 Recorded Books Presents 1637 Dr. Gribble Flots and the Soul of Stoner by Karen Offord and Rick Boatwright, narrated by me, George Waddell. Prologue, May 1636, Prague. Dr. Philip Theophrastus Gribble Flots stood back while his patron, King Venceslas V Adalbertus, formerly known as Albrecht Vensel Oisebius von Wallenstein, was helped back into his bed by his valet. Enough, the King roared, waving away the man who was trying to drape a blanket over his shoulders. He looked pointedly at the cloth-covered item on the three-legged easel a couple of servants had carried into the room when Philip arrived. What do you have to show me, he demanded. Philip allowed himself a quick smile of satisfaction as he gazed at the cloth-covered item. I have recently achieved an advance in the science of color photography. He gestured for one of the servants to remove the cloth. Your Majesty, I give you the Gribble Chrome. King Venceslas leaned forward to get a better look. Amazing! He looked at Philip. That is your good wife and your children? Yes, Philip said, as he cast his eyes over the Gribble Chrome image of Dina, John, and Salome. The color needed more work, but the image was a good proof of concept. He was just about to say that, suitably rephrased for the ear of his patron, when the doors burst open. Philip's initial reaction was on of abject terror. He knew his patron's uptime history. On February 25, 1634, in the Uptimers' universe, assassins burst into Wallenstein's, as the king was then known, bedchamber and murdered him. Was this an assassination? Terror turned to relief when Philip spotted the massive turban with its equally enormous gemstone brooch worn by the great Dr. Thomas Stone. It was not assassins after all. With his heart rate returning to normal, Philip allowed himself to be distracted, but the costume Dr. Stone was wearing. How is it possible that the man responsible for some of the great colors that he personally wore would wear something so drab as a black turban, even if it did sport silver threads? Thanks be to the Lord Jesus, Dr. Stone bellowed. I am here in time. Gupta, the violet ray, this is an emergency. They should have made for the king, this was after all the king's chamber, but they did not. Instead, both made for Philip. His heart rate started to spike again. Dr. God save us! Dr. Stone shouted. Dr. Stone started spraying Philip with something from a bottle. There was renewed panic as Philip put up his hands to protect his finery. Yoshakras, Dr. Stone said, are fluctuating so dangerously that we felt the effects in the antechambers. Philip swallowed. That comment, plus the obvious urgency in Dr. Stone's manner, scared him. He was distracted when Dr. Stone's companion Gupta Ryde Singh shone a light into his eyes. Off to his right Philip could hear Dr. Stone saying something to the king as he waved something over Philip's torso, but he could not follow what was being said. There was something about his Meshawaka being drained and his Sheboygan being enlarged. He knew they were shocker energies and he got the impression that there was something seriously wrong with him. They are, he managed to ask. It is? When you drink wine at dinner, do you sometimes feel dizzy when you ride Sahib? Gupta asked and mangled German. Do you find yourself waking in the night with a terrible need to relieve yourself? Do you find yourself stumbling over nothing? Do you sometimes forget a word or a name that you know as well as your own? Philip paled as he wondered what was wrong with him. He could tell from the way Gupta Ryde Singh was looking at him that it had to be bad. He shot a glance at the grivel chrome of Dina and the children. Could this be the last time his eyes set upon them? Gupta thrust a hand at Philip's belly and it started flashing, as if it had a light inside the hand that was flashing. Sahib, Dr. Thomas, he screamed, the Meshawaka, there is no time I must operate. Philip barely had time to take in her Singh's last word before Dr. Stone shoved him into a chair and ruthlessly yanked up and tore open his clothing, probably damaging his fine lime-green linen shirt beyond repair, and then her Singh plunged his fingers into his belly. Philip stared at the hand that was digging around inside his body and then her Singh pulled out something bloody and sticky. Her Singh opened his hand to reveal a mass of what looked like bloody hair and things best left unidentified. You see, Gupta shouted as he waved his prize for all to see, you see, it was almost too late. That was the last Philip took in as his traumatized mind decided it had had enough. A sample complete. Ready to continue?