Start of a transcript of Savoir-Faire An interactive search for loot. Copyright Emily Short 2002. Type INFO if you have not played before. Type LICENSE for the terms of use and distribution. Type CREDITS for tester and library acknowledgements. Release 2 / Serial number 020418 / Inform v6.15 Library 6/10 Standard interpreter 1.0 (1F) / Library serial number 991113 >restart Are you sure you want to restart? y The beautiful life is always damned, they say. As for you, you've overexpended yourself: fifteen years of prominence, champagne, carriage rides in the Tuileries, having your name whispered behind manicured hands, getting elegant ladies out of elegant fixes -- and you're in debt. Bound by oath and honor to a pack of scoundrels. Your father, old peasant that he was, could have warned you against their type. You'd hoped to find the Count at home; your original plan was to ask him for an advance on the money you expect to earn on your estate in a month or two. But according to the local population, the Count hasn't been home in months, and Marie, who was in residence until recently, has vanished as well. "No one around the big house now," says one of the peasant women tersely. "Even turned off the cook, they did." But you need the money at once; if you return to Paris without it, your creditors are unlikely to be forgiving. So you walked over the fields anyway, and got in through the gap in the kitchen garden wall. You will just have to find what you can. Savoir-Faire An interactive search for loot. Copyright Emily Short 2002. Type INFO if you have not played before. Type LICENSE for the terms of use and distribution. Type CREDITS for tester and library acknowledgements. Release 2 / Serial number 020418 / Inform v6.15 Library 6/10 Kitchen Garden West is the wall of the kitchen. Most of the space along the wall is planted with herbs -- bay, parsley, stalks of mint -- left of the open doorway. To its right is only a drainage ditch, catching the outflow of a pipe that comes through the wall. In one corner of the plot is the well, drilled many deep feet; in another is the antique sundial. A tangle of climbing roses covers almost completely the wall and door of a shed to the southeast. >x sundial A sturdy old sundial, its bronze weathered green. Unlike various tawdry sundials you have encountered in your life, it has a firmly-attached gnomon that is unlikely to come off in times of trouble. >[hee!] That's not a verb I recognize. >turn gnomon It resists your stubborn efforts with a patience born of ages. >x time Inscribed in the surface of the sundial is a quote from Augustine, about the fleetingness of time, how neither the future nor the past exists. The shadow lies sharply across the letters, dividing them into light and dark, present and past. >time That's not a verb I recognize. >[Yeah, but what time is it?] You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >read augustine (in the roses) You discover nothing of interest in the roses. >x roses More thorns than the usual, and fewer blooms, or so it seems to your eye. >search them Among the roses you are able to discern some shed. >[some shed?] That's not a verb I recognize. >x shed Built out of rough stones, not hewn into rectangular shape like those of the main house, and framed in weathered wood. >open shed That's not something you can open. >x shed Built out of rough stones, not hewn into rectangular shape like those of the main house, and framed in weathered wood. >[Huh?] That's not a verb I recognize. >enter shed The dense tangle of roses covers up the door of the shed, effectively preventing you from opening it. >[A-ha!] That's not a verb I recognize. >[Wow, first room and I already found bugs. This game must be *huge*.] You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >info There are two verbs you should be aware of in addition to the usual ones: REMEMBER and LINK. REMEMBER gives you access to memories about objects, when you are prompted that such memories exist. In addition, your character can LINK objects of similar properties. (e.g.: LINK SNUFFBOX TO SMALL YELLOW BOX.) Once this link has been created, things done to one object will automatically affect the other as well... subject to certain rules. Otherwise, this game is fairly cruel -- it is possible to render the game unwinnable, and you should save often, especially when you realize that you are about to destroy an object you may not be able to get back. We make no apologies for this, since it is part of the Old-School charm. Or, er, so we are told. >[heh] That's not a verb I recognize. >about There are two verbs you should be aware of in addition to the usual ones: REMEMBER and LINK. REMEMBER gives you access to memories about objects, when you are prompted that such memories exist. In addition, your character can LINK objects of similar properties. (e.g.: LINK SNUFFBOX TO SMALL YELLOW BOX.) Once this link has been created, things done to one object will automatically affect the other as well... subject to certain rules. Otherwise, this game is fairly cruel -- it is possible to render the game unwinnable, and you should save often, especially when you realize that you are about to destroy an object you may not be able to get back. We make no apologies for this, since it is part of the Old-School charm. Or, er, so we are told. >credits Credit goes to Graham Nelson for Inform; to Roger Firth for SmartCantGo and CheckOut; Daniel Barkalow for Scoper; Alan Trewartha for GoNeighbour; Gunther Schmidl for dirs_2; Andrew Plotkin for daemons; Andrew Clover for timewait; Kory Heath and Lucian Smith for the revised ReviseMulti. Credit also goes to Dan Shiovitz as alpha-tester and theoretical counsel; and to Sean Barrett, Gilles Duchesne, and Admiral Jota for their Herculean beta-testing efforts. Their diligence and dedication are greatly appreciated. And in the eleventh hour, when TAKE ALL FROM was not working for reasons unknown, the good folks from #inform stepped in: L. Ross Raszewski, Brendan Barnwell, and Andrew Schepler in particular. Bug reports used to build later versions: Jason Love. Questions/comments/bug reports: emshort@mindspring.com. My other games may be found on the interactive fiction archive (http://www.ifarchive.org/) or on my own home page (at http://emshort.home.mindspring.com/). >[Yay ReviseMulti!] That's not a verb I recognize. >l Kitchen Garden West is the wall of the kitchen. Most of the space along the wall is planted with herbs -- bay, parsley, stalks of mint -- left of the open doorway. To its right is only a drainage ditch, catching the outflow of a pipe that comes through the wall. In one corner of the plot is the well, drilled many deep feet; in another is the antique sundial. A tangle of climbing roses covers almost completely the wall and door of a shed to the southeast. >x herbs A bed of herbs, containing, currently, bay, parsley, and mint. >get all herbs That's hardly portable. >get herbs That's hardly portable. >get bay You pick some of the growing bay. >[hmm.] That's not a verb I recognize. >get parsley You pick some of the growing parsley. >get all from herb bed You can't use multiple objects with that verb. >[eh?] That's not a verb I recognize. >credits Credit goes to Graham Nelson for Inform; to Roger Firth for SmartCantGo and CheckOut; Daniel Barkalow for Scoper; Alan Trewartha for GoNeighbour; Gunther Schmidl for dirs_2; Andrew Plotkin for daemons; Andrew Clover for timewait; Kory Heath and Lucian Smith for the revised ReviseMulti. Credit also goes to Dan Shiovitz as alpha-tester and theoretical counsel; and to Sean Barrett, Gilles Duchesne, and Admiral Jota for their Herculean beta-testing efforts. Their diligence and dedication are greatly appreciated. And in the eleventh hour, when TAKE ALL FROM was not working for reasons unknown, the good folks from #inform stepped in: L. Ross Raszewski, Brendan Barnwell, and Andrew Schepler in particular. Bug reports used to build later versions: Jason Love. Questions/comments/bug reports: emshort@mindspring.com. My other games may be found on the interactive fiction archive (http://www.ifarchive.org/) or on my own home page (at http://emshort.home.mindspring.com/). >take all from herb bed You can't see any such thing. >[uh...] That's not a verb I recognize. >take all from herbs You can't see any such thing. >take all roses: The roses are equipped with really ferocious thorns. water: In your bare hands? Surely you jest. mud: In your bare hands? Surely you jest. >['In your bare hands?' is awkward, like you're wearing nothing but bare hands. You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >['With your bare hands' would be more direct.] That's not a verb I recognize. >x bed You can't see any such thing. >x herb You can't see any such thing. >l Kitchen Garden West is the wall of the kitchen. Most of the space along the wall is planted with herbs -- bay, parsley, stalks of mint -- left of the open doorway. To its right is only a drainage ditch, catching the outflow of a pipe that comes through the wall. In one corner of the plot is the well, drilled many deep feet; in another is the antique sundial. A tangle of climbing roses covers almost completely the wall and door of a shed to the southeast. >x herbs A bed of herbs, containing, currently, bay, parsley, and mint. >x bed of herbs You can't see any such thing. >take all from herbs You can't see any such thing. >take all from You can't see any such thing. >[Hate to say it, but looks like 'take all from' still does not work.] You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >i You are carrying: two food items: a sprig of parsley a bay leaf a dashing hat (being worn) a swordstick a sword a snuffbox (which is closed) >get mint You pick some of the growing mint. >smell mint (the growing mint) The smell is leafy and fresh. >smell bay leaf The smell reminds you of stews, a bowl of meat and vegetables in a rich winey sauce. >i You are carrying: three food items: a sprig of mint a sprig of parsley a bay leaf a dashing hat (being worn) a swordstick a sword a snuffbox (which is closed) >[food items, huh? Hmm.] You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >x hat Made of black felt, and quite ordinary, except for the breadth and sweep of the brim, and the majesty of the pure white feather. >x feather A long curled plume of ostrich. >call feather 'macaroni' That's not a verb I recognize. >get feather Without the feather, the hat would be nothing. Strip the style, and the substance has no worth: it would be no better than a peasant's bonnet, fit only to keep off rain. >[heh] That's not a verb I recognize. >l Kitchen Garden West is the wall of the kitchen. Most of the space along the wall is planted with herbs -- bay, parsley, stalks of mint -- left of the open doorway. To its right is only a drainage ditch, catching the outflow of a pipe that comes through the wall. In one corner of the plot is the well, drilled many deep feet; in another is the antique sundial. A tangle of climbing roses covers almost completely the wall and door of a shed to the southeast. >x well A dark circle of stone, the depths of which you cannot see. The water comes up within reach. A bar of iron crosses the well, to support a bucket on a rope (which, however, is itself lacking.) >turn bar Nothing obvious happens. >get bar The bar is part of the well. >enter well The water would stain the silk of your good waistcoat! >x waistcoat The only remarkable thing about your current dress is the silk waistcoat -- a pale daffodil color with embroidered flowers, especially along the buttons. >[Hey, and the hat] You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >i You are carrying: three food items: a sprig of mint a sprig of parsley a bay leaf a dashing hat (being worn) a swordstick a sword a snuffbox (which is closed) >[Oh, man, I missed the swordstick the first time through. Ha!] You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >x swordstick The color of rosewood with a sturdy, no-nonsense handle. >x sword A slender and flexible blade, and more decorative than useful, though there have been a few occasions when it became helpful against brigands in the street. >get sword You draw the sword from its sheath. >cut roses What do you want to cut the roses with? >sword The sword is not sharp enough to slash effectively through the roses. >sheath sword That's not a verb I recognize. >[darn] That's not a verb I recognize. >put sword in stick You put the sword into the swordstick. >draw sword You draw the sword from its sheath. >[Yay!] That's not a verb I recognize. >put sword in stick You put the sword into the swordstick. >draw bay leaf It's hard to tell what you have in mind. >STRANGER, FA BEN BAY LEAF You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >l Kitchen Garden West is the wall of the kitchen. Most of the space along the wall is planted with herbs -- bay, parsley, stalks of mint -- left of the open doorway. To its right is only a drainage ditch, catching the outflow of a pipe that comes through the wall. In one corner of the plot is the well, drilled many deep feet; in another is the antique sundial. A tangle of climbing roses covers almost completely the wall and door of a shed to the southeast. >x pipe The pipe leads through the wall into the house. >climb pipe I don't think much is to be achieved by that. >look in pipe The pipe is empty. >[Wait, 'drilled many deep feet'? Isn't a foot always 12 inches?] You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >u You can only really go west, what with the roses covering the shed. >[Apart from the way I got here, apparantly.] You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >w Kitchen A long, cross-beamed room, originally washed with white, though smoke has tinged the walls above the massive fireplace in which roasts are prepared. In addition, there are thick high tables that run the length of the room. To the east is the kitchen garden through which you entered; west is the corridor that connects with the main house. To the north there is the little scullery, and upstairs is the attic where the servants sleep. On the kitchen tables are a loaf of stale bread and a delicate contraption (which is closed). A string of andouillettes hangs from a beam of the ceiling. >x andouillettes Veal cased in tripe. Tasty food. The servants used to eat them with fried onions -- a good, hearty smell that leaked out of the kitchen while you played outside, until you went inside, and sometimes they would let you eat at the kitchen table rather than with the Family. >x contraption The body of the contraption is mostly just a large box, into which things can be put, and an assembly of clockwork parts in a separate case, not to be interfered with. There is also a dial which may be set to various positions, and a spindle, on which is a cylinder with a pattern of strange bumps on it, labeled "Andouillettes Recipe". The delicate contraption is currently switched off. >x dial A dial which can be rotated to show one word at a time, labeled 'SHAPE'. Currently the word showing is NONE. >turn dial You turn the dial gently with one finger, and it clicks around to display the setting LEAF. >g You turn the dial gently with one finger, and it clicks around to display the setting ROSE. >g You turn the dial gently with one finger, and it clicks around to display the setting FISH. >g You turn the dial gently with one finger, and it clicks around to display the setting SHOE. >g You turn the dial gently with one finger, and it clicks around to display the setting HEART. >g You turn the dial gently with one finger, and it clicks around to display the setting NONE. >g You turn the dial gently with one finger, and it clicks around to display the setting LEAF. >undo Kitchen [Previous turn undone.] >turn dial counterclockwise I only understood you as far as wanting to turn the dial. >l Kitchen A long, cross-beamed room, originally washed with white, though smoke has tinged the walls above the massive fireplace in which roasts are prepared. In addition, there are thick high tables that run the length of the room. To the east is the kitchen garden through which you entered; west is the corridor that connects with the main house. To the north there is the little scullery, and upstairs is the attic where the servants sleep. On the kitchen tables are a loaf of stale bread and a delicate contraption (which is closed). A string of andouillettes hangs from a beam of the ceiling. >x recipe A cylinder of silver metal perhaps as long as your thumb. On the surface are a series of strange bumps, depressions, and grooves. The core of the cylinder is hollow, but over one end is a paper label, which reads, "Andouillettes Recipe." Smaller writing on the label indicates the ingredient list. >read it Andouillettes Recipe: andouillettes, olive oil, dry white wine, single yellow onion, sea-salt. >get string You can't reach the andouillettes from here. >stand on table You get onto the kitchen tables. On the kitchen tables you can see a loaf of stale bread and a delicate contraption (which is closed). >get string You still can't quite reach the andouillettes from here. Close, though. >jump You leap, catch the beam over your head with one hand, snatch the sausages in the other, and land back on the table with only a slight thump. >[whoo!] That's not a verb I recognize. >get up You get off the kitchen tables. Kitchen A long, cross-beamed room, originally washed with white, though smoke has tinged the walls above the massive fireplace in which roasts are prepared. In addition, there are thick high tables that run the length of the room. To the east is the kitchen garden through which you entered; west is the corridor that connects with the main house. To the north there is the little scullery, and upstairs is the attic where the servants sleep. On the kitchen tables are a loaf of stale bread and a delicate contraption (which is closed). >open contraption You open the contraption, revealing a clove of garlic. >x clover You can't see any such thing. >x clove A clove of garlic, still good. >get it Taken. >undo Kitchen [Previous turn undone.] >get all from contraption Removed. >[Hey, worked there] You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >put garlic in contraption You put the clove of garlic into the delicate contraption. >take all from contraption Removed. >[and again--might be some wackiness with the herb bed.] That's not a verb I recognize. >[or, hmm.] You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >put all food in contraption clove of garlic: Done. andouillettes: Done. sprig of mint: Done. sprig of parsley: Done. bay leaf: Done. >get all from contraption bay leaf: Removed. sprig of parsley: Removed. sprig of mint: Removed. andouillettes: Removed. clove of garlic: Removed. >undo Kitchen [Previous turn undone.] >get all burnt scrap of paper: Taken. loaf of stale bread: Taken. delicate contraption: It is both too large and too delicate to remove. >x burnt Half the paper is burnt away, but the upper part of the paper can be distinguished clearly. The handwriting is not refined but the spelling is at least correct. >read it We want: -- Make the thing shut by itself, annoying to have to close it every time -- Lentil soup recipe [DONE!] -- Souffle recipe as Anton keeps making them fall -- Tea (fix it so it is not picky about what kind of leaves as the little voice quite annoying if using wrong kind) [DONE!] -- Recipes for ices? -- Maybe a nice ga... -- Sauce! >x loaf A roughly rectangular loaf of bread, reddish brown, and shriveled to rock-like hardness by being left to sit around for so long. The fact that it went uneaten is explained by the fact that one face is burnt black -- someone left it in the oven too long, evidently. >l Kitchen A long, cross-beamed room, originally washed with white, though smoke has tinged the walls above the massive fireplace in which roasts are prepared. In addition, there are thick high tables that run the length of the room. To the east is the kitchen garden through which you entered; west is the corridor that connects with the main house. To the north there is the little scullery, and upstairs is the attic where the servants sleep. On the kitchen tables is a delicate contraption (in which are five food items (a bay leaf, a sprig of parsley, a sprig of mint, some andouillettes and a clove of garlic)). >x fireplace The usual empty space and ash within it. >enter it You get into the fireplace. >u You are insufficiently slender to fly up the chimney. >x ash Pale and cold, perhaps for many days. >search it The fireplace is empty. >out You get out of the fireplace. Kitchen A long, cross-beamed room, originally washed with white, though smoke has tinged the walls above the massive fireplace in which roasts are prepared. In addition, there are thick high tables that run the length of the room. To the east is the kitchen garden through which you entered; west is the corridor that connects with the main house. To the north there is the little scullery, and upstairs is the attic where the servants sleep. On the kitchen tables is a delicate contraption (in which are five food items (a bay leaf, a sprig of parsley, a sprig of mint, some andouillettes and a clove of garlic)). >get all from contraption bay leaf: Removed. sprig of parsley: Removed. sprig of mint: Removed. andouillettes: You're carrying too many things already. clove of garlic: You're carrying too many things already. >i You are carrying: four food items: a sprig of mint a sprig of parsley a bay leaf a loaf of stale bread a burnt scrap of paper a dashing hat (being worn) a swordstick a sword a snuffbox (which is closed) >dash hat That's not a verb I recognize. >n Scullery A small, workmanlike room with a floor of white stones. The principal features of the room are a counter, with a large inset washbasin also made of stone, and a tall wooden cupboard. On the countertop are a sponge, a butcher knife and a sack (in which is a single yellow onion). >x counter The counter runs along two walls of the room and partway along the third, to make room for all of the various things that must be washed here from time to time. >get sack You're carrying too many things already. >put bay leaf in sack You put the bay leaf into the sack. >get sack Taken. >get all sponge: (putting the snuffbox into the sack to make room) Taken. butcher knife: (putting the swordstick into the sack to make room) Taken. >x sponge A sea sponge, sized and rounded like an apple. It is currently bone dry. >x knife An ordinary kitchen knife, perhaps a foot long. >version Savoir-Faire An interactive search for loot. Copyright Emily Short 2002. Type INFO if you have not played before. Type LICENSE for the terms of use and distribution. Type CREDITS for tester and library acknowledgements. Release 2 / Serial number 020418 / Inform v6.15 Library 6/10 Standard interpreter 1.0 (1F) / Library serial number 991113 >l Scullery A small, workmanlike room with a floor of white stones. The principal features of the room are a counter, with a large inset washbasin also made of stone, and a tall wooden cupboard. >cut me with knife Self-mutilation has never been of much interest to you. >s Kitchen A long, cross-beamed room, originally washed with white, though smoke has tinged the walls above the massive fireplace in which roasts are prepared. In addition, there are thick high tables that run the length of the room. To the east is the kitchen garden through which you entered; west is the corridor that connects with the main house. To the north there is the little scullery, and upstairs is the attic where the servants sleep. On the kitchen tables is a delicate contraption (in which are two food items ( some andouillettes and a clove of garlic)). >w Kitchen Corridor A narrow corridor between the kitchen and the main house, which has a thick separate wall. The two buildings are only barely attached, to discourage fires. A small staircase leads down. Double doors, west, bar your access to the main house. Lying to one side, and thereby doing no good at all, is the stone block often used as a doorstop. >cut roses with knife You can't see any such thing. >[oops] That's not a verb I recognize. >e Kitchen A long, cross-beamed room, originally washed with white, though smoke has tinged the walls above the massive fireplace in which roasts are prepared. In addition, there are thick high tables that run the length of the room. To the east is the kitchen garden through which you entered; west is the corridor that connects with the main house. To the north there is the little scullery, and upstairs is the attic where the servants sleep. On the kitchen tables is a delicate contraption (in which are two food items ( some andouillettes and a clove of garlic)). >e Kitchen Garden West is the wall of the kitchen. Most of the space along the wall is planted with herbs -- bay, parsley, stalks of mint -- left of the open doorway. To its right is only a drainage ditch, catching the outflow of a pipe that comes through the wall. In one corner of the plot is the well, drilled many deep feet; in another is the antique sundial. A tangle of climbing roses covers almost completely the wall and door of a shed to the southeast. >cut roses with knife The roses are equipped with really ferocious thorns. >cut thorns with knife The roses are equipped with really ferocious thorns. >[so....] That's not a verb I recognize. >w Kitchen A long, cross-beamed room, originally washed with white, though smoke has tinged the walls above the massive fireplace in which roasts are prepared. In addition, there are thick high tables that run the length of the room. To the east is the kitchen garden through which you entered; west is the corridor that connects with the main house. To the north there is the little scullery, and upstairs is the attic where the servants sleep. On the kitchen tables is a delicate contraption (in which are two food items ( some andouillettes and a clove of garlic)). >get all from contraption andouillettes: (putting the burnt scrap of paper into the sack to make room) Removed. clove of garlic: (putting the loaf of stale bread into the sack to make room) Removed. >[Hmm, the space after "item ( " made it wrap funky on this monitor] You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >u Servants' Dormitory Up here the female servants used to sleep. Now there is only a dreary row of unmade beds; a rack for drying washing; the fireplace, hollow and untended. Time was, when you were very young, that you used to creep in here for chatter and gossip, and the language you were used to hearing at home. On the drying rack is a white handkerchief. >get handkerchief (putting the sprig of parsley into the sack to make room) Taken. >x it A square of good linen; rather nice, really. It is currently colored white. >['currently'?] That's not a verb I recognize. >x fireplace Not nearly as large as the ones downstairs, of course, and principally intended for keeping the inhabitants toasty when the winter set in especially hard. Something about the fireplace tickles your recollection. >remember fireplace ... Anton's wife Leonie stood by the fireplace. "The new maid -- I think she is a snoop." Anton shrugged his broad shoulders. "She chops potatoes," he said. "Nonetheless I don't trust her. Give me the money." And she took the little sack of coins Anton held out to her, their savings, and concealed them behind a brick in the fireplace. ... >search brick You find nothing of interest. >x brick A reddish-brown brick darkened by smoke, and pushed forward from its position among the others. >move it Age and heat have hardened the cement holding the brick in place. >pull it Age and heat have hardened the cement holding the brick in place. >kick brick It would help if the object in question were on the ground. >[What?] That's not a verb I recognize. >enter fireplace You get into the fireplace. >kick brick From here you cannot reach the brick. >[somehow I doubt that.] That's not a verb I recognize. >out You get out of the fireplace. Servants' Dormitory Up here the female servants used to sleep. Now there is only a dreary row of unmade beds; a rack for drying washing; the fireplace, hollow and untended. Time was, when you were very young, that you used to creep in here for chatter and gossip, and the language you were used to hearing at home. >x beds All of the beds are of the rickety sort with a thin straw mattress. Usually this was accompanied by several layers of blanket -- the Count was not an unreasonable man, and the servants were not ill-treated. But the blankets are gone now. >search bed There is nothing on the bed. >search beds There is nothing on the bed. >look under beds Your investigations under the bed turn up a silver cylinder and a crumpled piece of paper -- the latter apparently intentionally hidden, since it was folded in quarters and tucked into the frame of one bed. [Your score has just gone up by two points.] >[whoo!] That's not a verb I recognize. >read paper (the crumpled paper) Your name is written on it, perhaps a dozen times, with various honorifics, in Marie's elegant handwriting. She was fluently literate but always a painstaking writer, determined never to blot her work, and wrote, even when grown up, with the tip of her tongue caught between her teeth. >x cylinder A cylinder of silver metal perhaps as long as your thumb. On the surface are a series of strange bumps, depressions, and grooves. The core of the cylinder is hollow, but over one end is a paper label, which reads, "Lentil Soup Recipe." Smaller writing on the label indicates the ingredient list. >[wait, another one?] You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >i You are carrying: a crumpled paper a Lentil Soup Recipe a white handkerchief a butcher knife a sponge a sack (which is open) a burnt scrap of paper a swordstick a sword a snuffbox (which is closed) four food items: a sprig of parsley a loaf of stale bread a bay leaf a single yellow onion a dashing hat (being worn) three food items: a clove of garlic some andouillettes a sprig of mint >l Servants' Dormitory Up here the female servants used to sleep. Now there is only a dreary row of unmade beds; a rack for drying washing; the fireplace, hollow and untended. Time was, when you were very young, that you used to creep in here for chatter and gossip, and the language you were used to hearing at home. >get all There are none at all available! >i You are carrying: a crumpled paper a Lentil Soup Recipe a white handkerchief a butcher knife a sponge a sack (which is open) a burnt scrap of paper a swordstick a sword a snuffbox (which is closed) four food items: a sprig of parsley a loaf of stale bread a bay leaf a single yellow onion a dashing hat (being worn) three food items: a clove of garlic some andouillettes a sprig of mint >x recipe A cylinder of silver metal perhaps as long as your thumb. On the surface are a series of strange bumps, depressions, and grooves. The core of the cylinder is hollow, but over one end is a paper label, which reads, "Lentil Soup Recipe." Smaller writing on the label indicates the ingredient list. >read it Lentil Soup Recipe: lentils, single yellow onion, water, clove of garlic, bay leaf, olive oil, sea-salt. >[Uh, didn't I have that already?] You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >x crumpled A bit of soiled, wadded paper, old and dirty. >read it Your name is written on it, perhaps a dozen times, with various honorifics, in Marie's elegant handwriting. She was fluently literate but always a painstaking writer, determined never to blot her work, and wrote, even when grown up, with the tip of her tongue caught between her teeth. >[sounds of reading through transcript.] That's not a verb I recognize. >[Aha! The contraption.] That's not a verb I recognize. >d Kitchen A long, cross-beamed room, originally washed with white, though smoke has tinged the walls above the massive fireplace in which roasts are prepared. In addition, there are thick high tables that run the length of the room. To the east is the kitchen garden through which you entered; west is the corridor that connects with the main house. To the north there is the little scullery, and upstairs is the attic where the servants sleep. On the kitchen tables is a delicate contraption (which is empty). >get cylinder (the Andouillettes Recipe) (putting the sprig of mint into the sack to make room) It takes a bit of wiggling to get the cylinder to come free, but you extricate it without too much difficulty. >i You are carrying: a crumpled paper a white handkerchief a butcher knife a sponge a sack (which is open) a burnt scrap of paper a swordstick a sword a snuffbox (which is closed) five food items: a sprig of mint a sprig of parsley a loaf of stale bread a bay leaf a single yellow onion a dashing hat (being worn) two food items: a clove of garlic some andouillettes two recipe cylinders: an Andouillettes Recipe a Lentil Soup Recipe >x recipe andouil Which do you mean, the Andouillettes Recipe or the Lentil Soup Recipe? >either You can't see any such thing. >x either You can't see any such thing. >x either recipe You can't see any such thing. >x any recipe You can't see any such thing. >[Hey, what happened to either and any?] You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >x a recipe (the Andouillettes Recipe) A cylinder of silver metal perhaps as long as your thumb. On the surface are a series of strange bumps, depressions, and grooves. The core of the cylinder is hollow, but over one end is a paper label, which reads, "Andouillettes Recipe." Smaller writing on the label indicates the ingredient list. >x recipe Which do you mean, the Andouillettes Recipe or the Lentil Soup Recipe? >any You can't see any such thing. >x recipe Which do you mean, the Andouillettes Recipe or the Lentil Soup Recipe? >either You can't see any such thing. >[Grrm.] That's not a verb I recognize. >read a recipe (the Andouillettes Recipe) Andouillettes Recipe: andouillettes, olive oil, dry white wine, single yellow onion, sea-salt. >u Servants' Dormitory Up here the female servants used to sleep. Now there is only a dreary row of unmade beds; a rack for drying washing; the fireplace, hollow and untended. Time was, when you were very young, that you used to creep in here for chatter and gossip, and the language you were used to hearing at home. >score You have so far scored 2 out of a possible 125, in 136 turns, giving you the rank of resourceful peasant. >fullscore You have so far scored 2 out of a possible 125, in 136 turns, giving you the rank of resourceful peasant. The score is made up as follows: 2 snooping in Marie's papers 2 total (out of 125) >l Servants' Dormitory Up here the female servants used to sleep. Now there is only a dreary row of unmade beds; a rack for drying washing; the fireplace, hollow and untended. Time was, when you were very young, that you used to creep in here for chatter and gossip, and the language you were used to hearing at home. >[You know, I don't understand that last clause. I came here for a different You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >[language? Oh, wait, I think I get it.] You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >x crumpled A bit of soiled, wadded paper, old and dirty. >read it Your name is written on it, perhaps a dozen times, with various honorifics, in Marie's elegant handwriting. She was fluently literate but always a painstaking writer, determined never to blot her work, and wrote, even when grown up, with the tip of her tongue caught between her teeth. >[Is this like the 'Mrs. Marie Smith' thing? She had a crush on me?] That's not a verb I recognize. >d Kitchen A long, cross-beamed room, originally washed with white, though smoke has tinged the walls above the massive fireplace in which roasts are prepared. In addition, there are thick high tables that run the length of the room. To the east is the kitchen garden through which you entered; west is the corridor that connects with the main house. To the north there is the little scullery, and upstairs is the attic where the servants sleep. On the kitchen tables is a delicate contraption (which is empty). >e Kitchen Garden West is the wall of the kitchen. Most of the space along the wall is planted with herbs -- bay, parsley, stalks of mint -- left of the open doorway. To its right is only a drainage ditch, catching the outflow of a pipe that comes through the wall. In one corner of the plot is the well, drilled many deep feet; in another is the antique sundial. A tangle of climbing roses covers almost completely the wall and door of a shed to the southeast. >w Kitchen A long, cross-beamed room, originally washed with white, though smoke has tinged the walls above the massive fireplace in which roasts are prepared. In addition, there are thick high tables that run the length of the room. To the east is the kitchen garden through which you entered; west is the corridor that connects with the main house. To the north there is the little scullery, and upstairs is the attic where the servants sleep. On the kitchen tables is a delicate contraption (which is empty). >w Kitchen Corridor A narrow corridor between the kitchen and the main house, which has a thick separate wall. The two buildings are only barely attached, to discourage fires. A small staircase leads down. Double doors, west, bar your access to the main house. Lying to one side, and thereby doing no good at all, is the stone block often used as a doorstop. >x block Just a chunk of roughly squared stone from one of the nearby fields. Possibly once it had some value as masonry, but not any more. >remember block The stone block raises no special memories for you. >open door They seem to be locked. >unlock door (with the double doors) (first taking the double doors) They're fixed in place. >[there goes those wacky inform defaults again] That's not a verb I recognize. >take off waistcoat You can't see any such thing. >i You are carrying: a crumpled paper a white handkerchief a butcher knife a sponge a sack (which is open) a burnt scrap of paper a swordstick a sword a snuffbox (which is closed) five food items: a sprig of mint a sprig of parsley a loaf of stale bread a bay leaf a single yellow onion a dashing hat (being worn) two food items: a clove of garlic some andouillettes two recipe cylinders: an Andouillettes Recipe a Lentil Soup Recipe >take off clothes You can't see any such thing. >x waistcoat The only remarkable thing about your current dress is the silk waistcoat -- a pale daffodil color with embroidered flowers, especially along the buttons. >wear onion (first taking the single yellow onion) (putting the Lentil Soup Recipe into the sack to make room) You can't wear that! >put onion on belt You can't see any such thing. >[darn] That's not a verb I recognize. >l Kitchen Corridor A narrow corridor between the kitchen and the main house, which has a thick separate wall. The two buildings are only barely attached, to discourage fires. A small staircase leads down. Double doors, west, bar your access to the main house. Lying to one side, and thereby doing no good at all, is the stone block often used as a doorstop. >x wall (the wall) You see nothing special about the wall. >d Darkness Darkness presses in on every side; nothing is visible, and you are sure only of your own possessions. >x faculty You can't see any such thing. >u Kitchen Corridor A narrow corridor between the kitchen and the main house, which has a thick separate wall. The two buildings are only barely attached, to discourage fires. A small staircase leads down. Double doors, west, bar your access to the main house. Lying to one side, and thereby doing no good at all, is the stone block often used as a doorstop. >e Kitchen A long, cross-beamed room, originally washed with white, though smoke has tinged the walls above the massive fireplace in which roasts are prepared. In addition, there are thick high tables that run the length of the room. To the east is the kitchen garden through which you entered; west is the corridor that connects with the main house. To the north there is the little scullery, and upstairs is the attic where the servants sleep. On the kitchen tables is a delicate contraption (which is empty). >n Scullery A small, workmanlike room with a floor of white stones. The principal features of the room are a counter, with a large inset washbasin also made of stone, and a tall wooden cupboard. >open cupboard You open the cupboard, revealing three metal dishes (a cup, a plate and a hinge- lidded teapot). >get all from cupboard cup: (putting the Andouillettes Recipe into the sack to make room) Removed. plate: (putting the andouillettes into the sack to make room) Removed. hinge-lidded teapot: (putting the clove of garlic into the sack to make room) Removed. >x teapot One of a set of special dishes that the Count made. The idea was that all of the china hinge-lidded teapots in the house were linked to this one hinge-lidded teapot, which could then be washed and dried, minimizing the expenditure of time and water. Similar arrangements were made for other parts of the standard place setting; the Count spent innumerable hours refining the links. The reason that the hinge-lidded teapot is metal rather than china is that, when the link-system was first instituted, a clumsy maid ravaged the Countess' entire crystal collection by accidentally chipping a glass. In order to make the linkages possible, however, it has been painted a glossy white, and the crest of the family executed on one side in intricate detail. >[Wow, that's a long teapot description] You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >x cup A cup, glossed in white and decorated with the crest of the family, just as though it belonged to the family china pattern. >x plate A plate, glossed in white and decorated with the crest of the family, just as though it belonged to the family china pattern. >x teapot A hinge-lidded teapot, glossed in white and decorated with the crest of the family, just as though it belonged to the family china pattern. The lid is attached with a hinge, and there is a long and delicate spout. >open it You open the hinge-lidded teapot. >look in it The hinge-lidded teapot is empty. >[ur-china] That's not a verb I recognize. >n You can go only south. >s Kitchen A long, cross-beamed room, originally washed with white, though smoke has tinged the walls above the massive fireplace in which roasts are prepared. In addition, there are thick high tables that run the length of the room. To the east is the kitchen garden through which you entered; west is the corridor that connects with the main house. To the north there is the little scullery, and upstairs is the attic where the servants sleep. On the kitchen tables is a delicate contraption (which is empty). >e Kitchen Garden West is the wall of the kitchen. Most of the space along the wall is planted with herbs -- bay, parsley, stalks of mint -- left of the open doorway. To its right is only a drainage ditch, catching the outflow of a pipe that comes through the wall. In one corner of the plot is the well, drilled many deep feet; in another is the antique sundial. A tangle of climbing roses covers almost completely the wall and door of a shed to the southeast. >i You are carrying: three metal dishes: a hinge-lidded teapot (which is open but empty) a plate a cup a yellow onion a crumpled paper a white handkerchief a butcher knife a sponge a sack (which is open) two recipe cylinders: an Andouillettes Recipe a Lentil Soup Recipe a burnt scrap of paper a swordstick a sword a snuffbox (which is closed) six food items: a clove of garlic some andouillettes a sprig of mint a sprig of parsley a loaf of stale bread a bay leaf a dashing hat (being worn) >open snuffbox You open the snuffbox, revealing a quantity of snuff. >x snuff Finest snuff, enough (with luck) to last you until you can return to Paris. >sniff snuff You put a pinch -- really just the tiniest bit -- on the back of one hand and lift it to your nose. Refreshing, invigorating, and mercifully not spoilt with an excess of perfume such as everyone seems to prefer these days. >sniff bay leaf The smell reminds you of stews, a bowl of meat and vegetables in a rich winey sauce. >sniff mint (the growing mint) The smell is leafy and fresh. >sniff sprig mint The smell is leafy and fresh. >w Kitchen A long, cross-beamed room, originally washed with white, though smoke has tinged the walls above the massive fireplace in which roasts are prepared. In addition, there are thick high tables that run the length of the room. To the east is the kitchen garden through which you entered; west is the corridor that connects with the main house. To the north there is the little scullery, and upstairs is the attic where the servants sleep. On the kitchen tables is a delicate contraption (which is empty). >x contraption The body of the contraption is mostly just a large box, into which things can be put, and an assembly of clockwork parts in a separate case, not to be interfered with. There is also a dial which may be set to various positions, and a spindle of some sort. The delicate contraption is currently switched off. >interfere with clockwork parts That's not a verb I recognize. >turn on contraption There is a regretful clicking noise from the vicinity of the lid-catch. Just as you think you are going to have to close it yourself, a gloved mechanical hand reaches up and slams the contraption shut from the inside. The machine's gears spin into action; a series of fine flanges, like the keys of a music box, move into position a finger's-width from the center of the spindle. But they contact nothing, and the machinery soon spins down again and the flanges withdraw. >[heh regretful clicking] That's not a verb I recognize. >n Scullery A small, workmanlike room with a floor of white stones. The principal features of the room are a counter, with a large inset washbasin also made of stone, and a tall wooden cupboard. >x washbasin Nothing more than a large stone bowl. In the bottom is a hole, which can be plugged up; when the plug is removed, the water runs out by a pipe and waters the ground outside. In the bottom of the hole you can see something glinting. >x hole Dark and hollow. In the drain hole is a shiny silver cylinder. >get cylinder (the shiny silver cylinder) You can't reach far enough. >get cylinder with sword Which do you mean, the shiny silver cylinder or the Lentil Soup Recipe? >shiny (first taking the sword) (putting the sponge into the sack to make room) You draw the sword from its sheath. The best you can manage is to move the shiny silver cylinder around a little. As for bringing it back to the surface or forcing it to fall the rest of the way out of the drain, the geometry of the pipe seems to be against you. >x counter The counter runs along two walls of the room and partway along the third, to make room for all of the various things that must be washed here from time to time. >i You are carrying: a sword three metal dishes: a hinge-lidded teapot (which is open but empty) a plate a cup a yellow onion a crumpled paper a white handkerchief a butcher knife a sack (which is open) a sponge two recipe cylinders: an Andouillettes Recipe a Lentil Soup Recipe a burnt scrap of paper a swordstick a snuffbox (which is open) a quantity of snuff six food items: a clove of garlic some andouillettes a sprig of mint a sprig of parsley a loaf of stale bread a bay leaf a dashing hat (being worn) >get shiny with hat The best you can manage is to move the shiny silver cylinder around a little. As for bringing it back to the surface or forcing it to fall the rest of the way out of the drain, the geometry of the pipe seems to be against you. >[With my hat?] That's not a verb I recognize. >get shiny with onion The best you can manage is to move the shiny silver cylinder around a little. As for bringing it back to the surface or forcing it to fall the rest of the way out of the drain, the geometry of the pipe seems to be against you. >turn basin You are unable to. >l Scullery A small, workmanlike room with a floor of white stones. The principal features of the room are a counter, with a large inset washbasin also made of stone, and a tall wooden cupboard. >x stone Nothing more than a large stone bowl. In the bottom is a hole, which can be plugged up; when the plug is removed, the water runs out by a pipe and waters the ground outside. In the bottom of the hole you can see something glinting. >x stones You can't see any such thing. >x floor You see nothing special about the floor. >s Kitchen A long, cross-beamed room, originally washed with white, though smoke has tinged the walls above the massive fireplace in which roasts are prepared. In addition, there are thick high tables that run the length of the room. To the east is the kitchen garden through which you entered; west is the corridor that connects with the main house. To the north there is the little scullery, and upstairs is the attic where the servants sleep. On the kitchen tables is a delicate contraption (which is closed). >x tables Higher than a table you might eat at, and designed for people to use when standing up. >look under tables A little dust, perhaps. >get dust You collect a little on your finger, tsk at it, and wipe your finger clean again. >clean tables You achieve nothing by this. >enter contraption That's not something you can enter. >open it You open the delicate contraption. >l Kitchen A long, cross-beamed room, originally washed with white, though smoke has tinged the walls above the massive fireplace in which roasts are prepared. In addition, there are thick high tables that run the length of the room. To the east is the kitchen garden through which you entered; west is the corridor that connects with the main house. To the north there is the little scullery, and upstairs is the attic where the servants sleep. On the kitchen tables is a delicate contraption (which is empty). >s There are exits east to the garden, north to the scullery, and west to the corridor that connects with the rest of the house. There is also the servants' dormitory, upstairs. >e Kitchen Garden West is the wall of the kitchen. Most of the space along the wall is planted with herbs -- bay, parsley, stalks of mint -- left of the open doorway. To its right is only a drainage ditch, catching the outflow of a pipe that comes through the wall. In one corner of the plot is the well, drilled many deep feet; in another is the antique sundial. A tangle of climbing roses covers almost completely the wall and door of a shed to the southeast. >x sundial A sturdy old sundial, its bronze weathered green. Unlike various tawdry sundials you have encountered in your life, it has a firmly-attached gnomon that is unlikely to come off in times of trouble. >close door You close the door. >open it You open the door. >w Kitchen A long, cross-beamed room, originally washed with white, though smoke has tinged the walls above the massive fireplace in which roasts are prepared. In addition, there are thick high tables that run the length of the room. To the east is the kitchen garden through which you entered; west is the corridor that connects with the main house. To the north there is the little scullery, and upstairs is the attic where the servants sleep. On the kitchen tables is a delicate contraption (which is empty). >close door You close the door. >w Kitchen Corridor A narrow corridor between the kitchen and the main house, which has a thick separate wall. The two buildings are only barely attached, to discourage fires. A small staircase leads down. Double doors, west, bar your access to the main house. Lying to one side, and thereby doing no good at all, is the stone block often used as a doorstop. >link double door What do you want to link the double doors to? >kitchen door I only understood you as far as wanting to link the double doors to east. >help This game lacks a detailed hint system. I commend to your attention rec.games.int-fiction. Questions/comments/bug reports should be directed to me at emshort@mindspring.com. >info There are two verbs you should be aware of in addition to the usual ones: REMEMBER and LINK. REMEMBER gives you access to memories about objects, when you are prompted that such memories exist. In addition, your character can LINK objects of similar properties. (e.g.: LINK SNUFFBOX TO SMALL YELLOW BOX.) Once this link has been created, things done to one object will automatically affect the other as well... subject to certain rules. Otherwise, this game is fairly cruel -- it is possible to render the game unwinnable, and you should save often, especially when you realize that you are about to destroy an object you may not be able to get back. We make no apologies for this, since it is part of the Old-School charm. Or, er, so we are told. >i You are carrying: a sword three metal dishes: a hinge-lidded teapot (which is open but empty) a plate a cup a yellow onion a crumpled paper a white handkerchief a butcher knife a sack (which is open) a sponge two recipe cylinders: an Andouillettes Recipe a Lentil Soup Recipe a burnt scrap of paper a swordstick a snuffbox (which is open) a quantity of snuff six food items: a clove of garlic some andouillettes a sprig of mint a sprig of parsley a loaf of stale bread a bay leaf a dashing hat (being worn) >link door to teapot Bending your will, you form the link between the double doors and the hinge- lidded teapot. [Your score has just gone up by two points.] >open teapot That's already open. >close teapot You close the hinge-lidded teapot. >open it You open the hinge-lidded teapot. The double doors open slowly of their own accord, the ancient hinges protesting. >unlink teapot You succeed in unlinking the hinge-lidded teapot from the double doors. >w Dining Room A grand room, for dining in style. The plastered ceiling is several times your height. The air now is cool and deep, the sunlight glancing through the windows and scattering from the chandelier, putting points of light at your feet, over the table, across the painted wallpaper and the handsome wood paneling. Woodworked columns frame the exits west and southwest. Heavy double doors open east to the kitchen. [Your score has just gone up by five points.] >[yay!] That's not a verb I recognize. >[oh, hey] You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >e Kitchen Corridor A narrow corridor between the kitchen and the main house, which has a thick separate wall. The two buildings are only barely attached, to discourage fires. A small staircase leads down. Double doors give west onto the main house. Lying to one side, and thereby doing no good at all, is the stone block often used as a doorstop. Hmm. Something to eat would be good. >e Kitchen A long, cross-beamed room, originally washed with white, though smoke has tinged the walls above the massive fireplace in which roasts are prepared. In addition, there are thick high tables that run the length of the room. To the east is the kitchen garden through which you entered; west is the corridor that connects with the main house. To the north there is the little scullery, and upstairs is the attic where the servants sleep. On the kitchen tables is a delicate contraption (which is empty). >e You can't, since the door is in the way. >close door That's already closed. >open it You open the door. >e Kitchen Garden West is the wall of the kitchen. Most of the space along the wall is planted with herbs -- bay, parsley, stalks of mint -- left of the open doorway. To its right is only a drainage ditch, catching the outflow of a pipe that comes through the wall. In one corner of the plot is the well, drilled many deep feet; in another is the antique sundial. A tangle of climbing roses covers almost completely the wall and door of a shed to the southeast. >i You are carrying: a sword three metal dishes: a hinge-lidded teapot (which is open but empty) a plate a cup a yellow onion a crumpled paper a white handkerchief a butcher knife a sack (which is open) a sponge two recipe cylinders: an Andouillettes Recipe a Lentil Soup Recipe a burnt scrap of paper a swordstick a snuffbox (which is open) a quantity of snuff six food items: a clove of garlic some andouillettes a sprig of mint a sprig of parsley a loaf of stale bread a bay leaf a dashing hat (being worn) >link pot to door You valiantly try to link the two objects, but they are just too dissimilar. >link box to door You valiantly try to link the two objects, but they are just too dissimilar. >[hrm.] That's not a verb I recognize. >link swordstick to knife You valiantly try to link the two objects, but they are just a little too different. Maybe if they looked more alike. >link sword to knife Bending your will, you form the link between the sword and the butcher knife. >cut roses with sword The sword is not sharp enough to slash effectively through the roses. >sharpen knife That's not a verb I recognize. >[arr] That's not a verb I recognize. >x knife An ordinary kitchen knife, perhaps a foot long. >w Kitchen A long, cross-beamed room, originally washed with white, though smoke has tinged the walls above the massive fireplace in which roasts are prepared. In addition, there are thick high tables that run the length of the room. To the east is the kitchen garden through which you entered; west is the corridor that connects with the main house. To the north there is the little scullery, and upstairs is the attic where the servants sleep. On the kitchen tables is a delicate contraption (which is empty). It was a long journey down here, and you're wishing you had had something to eat. >unlink sword You succeed in unlinking the sword from the butcher knife. >w Kitchen Corridor A narrow corridor between the kitchen and the main house, which has a thick separate wall. The two buildings are only barely attached, to discourage fires. A small staircase leads down. Double doors give west onto the main house. Lying to one side, and thereby doing no good at all, is the stone block often used as a doorstop. >w Dining Room A grand room, for dining in style. The plastered ceiling is several times your height. The air now is cool and deep, the sunlight glancing through the windows and scattering from the chandelier, putting points of light at your feet, over the table, across the painted wallpaper and the handsome wood paneling. Woodworked columns frame the exits west and southwest. Heavy double doors open east to the kitchen. >x wallpaper Painted with images such as the queen entering a room accompanied by waiting women. The main subject of each picture is realistic, but there are fantasies around the edges: a fox standing on two legs, dressed in the coat and hose of a courtier, with a broad hat; a girl's gown trailing into peacock feathers. Something about the wallpaper tickles your recollection. >remember wallpaper ... "So the man linked himself to a suit of armor. And then he left the suit of armor at home, and went off to war to fight in his bare skin, thinking that whatever happened to him, the links would protect him. But at home his wife was horrified to see the armor slashed in pieces before her eyes..." "Anabelle," interrupted the Count, standing at the doorway with a hand on his vest. "Do you really think this story is appropriate for the children?" The Countess shrugged, half-smiling as she always had when the Count overrode her authority. "I hardly think it is any more disturbing than the other things Marie reads," she said lightly. "The dining room wallpaper is more frightening than this story." "I don't mean that, of course." The Count smiled over you and Marie -- you on the floor, Marie with her skirts spread around her on the chaise. "But our children should not be told silly superstitions about linking." He came into the room then, touching the Countess' shoulder with an affectionate gesture. "Marie," he said, "What is wrong with your mother's story?" "The man has confused reverse-links and ordinary ones," Marie replied. "And he would have to be very stupid to do that, because reverse-links are harder to make and you can always tell when you have done it." The Count nodded at her. "Very good." He kissed the Countess and went out again... ... >reverse-link sword to knife That's not a verb I recognize. >reverse link sword to knife Bending your will and all your attention, you manage to make a reverse-link between the sword and the butcher knife, feeling their properties begin to merge together. [Your score has just gone up by five points.] >[whoo!] That's not a verb I recognize. >e Kitchen Corridor A narrow corridor between the kitchen and the main house, which has a thick separate wall. The two buildings are only barely attached, to discourage fires. A small staircase leads down. Double doors give west onto the main house. Lying to one side, and thereby doing no good at all, is the stone block often used as a doorstop. >e Kitchen A long, cross-beamed room, originally washed with white, though smoke has tinged the walls above the massive fireplace in which roasts are prepared. In addition, there are thick high tables that run the length of the room. To the east is the kitchen garden through which you entered; west is the corridor that connects with the main house. To the north there is the little scullery, and upstairs is the attic where the servants sleep. On the kitchen tables is a delicate contraption (which is empty). >e Kitchen Garden West is the wall of the kitchen. Most of the space along the wall is planted with herbs -- bay, parsley, stalks of mint -- left of the open doorway. To its right is only a drainage ditch, catching the outflow of a pipe that comes through the wall. In one corner of the plot is the well, drilled many deep feet; in another is the antique sundial. A tangle of climbing roses covers almost completely the wall and door of a shed to the southeast. >cut roses with sword The sword is not sharp enough to slash effectively through the roses. >[crap] That's not a verb I recognize. >unlink sword You succeed in unlinking the sword from the butcher knife. You're getting pretty hungry. >cut roses with knife The roses are equipped with really ferocious thorns. >[See, that's entirely too unhelpful. Is the knife sharp enough, just not You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >[long? Arr.] That's not a verb I recognize. >w Kitchen A long, cross-beamed room, originally washed with white, though smoke has tinged the walls above the massive fireplace in which roasts are prepared. In addition, there are thick high tables that run the length of the room. To the east is the kitchen garden through which you entered; west is the corridor that connects with the main house. To the north there is the little scullery, and upstairs is the attic where the servants sleep. On the kitchen tables is a delicate contraption (which is empty). >w Kitchen Corridor A narrow corridor between the kitchen and the main house, which has a thick separate wall. The two buildings are only barely attached, to discourage fires. A small staircase leads down. Double doors give west onto the main house. Lying to one side, and thereby doing no good at all, is the stone block often used as a doorstop. >w Dining Room A grand room, for dining in style. The plastered ceiling is several times your height. The air now is cool and deep, the sunlight glancing through the windows and scattering from the chandelier, putting points of light at your feet, over the table, across the painted wallpaper and the handsome wood paneling. Woodworked columns frame the exits west and southwest. Heavy double doors open east to the kitchen. >fullscore You have so far scored 14 out of a possible 125, in 243 turns, giving you the rank of miscreant. The score is made up as follows: 2 forging your first link 5 forging your first reverse-link 2 snooping in Marie's papers 5 visiting various places 14 total (out of 125) >[reverse-link should really work, since that's the way it's written] You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >x paneling Comes up about as high as your waist, and is solidly made out of you-know-not- what. >x wallpaper Painted with images such as the queen entering a room accompanied by waiting women. The main subject of each picture is realistic, but there are fantasies around the edges: a fox standing on two legs, dressed in the coat and hose of a courtier, with a broad hat; a girl's gown trailing into peacock feathers. >l Dining Room A grand room, for dining in style. The plastered ceiling is several times your height. The air now is cool and deep, the sunlight glancing through the windows and scattering from the chandelier, putting points of light at your feet, over the table, across the painted wallpaper and the handsome wood paneling. Woodworked columns frame the exits west and southwest. Heavy double doors open east to the kitchen. >x ceiling You see nothing special about the ceiling. >x chandelier An extravagant cascade of crystal, with places to hold candles, but not used. >l Dining Room A grand room, for dining in style. The plastered ceiling is several times your height. The air now is cool and deep, the sunlight glancing through the windows and scattering from the chandelier, putting points of light at your feet, over the table, across the painted wallpaper and the handsome wood paneling. Woodworked columns frame the exits west and southwest. Heavy double doors open east to the kitchen. >x columns Carved in a sort of pseudo-Corinthian style, with carved acanthus leaves and scrollwork in the capitals. >w Library Originally a salon for the receiving of guests; but in recent years the Count has become increasingly interested in his own projects, and has taken over the entire room for the storage of books. Bookshelves line the walls, reaching above your head. A clockwork model of the universe stands in one corner. On one wall is an enormous portrait of the Count's father, from the hand of Hyacinthe Rigaud. >x universe Fitted out with tiny planets on arms, and the major moons of the planets, revolving around a center. There is no sun, however; there is only a sort of holder designed to contain something spherical. Most of the planets are ordinary balls of solid metal, except for Jupiter. They stand still. Oddly, the contraption also seems to be linked, and quite unsubtly, to something in the foyer, to the south. You can feel the pull of it. Something about the model universe tickles your recollection. >x jupiter Jupiter is a large sphere of copperish metal, though it is pierced through and has a sort of lens inserted in the center. >save Enter a file name. Default is "Savoir.sav": savvy1.sav Ok. >remember universe ... The Count was standing in the library, tinkering with the model; Marie was bent over it as well, instructing him about what to connect where. "I will never understand," he remarked to you, "how it is that she has such a mechanical mind. Not the least interest in diplomacy..." "It is my cold heart, Papa," she replied, tossing aside her clockmaking tools. "It is done?" he asked her. "Put the light in," she said, "and then make it go." You turned away. "Stay and see how it works!" Marie called after you. "Sorry, infant, the road to Paris is long..." ... >follow pull That's not a verb I recognize. >x model Fitted out with tiny planets on arms, and the major moons of the planets, revolving around a center. There is no sun, however; there is only a sort of holder designed to contain something spherical. Most of the planets are ordinary balls of solid metal, except for Jupiter. They stand still. Oddly, the contraption also seems to be linked, and quite unsubtly, to something in the foyer, to the south. You can feel the pull of it. > I beg your pardon? >x earth Shimmering lacquer of blue and green outlines the shapes of the continents. It comes into your mind, yet again, that you'd hoped to find some sustenance here. >x mercury Venus and Mercury are both quite small, and made of ordinary metals. >[The Jota Memorial Tour:] That's not a verb I recognize. >x venus Venus and Mercury are both quite small, and made of ordinary metals. >x mars A small, dull-colored ball of metal, slightly uneven. >x jupiter Jupiter is a large sphere of copperish metal, though it is pierced through and has a sort of lens inserted in the center. >get jupiter The planets are not removable. >x lens Jupiter is a large sphere of copperish metal, though it is pierced through and has a sort of lens inserted in the center. >look through jupiter The model universe is empty. >[er, hmm?] You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >x saturn Saturn is gilded, and has a narrow disk of burnished metal around it. >x uranus You can't see any such thing. >x neptune You can't see any such thing. >x asteroid belt You can't see any such thing. >x stars You can't see any such thing. >[actually, though I do like 'clockwork model of the universe', it would make You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >sense to include the stars in such a model. Maybe I'm just unrefined.] That's not a verb I recognize. >[Er, me the PC, that is, not me-Lucian.] You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >[I already know I'm unrefined.] That's not a verb I recognize. >[ba-dum-tish] That's not a verb I recognize. >l Library Originally a salon for the receiving of guests; but in recent years the Count has become increasingly interested in his own projects, and has taken over the entire room for the storage of books. Bookshelves line the walls, reaching above your head. A clockwork model of the universe stands in one corner. On one wall is an enormous portrait of the Count's father, from the hand of Hyacinthe Rigaud. >x portrait The old man appears to stand in a vague, ruddy landscape; all the artist's attention was spared for his clothing, which is rendered in shimmering detail, lustrous silks and fur, and for the giant bi-partite mound of wig on his head, whose curls fall over each shoulder. Something about the framed portrait tickles your recollection. >[bi-partite mound?] That's not a verb I recognize. >remember portrait ... "He can make links," the Countess hissed. Neither of them saw you there. "Anabelle--" "And don't tell me that your father strayed into some peasant's bed in his dotage, because I have seen Pierre's mother and she is not old enough to--" "Anabelle, calm yourself." He put a hand on her shoulder, spoke in his voice of diplomacy. "Now you will tell me that he is some by-blow of someone passing through the village, I suppose? Some guest of ours, perhaps?" she asked bitterly. "I wondered why you were so ready to accept him--" "I swear to you, Pierre is no son of mine. Nor, I think, is he any relative of ours for many generations. It is possible that these things appear sportively even among the lesser classes, you know..." She shrugged his hand away. "There's something you aren't telling me," she said. "I always know it, you say so yourself." He sighed. "I will tell you, Ana, but it is not what you think..." ... >[Oy, another cheap shot ;-] You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >[Also, the connection between that memory and this portrait is vague. Who You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >[is in the portrait? Where is the 'there' that I'm hiding? Vague vague.] That's not a verb I recognize. >l Library Originally a salon for the receiving of guests; but in recent years the Count has become increasingly interested in his own projects, and has taken over the entire room for the storage of books. Bookshelves line the walls, reaching above your head. A clockwork model of the universe stands in one corner. On one wall is an enormous portrait of the Count's father, from the hand of Hyacinthe Rigaud. >x bookshelves The shelves line both sides of the room from floor to ceiling. >get book You can't see any such thing. >[They're empty?] That's not a verb I recognize. >search bookshelves You peruse the nearest books. Your eye picks out, at random, On Vegetable Dyes and Clock Repair. >read book Which do you mean, Clock Repair or On Vegetable Dyes? >either What do you want to read in? >read clock repair (first taking Clock Repair) (putting the butcher knife into the sack to make room) Taken. A detailed discourse on how to take care of and repair an assortment of common and mechanical clocks. It begins with comprehensible matters, such as pulling up the weights to begin the operation of the pendulum when the clock has stopped, and other bits of routine maintenance; it finishes with diagrams of a clock's inner workings that are almost embarrassingly intimate and far too complex for you to follow. You should have stopped at an inn on the way down. And eaten. >read on vegetable dyes (first taking On Vegetable Dyes) (putting the white handkerchief into the sack to make room) Taken. You flip through the pages, becoming transfixed by a discussion of how the Celts, supposedly, were wont to dye clothing in a decoction of powdered lichen and stale piss, brewed together for three weeks and then strained. But beside this pleasant concoction there are references to others, such as onion skin boiled in water to produce a pleasant yellow. >[Also, that was a strange juxtaposition of messages back there with the clock b You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >[book/tummy rumble thing] That's not a verb I recognize. >[Also also, amusing coincidence of moving the hanky for the dye book ;-] You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >skin onion You peel the onion of its skin. >[yay!] That's not a verb I recognize. >x bookshelf The shelves line both sides of the room from floor to ceiling. >search it You peruse the nearest books. Your eye picks out, at random, Guide to Assorted Wines and The Lavori d'Aracne. >read guide (first taking Guide to Assorted Wines) (putting the crumpled paper into the sack to make room) Taken. ...mead, a wine made of honey and very sweet... >g ...should then attend to the possibility that the vines have themselves been tainted... >g ...some dry wine such as Sauvignon Blanc... >g ...mead, a wine made of honey and very sweet... >g ...some dry wine such as Sauvignon Blanc... >g ...mead, a wine made of honey and very sweet... >g ... from the region of Avignon, in the territories that belonged to the Pope, comes the peppery red Chateauneuf du Pape... In your hunger, you find yourself dreaming an omelette of herbs and chives. >g ... from the region of Avignon, in the territories that belonged to the Pope, comes the peppery red Chateauneuf du Pape... >g ...mead, a wine made of honey and very sweet... >g ...mead, a wine made of honey and very sweet... >g ...some dry wine such as Sauvignon Blanc... >g ... from the region of Avignon, in the territories that belonged to the Pope, comes the peppery red Chateauneuf du Pape... >[I prefer shuffle/repeat in these situations to pure-random, but hey] You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >l Library Originally a salon for the receiving of guests; but in recent years the Count has become increasingly interested in his own projects, and has taken over the entire room for the storage of books. Bookshelves line the walls, reaching above your head. A clockwork model of the universe stands in one corner. On the shelves is The Lavori d'Aracne. On one wall is an enormous portrait of the Count's father, from the hand of Hyacinthe Rigaud. >read lavori (first taking The Lavori d'Aracne) (putting the peeled onion into the sack to make room) Taken. On the subject of mirrors: Unusual and costly mirrors of special power exist which enhance the workings of the lavori d'Aracne; they may be recognized by their failure to reflect in the ordinary way. Some make it easier to form a link through the mirror than through open air, allowing the magician to reverse-link items that are otherwise too dissimilar to use. Likewise, such a mirror... But then, unfortunately, it breaks off, the page apparently having been chewed out and carried away by something or other. >[The page was chewed. Right.] That's not a verb I recognize. >i You are carrying: an onion skin a sword three metal dishes: a hinge-lidded teapot (which is open but empty) a plate a cup a sack (which is open) a crumpled paper a white handkerchief a butcher knife a sponge two recipe cylinders: an Andouillettes Recipe a Lentil Soup Recipe a burnt scrap of paper a swordstick a snuffbox (which is open) a quantity of snuff seven food items: a peeled onion a clove of garlic some andouillettes a sprig of mint a sprig of parsley a loaf of stale bread a bay leaf a dashing hat (being worn) four books: The Lavori d'Aracne Guide to Assorted Wines On Vegetable Dyes Clock Repair >reverse link lavori through onion to dyes I didn't understand that sentence. >[that's what I was worried about] That's not a verb I recognize. >reverese link lavori to dyes That's not a verb I recognize. >o reverse You valiantly try to link the two objects, but they seem as though they will never go together. Reverse links are even pickier than regular links that way. >link lavori to dyes You valiantly try to link the two objects, but they seem as though they will never go together. >[geez, they're both books. I liked a double door and a teapot] You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >link lavori to dyes through bay leaf I only understood you as far as wanting to link The Lavori d'Aracne to On Vegetable Dyes. >link lavori to dyes through mirror I only understood you as far as wanting to link The Lavori d'Aracne to On Vegetable Dyes. >[yeah, that phraseology should be allowed.] You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >l Library Originally a salon for the receiving of guests; but in recent years the Count has become increasingly interested in his own projects, and has taken over the entire room for the storage of books. Bookshelves line the walls, reaching above your head. A clockwork model of the universe stands in one corner. On one wall is an enormous portrait of the Count's father, from the hand of Hyacinthe Rigaud. >remember hyacinthe ... "He can make links," the Countess hissed. Neither of them saw you there. "Anabelle--" "And don't tell me that your father strayed into some peasant's bed in his dotage, because I have seen Pierre's mother and she is not old enough to--" "Anabelle, calm yourself." He put a hand on her shoulder, spoke in his voice of diplomacy. "Now you will tell me that he is some by-blow of someone passing through the village, I suppose? Some guest of ours, perhaps?" she asked bitterly. "I wondered why you were so ready to accept him--" "I swear to you, Pierre is no son of mine. Nor, I think, is he any relative of ours for many generations. It is possible that these things appear sportively even among the lesser classes, you know..." She shrugged his hand away. "There's something you aren't telling me," she said. "I always know it, you say so yourself." He sighed. "I will tell you, Ana, but it is not what you think..." ... In your hunger, you imagine in great clarity a salad of dressed spinach greens in a vinaigrette. >l Library Originally a salon for the receiving of guests; but in recent years the Count has become increasingly interested in his own projects, and has taken over the entire room for the storage of books. Bookshelves line the walls, reaching above your head. A clockwork model of the universe stands in one corner. On one wall is an enormous portrait of the Count's father, from the hand of Hyacinthe Rigaud. >[The hunger messages are somewhat annoying.] That's not a verb I recognize. >climb bookshelves I don't think much is to be achieved by that. >search them You can't see "them" (the double doors) at the moment. >search bookshelves There is nothing on the shelves. >[*nothing*? Also, bookshelves needs to be set 'plural'.] You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >l Library Originally a salon for the receiving of guests; but in recent years the Count has become increasingly interested in his own projects, and has taken over the entire room for the storage of books. Bookshelves line the walls, reaching above your head. A clockwork model of the universe stands in one corner. On one wall is an enormous portrait of the Count's father, from the hand of Hyacinthe Rigaud. >n You can go only south or east. >e Dining Room A grand room, for dining in style. The plastered ceiling is several times your height. The air now is cool and deep, the sunlight glancing through the windows and scattering from the chandelier, putting points of light at your feet, over the table, across the painted wallpaper and the handsome wood paneling. Woodworked columns frame the exits west and southwest. Heavy double doors open east to the kitchen. >w Library Originally a salon for the receiving of guests; but in recent years the Count has become increasingly interested in his own projects, and has taken over the entire room for the storage of books. Bookshelves line the walls, reaching above your head. A clockwork model of the universe stands in one corner. On one wall is an enormous portrait of the Count's father, from the hand of Hyacinthe Rigaud. >[Actually, there's no mention of *any* exit in this room.] You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >s Entrance Hall Flourishing, spacious; it is its best with a half-dozen servants in livery. The floor is Italian marble, and the walls are dressed with yellow silk hangings. The main staircase ascends to the corridor on the second floor, and a smaller version leads down into the dim basement. Doors also open north and northeast. On the wall is one of those mechanical clocks that pop open on the hour, allowing the ingenious internal figures out to play. >x clock (the mechanical clock) Hand-carved by a German carver from dark wood; it was a present to the Count by a political ally. The Countess considered the clock a bit gauche, but was persuaded that it would be impolite not to display it. It consists of the face, a pendulum and pair of weights, and a little door above the face that opens when the hour is struck. It is not ticking at the moment. The clock shows the time to be 10:13. >link clock to sundial You can't see any such thing. >[arr] That's not a verb I recognize. >open door You can't get to the gothic door to do anything to it at the moment. >open clock door The clock does not open and close by anyone's command but only by its own free will. >[It's a sentient clock? ;-] That's not a verb I recognize. >link clock door to teapot You valiantly try to link the two objects, but they are just too dissimilar. In your hunger, you hallucinate a salad of dressed spinach greens in a vinaigrette. >..hallucinations Yeah, yeah, get over it already. You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >pull weight You give a tug to the weight chain and pull it all the way back up to the top. The cuckoo clock ticks sullenly. >g You give a tug to the weight chain and pull it all the way back up to the top. Just on the quarter-hour the cuckoo clock opens up its door and a mechanical bird flies forward. It sings a brief warbling tune, then withdraws into its little door. >set clock (the mechanical clock) Try indicating a time to which you want to set the clock. The cuckoo clock clicks closed. >undo Entrance Hall [Previous turn undone.] >get cuckoo You can't see any such thing. >get bird You can't see any such thing. >set clock to 12:00 The clock now shows 12:00. The cuckoo clock clicks closed. >z Time passes. The cuckoo clock ticks sullenly. >z Time passes. The cuckoo clock ticks sullenly. >x clock (the mechanical clock) It consists of the face, a pendulum and pair of weights, and a little door above the face that opens when the hour is struck. It is currently on and ticking. The clock shows the time to be 12:03. The cuckoo clock ticks sullenly. >set clock to 11:59 The clock now shows 11:59. Exactly on the hour, the cuckoo clock opens up its door and a mechanical bird flies forward. It sings 12 times, then withdraws into its little door. >get bird You can't see any such thing. >x clock (the mechanical clock) It consists of the face, a pendulum and pair of weights, and a little door above the face that opens when the hour is struck. It is currently on and ticking. The clock shows the time to be 12:00. The cuckoo clock clicks closed. >x pendulum Metal, and shaped like a disc at the end of a rod. As so often. The cuckoo clock ticks sullenly. >['as so often'?] That's not a verb I recognize. >stop pendulum That's not a verb I recognize. >push pendulum Nothing obvious happens. The cuckoo clock ticks sullenly. >get pendulum That is part of the clock. The cuckoo clock ticks sullenly. In your hunger, you imagine in great clarity a salad of dressed spinach greens in a vinaigrette. >..imagine_in_great_clarity Hush, you. You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >l Entrance Hall Flourishing, spacious; it is its best with a half-dozen servants in livery. The floor is Italian marble, and the walls are dressed with yellow silk hangings. The main staircase ascends to the corridor on the second floor, and a smaller version leads down into the dim basement. Doors also open north and northeast. On the wall is one of those mechanical clocks that pop open on the hour, allowing the ingenious internal figures out to play. The cuckoo clock ticks sullenly. >x hangings Hangings cover up the whole of the west wall, concealing it thoroughly. (Now that you think of it, wasn't there a door through there or some such thing?) The cuckoo clock ticks sullenly. >[ba da DAAAAAA!] That's not a verb I recognize. >move hangings You lift the hangings out of the way with both hands -- they are heavy, and it's a struggle to move them far enough to get a good glimpse. Behind them there seems to be a door, yes, but locked, and with its key still in the lock. You drop the hangings again disconsolately. The cuckoo clock ticks sullenly. >unlock door (with the gothic door) (first taking the gothic door) You can't get to the gothic door to do anything to it at the moment. The cuckoo clock ticks sullenly. >get key You can't get the ornate key from this side: it's been put into the lock from the inside. The cuckoo clock ticks sullenly. >[IT'S THIS PUZZLE AGAIN, ISN'T IT! AAAAH!] You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >[Just like you to put some twist to it, though ;-] You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >get hangings The hangings are far too well secured to the wall for you to be able to pull them free of their moorings. The cuckoo clock ticks sullenly. >i You are carrying: an onion skin a sword three metal dishes: a hinge-lidded teapot (which is open but empty) a plate a cup a sack (which is open) a crumpled paper a white handkerchief a butcher knife a sponge two recipe cylinders: an Andouillettes Recipe a Lentil Soup Recipe a burnt scrap of paper a swordstick a snuffbox (which is open) a quantity of snuff seven food items: a peeled onion a clove of garlic some andouillettes a sprig of mint a sprig of parsley a loaf of stale bread a bay leaf a dashing hat (being worn) four books: The Lavori d'Aracne Guide to Assorted Wines On Vegetable Dyes Clock Repair The cuckoo clock ticks sullenly. >run recipe Which do you mean, the Andouillettes Recipe or the Lentil Soup Recipe? >turn recipe Which do you mean, the Andouillettes Recipe or the Lentil Soup Recipe? >lentil Nothing obvious happens. The cuckoo clock ticks sullenly. >link key to lentil You valiantly try to link the two objects, but they are just a little too different. Maybe if they looked more alike. The cuckoo clock ticks sullenly. >l Entrance Hall Flourishing, spacious; it is its best with a half-dozen servants in livery. The floor is Italian marble. The main staircase ascends to the corridor on the second floor, and a smaller version leads down into the dim basement. Doors also open north and northeast. On the wall is one of those mechanical clocks that pop open on the hour, allowing the ingenious internal figures out to play. The cuckoo clock ticks sullenly. >x floor (the marble floor) Veined colorfully in cream and muted orange, turned glossy with much polishing. Just on the quarter-hour the cuckoo clock opens up its door and a mechanical bird flies forward. It sings a brief warbling tune, then withdraws into its little door. >u Staircase, First Floor The top of a broad curving stair: east is the long salon that goes the length of the house, downstairs are the foyer and the grand receiving rooms. (You and Marie used to sit up here when the Count had guests, watching them arrive downstairs in their magnificent clothing, until you got old enough to be introduced yourselves.) North is the old conservatory. >x stairs You can't see any such thing. >[heh] That's not a verb I recognize. >e Long Salon In days gone by you ran up and down these halls with Marie, and were barely able to stop at the end, skidding in your stockings the last few feet before the stairs began. She's gone now, both the little girl with dusk-blonde curls and the somewhat older one with dangerous slanting eyes and cleverly backwards magics; the dust falls long and slowly, the walls echo with absence. West is the top of the staircase, and rooms open to the north and east. The door east is closed. A small portrait hangs on the wall. In your hunger, you hallucinate the small, bitter oranges of Jerusalem. The image is more vivid than the vision of food has any right to be. >..hallucinations Hey, at least you came up with something new. Now hush. You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >[oohh! Something unrelated!] That's not a verb I recognize. >w Staircase, First Floor The top of a broad curving stair: east is the long salon that goes the length of the house, downstairs are the foyer and the grand receiving rooms. North is the old conservatory. >d Entrance Hall Flourishing, spacious; it is its best with a half-dozen servants in livery. The floor is Italian marble. The main staircase ascends to the corridor on the second floor, and a smaller version leads down into the dim basement. Doors also open north and northeast. On the wall is one of those mechanical clocks that pop open on the hour, allowing the ingenious internal figures out to play. The cuckoo clock ticks sullenly. >e The south door leads only out of the estate, where you are not ready to go. You can go only north, northeast, up or down. The cuckoo clock ticks sullenly. >e The south door leads only out of the estate, where you are not ready to go. You can go only north, northeast, up or down. The cuckoo clock ticks sullenly. >s That way lies the exit, but you have unfinished business here. The cuckoo clock ticks sullenly. >n Library Originally a salon for the receiving of guests; but in recent years the Count has become increasingly interested in his own projects, and has taken over the entire room for the storage of books. Bookshelves line the walls, reaching above your head. A clockwork model of the universe stands in one corner, the planets rotating in their orbits. On one wall is an enormous portrait of the Count's father, from the hand of Hyacinthe Rigaud. The planets turn slowly around the empty sun-holder. >e Dining Room A grand room, for dining in style. The plastered ceiling is several times your height. The air now is cool and deep, the sunlight glancing through the windows and scattering from the chandelier, putting points of light at your feet, over the table, across the painted wallpaper and the handsome wood paneling. Woodworked columns frame the exits west and southwest. Heavy double doors open east to the kitchen. >e Kitchen Corridor A narrow corridor between the kitchen and the main house, which has a thick separate wall. The two buildings are only barely attached, to discourage fires. A small staircase leads down. Double doors give west onto the main house. Lying to one side, and thereby doing no good at all, is the stone block often used as a doorstop. >e Kitchen A long, cross-beamed room, originally washed with white, though smoke has tinged the walls above the massive fireplace in which roasts are prepared. In addition, there are thick high tables that run the length of the room. To the east is the kitchen garden through which you entered; west is the corridor that connects with the main house. To the north there is the little scullery, and upstairs is the attic where the servants sleep. On the kitchen tables is a delicate contraption (which is empty). >u Servants' Dormitory Up here the female servants used to sleep. Now there is only a dreary row of unmade beds; a rack for drying washing; the fireplace, hollow and untended. Time was, when you were very young, that you used to creep in here for chatter and gossip, and the language you were used to hearing at home. >d Kitchen A long, cross-beamed room, originally washed with white, though smoke has tinged the walls above the massive fireplace in which roasts are prepared. In addition, there are thick high tables that run the length of the room. To the east is the kitchen garden through which you entered; west is the corridor that connects with the main house. To the north there is the little scullery, and upstairs is the attic where the servants sleep. On the kitchen tables is a delicate contraption (which is empty). In your hunger, you find yourself dreaming a salad of dressed spinach greens in a vinaigrette. Or perhaps poached turbot on a platter. >w Kitchen Corridor A narrow corridor between the kitchen and the main house, which has a thick separate wall. The two buildings are only barely attached, to discourage fires. A small staircase leads down. Double doors give west onto the main house. Lying to one side, and thereby doing no good at all, is the stone block often used as a doorstop. >get block (putting Clock Repair into the sack to make room) Taken. >e Kitchen A long, cross-beamed room, originally washed with white, though smoke has tinged the walls above the massive fireplace in which roasts are prepared. In addition, there are thick high tables that run the length of the room. To the east is the kitchen garden through which you entered; west is the corridor that connects with the main house. To the north there is the little scullery, and upstairs is the attic where the servants sleep. On the kitchen tables is a delicate contraption (which is empty). >u Servants' Dormitory Up here the female servants used to sleep. Now there is only a dreary row of unmade beds; a rack for drying washing; the fireplace, hollow and untended. Time was, when you were very young, that you used to creep in here for chatter and gossip, and the language you were used to hearing at home. >drop block Dropped. >link block to brick You valiantly try to link the two objects, but they seem as though they will never go together. >[Oh, come on.] You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >x brick A reddish-brown brick darkened by smoke, and pushed forward from its position among the others. >pull brick Age and heat have hardened the cement holding the brick in place. >hit brick with block (first taking the stone block) (putting On Vegetable Dyes into the sack to make room) The stone block strikes the brick with a tonk of stone striking stone. >g The stone block strikes the brick. >g The stone block smites the brick. >g The stone block smites the brick solidly. In your hunger, you imagine in great clarity a salad of dressed spinach greens in a vinaigrette. Or perhaps the small, bitter oranges of Jerusalem. >g The stone block strikes the brick. >g The stone block smites the brick. >g The stone block smacks the brick with a plonk of stone striking stone. >g The stone block hits the brick. >g The stone block strikes the brick squarely. >g The stone block smites the brick. >g The stone block hits the brick. >g The stone block smites the brick. >g The stone block smites the brick. >g The stone block smacks the brick squarely. >pull brick Age and heat have hardened the cement holding the brick in place. In your hunger, you find yourself dreaming a salad of dressed spinach greens in a vinaigrette. Or perhaps little grey-pink mushrooms. >[even smitten as it is? Arr.] That's not a verb I recognize. >d Kitchen A long, cross-beamed room, originally washed with white, though smoke has tinged the walls above the massive fireplace in which roasts are prepared. In addition, there are thick high tables that run the length of the room. To the east is the kitchen garden through which you entered; west is the corridor that connects with the main house. To the north there is the little scullery, and upstairs is the attic where the servants sleep. On the kitchen tables is a delicate contraption (which is empty). >u Servants' Dormitory Up here the female servants used to sleep. Now there is only a dreary row of unmade beds; a rack for drying washing; the fireplace, hollow and untended. Time was, when you were very young, that you used to creep in here for chatter and gossip, and the language you were used to hearing at home. >get stone You already have that. >d Kitchen A long, cross-beamed room, originally washed with white, though smoke has tinged the walls above the massive fireplace in which roasts are prepared. In addition, there are thick high tables that run the length of the room. To the east is the kitchen garden through which you entered; west is the corridor that connects with the main house. To the north there is the little scullery, and upstairs is the attic where the servants sleep. On the kitchen tables is a delicate contraption (which is empty). >w Kitchen Corridor A narrow corridor between the kitchen and the main house, which has a thick separate wall. The two buildings are only barely attached, to discourage fires. A small staircase leads down. Double doors give west onto the main house. >w Dining Room A grand room, for dining in style. The plastered ceiling is several times your height. The air now is cool and deep, the sunlight glancing through the windows and scattering from the chandelier, putting points of light at your feet, over the table, across the painted wallpaper and the handsome wood paneling. Woodworked columns frame the exits west and southwest. Heavy double doors open east to the kitchen. >w Library Originally a salon for the receiving of guests; but in recent years the Count has become increasingly interested in his own projects, and has taken over the entire room for the storage of books. Bookshelves line the walls, reaching above your head. A clockwork model of the universe stands in one corner, the planets rotating in their orbits. On one wall is an enormous portrait of the Count's father, from the hand of Hyacinthe Rigaud. The surface of the model Saturn catches the sunlight. >s Entrance Hall Flourishing, spacious; it is its best with a half-dozen servants in livery. The floor is Italian marble. The main staircase ascends to the corridor on the second floor, and a smaller version leads down into the dim basement. Doors also open north and northeast. On the wall is one of those mechanical clocks that pop open on the hour, allowing the ingenious internal figures out to play. The cuckoo clock ticks sullenly. >u Staircase, First Floor The top of a broad curving stair: east is the long salon that goes the length of the house, downstairs are the foyer and the grand receiving rooms. North is the old conservatory. >e Long Salon A long empty room with shined wooden floors, perfect for sliding in stocking- feet. West is the top of the staircase, and rooms open to the north and east. The door east is closed. A small portrait hangs on the wall. >[woah, where's that long description from earlier? I miss it already.] You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >[sounds of re-reading transcript] That's not a verb I recognize. >[I *do* miss it. It should go back. Arr.] That's not a verb I recognize. >x portrait Oil on wood, of a small, pinch-faced girl who gazes down on you with awareness and pity. It is not especially well-executed, and probably worth little on the market, but it has always filled you with a kind of resentment -- even now. >get it (putting Guide to Assorted Wines into the sack to make room) Taken. >e You can't, since the tall door is in the way. >open door It seems to be locked. >link door to teapot The Count made this door unlinkable, perhaps; in any case, you cannot seem to control it. >[grr] That's not a verb I recognize. >unlock door (with the tall door) (first taking the tall door) That's fixed in place. In your hunger, you hallucinate a salad of dressed spinach greens in a vinaigrette. Or perhaps sausages fried in onions and olive oil. >..hallucinations Dude, enough with the vinaigrette already. You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >l Long Salon A long empty room with shined wooden floors, perfect for sliding in stocking- feet. West is the top of the staircase, and rooms open to the north and east. The door east is closed. >n Countess' Sitting Room This was the countess' favorite room, and it is more richly decorated than any other in the house, betraying her taste for the brightly-colored and the jewel- like. The count brought her some things from his travels, and made others for her. Most of the contents seem to be gone -- the chairs and sofas, and the wall hangings -- but some bits remain. A thick-pile Persian rug lies on the floor, patterned in lapis and emerald. Against one wall is a glass case full of rare and valuable clockwork figures. >[I know what to do here!] That's not a verb I recognize. >MOVE RUG Nothing obvious happens. >[arr ;-] That's not a verb I recognize. >x case The case is specially made of glass and wood. Inscribed into the surface of the glass with a fine cutting tool are the words: "CAREFUL! DO NOT BREAK!" Inside are mechanical dancers and a clockwork bee. Something about the glass case tickles your recollection. >remember case ... Many years ago, the Countess stood at this case, looking at the contents. "Sometimes I feel like one of these," she said, softly. "Trapped..." She met your eye. "You don't understand what I am saying, do you?" You shook your head. "They are made of gears and magic links," she said. "They have no choices." ... >break case With your bare hands? That could be uncomfortable. >do it anyway That's not a verb I recognize. >break case with stone The stone block strikes the glass case. The glass case smashes. It leaves in its place the clockwork bee and the pair of human dancers. The clockwork bee buzzes faintly, spreading its jeweled wings. > I beg your pardon? >undo Countess' Sitting Room [Previous turn undone.] >l Countess' Sitting Room This was the countess' favorite room, and it is more richly decorated than any other in the house, betraying her taste for the brightly-colored and the jewel- like. The count brought her some things from his travels, and made others for her. Most of the contents seem to be gone -- the chairs and sofas, and the wall hangings -- but some bits remain. A thick-pile Persian rug lies on the floor, patterned in lapis and emerald. Against one wall is a glass case full of rare and valuable clockwork figures. >x case The case is specially made of glass and wood. Inscribed into the surface of the glass with a fine cutting tool are the words: "CAREFUL! DO NOT BREAK!" Inside are mechanical dancers and a clockwork bee. >open it That's not something you can open. >save Enter a file name. Default is "savvy1.sav": savvy2 Ok. >read case The case is specially made of glass and wood. Inscribed into the surface of the glass with a fine cutting tool are the words: "CAREFUL! DO NOT BREAK!" Inside are mechanical dancers and a clockwork bee. >x dancers The dancers are antique, and peculiar. Their costume replicates an English mode of the sixteenth century: the lady wears a skirt of beaten copper, pierced in designs, and around the gentleman's neck is a ruff of folded silver, though with long neglect it has begun to darken. As for their skin, it is all carved ivory. They both of them stand on a floor made up of cogs, to permit them to spin and dance around. >x bee A life-sized golden bee, its wings made of planed gems. It is, unfortunately, equipped with an ingenious equivalent of a sting -- a tail endowed with blades that will cut into any sensitive thing it settles on. And these have been tipped with a vicious poison. >[oy!] That's not a verb I recognize. >shake case Nothing much results of this. In your hunger, you hallucinate quite at random a salad of dressed spinach greens in a vinaigrette. Or perhaps frosted petits-four. >..hallucinations ENOUGH WITH THE SPINACH GREENS ALREADY. That's not a verb I recognize. >[('quite at random' my eye. That's all you ever think about.] That's not a verb I recognize. >l Countess' Sitting Room This was the countess' favorite room, and it is more richly decorated than any other in the house, betraying her taste for the brightly-colored and the jewel- like. The count brought her some things from his travels, and made others for her. Most of the contents seem to be gone -- the chairs and sofas, and the wall hangings -- but some bits remain. A thick-pile Persian rug lies on the floor, patterned in lapis and emerald. Against one wall is a glass case full of rare and valuable clockwork figures. >roll rug That's not a verb I recognize. >pull rug Nothing obvious happens. >push rug Nothing obvious happens. >look under rug You find nothing of interest. >l Countess' Sitting Room This was the countess' favorite room, and it is more richly decorated than any other in the house, betraying her taste for the brightly-colored and the jewel- like. The count brought her some things from his travels, and made others for her. Most of the contents seem to be gone -- the chairs and sofas, and the wall hangings -- but some bits remain. A thick-pile Persian rug lies on the floor, patterned in lapis and emerald. Against one wall is a glass case full of rare and valuable clockwork figures. >n You can go only south. >s Long Salon A long empty room with shined wooden floors, perfect for sliding in stocking- feet. West is the top of the staircase, and rooms open to the north and east. The door east is closed. >w Staircase, First Floor The top of a broad curving stair: east is the long salon that goes the length of the house, downstairs are the foyer and the grand receiving rooms. North is the old conservatory. >n Old Conservatory A chilly northern exposure, perhaps, but really quite lovely. This room used to be where Marie would practice her music, and the Countess play her compositions; Marie's own room lies to the west. On the high shelf is a celestial bauble. The pianoforte stands in the center of the room. >[Marie's ghost haunts this place like nobody's business.] That's not a verb I recognize. >x bauble A delicate ornament made of glass, containing inside it a little sun and star that whirl infinitely in the hollow space. It was a plaything of Marie's, which (due to careful reverse linking to a perfectly round rock) she could hurl at walls and never break, drop down staircases and find intact at the bottom. But it is very doubtful that the link has lasted out the years. >get bauble It is too high for you to reach. In your hunger, you imagine in great clarity quite at random a salad of dressed spinach greens in a vinaigrette, tossed with curried walnuts, such as they did at the house of the Princesse when you visited her last summer. Or perhaps an omelette of herbs and chives. >..hallucinations AGAIN. WITH. THE. SPINACH. That's not a verb I recognize. >play piano You sit down at the piano and begin to play, as you have not in years: a minuette. >g You sit down at the piano and begin to play, as you have not in years: a minuette. >g You sit down at the piano and begin to play, as you have not in years: a minuette. >sing You hum a snatch of an obscene drinking song. >play and sing Not a tune you know. >play a minuette Not a tune you know. >play minuette You sit down at the piano and begin to play, as you have not in years: a minuette, suggestive of lost elegance. >g You sit down at the piano and begin to play, as you have not in years: a minuette, suggestive of lost elegance. >g You sit down at the piano and begin to play, as you have not in years: a minuette, suggestive of lost elegance. >play (the pianoforte) You sit down at the piano and begin to play, as you have not in years: a minuette, suggestive of lost elegance. >g (the pianoforte) You sit down at the piano and begin to play, as you have not in years: a minuette, suggestive of lost elegance. >g (the pianoforte) You sit down at the piano and begin to play, as you have not in years: a minuette, suggestive of lost elegance. In your hunger, you imagine in great clarity a salad of dressed spinach greens in a vinaigrette, tossed with curried walnuts, such as they did at the house of the Princesse when you visited her last summer. Or perhaps curls of toasted bread. >g (the pianoforte) You sit down at the piano and begin to play, as you have not in years: a minuette, suggestive of lost elegance. >g (the pianoforte) You sit down at the piano and begin to play, as you have not in years: a minuette, suggestive of lost elegance. >play tango That is the sort of music that needs a partner. And a single blossom, clenched in your teeth. And a sultry evening, some hundred years or more later than the current setting. >play rock and roll Perhaps you have not quite recognized the era in which this game is set. While historical errors no doubt abound (research being, of course, inappropriate to a game of this school), such a blatant defiance of period can only break the fourth wall into teeny tiny bits. >play techno-punk Not a tune you know. >play lost elegance Not a tune you know. >play misty for me Not a tune you know. >play misty Not a tune you know. >l Old Conservatory A chilly northern exposure, perhaps, but really quite lovely. This room used to be where Marie would practice her music, and the Countess play her compositions; Marie's own room lies to the west. On the high shelf is a celestial bauble. The pianoforte stands in the center of the room. >move piano It is fixed in place. >stand on piano That's not something you can stand on. >[aw] That's not a verb I recognize. >w Marie's Chamber Stripped of the elegant clutter it once possessed, the room still offers a charming view through the north window of the old grounds, and the way out is to the east. The wallpaper and floorboards are still as elegant as ever. Hanging on the wall is an elegant gilt-wood mirror, reflecting sunlight over the ground before it. Her desk remains, pushed against the wall. >x mirror Framed with twists and curls of gilded wood, most abstract, though along the top are floral swags. >look in it In the mirror you see reflected your own face, a bit distant and strange. And then a desk. Around the edges you can make out other indications of Marie's Chamber. In your hunger, you imagine in great clarity a salad of dressed spinach greens in a vinaigrette, tossed with curried walnuts, such as they did at the house of the Princesse when you visited her last summer. Or perhaps the small, bitter oranges of Jerusalem. >..hallucinations You don't give up, do you? You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >i You are carrying: a small portrait a stone block an onion skin a sword three metal dishes: a hinge-lidded teapot (which is open but empty) a plate a cup a sack (which is open) three books: Guide to Assorted Wines On Vegetable Dyes Clock Repair a crumpled paper a white handkerchief a butcher knife a sponge two recipe cylinders: an Andouillettes Recipe a Lentil Soup Recipe a burnt scrap of paper a swordstick a snuffbox (which is open) a quantity of snuff seven food items: a peeled onion a clove of garlic some andouillettes a sprig of mint a sprig of parsley a loaf of stale bread a bay leaf a dashing hat (being worn) The Lavori d'Aracne >link lavori to wines through mirror I only understood you as far as wanting to link The Lavori d'Aracne to Guide to Assorted Wines. >link lavori to wines You valiantly try to link the two objects, but they seem as though they will never go together. >l Marie's Chamber Stripped of the elegant clutter it once possessed, the room still offers a charming view through the north window of the old grounds, and the way out is to the east. The wallpaper and floorboards are still as elegant as ever. Hanging on the wall is an elegant gilt-wood mirror, reflecting sunlight over the ground before it. Her desk remains, pushed against the wall. >x sunlight Warming and golden. >i You are carrying: a small portrait a stone block an onion skin a sword three metal dishes: a hinge-lidded teapot (which is open but empty) a plate a cup a sack (which is open) three books: Guide to Assorted Wines On Vegetable Dyes Clock Repair a crumpled paper a white handkerchief a butcher knife a sponge two recipe cylinders: an Andouillettes Recipe a Lentil Soup Recipe a burnt scrap of paper a swordstick a snuffbox (which is open) a quantity of snuff seven food items: a peeled onion a clove of garlic some andouillettes a sprig of mint a sprig of parsley a loaf of stale bread a bay leaf a dashing hat (being worn) The Lavori d'Aracne >link sun to onion The peeled onion is incapable of so ethereal and peculiar a linkage. >[Hey, missed carriage return] You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >[Also, they're both round. What's the trouble?] You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >i You are carrying: a small portrait a stone block an onion skin a sword three metal dishes: a hinge-lidded teapot (which is open but empty) a plate a cup a sack (which is open) three books: Guide to Assorted Wines On Vegetable Dyes Clock Repair a crumpled paper a white handkerchief a butcher knife a sponge two recipe cylinders: an Andouillettes Recipe a Lentil Soup Recipe a burnt scrap of paper a swordstick a snuffbox (which is open) a quantity of snuff seven food items: a peeled onion a clove of garlic some andouillettes a sprig of mint a sprig of parsley a loaf of stale bread a bay leaf a dashing hat (being worn) The Lavori d'Aracne >x hanky A square of good linen; rather nice, really. It is currently colored white. >l Marie's Chamber Stripped of the elegant clutter it once possessed, the room still offers a charming view through the north window of the old grounds, and the way out is to the east. The wallpaper and floorboards are still as elegant as ever. Hanging on the wall is an elegant gilt-wood mirror, reflecting sunlight over the ground before it. Her desk remains, pushed against the wall. >x desk A deep, satin-lustrous cherry, with gilt-metal decorations. The years have not been kind, and it has cracked and split in several places; the finish is damaged, and where there is inlaid mother of pearl, it is beginning to come up from its bed. But it is still a sound piece, and features two drawers. >open it That's not something you can open. In your hunger, you hallucinate quite at random a salad of dressed spinach greens in a vinaigrette, tossed with curried walnuts, such as they did at the house of the Princesse when you visited her last summer. Or perhaps a salad of dressed spinach greens in a vinaigrette. >open drawer Which do you mean, the top drawer or the bottom drawer? >top You open the top drawer, revealing some household papers. >get household (putting The Lavori d'Aracne into the sack to make room) Taken. >read them You turn up elaborate designs for a model house that would exactly copy a real house, with all the doors and windows built, and links made, so that one could watch all comings and goings, and close and lock passages from a distance. At the bottom is added, in Marie's meticulous hand, "Would probably annoy half the adulterers in Paris. Pity." >[Hee!] That's not a verb I recognize. >open bottom drawer You open the bottom drawer, revealing a dark wooden box. >get wooden box (putting the cup into the sack to make room) Taken. >open it You open the dark wooden box, revealing a mirror inset inside the box, a pearl necklace and an old letter. The mirror inset inside the box begins to glow with reflected light. >x inset A shining panel that reflects whatever is inside the box. >get pearl (the desk) Much too heavy to move significantly. >get pearl necklace (putting the plate into the sack to make room) Taken. [Your score has just gone up by four points.] >x it More a girl's ornament than a woman's, with small lustrous pearls; but the pendant is cut diamond and the clasps are gold. Her mother gave it to her one birthday -- the same year that you had bought, by carefully hoarding your allowances, a bracelet of onyx beads for her, threaded on silk and silver... But she never wore your little trinket. No matter. You have bought better jewellery for other women since, and it has most certainly been worn. >[No semicolon after 'pearls'--'but the...' is not a complete sentence.] That's not a verb I recognize. >[Did I mention that Marie's ghost haunts the place? Oy. Nice.] That's not a verb I recognize. >wear necklace You had better pray that none of your acquaintance sees you so attired. >[But did I put it on?] That's not a verb I recognize. >i You are carrying: a pearl necklace (being worn) a dark wooden box (which is open) a mirror inset inside the box (providing light) an old letter some household papers a small portrait a stone block an onion skin a sword a hinge-lidded teapot (which is open but empty) a sack (which is open) two metal dishes: a plate a cup four books: The Lavori d'Aracne Guide to Assorted Wines On Vegetable Dyes Clock Repair a crumpled paper a white handkerchief a butcher knife a sponge two recipe cylinders: an Andouillettes Recipe a Lentil Soup Recipe a burnt scrap of paper a swordstick a snuffbox (which is open) a quantity of snuff seven food items: a peeled onion a clove of garlic some andouillettes a sprig of mint a sprig of parsley a loaf of stale bread a bay leaf a dashing hat (being worn) >[Ah, I did.] You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >x letter What would appear to be a letter on parchment, sealed with a red-wax seal and stamped with the count's signet ring. In your hunger, you imagine in great clarity a salad of dressed spinach greens in a vinaigrette, tossed with curried walnuts, such as they did at the house of the Princesse when you visited her last summer. Or perhaps a salad of dressed spinach greens in a vinaigrette. >link mirror inset to mirror (the gilt-wood mirror) Bending your will, you form the link between the mirror inset inside the box and the gilt-wood mirror. >reverse link mirror inset to mirror (the gilt-wood mirror) The two are already linked. Reverse links are even pickier than regular links that way. >[Hey, there's an interesting bug.] You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >unlink mirror (the gilt-wood mirror) You succeed in unlinking the gilt-wood mirror from the mirror inset inside the box. >reverse link mirror inset to mirror (the gilt-wood mirror) Bending your will and all your attention, you manage to make a reverse-link between the mirror inset inside the box and the gilt-wood mirror, feeling their properties begin to merge together. >undo Marie's Chamber [Previous turn undone.] >save Enter a file name. Default is "savvy2": savvy3 Ok. >reverse link mirror inset to mirror (the gilt-wood mirror) Bending your will and all your attention, you manage to make a reverse-link between the mirror inset inside the box and the gilt-wood mirror, feeling their properties begin to merge together. >l Marie's Chamber Stripped of the elegant clutter it once possessed, the room still offers a charming view through the north window of the old grounds, and the way out is to the east. The wallpaper and floorboards are still as elegant as ever. Hanging on the wall is an elegant gilt-wood mirror, reflecting sunlight over the ground before it. Her desk remains, pushed against the wall. >look in gilt In the mirror you see reflected your own face, a bit distant and strange. And then an old letter. >get old letter (putting the hinge-lidded teapot into the sack to make room) Taken. >read it You can't read the letter while it remains sealed. >open it You crack the seal, aware that you are trespassing on what was meant to be a private confidence. Inside is the count's long black writing: he used to sit at his desk in the gold lamplight, tossing back the lace of his cuff with a little flick so that it would not drag in the ink. >read it At the top of the page is a sketch of dancing figures. Then: Devv Rtare, Ea tu irymhg flolehi e uo rte aose, aeruwsrm ssot. Ea ytfisto kfho tu niame morv es mias, liess tadp. I moiero ardson. Leaovslo ni smeol nao tfyss nti atte. Eng deyr tairlsro or ebtdnt ruo, u tastfcoi omatcnn oli epss ltnf uic -- hse rfoetns nm mode -- e, e edyle. S a eofd. Thhaw fee in aim yd dynwadt, sdore httv eneo hengey oguar. Tphp! gehe tlooer w, own plinh lri. L lt ara nsycgro holi iw ouerey wrvlio ie emk: uwt, tmeo irthsoleo, esk lstela nohdy fo rell. Teesana r rtv lntv heodhae bygeny ea osthelo dui iwsarfn: Ielly dsllio yh ly fuo taoefuo n y oh bto od. Irytfdn. Ooh teguueh r. Sgrret ihmdo ewalh ntaplathy tflg echeaimhet. Rvaeyc g efo, erap rui urroln, ebi mitdr c mghee. Ecness iarost, fryt aiyrohk; toyuee bufr rle mom. Sea mi btnsaso feen wro pdw. Enrlahlb meu. Ol ui. Ag h tniyetse l yreowlo. Irm hd ug neoet, hoownht tt ulsao i ratr pcs nmgre. K dy i ayil dr col aeltl acum hlska si. Cat n oso sod r wmhy. Irieooaybnr kwa. Uyeie cto sn lh wutt. Lihwuha leece, sd.al db danoee e tdsac sese. Ta p aothm enco ier dt eauoio v nsf noe gslgkre tiytyr eno. Hdopk. Utra ot loe tudo psylin ioodege. Tun aarhw oss hds an tesesli loeny tiyi o guvo tt rdeuwoae tdia abhes lsr aue myotsho. Ot mrisu haamt re. Rnovfeb cree yue yr sotro yiucn ulnrof ricmon wssht dtlhe h. I hoeae. Kanwl rnt gatae a ash ylube halle f in sdtold oyhrd, wwo eek eour. Ce ee av stponeil. A nd rn onhihwo eif eaky meina fmunte tcloyfe. alw o. orrytunh. Eihadi fk ar o fa e. I h dhnb n idiyuks imctoitiatnni nshtaon. Risoa hysy vtily oi hs iounevf. -- Urgr eerlfx >[This must be the cryptogram everyone's talking about.] That's not a verb I recognize. >l Marie's Chamber Stripped of the elegant clutter it once possessed, the room still offers a charming view through the north window of the old grounds, and the way out is to the east. The wallpaper and floorboards are still as elegant as ever. Hanging on the wall is an elegant gilt-wood mirror, reflecting sunlight over the ground before it. Her desk remains, pushed against the wall. In your hunger, you imagine in great clarity quite at random a salad of dressed spinach greens in a vinaigrette, tossed with curried walnuts, such as they did at the house of the Princesse when you visited her last summer. Or perhaps little grey-pink mushrooms, tenderly cooked. >[Yet Another Salad. Oy.] That's not a verb I recognize. >x wallpaper Ivory and powder-blue, with a tracery of blush roses. >x floorboards Long slender boards of fine wood. >push desk Nothing obvious happens. >pull desk Nothing obvious happens. >move desk Nothing obvious happens. >get desk Much too heavy to move significantly. >[hrm.] That's not a verb I recognize. >l Marie's Chamber Stripped of the elegant clutter it once possessed, the room still offers a charming view through the north window of the old grounds, and the way out is to the east. The wallpaper and floorboards are still as elegant as ever. Hanging on the wall is an elegant gilt-wood mirror, reflecting sunlight over the ground before it. Her desk remains, pushed against the wall. >get mirror (the gilt-wood mirror) Too heavy for you to remove. >i You are carrying: an old letter a pearl necklace (being worn) a dark wooden box (which is open) a mirror inset inside the box (reflecting white light from the sunlight) some household papers a small portrait a stone block an onion skin a sword a sack (which is open) three metal dishes: a hinge-lidded teapot (which is open but empty) a plate a cup four books: The Lavori d'Aracne Guide to Assorted Wines On Vegetable Dyes Clock Repair a crumpled paper a white handkerchief a butcher knife a sponge two recipe cylinders: an Andouillettes Recipe a Lentil Soup Recipe a burnt scrap of paper a swordstick a snuffbox (which is open) a quantity of snuff seven food items: a peeled onion a clove of garlic some andouillettes a sprig of mint a sprig of parsley a loaf of stale bread a bay leaf a dashing hat (being worn) >x household A small pile of papers, written over in Marie's handwriting, dealing with various day-to-day matters: menus for dinner parties, seating diagrams for the table, an account of how she had spent her pin-money. >read household You pass your eye over an intended menu, which Marie has laid out in rigorous detail from the soup to the cheeses, not leaving anything to chance, not even the ices to cleanse the palate. (You scowl a little at the concept of a beet- flavored ice, however. No doubt it would look pretty, but God knows about the taste.) >[beet-flavored ice? Oy.] That's not a verb I recognize. >read household You ruffle through a list of dresses and furbelows ordered. It seems that Marie still has a taste for brocaded silk, but there are also orders for three ostrich feathers, curled and dyed blue; a pair of heeled shoes with silver buckles; scented powder; three yards of imported gilt-edged lace; a half-dozen elbow- length gloves; and, most exorbitantly, a hooded navy cloak lined with swan's down. In your hunger, you imagine in great clarity quite at random a salad of dressed spinach greens in a vinaigrette, tossed with curried walnuts, such as they did at the house of the Princesse when you visited her last summer. Or perhaps purple-black Hellene olives in a tray, with the pits still in. >[Oy. Sigh.] That's not a verb I recognize. >read household You turn up elaborate designs for a model house that would exactly copy a real house, with all the doors and windows built, and links made, so that one could watch all comings and goings, and close and lock passages from a distance. At the bottom is added, in Marie's meticulous hand, "Would probably annoy half the adulterers in Paris. Pity." >read household You pass your eye over an intended menu, which Marie has laid out in rigorous detail from the soup to the cheeses, not leaving anything to chance, not even the ices to cleanse the palate. (You scowl a little at the concept of a beet- flavored ice, however. No doubt it would look pretty, but God knows about the taste.) >read household You pass your eye over an intended menu, which Marie has laid out in rigorous detail from the soup to the cheeses, not leaving any