Hazards of Nephele
Nephele at night was surprisingly quiet.
Just over a lunar month after their arrival, the Chambers sisters had finally understood why. There was a surprisingly large amount of women who commuted up to Nephele in the morning, then returned home shortly before their husbands did so that they could remain the Angel Of The House.
No such consideration affected the sisters, they had far more scientifically fascinating fish to fry. Or melt, at any rate.
As the sun gave up its unequal struggle with the thick blankets of a starry night, Clara unlocked the metallurgy workshop, and wasn't surprised to find Adelaide tarrying some way behind.
“I'm not late, am I?” The younger woman hurried along the gangplank, ankles grasped by bloomers. Of the two, Adelaide had taken to the leaving off of crinolines and bustles with some enthusiasm, happy to wear lightweight fabrics in simple shapes for ease of movement, and to help reduce the amount of helium needed to keep the city afloat. “I encountered Jenny Greenteeth. Did you know her family is moving to Whitby, of all the forsaken places? She plans to join them with her young daughter.”
Clara frowned. “Not dear little Bloofer Lucy? I'd thought her quite the pet of the botany college. I was never more grateful when Mama ceased taking us to Whitby. It seems to me the sort of place where a young girl could come to much harm.” The key finally consented to turn the lock of the workshop, and a series of surprisingly intricate clunks could be heard.
Adelaide barged shamelessly in front of her elder sister and strode over to the bench. “Good evening, sample!”
Clara smiled to herself, then produced a small notebook. “I doubt the berserker silver can hear you, my dear.”
Both women looked at the unprepossessing sample of metal. It had been carefully chipped from the top of a Viking shield, upon the realisation that it possessed some rather remarkable properties. Clara readied a page in the notebook while Adelaide calibrated the counterweights of the scales, then used a small pair of tongs to transfer the sample on to the scales.
“That's nearly half an ounce it's gained in weight since last night.” The younger woman looked up and beamed. “I'm quite convinced that if we plotted a graph, we'd see a correlation between the weight of the berserker silver and the phase of the moon.”
“And yet,” continued Clara, producing a tape measure far more precise than anything her dressmaker had ever seen, “the change in weight in no way serves to alter the change in mass. Perhaps we're looking at a phenomenon similar to the effect of the Moon upon the tides.”
“Oooh, good hypothesis,” enthused Adelaide. “In that case, we might be best off melting down the sample to a liquid state, and observing the fluid volume throughout a lunar month.”
The two sisters smiled at each other in mutual admiration. “Papa will be so proud of us!” Clara declared.
Such simple chemistry had been the stuff of their childhood days, so neither sister needed telling that they had to be careful not to lose any of the sample via evaporation. Equally, they were aware of the need for an immensely power heat source- the sample would not be persuaded to melt until it reached well over seventeen hundred degrees Fahrenheit.
“It's only a shame that we shall lose the impression of ancient Viking teeth,” sighed Clara. “Though why berserkers felt the need to chew on their shields to achieve their state of mind, I'm sure I have no idea.”
While Adelaide took the notebook into her keeping, Clara monitored the temperature with some caution.
“That's odd,” said Clara presently. “It seems to be that the berserker silver is starting to bubble, but we are by no mean near the boiling poi-”
A number of things happened very quickly.
The full moon, disregarded by all humans present, rose to fill the concave porthole.
The silver surged brightly to meet the moonlight.
The glass retort cracked, and as Adelaide opened her mouth to warn Clara, shattered entirely, piercing both sisters with an uncertain mixture of glass shards and ebullient berserker silver.
Both sisters screamed and fell, and to Clara's horror Adelaide kept screaming.
“What's happening, my dear?”
A voice almost entirely unlike her younger sister's boomed through the room “NO MOON. NO MOON!”
“What?” Clara hauled herself upright- and heard herself screaming. Partly at what had become of her sister, and partly at what was happening now the moonlight was touching her own shredded flesh.
* * * * *
Next morning.
The Incident Committee was, to everyone's mild surprise, chaired by Jenny Greenteeth.
“Take it slowly,” she said compassionately, nibbling on another mint leaf- a habit she had taken up when she first left off her pipe. “Do either of you require more tea?”
“Yes please, that would be most kind.” In truth, both sisters craved the sugar more than the tea itself, but at least the flavour was familiar and comforting in a terrifying new existence.
Adelaide took up the report. “At that point, as you can see, we perforce had to abandon reporting in the notebook. The effect on the moonlight upon us was to, well, transmogrify us. I couldn't rightfully describe our physical appearance, I'm afraid, but I remember the distinct impression of having paws. And teeth that wanted to...” She flushed.
“Please continue,” said Jenny, still in gentle tones. “Don't mind the phonograph, either, this is important information that we need.”
Clara raised her chin to the wax cylinder being slowly inscribed. “Teeth that longed to bite through the very bones of the Earth. This, I believe, is what contributed to our unfortunate destruction of the workshop. For which we apologise unreservedly and will, naturally, make full restitution.”
Another, rather more elderly, committee member snorted her agreement.
Jenny picked another leaf off the small potted mint plant in front of her. “Your testimony supports our own findings. The word berserker literally means 'bear-skin', but history's error lies in believing the bear skin was taken from a separate creature, and not grown in situ, as it were. Gnawing on the shields seems to have been a simple way of ingesting the silver immediately before battle, in quantities sufficient to induce transformation.”
Adelaide nodded. “So if we were to make pressed pills containing a trace of berserker silver, we could also change at will. We could be a boon for the city defence!”
“I can always trust you to find the silver lining.” Clara shuddered delicately. “A phrase I shall never use with equanimity again.” She leaned forward. “But the fact remains, that the berserker silver was susceptible to the phases of the moon. Does this mean we're obliged to transform at every full moon?”
“We'll have to test that theory at the next full moon, I fear.” Jenny Greenteeth pushed the potted plant away from the way a man in a restaurant might pushed away his empty plate. “Thank you for your time, ladies, and good day to you both. Please let us know should you experience any further symptoms.”
It was a dismissal, and the sister took it as so. Adelaide started making off to the dock with an unexpected spring in her step.
“Where are you going now?” Clara asked her sister.
“Mama mentioned a poultry wholesaler the housekeeper swears by. I don't know about you, but I suspect we shall need to arrange some sort of bulk order!”
Clara's stomach growled its unqualified approval. “In that case, dear sister, we should definitely make a lively step to his door!”
Arm in arm, the two werewolves went to fetch their parasols before the trip.
Just over a lunar month after their arrival, the Chambers sisters had finally understood why. There was a surprisingly large amount of women who commuted up to Nephele in the morning, then returned home shortly before their husbands did so that they could remain the Angel Of The House.
No such consideration affected the sisters, they had far more scientifically fascinating fish to fry. Or melt, at any rate.
As the sun gave up its unequal struggle with the thick blankets of a starry night, Clara unlocked the metallurgy workshop, and wasn't surprised to find Adelaide tarrying some way behind.
“I'm not late, am I?” The younger woman hurried along the gangplank, ankles grasped by bloomers. Of the two, Adelaide had taken to the leaving off of crinolines and bustles with some enthusiasm, happy to wear lightweight fabrics in simple shapes for ease of movement, and to help reduce the amount of helium needed to keep the city afloat. “I encountered Jenny Greenteeth. Did you know her family is moving to Whitby, of all the forsaken places? She plans to join them with her young daughter.”
Clara frowned. “Not dear little Bloofer Lucy? I'd thought her quite the pet of the botany college. I was never more grateful when Mama ceased taking us to Whitby. It seems to me the sort of place where a young girl could come to much harm.” The key finally consented to turn the lock of the workshop, and a series of surprisingly intricate clunks could be heard.
Adelaide barged shamelessly in front of her elder sister and strode over to the bench. “Good evening, sample!”
Clara smiled to herself, then produced a small notebook. “I doubt the berserker silver can hear you, my dear.”
Both women looked at the unprepossessing sample of metal. It had been carefully chipped from the top of a Viking shield, upon the realisation that it possessed some rather remarkable properties. Clara readied a page in the notebook while Adelaide calibrated the counterweights of the scales, then used a small pair of tongs to transfer the sample on to the scales.
“That's nearly half an ounce it's gained in weight since last night.” The younger woman looked up and beamed. “I'm quite convinced that if we plotted a graph, we'd see a correlation between the weight of the berserker silver and the phase of the moon.”
“And yet,” continued Clara, producing a tape measure far more precise than anything her dressmaker had ever seen, “the change in weight in no way serves to alter the change in mass. Perhaps we're looking at a phenomenon similar to the effect of the Moon upon the tides.”
“Oooh, good hypothesis,” enthused Adelaide. “In that case, we might be best off melting down the sample to a liquid state, and observing the fluid volume throughout a lunar month.”
The two sisters smiled at each other in mutual admiration. “Papa will be so proud of us!” Clara declared.
Such simple chemistry had been the stuff of their childhood days, so neither sister needed telling that they had to be careful not to lose any of the sample via evaporation. Equally, they were aware of the need for an immensely power heat source- the sample would not be persuaded to melt until it reached well over seventeen hundred degrees Fahrenheit.
“It's only a shame that we shall lose the impression of ancient Viking teeth,” sighed Clara. “Though why berserkers felt the need to chew on their shields to achieve their state of mind, I'm sure I have no idea.”
While Adelaide took the notebook into her keeping, Clara monitored the temperature with some caution.
“That's odd,” said Clara presently. “It seems to be that the berserker silver is starting to bubble, but we are by no mean near the boiling poi-”
A number of things happened very quickly.
The full moon, disregarded by all humans present, rose to fill the concave porthole.
The silver surged brightly to meet the moonlight.
The glass retort cracked, and as Adelaide opened her mouth to warn Clara, shattered entirely, piercing both sisters with an uncertain mixture of glass shards and ebullient berserker silver.
Both sisters screamed and fell, and to Clara's horror Adelaide kept screaming.
“What's happening, my dear?”
A voice almost entirely unlike her younger sister's boomed through the room “NO MOON. NO MOON!”
“What?” Clara hauled herself upright- and heard herself screaming. Partly at what had become of her sister, and partly at what was happening now the moonlight was touching her own shredded flesh.
* * * * *
Next morning.
The Incident Committee was, to everyone's mild surprise, chaired by Jenny Greenteeth.
“Take it slowly,” she said compassionately, nibbling on another mint leaf- a habit she had taken up when she first left off her pipe. “Do either of you require more tea?”
“Yes please, that would be most kind.” In truth, both sisters craved the sugar more than the tea itself, but at least the flavour was familiar and comforting in a terrifying new existence.
Adelaide took up the report. “At that point, as you can see, we perforce had to abandon reporting in the notebook. The effect on the moonlight upon us was to, well, transmogrify us. I couldn't rightfully describe our physical appearance, I'm afraid, but I remember the distinct impression of having paws. And teeth that wanted to...” She flushed.
“Please continue,” said Jenny, still in gentle tones. “Don't mind the phonograph, either, this is important information that we need.”
Clara raised her chin to the wax cylinder being slowly inscribed. “Teeth that longed to bite through the very bones of the Earth. This, I believe, is what contributed to our unfortunate destruction of the workshop. For which we apologise unreservedly and will, naturally, make full restitution.”
Another, rather more elderly, committee member snorted her agreement.
Jenny picked another leaf off the small potted mint plant in front of her. “Your testimony supports our own findings. The word berserker literally means 'bear-skin', but history's error lies in believing the bear skin was taken from a separate creature, and not grown in situ, as it were. Gnawing on the shields seems to have been a simple way of ingesting the silver immediately before battle, in quantities sufficient to induce transformation.”
Adelaide nodded. “So if we were to make pressed pills containing a trace of berserker silver, we could also change at will. We could be a boon for the city defence!”
“I can always trust you to find the silver lining.” Clara shuddered delicately. “A phrase I shall never use with equanimity again.” She leaned forward. “But the fact remains, that the berserker silver was susceptible to the phases of the moon. Does this mean we're obliged to transform at every full moon?”
“We'll have to test that theory at the next full moon, I fear.” Jenny Greenteeth pushed the potted plant away from the way a man in a restaurant might pushed away his empty plate. “Thank you for your time, ladies, and good day to you both. Please let us know should you experience any further symptoms.”
It was a dismissal, and the sister took it as so. Adelaide started making off to the dock with an unexpected spring in her step.
“Where are you going now?” Clara asked her sister.
“Mama mentioned a poultry wholesaler the housekeeper swears by. I don't know about you, but I suspect we shall need to arrange some sort of bulk order!”
Clara's stomach growled its unqualified approval. “In that case, dear sister, we should definitely make a lively step to his door!”
Arm in arm, the two werewolves went to fetch their parasols before the trip.