28th March

Dearest Cecelia,
One has waved dear Lottie and the Tedster cheerio. That utterly mad brother of mine and his fiancee are off on a donkey trek in order to get in touch with the Wild Mother on a deeply spiritual level. Why, my staunch Catholic Mother and Father would go spare if they knew, and so Teddy has made me swear not to tattle to them. He’s such a queer creature, but a good egg nonetheless. I do hope the pair of them have a smashing time of it.

After a short delay – I was struck with a peculiar ailment on my return to the ship, but am feeling quite chipper now – myself and Jack are well on our way to the town of Braic, pausing now for a light snack and to stretch our cramped legs. I’d been misled to believe that Braic was a rather shorter distance than it actually is. As a result, Jack and I have hired the most terrifyingly bone-shaking motor cycle. I am clinging on for dear life at every harrowing turn and pothole in the road. The road is in the most frightful condition and yet is considered to be the most direct and oft used road between Gilead and Braic. I dare not complain when my teeth rattle. Jack has offered to trade the cycle for an ass on many occasions. Such a vulgar term!

Dear Cissy, I have seen many a strange sight along the way. We have passed travellers from all walks of life using a variety of methods of transportation. There have been several pilgrim families with pony and trap who greet us with a cursory nod and are dressed in a somewhat dated garb of black serge and cloth caps. Women and men in period costume from the days of Jane Austen also, chatter animatedly in horse drawn carriages, the women simpering and fluttering their eyelashes rather alarmingly in the hope that these important men will notice their advances. We have seen Elizabethan finery, elaborate dresses with ruffs about the neckline and men wearing breeches and doublets. Why, Cecelia, if I thought it was possible I might suggest that this road were leading us back through time! Perhaps Braic is hosting some sort of historical fair? Well, we shall find out soon enough. Jack and I will be retiring to a small inn at nightfall and arriving at Braic in the late afternoon tomorrow. I will be glad to be away from this road before dark, Cissy. Do not think me a coward for admitting that I do not like the way we are being appraised by our fellow travellers. Their eyes are dark and glassy like the eyes of the porcelain dolls which adorned my bedroom as a child. You remember how I fancied they would come to life at the witching hour. The air around the travellers is cold, though the sun has shone for the most part and I have heard naught but their reedy voices echoing about us. Where are the animal calls I heard on the Island of the Temple People? Oh, there are birds Cissy, but their voices are still, their gazes silent and greedy.

Jack is beckoning for me to return to the motor cycle to continue our journey  along this ghastly road and not a moment too soon. We have tarried long enough.

Yours

Elizabeth.

26th February

Cissy, darling

Last night was the night of Violetta’s sixtieth birthday bash. The invitation was an elegantly monogrammed affair which stated that the theme for the evening was to be ‘Swing, baby!’ to be held at Diamond Joe’s, one of the popular local bars on White Owl Island. Marvellous! A chance to wear another of my spiffing new beaded dresses and fancy little feathered headbands. Violetta had been thoughtful enough to include Jack, Lottie and Teddy in her invitation to me. I was rather thankful for this. I’ve never been one to enjoy arriving to an engagement alone, particularly when running fashionably late as I am wont to do from time to time.

Violetta greeted us upon arrival. She looked incredibly handsome, dressed unconventionally in a man’s suit, not dissimilar to the one which Jack wore. The sight of him looking so dapper in his suit had caught me quite by surprise and I couldn’t help but run my eyes over him several times throughout the evening.
‘Something take your fancy, dollface?’ he winked. I blushed immediately. Damn and blast!
In a feeble attempt to regain my composure I made numerous trips to the bar for refreshments before circulating amongst Violetta’s many friends. Several of the women attending wore purple boas about their necks. I guessed these to be her friends from the Sixty and Sassy Society. All that I spoke to appeared to be more than a little tipsy and fawned over Jack, who charmed the socks off each and every one of them. One particularly well-to-do woman even spanked Jack on the bottom and suggested that he call her. At that exchange, I believe I made another trip for refreshments, unable to believe the woman’s audacity.

The big band that had been secured for the evening’s entertainment struck up with a favourite Duke Ellington tune soon after and the dancing began. Teddy and I kick up our heels often at our local dances and partnered one another more than once during Violetta’s knees up. We danced and drank and danced some more as the band played hit after hit in succession.  Jack cut in on our final dance and I was pleasantly surprised to find that he was quite adept on the floor. Each time I glanced up to meet his eyes, he smiled down at me and I found that my stomach flipped. I found it very strange that he should have this effect on me. Perhaps I had consumed too much alcohol after all, sister, though I feel no lasting effects this morning.

After the final dance, dear Violetta gave a speech, thanking all of us for the impression that each had made upon her sixty years. Then, Cecelia, as all of us wept at her kind words, she surprised us all by announcing her engagement to a mysterious beaux known only as Marco. Marco stood quietly by her side, a good-looking Italian much younger than our vivacious friend. He seemed besotted, as did she. Jack slipped an arm around my shoulders as we toasted this most surprising news. A smile played across my lips as I looked at him. This time when he winked, I took the cue from the Sixty and Sassy ladies, pinched his bottom and suggested he call me, turned and strode toward the ship, laughing all the way.

Elizabeth.

17th February

Dearest Cecelia,
I was correct in assuming that I would hardly sleep a wink. The warriors begrudgingly made us comfortable in one of their guest huts. I’m sure if it weren’t for fear of retribution from their leader, whose name I have since learned is Shala, they’d have happily left us to a fitful night on the packed hard earth of the copse floor. Our rooms were decorated in a minimalist fashion, with just the bare essentials at hand. I was rather taken with a set of tapestries which lined the walls, depicting waterfalls, a lush oasis and various cloudscapes. Several warriors appeared to keep a vigil in each one. One such tapestry was of a detailed hierarchy entitled ‘A Parliament of Owls’ with the Prime Owlister at the fore. Why, I had never heard of such a thing! Lemuria is so full of the most wonderful surprises!

Jack and I soon retired for the evening. Jack remained strangely quiet since being chastised by the warrior, Shala. We conversed briefly in anticipation of what to expect on awakening, but each was caught up in thoughts of our own and fell silent soon after. I slept fitfully, unused to the eerie sounds of owls calling to one another. Their calls haunted my dreams for much of the night and more than once, I awoke, startled and gasping for breath. As the sun began to rise, the sounds abathed and my tiredness soon gave way to excitement. I decided to leave the comfort of my bunk and take myself to sit upon the verandah which ran alongside the hut. I watched as the sun painted the sky in hues of magenta and gold. Shala approached as the last owl quieted.

‘The Councillor will see you now. There is no time to waste for he is old and impatient with the young.’

There we were, as simply as that, walking to meet one of Obas’ah the Benevolent’s councillors of old. My knees were as if made of blancmange. I looked to Jack for reassurance but all that he could offer me was a tight smile, his usual bravado and swagger were absent. The distance between our hut and that of the Councillor was not great, however, an age appeared to pass before we reached the humble dwelling. Shala rapped thrice on the door with the crook of her staff before vanishing before our very eyes! Jack and I sought one another’s hand for comfort and waited with sweating palms. The Councillor shuffled within, the door scraping back painfully on its hinges. We were greeted by the most wonderfully sweet and mischievous eyes, set in a face, currant brown and wrinkled. The Councillor, his head as hairless as that of a newborn baby, was small and dressed in a floor length woollen cassock.

‘Children, do come in. Let us not waste time no mince words. Shala has told me of your quest. She speaks well of you. I understand that The Enchantress is assisting you, that she has provided you with the means to grant you safe passage among the warriors. You seek to retrieve the scrolls of Lemuria. Tell me, what is it you intend for these scrolls once you have them in your possession?
‘Sir, we hadn’t really given it much thought beyond the safety of the scrolls. We simply must prevent them from falling into the hands of The Collector.’
‘Children, you are so naive. The scrolls will not be safe until they are returned to their rightful heir.’
‘But of Obas’ah’s two sons, one is dead, murdered by the one who has been banished for his evildoing.’
‘I speak not of Obas’ah’s sons. The heir need not be a direct descendant of The Benevolent One. The heir will be revealed by the scrolls themselves in due course. I am to understand that two of the scrolls are already in The Collector’s possession?’
‘Yes, Sir, we believe that to be true.’
‘Then you must take the one which I have given my life for. Guard it as I have. Do not let him possess this also.’
‘No puzzles or riddles to solve first, Sir?’
‘You would like me to devise a riddle for you, child? I have not the patience for such games.’
‘Well no, Sir, we wouldn’t ask you to devise such a riddle if one were not already in place, eh Jack, old chap? A puzzle would be most bothersome, wouldn’t you say?’
‘It is as I thought. The youth today.. everything handed to them on a silver platter..’ laughted the Councillor, his nut brown skin wrinkling further still. ‘Shoo! It is time for my mid-morning nap.’

Just like that, the Councillor pressed an engraved gold box, approximately three inches in length into my palm.
‘Peace be with you.’
‘And also with you, Sir.’

I tucked the box carefully inside my canvas knapsack. Jack and I clasped hands once more and clutching L’Enchanteur’s walnut, I uttered the chant which would return us directly to the Vulcania.

Elizabeth.

16th February – the copse

Dearest Cecelia,

As we approached the copse I gave an involuntary shiver. Six pairs of eyes watched us silently, glinting ominously in the failing light. Three pairs were almond shaped,  obviously human and the others were large and spherical, the eyes of great white owls. The owls shone as though basked in moonlight. Luminescent and quite the most magnificent creatures. Their round eyes held us in their gaze. I guessed from the look of their claws, sharpened to a lethal point that these birds could be formidable predators when necessary. I dared not move a muscle, for fear of upsetting these watchful beasts. Did they attack out of necessity only? I decided that a healthy respect for the unknown was in order. Better to err on the side of caution as Mother always says. Jack stood frozen beside me.

The almond eyes grew closer and I was able to ascertain that they belonged to three equally formidable and beautiful women. Broad and muscular, I felt small and insignificant in their presence. Jack’s jaw dropped and I had to nudge him sharply with my elbow. He let out a low whistle and I rolled my eyes in response. One woman stepped forward, quite clearly the designated spokesperson, perhaps even their leader. She beckoned toward me. These simply have to be the warriors that L’Enchanteur and the journal described.

‘State your purpose for being here.’
‘Um..’
‘Cat got your tongue?’
‘Perhaps she’s shy.’
‘Do we frighten you, girl?’

The others began to heckle. My tongue felt as though it was glued to the roof of my mouth and I blushed profusely, stuttering even more.

‘We’re here to..’ began Jack, moving forward. The warrior’s eyes flashed and Jack fell back, silent once again.

‘Let the girl speak for herself.’

Suddenly cross at being addressed in such a manner, I chastised the warrior, insisting that she show me the respect she commanded for herself. She smile indulgently at me and bade me to continue. I informed her of the reason for our intrusion into the copse. Nodding sagely, she spoke thus.

‘You do not require access to the tree to learn the secrets of its scrolls. You need only to show me what lies within your heart. The Enchantress has armed you with the means to do this.’

With that I passed to her the map of my heart which lay within the walnut’s shell. Within seconds she returned it to me.

‘You are innocent and pure and no doubt virginal also, unusual for one of your years. It is time for you to meet the Councillor who resides with us. I will commune with him and return at first light.’
‘W.. wait here?’ I cast around me. There was nowhere that would suffice for overnight shelter.
‘Fine,’ she sighed. Turning to her cohorts she ordered for them to take us to the village and make us comfortable.
‘This one looks sickly.’ I was horrified to find that she was pointing a long finger in my direction.
‘Wait a minute, I..’
The warrior held up my hand to silence my sputtering, ’she also does not know when she is expected to be silent.’

A Councillor, Cissy. A bona fide Councillor. we meet him tomorrow. I’m quite certain I shan’t sleep a wink!

Elizabeth.

16th February

Cissy,
Jack and I are afoot once more. We were delayed for a day while I recovered from a most debilitating migraine. I am recovered and so we have set out on a journey into the protected heartland of White Owl Island. We have permission to walk this way as long as we are careful not to remove anything from its natural environment. This area has recently been devastated by raging fires and is now undergoing a process of regeneration. We tread carefully, ensuring that our feet do not disturb the tender new growth.

According to our gracious hostess, L’Enchanteur, it will take us a full day to reach our destination. The day is warm and breezy, pleasant enough, and the scenery is simply breathtaking. Emerald hills undulate on either side of us. Jack and I walk at a leisurely pace through the Lol’ah Valley. We stop on occasion to take a closer look at the flora which is unique to this part of the world. Large, succulent, waxen petals turned to the sun, and the delicate, downy blossoms favoured by the bright flitting birds. We crossed the Lol’ah River at noon and began our climb toward higher ground, stopping only for a bite to eat. Pushing on, the climb became more demanding, the hills grow steeper, the ground beneath our feet, more treacherous. There are low outcrops of rock to navigate. More than once, I have required Jack’s assistance to pull me over a particularly difficult formation. We are growing ever closer now. Once we reach the Andus’at Plains we are on the last leg of our journey.

L’Enchanteur’s directions were concise and as accurate as one could hope for. As the sun leaves the sky, we can see the Plains stretching out before us. I welcome the relative ease of walking on flat terrain once more. L’Enchanteur’s hastily scribbled map can be folded away at last. I am grateful for her sound knowledge of Lemuria and its inhabitants. You will recall, Cissy, that each of us were given a gift of a walnut shell on departing for Lemuria. I have kept mine close to my person in the protective amulet about my throat. L’Enchanteur reminded me at the Potluck dinner that the walnut contains a map of the heart. Since only the pure of heart may pass into the copse where stands the Royal Tree, I aim to present the map to the Warrior who guards the way. I hope that this is enough to gain the entry I seek.

The light is beginning to fade now, Cissy, but we are here at last. The copse looms before us, the trees magnificent in both stature and girth. I gape in awe and forget for a moment the aching in my limbs. I wince with every step. Cramped and sore and in need of rest, I must bash on. We are still to locate the Warrior.

Something tells me though, that our approach has not gone unnoticed.
Elizabeth.

15th February

Dear Cissy,
There is much to tell. Last night’s festivities were splendid indeed! The ritual for the Charming of the Plough was magical to say the least. It was decided upon that our group would join together when presenting our offering. We set off from the harbour along a narrow country lane. Along the way we met a gentleman out for an early evening stroll with his sheepdog. The man, dressed in tweed knickerbockers suggested that we follow the lane for a mile or so where we would happen upon an old wooden stile. I had some difficulty in mounting the stile in my dress as you can imagine and rather annoyingly laddered my stockings. I was shocked when Jack suggested that I remove them altogether but had to agree that it seemed the sensible thing to do and so there I was in the middle of a field, doing the unthinkable!

We walked until we found ourselves confronted by a derelict farmhouse with pastures on all sides. Some of the fields were of a deep green, lush and others danced with rows of golden wheat, still warm from the sun. This was the perfect place to perform our ritual. In low tones we chanted, beseeching the Land Spirits to bless the soil, then crumbled our pieces of bread before us. The wind whispered as if the spirits had acknowledged our plea.

I decided not to turn back with the others, preferring to stay and meditate in solitude. The sky was beginning to darken and so Jack insisted that he remain with me. I stilled myself, which was nigh on impossible under the circumstances. Having Jack in such close proximity was rather distracting. I breathed slowly in and out, focusing on the rhythm of my breathing as L’Enchanteur had taught me. When I felt ready I turned and began to retrace my steps to the harbour in silence. I did not speak again until we neared the site of the Potluck dinner, quieting all of Jack’s attempts at conversation. The beach before us was alive with music and laughter. I waved to a few of my new friends from the Vulcania – Unity, wearing her trademark hibiscus in her hair, Sue dressed in a fairy costume, complete with cardboard wand and balancing a large dish of Cauliflower Cheese to rival our dear cook’s.

I turned my face to Jack and laughed at the frivolity surrounding us.
‘Tomorrow we must find someone to take us to the copse of Living Trees. According to the journal, the trees are home to the White Owl and are guarded by a powerful Lemurian Warrior. Only the pure of heart may gain access to the copse.’

Jack nodded in agreement and taking my hand, led me toward the festivities.

Elizabeth.

10th February

Dearest Cecelia,
What a marvellous time I had at the theatre on Friday afternoon! Dear Rilla was able to accompany our party. I hadn’t seen her in what must be the longest time. She’s well and having the gaiest time with her family. We have such similar taste in shoes and accessories. I simply had to admire her gorgeous patent, heeled Mary Janes and new cloche!

Oh, but Miss Evelyn Laye was wonderful in the role of Sarah. She’s fair and doe-eyed, truly the most beautiful of creatures. Bitter Sweet is not one of Mr Coward’s finest storylines but the music was enchanting nonetheless. What a memorable song is ‘I’ll See You Again’. I find myself humming it as I go about my day. Jack has resurfaced at last, appearing at my side during the matinee and inviting himself to sit with our intimate group. He has apparently been ‘boning up’ on a few things, namely our next port of call, White Owl Island. No-one knows quite what to expect, but he tells me the guardians are very particular about who is allowed to venture onto the protected heritage sites. There is an extensive conservation programme in place and we are to respect the regeneration taking place.

While on board, Jack has been commissioned to write several articles for The Review. His Editor-in-Chief feels that their New York readership would welcome a little Lemurian adventure as something of a departure from the usual restaurant and entertainment reviews. Travellers can join the cruise at any time from several capital cities around the world. The Review has agreed to pay Jack’s passage as long as he ‘comes up with the goods’, to coin his own phrase. I was finally able to show Jack the journal as I always keep it about my person, and gave him a potted version of my discoveries to date. His response was to slap me between the shoulder blades in a hearty fashion, which knocked the wind right out of me!

‘We’ll make a reporter out of you yet, Lizzy.’

Now, I don’t know why that excited me so, Cissy, but it did. The very thought of me turning out newsworthy articles and burying myself in research..

‘Hey, let’s not get carried away here, doll. I’m just yanking your chain.’

His voice broke my reverie and I felt my face flush with embarrassment. Am I terribly transparent, Cissy? I always rather envied stuffy old Charles’ writing career. Perhaps..

With Noel Coward at an end, I wandered back to my cabin to dress for dinner. Jack was chivalrous enough to accompany me and apologised for his earlier carelessness. He hadn’t realised, clearly, that I genuinely did fancy myself as a journalist and kindly offered to put in a good word for me with his Editor-in-Chief. I am to show him some of my work before we reach White Owl Island. In return for his charity, I have offered to direct him to the glass garden.  As I write, I find myself singing a catchy tune from Bitter Sweet. I have heard other theatre-goers muttering of the indecency of the lyrics and its inclusion in the operetta. Poppycock, I say! The song is sung by four young dandies and I think it lends itself well to the play.  We reside in much more liberal times and I applaud Noel Coward for his apparent reference to homosexuality. I will allow you to decide for yourself, dear sister, by including a verse or two for your perusal.

Pretty boys, witty boys, you may sneer
at our disintegration.
Haughty boys, naughty boys,
Dear, dear, dear!
Swooning with affectation..
and as we are the reason
for the nineties being gay,
we all wear a green carnation.

Your

Elizabeth.

1st February

Dear Cecelia,

This morning I was struck by a marvellous idea whilst perusing the literature in my cabin. One of the brochures is dedicated to onboard activities and makes mention of a well-stocked library which is sure to satisfy even the most discerning bibliophile among us. I do so enjoy reading and there is nothing quite like the smell of old books, except perhaps the smell of new books!

I knocked on the door of Jack’s cabin along the way to invite him along. Quite why I bothered to ask.. of all the.. uncivil.. I had obviously roused him from his bed and judging by his air of incivility, he is not much of a morning person. He answered the door dressed only from the waist down, yawned, scratched his stomach as he stretched and said that if I wanted to lose my pretty little head behind a stack of dusty ancient tomes, then I was welcome to do so but to leave him well out of it. He promptly closed the door. I almost knocked again, but then, I’m ashamed to say, reacted instead by actually flouncing away in a bit of a huff. Well then, I shall take back every word I ever uttered in his favour.

Oh my, Cissy, this library is vast. It is decorated rather tastefully, rich and earthy colours with gold trim and there is a persian rug on the floor which is similar to the one Father has in his study at home.The shelves are of a burnished mahogany and thus far, every book title that I have been able to summons from the recesses of my mind is right here in this room. The lofty stacks require me to stand on the ladder if I am to come close to reaching the topmost shelves. The books which most interest me are those which discuss elements of Lemurian history, or more specifically, the possible location and significance of the Living Tree. By jove, sis, I think I have a plentiful supply of books which will see me through a month of Sundays. I have retired to the more comfortable of the two claret brocade armchairs with my heavy stack of leatherbound reference material and will begin reading shortly. I imagine that my reading will devour the better part of my day.

I shall take tea in the library if I am to take it at all.

Elizabeth.

————————————————————————————————————–

Good gracious, sis, I appear to have stumbled upon the key at last! Jolly good show. I thought I might be her until dusk, but already I am making headway. The first of my book selection was not altogether unpleasant to read, with its lively descriptions of life in Lemuria, but proved to contain very little of note which pertained to the Tree. By the third book I was beginning to suspect that I was heading down the wrong track with this line of reasoning and was becoming rather bored with the whole affair. After a spot of tea, I had perked up enough to tackle the fourth book, a slim, handbound object of the softest camel-coloured leather. The pages, a velvety parchment.

There are many strange markings tooled along the spine and the very front cover is embossed with the sigil identical to the one in my meditation. The pages contain much that is written in a language unfamiliar to me, though it does not appear to be ancient. I will need to study the journal at length in order to be able to decipher its contents.

On my exit from the library, I approached the librarian. An elderly, beak-nosed woman, reminiscent of a small wren, chirpy and lively, she greeted me in such a friendly manner that I did warm to her immediately. I passed my find across the counter to her and stated that I would like to borrow the book for a while.
‘Oh no, my love, we do not lend such books to our passengers.’
‘But you are a library, are you not?’
‘Yes, dear, but for me to lend you a book would suggest that you are planning to return it at some point.’
‘I will return it! I’m an honest sort.’
‘Yes, dearie, I can see that you are. This book, however, is to be given. It is yours to keep.’
‘Oh.. well, I am most grateful, dear lady.’

So, I am the owner of this compact journal of secrets. I am impatient to know what lies within.  There is much studying to be done, Cissy, but first I must eat. I am simply ravenous, and the che’s specials in the dining room are delights to be savoured indeed!

Elizabeth.

30th January

My sweet Cecelia,
My time in the seclusion of my cabin has been well spent. I’ve had many lovely long hours of rest. I have painted, composed a few verses and most importantly, I have written those long overdue missives to Mother and Father. Of course, I have kept all bu the most mundane of details of my trip so far to myself, not even daring to share them with either Teddy or Lottie.

The two of them have been having a rather gay time with our fellow passengers and just generally gadding about the place. Lottie has been shopping up quite a storm. Mind you, she does have an obscenely large trust fund, left to her by The Mogul, her once rather terrifying grandfather. Lottie was raised by him after the death of her own parents when she was quite small. Dear Lottie has such a generous heart, one quite wonders where on earth she may have inherited such a placid nature.

Oh, I have a telegram, which I received at breakfast this morning, with rather more positive news than the last. Jack will be boarding the Vulcania later this morning and making the next leg of the journey alongside me. I have much to discuss with him and he assures me that he too, has much to share. Was it really necessary to address the telegram to dollface though? The man is incorrigible! I don’t think I can bear to have him in close proximity for days at a time. Jazz talk, baby, he says. Ha! We shall see.

Elizabeth.

——————————————————————————————————————————-

Well, Cecelia,
I have returned to my cabin after a surprisingly pleasant dinner with the American. Brother dearest wished to be introduced to my companion and I endured a great number of quizzical looks from Lottie as the boys bonded. They apparently have much in common, I haven’t the faintest idea what, and appeared to be quite taken with one another. It took a rather concerted effort on my part to shoo Teddy away, and only after he’d extracted promises of drinks in the lounge after dinner.

Jack was most agreeable throughout our meal of filet mignon and seasonal vegetables, followed by apple cream pie for dessert. The ship puts on quite a spread! There was an awkwardly tender moment when he actually reached across the table to wipe a little dessert cream from my chin with his thumb. Oh, that apple pie was to die for!

Having brought Jack up to date with my tales of derring-do in his absence, it was time for me to learn precisely what he had discovered himself.
‘Charles is long gone, baby..’
‘No? Really?’ I’d answered in mock surprise.
Jack remained unamused. ‘You slay me, Lizzy. Listen, toots, if you don’t wanna know..’
‘Oh no, toots, please carry on.’ I resisted the rather peevish urge to poke my tongue out in his direction.
‘Charles is long gone. There’s just nothing. That trail has gone cold. What I did find out, was that he was definitely onto something. I turned up a dick that he’d hired, one of his reliable sources..’
‘Wait a minute. A dick?’
‘Private investigator. An unhappy one at that. Charles still owes him a few quid. The dick had news of a man known only as The Collector. This guy is gathering up your precious scrolls as we speak. Word has it that he’s paying big bucks to anyone who can get a hold of them for him. The scrolls are said to give the the bearer the powers that were originally attributed to Obas’ah, the Benevolent One. Powers of immortality, telekinesis, telepathy and the ability to command great armies, both living and dead. And much more. So far, The Collector has two of the scrolls in his possession. there are six in total. That means..’
‘There are four still out there.’
‘Hey, you’re not just a pretty face, are ya toots?’

Apart from the apparent condescension and name-calling, dinner with Jack was pleasant enough. I shall be giving him the widest possible berth while we’re confined to the ship though. Too many of these dinners and I might actually find myself in danger of liking the man. Perish the thought, Cissy!

Now, with four scrolls still at large, we’ll have our work cut out for us. We do have the one small clue of the Living Tree sigil, which neither of us were able to recognise. Perhaps our next port of call will provide us with more answers before The Collector possesses all of the scrolls and wreaks destruction on Lemuria and the rest of the globe.

Elizabeth.

19th January

Dear Cecelia,
I have returned from my evening at the Sea Dragon Tavern, directions to which, I secured from the Sea Gypsy, another passenger on board the Vulcania. The tavern is not at all as I had pictured it, having previously visited the public house in Thirsk on only two occasions. I had imagined a cosy affair, but instead I found the tavern to be bursting at the seams with patrons in various states of inebriation, enjoying themselves in a rather more raucous manner than I am accustomed to.
The air hung heavy with the purple haze of cigarette smoke and the aroma of spilled spiced mead. The floor was sticky beneath my patent leather heels. I was not immediately able to locate Jack as I browsed the room before me. I thought it typical that he would keep a lady waiting. With a second, more thorough search of the room, however, I found the American positioned in one of the rear booths. The booth would provide us with a modicum of privacy where seclusion would be utterly impossible.
‘Lizzy!’
I remained unamused by the sight of Jack’s roguish smile as he waved me over. I gritted my teeth and determined not to react to his teasing tonight.
‘Hey, lighten up, Elizabeth.’
Hmmph. Sarcasm. This was not going to prove to be a simple task. With minimal effort on his part, our friend Jack seemed to grate on my nerves. As I took my seat opposite him, he shouted across the room to summons one of the waiters. I ordered a vodka, lime and soda water and Jack, a scotch, straight up.
‘I don’t see the point in spending money on a damn fine scotch, only to spoil it with ice or water.’ He winked at me and for a moment I was so flustered I found it impossible to answer, Cissy. He must find me terribly doltish!
Drinks and dinner ordered – two house specials which turned out to be a surprisingly delectable dish of grilled chicken breast with a mango chutney, all balanced precariously on a bed of rice – we began to discuss the business at hand.
Charles, it would seem, was working on an article which described in great detail, the upcoming travelling exhibition of the Global History Museum. The exhibition, entitled ‘Timeline: A History of Lemuria and its People’ is being prepared as we speak and is due to depart for London on February 1st. It was while working on this article, that Charles had the opportunity to catch up with his old chum, Jack during a research trip to New York and the Global History Museum. Charles had mentioned none of this to me. Certainly, I had known of his visit to New York, but was unaware of either his intentions while there or the existence of his friend from The Review. The trip had been rather successful by all accounts. The two friends had dined together at a men’s club, in close proximity to the museum, to talk over old times. There, they had witnessed what appeared to be a clandestine meeting between the museum’s curator and a well-attired, unnamed man. Jack, unable to contain his curiosity had attempted to move closer to the men as they conversed, but was only able to overhear the words ’scrolls’ and ‘power’. The curator then hurried from the club, appearing stricken. Jack is under the impression that further digging on the part of Charles, and the unearthing of a few of the scrolls’ secrets may be the cause of his inexplicable disappearance. Still more questions!
Jack is leaving for London at the earliest opportunity, before returning to New York to search for further clues. I am to spend the remainder of our time here at the Island of the Temple People keeping an eye out for any of my fellow passengers aboard the Vulcania who are not as they appear, and gathering as much information pertaining to the scrolls as possible. I fear I am not the most qualified for such a venture as this, but will do my damnedest to get to the bottom of Charles’ disappearance. I wished Jack the best of luck and supposed to meet with him again two weeks hence. His reply?
‘It’s a date then, Lizzy.’

He leaned closer as if to kiss me goodbye, but I hurried from the Sea Dragon as quickly as I could, Jack laughing heartily at my hasty retreat.

Elizabeth.