“I’m nauseous from all of these
picturesque lanes and quaint shops,” Redd had announced. “It suits
my
niece perfectly. She can have it.”
Soon thereafter, Redd had arrived on the streets of England’s capital city. A haughty-faced woman with cottony edges, a purring cat riding on her shoulders, and over one hundred international rogues massed behind her, Londoners had gaped and gawked as she called Vollrath and Sacrenoir to her side in Trafalgar Square to discuss where to live. “There’s always Buckingham Palace.”
“Beneath me,” Redd had scorned. “I won’t acknowledge their ‘queen’ by taking over her hovel.” “Then you’ll no doubt find the mansions of their dukes and duchesses beneath you.” “No doubt.”
“There is another possibility,” Vollrath had said. “It’s an enormous structure, predominantly of iron and glass, the size of which suggests to many the strength of a mighty empire as well as boundless imagination. They say it houses the marvels of the age, from steam hammers, hydraulic presses, firearms, furniture, pianos, pottery, perfumes, diving suits, fabrics, and—” “Enough!” Redd had commanded. “I expect nothing great from Earth imaginations, but to shut you up, I will suffer you to take me there.”
The Crystal Palace was located on Sydenham Hill in the south of London, an Erector set of elaborate ironwork and 350,000 square yards of glass panels. But its palatial courts—examples of technological progress and human ingenuity—were almost overshadowed by its painstakingly landscaped parks, their terraces and gardens complete with waterfalls and man-made lakes in the center of which jets of water shot twenty feet into the air.
“What do you think?” Vollrath had asked as they stood by the Lower Lakes whose grounds were home to statues of actual-sized dinosaurs.
“Eh,” Redd had grunted. “I suppose it’ll have to do.” It was Sunday, the Crystal Palace closed to the public. Much to the disappointment of Redd’s soldiers, aside from a few broken windows and a scuffle or two with lonely security guards, they had commandeered the palace without incident. And it was now, as Her Imperial Viciousness was passing through the Italian Court, that she glimpsed her reflection in a bit of decorative glass—a charismatic and (she thought) crystal-genic leader stuffed into an unflattering Earth dress. With a dismissive sweep of her arm, thread became rose vines, the weave of silk became rose vines, frills of lace became rose blossoms whose petal-mouths opened and closed, clacking their teeth. The Cat sprang off Redd’s shoulder and morphed into a humanoid assassin, which caused a murmur of awe to pass among those recruits who’d never seen him at his most dangerous. “Earth’s high society will have to contend with us in earnest now,” Redd said. “Good,” purred The Cat.
niece perfectly. She can have it.”
Soon thereafter, Redd had arrived on the streets of England’s capital city. A haughty-faced woman with cottony edges, a purring cat riding on her shoulders, and over one hundred international rogues massed behind her, Londoners had gaped and gawked as she called Vollrath and Sacrenoir to her side in Trafalgar Square to discuss where to live. “There’s always Buckingham Palace.”
“Beneath me,” Redd had scorned. “I won’t acknowledge their ‘queen’ by taking over her hovel.” “Then you’ll no doubt find the mansions of their dukes and duchesses beneath you.” “No doubt.”
“There is another possibility,” Vollrath had said. “It’s an enormous structure, predominantly of iron and glass, the size of which suggests to many the strength of a mighty empire as well as boundless imagination. They say it houses the marvels of the age, from steam hammers, hydraulic presses, firearms, furniture, pianos, pottery, perfumes, diving suits, fabrics, and—” “Enough!” Redd had commanded. “I expect nothing great from Earth imaginations, but to shut you up, I will suffer you to take me there.”
The Crystal Palace was located on Sydenham Hill in the south of London, an Erector set of elaborate ironwork and 350,000 square yards of glass panels. But its palatial courts—examples of technological progress and human ingenuity—were almost overshadowed by its painstakingly landscaped parks, their terraces and gardens complete with waterfalls and man-made lakes in the center of which jets of water shot twenty feet into the air.
“What do you think?” Vollrath had asked as they stood by the Lower Lakes whose grounds were home to statues of actual-sized dinosaurs.
“Eh,” Redd had grunted. “I suppose it’ll have to do.” It was Sunday, the Crystal Palace closed to the public. Much to the disappointment of Redd’s soldiers, aside from a few broken windows and a scuffle or two with lonely security guards, they had commandeered the palace without incident. And it was now, as Her Imperial Viciousness was passing through the Italian Court, that she glimpsed her reflection in a bit of decorative glass—a charismatic and (she thought) crystal-genic leader stuffed into an unflattering Earth dress. With a dismissive sweep of her arm, thread became rose vines, the weave of silk became rose vines, frills of lace became rose blossoms whose petal-mouths opened and closed, clacking their teeth. The Cat sprang off Redd’s shoulder and morphed into a humanoid assassin, which caused a murmur of awe to pass among those recruits who’d never seen him at his most dangerous. “Earth’s high society will have to contend with us in earnest now,” Redd said. “Good,” purred The Cat.
Redd might have declared her entrance to Earth society official on Sunday, but it wasn’t until Monday that Earth society learned of it. Palace employees—cashiers, ticket takers, tour guides, and security