Is the width of its walls, sheer and strong.
Thrice-gated, though, with glass:
Frail fencing for a treasure-trove!
“For in Fatland, visits from vikings
Are few and far between;
Fear rules fellows, makes men meek,
Glass gates are good enough.
“That barrier breached, all the land’s luxury
Lies ready for reaping.
Here’s what my memory holds
Of how it is sorted.
“Long lanes, laden with loot
Wide ways, well made for waging war
Like the roads of the red-crested Romans
Ordered just so, as warp and weft.
“Too many for merchants to memorize,
Marked, therefore, with runes they can read.
Romans wrote them first. The fat ones stole them,
As well as Arabs’ numerals, arranged below.
“For each district of the treasure-town,
A Roman rune written, raised high
For each lane lying below it,
An Arabic number to know it.
“South face the glass gates; the fat fool
Northward led me, shouldering them aside
Greeting a guard, vested in blue,
Scarcely strength to stand had that old ogre.
“To our right, ranks of clashing carts
Waiting to be wheeled and weighed down
By Fatlanders too frail for fardels.
Sight-seers only, we spurned these.
“Till-keepers’ tables cluttered our view.
Beyond them, still north-questing,
Kiosks and cairns covered the place,
Towers of trifles.
“From there, to the west, lies all the food in the world.
North, a cornucopia of clothing, all colors.
Doubling back south, white witches
Doling out drugs, physicians’ philtres.
“Eastward, though, lies victory for vikings.
Counting the cairns, the merchandise-mounds
Standing in the center of the wide east-west way,
Stop at the sixth. Atop it’s an image:
“A fair lass, tresses flowing,
Like the lush Linndalsfallet,
Where it rushes over rocks,
Teeth shining like Sn?fellsj?kull.
“Cradled in the lass’s hands, a bottle,
Bewitching brew, beautifying the hair.
Below it, many more such, stacked like soldiers.
That is the landmark that leads you to the left.
“A long lane, laden with loot.
Its rune is like Berkano: the Beginning.
Its number, one score and five.
Let it lead you north. Little more to say,
“For in fewer than five paces
Is what your hand has hungered for
Since you found yourself in Fatland,
Alone and naked: Numberless knives, new and needy.”
Thus the blanket-wearer, who now bated,
Hefting a horn, whetting his whistle.
“More mead, if you are willing, witch.
There’s riches in this tale.”
Ingibj?rg was the witch’s name.
South of Sverevík, alone she abided
Here in this hut, cozy, kept clean,
Cats her companions, dogs her defenders.
“Let none say I don’t serve a guest sweetly.
Here is your horn, more mead for Magnus.
Gladly I’ll listen to more of your story
But the riches you rave of mean ruin for me.
“Here in my hut I am happy.
Grief-bringing gold, land needing labor,
Swords, slaves, silks, swag: to what end
Should, I, Ingibj?rg, buy into this business?”
“For that there’s an answer,” said Magnus.
“Gráinne’s grief made her great with rage,
Drove her to desolate ditapps,
Reddened her hands with friends’ blood.
“To you, welcoming witch, I’ll have more to say
When the sun sheds its light on the shore
And cocks crow. Now is night-work,
Telling the tale to Tóki, the skald.”
Drinking deep of the mead, whetting his whistle,
Magnus made the most of it then,
Telling to me, Tóki, tales of Walmart,
Where the weapons were, how to find food.
When the sun shed its light on the shore,
When the cocks crowed, home I hied,
Wrote it in runes, left nothing out,
Then slept soundly.
“Tóki, time to depart!” were the next words I heard.
Magnus and Ingibj?rg stood staring.
“Distant ditapps await us. Hardy heroes
Restless to ramble, we’ll sway them to our side!”
Blanket-bound was he still, blowing on blue hands.
“Furs I will fetch you, friend,” said I. “No need
To ride so rude-clad, cold and uncovered.”
“We won’t ride,” said he, “naked will both of us be
“When the witch has her way, and we’re at the ditapp.”
“Sending it’s to be then,” said I, “travel through time,
Dark and dangerous. Ingibj?rg’s will
Isn’t what it was when last I heard tell.”
The witch was fur-clad, fierce-faced,
Fingering her skein, but half in this world.
“I have heard tell from the man Magnus
Of a future that is to be feared.
“Alchemists and astronomers, addling
The wits of witches, stripping us of our strength,
Helpless hags they’d make of us. I’ll not have it.
Put away your pen. In a peat bog, bury the bark.
“Let it lie there, a legend
For our friends in the future to find.
The story will stay in your mind, son of Olaf.
Tell it true, when you get to the ditapp.”
Exchange of posts by DODO staff on
“Diachronic Ops-misc” ODIN channel
DAY 1943 (MONDAY BEFORE THANKSGIVING, YEAR 5)
Post from Dr. Melisande Stokes:
Checking on a DEDE assignment I just got that confuses me. In two days I’m supposed to go to San Francisco 1850 to recruit an immigrant Chinese witch there. It’s listed as a one-day DEDE, so I’ll be home in time for Thanksgiving dinner, supposedly.
Chinese is my weakest language. We have five DOers who are fluent, three of them ethnically Chinese, at least one of those (Julie Lee) not only currently available but also (FWIW) a MUON. I’m curious why I was assigned this DEDE?
Also, regardless of who goes, I’d like to see the Chronotron data on why we need to recruit this witch so close to July 1851. Whether the goal is to bring her forward to work as a contemporary witch, or to do some final magical adjustments in those last few months . . . why not go back several years earlier and recruit her directly from China? I’m sure that data has already been crunched by the Chronotron (cc’ing Dr. Oda and Mortimer for confirmation), but I find this puzzling.
Reply from Mortimer Shore:
Dr. Oda is still “on vacation” (read: getting ready for the ATTO move on Friday). I will look into all this ASAP but I am a little overwhelmed with work right now. My understanding is that Gordon Healey and Mary Case are our data-whisperers there at the moment and they’re both cool. They’re not great at communicating in regular English though. I can ask them to summarize stuff for me and I’ll get back to you about it.
From Dr. Roger Blevins:
Dr. Stokes,
I understand you have reservations about your Wednesday assignment, and out of respect for your senior position within DODO, I am willing to respond to them, although it is against protocol for a DOer to question their mission. While I understand that you would like an explanation, you do not require one to do your job.