“For me, no, waiting isn’t the worst part of the job” Joseph said. “The worst part for me comes at the end, for the cases that don’t end right.”

Matthew nodded.

“Yes. I’m still bothered by how the doctor turned out.” Martin remarked cryptically.

“Oh…” Mr. Carter exclaimed. The conversation had taken a turn he didn’t expect.

“You don’t need to worry, Mr. Carter.” Joseph said. “Our cases always end well for the living. It’s the ghosts that are sometimes beyond our ability to help.”

“Well…don’t think I’m unsympathetic to ghosts.” Mr. Carter thought it prudent to voice his sympathies toward ethereal man, just in case Teddy’s rumor happened to be true. “Which ones didn’t end well, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Have you heard the story of Ellington House?”

“Ellington House…no, I don’t recall an Ellington House…no, wait! That was the case in Epping forest! The house that appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the woods, and the four young people that got stuck in it when their mechanical buggy broke down on the nearby road! I remember that one!”

“Yes, that was the case.” Joseph said.

“But didn’t it end well? The ghost was at peace by the end of the story.”

“Yes, he was in a better position than when the whole thing started, but he still had a lot of regrets, and a lot of pain.” Joseph said. “Illustrated Phantom Stories likes to stop the story just as the ghost quiets down…but that’s never the whole story.”

Matthew nodded. “No, it isn’t.”

“Mr. Carter, we like to make sure our clients, humans and manes, are happy, not just at peace.” Martin said.

Mr. Carter attempted to steer the conversation back towards a more positive direction. “Well…as a layman, it’s all this waiting that gets to me! Do you gentlemen have to do a lot of waiting upon ghosts? Is this a common thing in your line of work?”

“Oh yes,there is quite a lot of waiting in manesology.” Joseph said.

“I figured that Illustrated Phantom Stories edited out the waiting. In their stories, you three always seem to open the door just as the ghost does something.”

“Hm. Yes.” Joseph said. “It’s a good thing ghosts tend to be an awfully punctual lot. Otherwise we’d be doing a lot of this a lot of times for a lot of nothing. The Birkman Road rider, he always makes his rounds at midnight. The Harkingwood bride, she always sings to greet the sunrise. The Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow, he always rides on Halloween night.”

“Hold on a moment. He’s real?” Mr. Carter was dumbstruck. “The Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow? The Washington Irving character? His story was true?”

“His story was based on true events.” Joseph said. “Mr. Irving took some liberties, but on the whole, he gave an accurate account of the legend. He was far more accurate than Illustrated Phantom Stories, that’s for sure.”

“So…wait. He wasn’t Brom Bones?”

“Brom Bones was a fictional character invented by Irving. The Headless Horseman was real.”

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“Unbelievable! Have you ever met him? I know you’ve been to America a few times.”

“No. But others have. The American manesologists, the Poeists, they love him. He’s their mascot. They arrange parties for the old Hessian and his midnight rides. They dress up like it’s the 18th century every Halloween and line his run with lanterns and cheer like banshees as he goes galloping by. The poor ghost. God only knows what he thinks of it all.” Joseph sighed. “Oh, how I look forward to the day one of them tries to touch him and he chops them off at the neck!”

And there it was--another little wad of grimness tossed Mr. Carter’s way. The theater owner couldn’t help but cringe. Why were manesologists like this? They tossed out grim observations like one would say something about the weather. Mr. Carter guessed that prowling around haunted houses and graveyards must have given them a distorted perception of what was appropriate for small talk.

Martin saw Mr. Carter cringe. “Don’t mind the old man, Mr. Carter.” he said. “He’s still upset from the Revolutionary War. General Cornwallis was an old classmate of his, you see, so Yorktown rubbed him the wrong way.”

“I dislike American manesologists for the same reason I dislike Americans in general--they’re loud, brass, and self-centered.” Joseph said.

Martin smirked. “Mr. Carter, have you heard about the evolutionary theory of niche competition?” Martin looked at Joseph. “How the more similar one organism is to another, the more likely it is that they will compete over ecological niches?”

Mr. Carter chuckled. “I may have heard something about that!” he said.

As grim as these manesologists were, at least they balanced their grimness with humor. Dr. Glass and Dr. Morton got along like a nephew with his favorite uncle.

Mr. Carter gazed at the olprt radiance. He had feared the silvery-white light when he first saw it in the offices of Ernst, Morton, and Glass, but now, after spending so much time within its glow, it no longer held any fear for him. Even the black spike in his chest revealed by the light had lost its menace. He began to appreciate the beauty of the radiance. It was like moonlight. It was soft and gentle and warm.

“This is really a very pretty light.” Mr. Carter said.

“It is.” Martin said. “To think, long ago, there used to be gaeite spires that reached higher than the mountains. Imagine what it must have looked like from high above--moonlight colored needles all around the planet! Earth used to have stars that rose to meet the stars of heaven.”

“They aren’t just beautiful.” Mr. Carter said. “Though they are indeed beautiful. I’m struck by how useful they are, I mean for things besides ghosts. We’ve been sitting here for ages, but I don’t feel like getting a blanket.”

Matthew checked his own pocket watch. “It’s only been a few minutes.”

“We still have your blanket if you’d like it.” Joseph said.

“No need! It normally gets so cold in here if you don’t keep moving around, but not with these candles. Their light is as warm as it is bright.”

“They truly are very versatile devices.” Joseph said. “Even used as ordinary candles, they're useful. With other candles, you have to worry about the rain and the wind and no matter what you do, some wax will always end up on your hand. But gaeite doesn’t burn, never melts, and can’t go out. It’s just heat, light, and magic.”

Joseph smirked at Martin. “And if Dr. Glass wouldn't get upset over me doing it, I’d even use my candle to warm my soup and light my pipe.”

“You would think of the most mundane uses for the Dyeus’ miracle, wouldn’t you?” Martin asked.

“Of course! Why, the Dyeus themselves used it for mundane purposes! It’s just for them, ghosts and thaumaturgy were mundane, everyday things. If the four races of the Dyeus were born in our modern world, I bet you they would be using their gaeite to warm their food, make their coffee, and light their pipes.”

“And I bet they would have the mental faculties to get up and go set the stove.” Martin said. “Unlike some people, who have to helplessly wait for others to do it for them.”

“What do you think, Dr. Ernst?” Joseph asked, “Do you think the Dyeus would have used their candles to warm their food or do you see the Great Ghost Kings fumbling for a spark at the stove?”

“I think it’s getting too late in the evening for games, you two.” Matthew said.

“Ha. Coward!” Joseph grinned. “But regardless, Mr. Carter, it’s very handy to have a light that never goes out. It’s like having a pocket knife that never dulls.”

“It never goes out?” Mr. Carter asked. “But isn’t it powered by a battery--a normal battery?”

“Yes.” Matthew answered. “And it can run out if you don’t watch it, but it’s possible to feed some of the energy created by the olprt back into the battery. You can keep it going forever if you’re smart about it. Just producing olprt like we’re doing now, we could do that forever. But if we started performing specific Operations over a long period of time, we would have to watch the battery.”

“Ah, perpetual motion!” Mr. Carter gazed with wonder at the candle. “These small things truly are filled with miracles! Why, if you could attach one of these to a dynamo…”

Martin smiled. “No offense, Mr. Carter, but that hungry look in your eyes is why the Ror Raas are very selective with who they share their gaeite with.”

“Ah. Yes. I understand.” Mr. Carter quickly pulled his eyes away from the candle. “The consequences of misusing gaeite were made very clear at London.”

“Personally, I think they ought not to hoard it like they do.” Joseph said.

“You would take a reckless position.” Martin said. “If gaeite was handed out to everyone, the world would be destroyed in an hour or so, maybe less.”

“If man is meant to destroy himself, then he’ll do it. He’ll do it with sticks and stones if it's really in his nature.” Joseph said. “But if it's not in his nature, then I think he can hold the sun in his hands and all will be well.”

“That shows a good deal of faith in mankind.” Mr. Carter said.

“Well, I ought to, right? After all, I’m part of mankind!”

“Ah, of course, of course! It’s just that…well…you know, some rumors contest that fact.”