OOM: To the labyrinth with Bossuet

[cook_the_rude]

At the top of a hill, there is a door, set into the hill-face.

The lake is shimmering in the distance, and the Scottish summer is in full effect.

But the door in the hillside might still be considered boding.

"Not making any Dante puns," Dr. Lecter declares, gesturing to the door invitingly.

Comments

[cook_the_rude]

"I don't know that we need to kill it, although we could, of course," Dr. Lecter says. "I'm sure there must be weapons in that hoard. But I'll try something else first."

He sidles further sideways in the shadows, expecting Bossuet to follow.

The dragons great, dark, reptilian skull is now clearly discernible, the eyes glowing as the head moves, searching.

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"I'd as soon not, if we don't have to. I've never fancied myself a dragon-slayer."

Bossuet follows, eyes on the hoard and on the dragon. Whether there are swords or not, he wouldn't know what to do with them: but there might be something there.

Besides, of course, the glittering treasure.

[cook_the_rude]

Dr. Lecter bends, and does scoop up a handful of glittering treasure.

However, he doesn't keep it but pulls back his arm and throws the trinkets as far away as he can, in the direction they'd come in from.

The dragon's head whips around, and it spits fire towards the source of the noise.

"Run!" Dr. Lecter says, and does.

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

Bossuet runs.

Bossuet runs, tangles with an absurdly complex coronet, all points and clusters of gems and delicate arches to stick your foot through, trips, falls face-first on the floor, and almost gracefully rolls himself along into the shelter of another pillar.

[cook_the_rude]

The dragon's head whips around and emits another jet of fire.

Dr. Lecter dives behind the pillar beside Bossuet, shoves a rather large, ornate lance into his hands, and springs out again.

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

He's never used a lance.

But he's used a bayonet, and not too long ago. Lesgle takes the weapon with a steady grip. The crumpled crown is by his feet; is there a chance the dragon will fall for the same trick twice? He catches Lecter's eye and mimes kicking the thing off in the other direction. Worth a try?

[cook_the_rude]

Lecter nods.

He is holding a lance as well.

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

Lesgle gets a good solid kick in and the crown arcs away, hitting a mound several meters away and starting a slide of coins. He doesn't wait for another jet of flame from the dragon: as soon as its head twitches in the direction of the disturbance he bolts towards the door, still with his lance.

[cook_the_rude]

Dr. Lecter vaults over the sliding hoard using his lance, reaches the door before Bossuet, and pushes it open. "Good use of a crown," he gasps, "worthy of a revolutionary of France!"

He is still holding his lance, ready to charge into the next world beside Bossuet.

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

Bossuet nods breathlessly, laughing. À bas les rois, yes? His heart is still pounding as he shoulders through the door, lance ready, and charges fearlessly at a

tree.

The door that shuts behind them is glass; above it a sign proclaims the entrance of a Quality Burger Restaurant. Beside them, after some startled gasps, a group of teenagers begins to clap ironically.

[cook_the_rude]

"A burger restaurant?" Dr. Lecter says, stopping beside the tree and looking around. "Across from a McDonalds??"

He holds on to his lance as if that was the most natural thing. He seems to even have picked up a sword from the hoard before slamming the door shut.

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

Bossuet stares dumbfounded at the tree, and at the traffic beyond it, and at the crowd of teens. That, at least, he knows how to respond to. He tips his hat and leers absurdly at one of the girls. "Why, Mesdemoiselles, my friend and I were just slaying a dragon. Naturally we are armed. Do you like the look of my lance? Very firm, a nice size, just the thing to satisfy damsels in distress. No?"

He starts to saunter off around the corner, looking as nonchalant as he possibly can.

[cook_the_rude]

Dr. Lecter follows, after giving a brief bow and a murmured apology to the young women. "We don't want them to call the police," he says. "We simply want the next door. Let me see - where are we?"

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

Bossuet pulls into a doorway. When Lecter catches up to him, the whites of his eyes are showing very wide; he looks considerably more spooked than he had in the dragon's lair. "Where are we? How should I know? Those--those are automobiles...?"

At least in his coat and hat he looks like he's on his way to or from some costumed event, even if the lance doesn't exactly match the 1830s theme.

[cook_the_rude]

"Paris," Dr. Lecter says. "My time, from the look of the cars. Near the Jardin du Louxembourg, I would say."

He looks around.

"Place Edmond Rostand -- named for the playwright who wrote 'Cyrano de Bergerac', but that was after your time."

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"The Luxembourg...?" The name Edmond Rostand means nothing to him and it's nearly impossible for Lesgle to see Paris in these wide streets filled with cars and buses. He stares at a clump of trees for several seconds, then closes his eyes. "Wait, I've read about this. A plan of modernization. New streets, new buildings, new sewers even. Very clean. Very hard to barricade."

When he opens his eyes, none of this particularly helps. If that's the Jardin du Luxembourg, this is...oh, hell, it could be any of a dozen places Lesgle used to know like the back of his hand. "When I came to Milliways before, it was through a café. If I had a map of the new streets, I could...guess at where that would be now."

[cook_the_rude]

"The Café Musain?" Dr. Lecter says. "It is near here, I think. There wasn't a McDonalds or a burger restaurant, of course, when my uncle showed me this place in the seventies...."

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"No, another place." Bossuet glances at him sharply, just a flicker of a look: why would Dr. Lecter think of the Musain? He's unlikely to have mentioned it himself, as the place where they held the secret illegal revolutionary meetings. Gavroche at the Bar, though, he's talkative enough....

Bossuet puts the thought aside. "It was another place. Ever so many cafés in Paris. --Good God, though, this could be about where the Musain stood."

[cook_the_rude]

"I think so," Dr. Lecter says. "Perhaps we should go inside and see if we get our next door there. If they let us in, bristling with medieval pole-arms."

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

Ah, yes, the pole-arms. Bossuet pulls his eyes away from one of the automobiles--it must be the omnibus of the future, from the way people got on and off--and scratches his beard. "We'll tell them we're on our way to a party, and absolutely not an émeute. The bourgeois will be immensely reassured."

[cook_the_rude]

"We shouldn't eat or drink anything in there," Dr. Lecter says, eyeing the establishment.

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"I wasn't planning on it." In fact, he's already feeling rather strange, beyond just the confusion of this very unfamiliar Paris: it's hard to keep his mind off the fact that he's really quite dead. "But by all means, let us find a door."

The Quality Burger Restaurant does not have any rules in place about swords and lances. But when they go in, they get a very strong eyeing from the employees. A manager will likely show up soon.

[cook_the_rude]

"Let's go to the back of this place and see if there is a door that looks like the labyrinth doors," Dr. Lecter says.

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

Bossuet's used to dirty looks from disapproving café owners. He strolls on through, smiling politely. But the back leads only to the kitchen--and he's not foolhardy enough to intrude there without a better plan than smile and nod--and to a very ordinary set of restrooms.

[cook_the_rude]

Much cleaner restrooms, though, than Bossuet might be used to in his own time.

"It looks like a dead end," Dr. Lecter declares, opening the door to the gentlemen's.

Some employees are eyeing the two of them with great alarm.