Seamus Tripp & the Changelings

By Jon Garett

A business invitation arrives at Tripp’s Imports & Antiquities, and the shop’s owner, the incomparable world traveler Seamus Tripp, consents to his most chilling excursion yet: visiting his boring old schoolmate Nigel the Newt... now Lord Newt of a sleepy town in Cornwall.

But when Seamus and his accountant, Myron Fish, arrive in the village to make arrangements for the import of Lord Newt’s mushrooms, they realize that all is not what it seems: the hamlet's children are being snatched, and Gordon, Seamus’s shy nephew, and Elie, his promising charge, could be next!

Investigate with Seamus as he unravels the truth of a mystery that goes back centuries and extends beyond the earthen realm; one which wends through myth and legend and threatens those closest to him!

The Adventure of Seamus Tripp & the Thunderbird is a full, novella length story that can be read in any order with the rest of The Adventures of Seamus Tripp.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jon Garett
• Release date: Apr 3, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311964649

Jon Garett

Jon Garett and Richard Walsh are the creators and co-authors of The Adventures of Seamus Tripp.Jon and Richard are both Virgos, and they throw the full planning and attention-to-detail typical of the sign into the world of Seamus Tripp. The stories are woven with humor, a memorable stable of characters, recurring narrative arcs, and - of course - lots and lots of adventure.The authors have been friends and creative collaborators for more than 20 years, with much of their previous creative energy going into roleplaying games, board games, and individual projects.The world of Seamus Tripp represents an equal partnership that blends their shared interests in genre fiction, world religions and spirituality, cryptozoology, and - of course - adventure.

Book preview

Seamus Tripp & the Changelings

By:

Jon Garett & Richard Walsh

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2014 Jon Garett & Richard Walsh

Cover art by H Elizabeth Killmer

Cover design by Tom Vogel

Chapter One: Mushrooms from Cornwall

Gordon Tripp paused in his journaling and looked up. He was tucked beneath the salon’s grand staircase at the desk he used for his daily writing. He was nearly thirteen years old and aspired to be a great writer.

Today’s particular exercise was giving him trouble, not on account of the exercise itself – observe today’s weather and create a comparison to an article of clothing – but because of all of the other goings-on in the shop’s front room.

Seamus Tripp, Gordon’s uncle as well as the co-owner and namesake of Tripp’s Imports & Antiquities, stood behind the long wooden bar that served as the shop’s front counter arguing with his business partner, the accountant Myron Fish. Their voices rose as they pointed and counter-pointed, a ruckus Gordon was certain would distract even the most seasoned of writers.

I’m certain it will be a profitable, trip, Seamus was saying. "So certain, in fact, that you will be able to accomplish it completely in solo operandi."

This was the sort of conversational flourish typical of Seamus, and while it sounded quite fancy, Gordon knew it was actually rather meaningless. He opened his mouth to say as much but Myron spoke first.

I appreciate your vote of confidence and your questionable classical grammar, he said. "But this account requires your personal touch. Besides, he’s your friend. You must make introductions."

Newt is not my friend. He’s at best an acquaintance.

"But your acquaintance, not mine."

He was a toadstool when I knew him and I little doubt he’s changed. I need no more introduce you to him as to a toadstool.

Come now. He is a peer. One does not attain the title Lord without some merit.

The merit of an equally titled father.

I’m sure there’s more to him than all that.

This gave Seamus pause. Perhaps there is, he said finally. Newt did always enjoy observing frogs and lilypads and mushrooms.

See there! A man of varied interests…

So take the children along.

"The children? said Myron incredulously. The lip below his pencil-thin mustache quivered. For what?"

Gordon enjoys nature inasmuch as it provides him inspiration for creating his ‘word pictures.’ He and old Lord Nigel should become fast friends whilst Nigel searches for lizards and the boy searches for synonyms.

Reptiles… Gordon started to say, thinking Seamus meant synonyms for lizards but Myron cut him off again.

And Elie? Elie Doolittle was the granddaughter of the shop’s housekeeper, Mrs. Doolittle.

And Elaine enjoys creating more literal pictures, interested as she is in art. And I believe Nigel the Newt has a daughter. Perhaps she and Elaine will strike up a rapport.

Gordon cringed at this suggestion. While he loved the idea of a trip to Cornwall, where the Lord Newt lived, he did not savor the idea of taking it with just Myron and Elie. Such a trip would be more trying on his nerves than it was worth.

Elie was seated on the other side of the parlor from Gordon, her long red hair tied back as she sketched at her easel. She was looking out at Charter Street, the bustling thoroughfare outside the shop, but she also took note of Seamus’s suggestion and looked up.

Oh, please, please take me with! she said to Myron. She was fourteen years old and visiting Boston from Abigail Adams Academy, her preparatory school in Washington, D.C., because of some disciplinary episode Gordon knew involved mice and the headmistress's office. We just studied the Elizabethan period and I could contribute much to our conversations with Lord Newt and his daughter!

He goes by Lord Uhelbar, now, said Seamus, but otherwise my take is that Cornwall has not advanced much past the reign of Queen Elizabeth. He smirked, the sure sign that he had made a joke which all listening should enjoy.

No one responded.

Because… he began to explain but apparently thought better of it, turning now to look at Gordon. Gort, don’t look so damnably forlorn. You’ll get to go, too.

Gordon looked down at his journal. His best writing exercise result of the day had read the chill of the spring air covered him like a cold, wet wool coat. Now he imagined that cold wetness as a metaphor for the trip to Cornwall. He needed to think of a way to get Seamus to come with, too.

In addition to the Elizabethan period, continued Elie, still making the case for Myron to accept Seamus’s suggestion, we raised tadpoles last semester and watched them morph into frogs. If Lord Newt is interested in them I could surely discuss those as well.

And paint them, too, no doubt, Seamus said helpfully.

Myron cocked an eyebrow. Fine. The children can come.

Elie clapped and Gordon stifled a groan, and just then the shop’s front doorbell chimed. A great gust of cold, damp air blew in, accompanied by the shop’s best customer, Mrs. Dahlia Gristmill.

****

Seamus Tripp was grateful for Mrs. Gristmill’s sudden arrival. It had stopped, or at least paused, the interminable conversation with Myron vis-à-vis the business trip to Cornwall to visit old Nigel the Newt, now called Lord Uhelbar.

Back in their school days Nigel had been more interested in bugs and frogs than pranks, and had afforded to all things natural a reverence Seamus thought ought to be reserved to the things that transcended nature. Or at least the things that allowed people to transcend it. Newt, for his part, had always said that there was nothing more to the world than what met the eye, and they had left it at that.

Now, nearly twenty years later, Newt had come into a titled estate in a sleepy village on the edge of Britannia. He had turned his powers of naturalistic observation to his new trappings, exploring his new grounds leaf by leaf and lizard by lizard.

During that exploration of the property, according to an overly verbose telegram, he had come upon a great swath of naturally occurring amanita muscaria. Fly agaric was the quintessential toadstool, known dismissively as pixie caps to yokels unaware of its true powers. It was a mushroom of such potency, used much in ritual magicks and in many hoodoo concoctions, that Seamus knew it would be a sure winner with the aristocratic practitioners of his adopted city, Boston, and the loyal customers of his shop.

But in arranging for Myron’s trip, Seamus had nearly been ensnared as well. Certainly the shop would benefit financially from Newt’s toadstools, but Seamus wanted no part in the trip itself: the dreary ennui of a week in Cornwall with Lord Nigel the Newt! Best to leave that to the accountant and the children.

So it was with some relief that Seamus turned to welcome Mrs. Gristmill, the truest embodiment of an aristocratic practitioner and loyal