J&L: Emissary of the Eldritch (8)

PAF: "Quentin, old boy! Good to see you! Allow me to introduce my newest colleague, Professor George Litefoot."

QR: "Quentin Renwick, at your service. Purveyor of priceless parchments, obscure almanacs, recondite recording and treasured tomes."

PGL: "Quite the collection you have here, Quentin. I must say I'm impressed, speaking as something of a bibliophile."

QR: "Ah, then you are in the best of company here! We are all of us lovers of the lexicon, disciples of the dissertation. You know, not a week goes by without the Professor, the other professor I mean, coming here searching for some missing manuscript."

PAF: "Please Quentin, you make it sound like I pester you! Besides, it's a testament to your craft that you have never let me down. There's not a book that's been bound that Quentin here can't track down."

QR: "You're too kind. I merely provide a humble service. Now, how may I help you gentlemen?"

PAF: "Litefoot here has been trying to track down some particularly elusive material. Something even I have scant knowledge of."

QR: "Curiosity should never go unrewarded. Upon what topic are you ruminating, Litefoot? May as well try and narrow our search."

PGL: "I'm afraid I have precious little information to work with. Little more than a name in fact."

QR: "An author, I presume."

PAF: "No, the name is the subject. I believe it to be that of an Ancient God, but one whom I have only a fleeting knowledge of."

QR: "Ah, arcane advice pertaining to the Almighty? Follow me to the back room gentlemen. There I keep my most prized possessions. Mysterious mystical monographs, occult opuses, books of power and incomprehensible secrets. But pray tell,what is this name of which you speak about? I note neither of you has yet uttered its sound. Which dark deity could have you so shy?"

PGL: "Valgthoth. The name I seek is Valgthoth. Do you happen to recognize it?"

QR: "The name is familiar, though faintly. My, but you have particularly esoteric interests, Professor."

PGL: "What can you tell us about him?"

QR: "Not much, I'm afraid. The name appears in some of the oldest tomes and texts, he is one of the most ancient of recorded deities. Even then, there is some doubt among the scant sources available. Some scholars question if Valgthoth was ever worshiped, or always merely considered a myth to frighten children."

PAF: "And which do you believe, Quentin?"

QR: "There is no archaeological evidence of shines or symbols of worship for Valgthoth, I admit. And yet, I'm strangely drawn to the tales. Personally, I think he was worshipped as a God by the very earliest of human civilizations. A time preceding even cave drawings and communities."

PGL: "There's something fitting about all this, you know. It's ironic that there's so little tangible evidence of a deity personifying the very concept of nothingness. Is there anything else you can add, Quentin?"

PAF: "Surely there's something squirreled away in this den of yours."

QR: "There is one book. A most dangerous and occult tome, filled with various rituals and invocations. There is a small passage which refers to a method of inviting an emissary of Valgthoth to our realm. If you believe in such superstition, of course."

PGL: "May I see this passage? It would be of great assistance to my investigation."

QR: "I'm afraid that is be impossible. The book is quite fragile, and exceedingly expensive. It is a one of a kind item."

PAF: "Surely you can make an exception, for a dear friend such as myself?"

QR: "No Alistair. That book is private, and I cannot allow such knowledge to fall into... troublesome... hands. I'm sorry Professor Litefoot, but I can be of no further assistance. It would serve you well to forgot you ever heard the name Valgthoth. Some stones are best left unturned."

PGL: "Mr. Renwick, Quentin... I..."

QR: "I'm sorry, but you must leave, now. Both of you. My shop is closing. Good day to you."

*A brief commotion as the professors are shoved out, and the door latches shut*

PGL: "Well, that was somewhat abrupt. We need to see that book, Alistair. Perhaps if I contact the Inspector, he could procure a warrant..."

PAF: "Pay him no heed, George. He's prone to bouts of mild paranoia, nothing to worry about. I'll give him some time to come around, then ask him again when he's in his right mind. I'll contact you if and when I get through to the man. If nothing comes of it, then feel free to bring in the power of the law. Let's not be hasty though."

PGL: "Very well, Alistair. Thank you. I hope you succeed, for poor Howard's sake."

*Later that evening, Jago and Howard rejoin the Professor at his abode*

HGJ: "Ah, George! I've just set the young chap in his bed. Little tyke fell asleep on the carriage from the theatre. Didn't have the heart to wake him. It's rare enough he has settled dreams."

PGL: "I take it your afternoon was refreshingly uneventful then?"

HGJ: "No further visits from any nefarious fishmen, if that's what you mean. Howie and I kept busy backstage though, helping some of the acts prepare their performances. He's a bright lad, saw right through all of Mundungo's magical misdirects. Though I don't know if that says more about the boy or the magician."

PGL: "That's some small comfort, for my investigation turned up little worthy of note."

HGJ: "Your professor friend didn't recognize the name then?"

PGL: "He did, but only vaguely. He confirmed that Valgthoth is something of an ancient deity, about whom exists precious little documentation. He did know a bookseller however, who has a compendium of rituals that refer to our mysterious Valgthoth."

HGJ: "And, what did the book contain?"

PGL: "No earthly idea, Jago. The man became agitated as soon as we asked to see the text, then ushered us out with a manic gleam in his eyes. He was a dashed curious chap, very fond of alliteration. He could even give you a run for your money."

HGJ: "He's welcome to try! But my predilection for precise patter is without peer!"

PGL: "You have nothing to fear, old chap. I'm sure you could run verbal rings around him."

HGJ: "Is there no hope of us getting a glimpse of this book then? We're running out of leads, being hunted by frogmen, and Howie is missing his mother more and more with each passing moment."

PGL: "I know, Henry. I wish there was something more we could do, but we have so little to work with. Alistair did say he'd try and talk some sense into Quentin, but..... wait."

HGJ: "What?"

PGL: "Did you hear that? A kind of scuffling noise. Like something rustling in the bushes outside."

HGJ: "Surely it's just a foraging fox or something?"

PGL: "Probably, but I should still check the window, just to be... Corks!"

HGJ: "Frogmen! There must be half a dozen traipsing up your garden path. I can't make out their numbers through the gloom."

PGL: "Then we are under siege, Jago. It's going to be a long night."