 
know what happened."

       "She'll eat me alive!"  he said.

       "Do it anyway.  She'll need to know."  I headed into the hotel 
and went to the front desk, making sure my mask was secured.  
Occasionally it falls off when I'm doing this sort of thing, and then 
people could recognize me, not that anyone in Trier knows me.  

       A quick bribe got me the number of Harcourt's hotel room.  I 
headed up to the fifth floor.  Two thugs I recognized from the blimp 
were hanging out in front of the door, looking bored.  One of them 
had a cast on his left arm, while the other one was looking at his 
watch.  "I think the Doctor screwed up this time,"  the second thug 
said.

        "What makes you say that?"  the first said.

        "He said a smokebomb would go off at 6:30 PM, but it's 
already 6:40, and nothing has happened.  I've been getting jumpy 
for nothing."

         I checked my watch.  It said 6:29.  Hefting a smokebomb, I 
took a moment to judge the distance correctly.  

         "Isn't your watch eleven minutes fast or so?"  the first thug 
said.

         I hurled the smoke bomb, which landed right in front of the 
second thug, who started coughing.  "I guess the boss was right 
again, after all."

         Four quick punches sent them both to slumberland.  I yanked 
the door open and prepared to toss another smoke bomb.

        Three more bored thugs, including the ex-soldier, were 
lounging about, while a middle aged, slightly balding man sat at a 
table on the far side of the room, fiddling with some coins.  He had 
brown hair and was dressed in a nice suit that probably cost more 
than the entire hotel.  There was a nice lamp on the table, cast from 
brass, which resembled a dryad dancing around a tree.  I noticed 
several places around the room had coins taped to the walls, and 
the mirror on the dresser drawers had a coin taped to it as well.  

        The thugs started to get up, so I hurled another smoke bomb.  
It didn't go off.  The balding man looked up.  "I took precautions.  
Surely you don't think I'd let you get away with that trick twice, 
did you?"

       "It worked on the thugs in the hall,"  I said.  "Look, I'm just 
here for the lamp.  I'll even pay you for it what you paid the 
pawnshop."

        "You can't fool me!  They sent you, didn't they?"

        "They?"

        "Those fools at Oxford who expelled me because they thought 
my theory of Hyper-Numismatics was deranged!"  He launched into 
standard mad magician rant number five.  

        I cut him off.  "So now you're organizing Zeppelin raids so you 
can get one day buy a really big magic wand and blow them all 
up?"

        He laughed.  "I'm not a lunatic.  I have better things to do than 
plot revenge.  But I need more money in order to collect all the rare 
coins I need to make a decisive display of the power of Hyper-
Numismatics.  Proving your theory right is always the best 
revenge."

        "Then you'll sell me the lamp?"  I could deal with him later.  
Lucy had to take priority.

        "No, I'm going to use you as a field test of its powers,"  he said.  
"I can't risk you turning me in to the Trier authorities."  He started 
rubbing the lamp.

         Smoke rose out of the lamp and shaped itself into my sister, 
who was now wearing a turban and a long white robe.  I had to 
cover my mouth to keep from laughing myself to death.  She looked 
entirely ridiculous.  "I'm going to kill you, Franz!"  she shouted, then 
suddenly realized she wasn't facing who she expected.

        "I am your master, Dr. Harcourt, genie.  I command you to 
destroy the Pearl!"

         Lucy looked down at herself.  "Ahh!  I look awful!  I need a 
manicure!"

         Several of the thugs began to laugh.  So did I.  Harcourt 
frowned.  "Genie, you must do as I command."

       Lucy sighed.  "Destroy her with what?  The fire from my 
eyes?"

        "Use your magical powers, you idiot!"  Harcourt was starting to 
shout.

        "I need a crystal rod and some wool, then."  Lucy said.

        "I don't have any crystal rods."  Harcourt fumed.  "Quit 
stalling."

        "How about some dragon's blood?"

        "Do I look like an apocethary?  DESTROY HER!  That's my first 
wish!"

        Lucy turned to me, "Can you come back in a few hours?  I'll be 
better prepared to destroy you then."  She sat down on the table.  
"Let's see, how does that withering spell go..."  She turned to 
Harcourt.  "You wouldn't happen to have any ink made from the 
sweat of Tibetan monks, would you?"

        The thugs were all falling down laughing by now.  I nearly 
joined them.  Harcourt began banging on the table.  "I wish you'd 
stop asking me for things I don't have!"

        Lucy said, "Well, if you..."   She suddenly stopped and looked 
confused.  "I'm a hermetic mage, not a genie. I can't just wiggle my 
nose and make things happen, you know.  It takes a lot of time and 
I need components, and space to draw magical circles."  She looked 
at her clothing.  "I don't suppose we could stop somewhere and get 
me some decent clothing too?"

          Harcourt shouted, "I wish you'd shut up and let me think!"

         Lucy's lips kept going, but she made no sound.  She frowned 
and I laughed.  "A hermetic mage isn't much of a threat if she can't 
talk."

         He blinked.  "Right.  We'll do this the hard way.  Men, destroy 
her!"

         I got the jump on them.  They were too busy laughing to pull 
themselves together fast enough.  The first two went down with 
one kick to the head.  The third one took two kicks.  The ex-soldier 
was another story.  

       We went crashing all over the room while Doctor Harcourt 
ranted at Lucy, who couldn't reply.  I took several punches in the 
gut before I finally managed to smash his head into the mirror with 
the coin stuck on it.  The mirror shattered and he passed out.  I 
wondered which one of us would get the seven years' bad luck for 
that, or if we would have to share.  

        I turned to Harcourt and leveled one of my pistols.  "Give me 
the lamp."

        He laughed.  "Take your best shot."

         I did.  The bullet skidded off the air a few inches from him.  
Mages cheat.

       He laughed.  "Once again, the power of Hyper-Numismatics 
triumphs."  He pulled out a coin on a chain that he was wearing.  
"As long as I wear this 1603 Imperial Double-Eagle Gold Guilder, no 
bullet can harm me.  It once belonged to Wallenstein."

        "Wasn't he assassinated?"

       "He forgot to wear it that day."

        It sounded ridiculous, but it seemed to have worked.  A glint 
caught my eye.  The coin from the mirror was lying on the floor 
near me.  I got an idea.  I picked up the coin and held my gun to it.  
"Give me the lamp, or the coin gets it."

       A look of horror crossed his face.  "No, not my Byzantine 536 
'Bellisarius' Gold Solidus issued to celebrate the reconquest of Italy!  
It may be the last one in existence!"

       "It's going to coin heaven if I don't get the lamp."

        He threw the lamp at me.  "Take it!  The stupid genie is 
defective, anyway."

        Lucy tried to shout something and failed.  I laughed.  "Yeah, 
she always was kind of defective."  I rubbed the lamp, and 
suddenly, Lucy got her voice back.

        "I'm really gonna kill Franz for this," she said.

        "Lucy, do you remember that spell you used to turn Jimmy 
into a toad after he dumped you at your coming out ball?"

         She grinned evilly.  "It takes close to an hour to cast, but yes, 
I do."

         I sat down, keeping the gun to the coin.  "We have time.  
Better put a good sleep spell on the goons first, though."

        She looked at me.  "How did you know about that, anyway?"

        I smiled.  "The eye of the Pearl sees all."

         "Yeah, right."  She looked suspiciously at me.

         Harcourt, not being an idiot, made a break for it.  Unfortun-
ately for him, his magic coin was a lot better at stopping bullets 
than it was at stopping fists.  He made a cute toad.

                                   *         *         *

       We had dinner at the San Martin Embassy to celebrate.  Since 
San Martin is a poor and tiny nation, their embassy is actually a 
night club more than an embassy, and its operations funds the 
embassy, which is upstairs.  Silly as that may sound, the food is 
quite good.  Most of the guests were people I didn't know, friends 
of Lucy's from school, but I was happy to foot the bill for them.  
Franz were there, looking much chastened, and so were Clarisse, of 
course, and Randolph, who I knew couldn't pass up a free meal.  

       Some local band was playing soft jazz as we all chatted in a 
mixture of French, English, and German and relaxed.  Clarisse said 
to me, "Where did you find that deranged vigilante, anyway?"

       I laughed.  "They're quite common these days, it seems.  She 
worked cheap, and it seems she was rather effective."

       Lucy laughed.  "Too bad she can't do all my homework I 
missed too.  Are you going to stay a while, sis, or will you be going 
back to Jefferson?"

       "I think I'll stay a while.  There's a lot to see, and I haven't 
taken a vacation in weeks."  Lucy and Randolph both laughed.  
"Perhaps I'll go to that ceremony with you and keep you 
entertained, Randolph darling."

       "Being shot in the foot would be more entertaining than the 
ceremonies they have in this town," he said.  "I would be 
delighted."

       It turned out to be more interesting than the average 
ceremony in Trier, but that is a story for another time.

The End.