TK Special #7 - Return to the M'Verse: An Ooorah Anthology

Basilisk - by @johnnedwill

Basilisk

by johnnedwill

Chevalier Toussaint looked up from his newspaper. There it was again - the sound of the doorbell, intruding into his morning routine. He turned towards Yves, his mechanical amanuensis and assistant. "Yves?" 

"Yes, chevalier?" There was a whirring of clockwork from her internal mechanisms as Yves bowed her head.

"There is someone at the door. Would you please ... ?"

"Of course, chevalier." Yves made her way out of the drawing room and into the hall of the Parisian apartment, her feet click-clacking on the polished marble floor. Yves had originally been constructed as a rich man's plaything; her origins were still evident in her graceful poise and movements. However, she had suffered sufficient abuse that she had killed her previous master. Now she was officially the property of the chevalier, Martin Toussaint. Being a mécanique, she needed an owner. Otherwise she would be an errant piece of scrap, fit only to be disposed of. Toussaint could not abide the destruction of something so useful, so elegant.

From the front door came the buzz of indistinct conversation, followed by the measured pace of Yves' return. Toussaint folded his newspaper.

"Professor Bernard of the Academy of Sciences and Philosophy,' Yves informed Toussaint in her nightingale voice. She held out a silver tray with a pasteboard visiting card on it.

Toussaint took the card. "Indeed." He put his newspaper onto the side table beside his armchair and stood up. "Shall we see what the gentleman wants from us?"

"Yes, chevalier."

Yves returned a moment later with the visitor. The professor was a short man, clean-shaven but with a mop of straggly white hair. He held a bowler hat in his left hand, leaving his right hand free to be extended in greeting towards the chevalier. "Chevalier Martin Toussaint?" the professor enquired. "I am Professor Arsene Bernard."

Toussaint took the professor's hand and shook it vigourously. "To what do I owe the honour of a visit from one of les Anciens?"

"Ah. Yes." Bernard glanced furtively around the morning room. "It is a rather complicated matter, and may take some time to explain."

"Then sit." Toussaint gestured towards a well-stuffed chaise-longue. The professor held out his coat and hat for Yves to take, then took up the chevalier's invitation. "Some coffee, perhaps? I often find myself in need of stimulation at this hour of the day."

The professor shook his head. "No, thank you."

"Then you will forgive me if I indulge?" Toussaint glanced towards Yves. The mécanique acknowledged the request and left for the apartment's kitchen. "So, professor. I am intrigued to hear the reason for your visit."

Professor Bernard leaned forward, a look of earnest worry on his face. "Please understand that it has taken a significant effort for me to come to you. I am a rational man - a man of science, not superstition. I pride myself on my intelligence. However, there are some things that I cannot explain."

Toussaint settled himself into his armchair. "But surely it is the mission of a philosopher such as yourself to contemplate the unknown?"

"Indeed, but ... ." The professor sighed. Then, seized by a sudden burst of energy, he stood up. "But it is impossible to be rational when one is placed under such a mental assault as I have been subject to."

"It is understandable. Existential threats often have that effect, professor."

Bertrand rounded on the chevalier, his face pale with a mixture of fear and anger. "How can you know this? How can you know that I am currently in fear for my life?"