From the Journal of Miss Rebecca Eversham-Mayne
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"Impartiality," one of my old governesses used to say, "that's the ticket."

Bunkum and balderdash, say I. If one cannot be partial, what, pray, is the point 
of engaging in the thing whereat one is told to be impartial? And in the 
composition of a journal or notes - well, I really fail to see how one can 
maintain sincere detachment.

However, the *poise* of detachment - ah, now, there is something to be said for 
that. It is so much more dignified than florid partisanship. And dignity is the 
path to power - for it convinces others that one has the power, and possession 
is nine-tenths of the law.

That, at least, is the doctrine taught me by another lady. Who was not suited to 
be any sort of governess, I fear.

And so, as I lie abed here in this promising new city, and my thoughts turn to 
the keeping of a journal - for what will surely come to pass here, soon, must 
doubtless shape my life and that of many others - I will adopt an air of 
diginified detachment, and tell my tale as it seems others might see it.

I am Rebecca Eversham-Mayne. Some folk, especially my fellow nationals, might 
deduce something from that, for I am the daughter of Pelinore Eversham-Mayne, 
Baronet, of the county of Bedfordshire. My father is a man of some means, but, I 
fear, a total lack of imagination, which fact of course serves many purposes. My 
mother, whose name is Caroline, comes of the Dalleyfitches, of Nottinghamshire, 
which may also signify to some, for that family, while entirely respectable in 
all definable respects, has very slightly doubtful associations in some minds. 
There is a suspicion of Irish blood, some generations past, and not merely Irish 
nobility, but perhaps even - well, the word my Aunt Philomena used was 
*Gentlefolk*. Take that as you will. Nonetheless, to the outrage of much of the 
county, my mother gave no-one anything to be outraged about, and we were all 
received in the most careful of houses. Even my aunt could cause no more than a 
few raised eyebrows... But I run ahead of myself.

My mother is, I think, a moderately intelligent woman, but I fear that she 
determined at some stage to establish her respectability beyond reasonable 
doubt. She further determined that I should do the same, and acquiesced in my 
father's conviction that a girl needed little more education than a series of 
governesses could provide. Naturally, I disagreed, but fortunately, the 
Eversham-Maynes have been at times, if not scholarly, then at least bibliophile. 
My mother, realising that I shared with her and many of her clan the curse of an 
intellect, assisted me in assuaging it in the family library.

Fortunately for my sense of proportion, Aunt Philomena came, on occasion, to 
stay. Philomena is no less formally respectable than Mama, but she works less 
hard at it. At length, when she had permitted herself to accept that her liking 
for me was based on genuine affection, and not mere family loyalty or other 
dangerous misjudgements, she expressed that liking in the most pleasing form 
possible - by arranging for my induction into the Sisterhood of Sekhmet.

By that time, my mother had realised that some manner of education was 
unavoidable, and had convinced my father that I should be sent to a suitable 
boarding school. "Suitable" meant, of course, deadly dull - but at least, I was 
able to add a grounding in the classics to my prior, useful knowledge, and to 
spend a substantial amount of time making study of the sport of archery, which 
is considered ladylike by many. (At home, I had already mastered the shotgun, to 
the detriment of the local game birds. My father was so pleased to see his 
offspring thus employed that he temporarily forgot my sex.)

I entered my early twenties while evading conventional questions of matrimony by 
the simple expedient of ignoring everything my parents said, while playing on 
their respective weaknesses. (Romance has never concerned me overmuch, and I 
have no particular ambitions therein, although my limited experience is that 
interest in one among the opposite sex should be very gently encouraged, thus 
ensuring that one has help to hand on odd occasions when it is needed.) I had, 
in fact, now acquired myself a somewhat conditional sort of independence. 
Recognising that the Sisterhood represented my best hope for a life worth the 
living, and that enjoyment of membership ultimately depended on the acquisition 
of a degree of authority in the organisation, I looked about me for some way to 
establish some increased standing.

My goals were simple; to achieve significant status within the Sisterhood, and 
to further the Sisterhood's interests at the same time. I found my opportunity 
when the question arose, at a meeting, of how we might establish themselves in 
the "new" lands of the American West. I simply volunteered to deal with the 
problem.

(Some, even among the Sisters, murmur that I am reckless. I prefer to recall a 
very old saying concerning ventures and gains.)

Manipulating my increasingly vague father was ludicrously easy; I simply raised 
the possibility of visiting Paris. This naturally shocked the poor old fellow so 
much that he had agreed to finance a round-the-world voyage as "compensation" 
before he'd finished prohibiting me from visiting the well-known City of Sin. 
Another, secret, member of the Sisterhood then agreed to act as my chaperone; 
this lady was actually en route to the Far East to conduct some business there, 
and I simply stepped off the ship in California with a courteous wave to the 
crew, while my "chaperone" explained that this was due to some (unspecified) 
personal, family matter. Having scandalously neglected most duties of 
correspondence to my parents, I estimate that I have a good three months before 
I have to so much as think about explaining anything to them - by which time, I 
believe that I should have established the basis for a future Sisterhood 
congregation in this city. If matters take a little longer - well, there is 
another saying, concerning the crossing of bridges.

What do I bring to this task? Well, little as I like to boast, I have been told 
that I mask a certain devious determination beneath a frivolous exterior, and my 
attempts to earn the approbation of "manipulative" occasionally bear fruit. If I 
am a little naive, as has been alleged, then I think that I can learn more than 
quickly enough. I attach a high value to matters of aesthetics, and that which 
appeals to my senses often proves effective; fortunately, I have catholic tastes 
in aesthetic matters. I have, as yet, few enemies, and some talent for avoiding 
the making of such - rivals in the Sisterhood, perhaps, but few who truly wish 
me great ill. This new and bustling city may impose more complex problems on me. 
We shall see.

I think that I will justify Aunt Philomena's faith in me; I hope so, for I value 
her good opinions highly. Now, it is time to set to work.

                              ---*---

Abilities:
* Athletics: Average. (Bookishness balanced by a country-estate upbringing.)
* Charisma: Average. (Not as good at manipulating people as she wants to be, but 
she hides her worst instincts.)
* Comeliness: Average. (Can't bring herself to make much effort.)
* Connections: Great. (She's self-evidently upper crust, and has worked hard at 
making friends and influencing people - despite the fact that she is rumoured to 
associate with a slightly strange crowd. She may be new in this continent, but 
she has the advantage of an old-world accent to open a few doors, and her 
slightly odd reputation has yet to catch up with her.)
* Courage: Good. (A moderately experienced sorceress and defier of convention, 
she is just plain wilful.)
* Education: Good. (Learnt where the keys to the library were at an early age, 
and used them while her governesses were dozing, then spent a few years at that 
boarding-school. Unfortunately, she couldn't convince enough people she was 
serious about wanting a university education.)
* Exchequer: Good. (A combination of money given for her trip by her father with 
resources assigned by the Sisterhood. She probably has a draft order deposited 
with the most trustworthy bank she's been able to find round the city. Her 
family are actually rich - but she's a long way from home, and can't call on 
their resources.)
* Fencing: Poor. (No training or interest.)
* Fisticuffs: Poor. (No training, interest, or thought that such things might be 
conceivable.)
* Marksmanship: Great. (More practiced with shotgun or bow than long arms or 
pistols, of course.)
* Perception: Average. (Bright, but often too wrapped up in herself to pay 
enough attention.)
* Performance: Average. (Spent more effort getting out of "entertainments" than 
anything else, due to embarassment. Would rather read a good book. However, some 
of those governesses hammered the basics into her.)
* Physician: Average. (Not trained, but sensible.)
* Physique: Average. (Fairly lightly built, but can be persuaded to take long 
walks on the grouse moors at times.)
* Social Graces: Great. (Her attempts to learn how to manipulate people, and 
thus get on in the Sisterhood, have mostly emerged here. Anyway, she had an 
upper-class up-bringing, and was paying attention at the time.)
* Sorcery: Good. (An innate ability, subject to extensive but slightly haphazard 
training.)
* Stealth: Average. (Not something for which she has previously found much use; 
the beaters get the grouse in the air, so you don't have to sneak up on them.)
* Tinkering: Poor. (That, sir, is what the servants are for. A product of her 
age, class, and nationality, I'm afraid.)