Silhouette's investigations of supporters of Moire--various nobles and their underlings--lead her to many different characters as time passes. One of the most prominent, and elusive, is a gentleman named Lamell, a close confidant of the now-vanished Princess Rilsa. If anyone has any insight into where Moire is likely to be, Lamell would be it.
Rilsa, Moire's daughter (and mother to Jerod) has retired from Rebma to a shell in the Seawards, Rebma's equivalent of the Golden Circle, and Lamell is one of the agents left in charge of her extensive dealings (financial and presumably otherwise) in the city. Reputation makes Lamell one of the few mere males who dared to speak to Rilsa as anything like an equal. He was one of Jerod's tutors, a sorcerer, and a Knight of the Coral, one of the knightly orders that paralleled those in Amber.
During her investigations and her time in Rebma, Silhouette has made a number of connections who could offer introductions. As a Patternwalker and a Lady of Amber (or Xanadu, or however she claims to introduce herself), Silhouette could bypass the formalities and simply summon Lamell, or invite him to the palace herself--he is intimately familiar with the place.
How does Silhouette go about meeting with him?
After making some preparations to receive guests, Silhouette sends Lamell an 'invitation' to her home within the Lower Market, delivered by her current triton assistant - Leal. The intimidating creature is ordered to remain until an answer is provided.
Written in wax:
Ser Lamell. I am Lady Silhouette ap Cadmilus. It has come to my attention that your scholarly skills are without equal in Rebma. A statement confirmed by members of my Royal Family. As such, I would employ your services as mentor, so that I might learn more of Rebma's greatness. Enlightenment is the greatest currency, and I reward its gift generously.Please accept this invitation to my home, so we might speak further of this possible arrangement. If you would prefer another arrangement, my assistant will convey your request.
Humbly yours,
Lady Silhouette.
The triton returns with the same piece of wax, now cleared and written upon with a spidery hand.
Lady Silhouette,
I am currently in the employ of your cousin Conner, attempting to protect him from the many charlatans in my profession. If I may be of assistance to you, you may call upon my skills at your pleasure.
At the moment, I must tend to a particular potion that cannot be brewed without constant attention. I beg your indulgence, and I will attend to you at 4 bells tomorrow, if that is convenient for you.
Lamell
Silhouette waits for his arrival, respecting the need to complete one's Work.
At the appointed hour, Lamell arrives, and is shown to a sitting room in Silhouette’s home in Lower Market. He fits the typical wizardly description of a spry old man, save for that he wears the traditional braces and scaled short pants garb of a Rebman. His eyes are bright and alert, and he seems to be doing a good job of inspecting Silhouette’s furniture without doing anything so gauche as standing up and looking at it.
Silhouette is informed of his arrival.
Silhouette enters the room, taking full advantage of the airy environment by wearing an exquisite blending of Parisian and Rebman fashion. She smiles at him in welcome, patiently waiting while her assistant sets out green tea and a selection of amuse-bouches.
When they are alone, she sits and offers him some tea. "Ser Lamell. Welcome to my home. And my thanks for accepting my invitation. I do hope your alchemic Work met with success."
"Thank you, Lady Silhouette." Lamell bows to a degree that Silhouette can tell is calculated perfectly to her rank in royalty, which she might gather he already knows, either from his association with Conner or from other sources. "My efforts were a success. I hope I can be equally successful in whatever work I perform for the royal family."
Silhouette smiles, "Of this, I am certain, Ser."
After they've served themselves, she sits back and regards him with her unwavering stare. "Like you, I wish to serve the Royal Family to the best of my abilities. At this time, however, I find myself wanting in certain Aspects of Enlightenment with regard to Rebman history and politics. And this is why I seek your aid, in particular.
"I am keenly aware of the gender differences in Rebma. Being male, you've earned your reputation, rather than having it simply provided you. As such, your perceptions and observations are more valuable to me. And, I suspect, they are unfettered by prejudices attributable to the body politic." She blinks mechanically. "Am I correct in this?"
"I have several reputations, My Lady, as do all who make a ripple in the sea around them. Amongst the magicians and wizards attempting to climb to power in the pearl of cities, I am thought to be a problem. Amongst the courtiers and ladies of high position, I am a rude man who does not know my place. Amongst the royal family, I am a tolerated and useful servant, both for my skills and for the rudeness aforementioned."
Lamell opens a small, silver case, and takes out a cigarette. He offers her one as well.
The sometime court wizard taps the end of the cigarette and it lights as if he'd touched a match to it. The smoke heads out the window and the cigarette does not have a noticeable odor.
Silhouette takes the cigarette, nodding in thanks. She mimics his display - although, more than likely, through means different than Lamell's. She breathes in the heat and smoke, sighing happily.
"No one is without prejudices, My Lady. One who is completely without such is without a frame of reference will never make connections or see patterns. The ideal is to be able to know your prejudices and know when to use them to your advantage and when to set them aside."
Silhouette smiles at this, "Indeed. It is a refined skill, to say the least. And, I suspect we fall under the same trappings when it comes to societal perceptions. Yet, is it rudeness or simply unwanted truths mistaken for vulgarity?"
She taps some ash away, "So, speaking of prejudices then, how do you perceive the current changes in Rebma? With historical comparison, if possible. Also, allow me to preface, you may speak freely and without concern that your words shall reach others. I honor my confidences above all else, including Family."
Lamell chuckles. "I am not so much of an archivist as an inventor. I know little of history, except where it suits me or provides me information I can use. As to my demeanor, I make up for rudeness by being absolutely useful to those who need someone like me and are thus willing to protect me.
"I take risks, My Lady, but they are calculated risks. For instance, I am, despite evidence that his family is not in favor, in the service of the Prince Jerod. This has not kept me from helping the Duke Connor with his projects, nor would Jerod have discouraged me from doing so.
"This is, My Lady, an old court, built on intrigue and rumor and desperate deeds done in the darkest of tides. The late Queen's security agents were ruthless, and amazingly independent, and not even the royal family could protect themselves at all times."
The magician takes a long drag on his cigarette. "Not that I am going to completely rebuff your offer, but please don't treat an old man who has thrived through all the changes in Rebma as if he were dry-behind-the-ears.
"So perhaps you wish to make me an offer and see what my terms are rather than ask me to speak freely. Speaking freely so seldom is, you see."
Silhouette nods, "Good. Everything has a Cost." She drags on her cigarette, the ruddy light reflecting in her dark eyes.
"I question your characterization of Moire as being 'the late Queen,' or her agents being in the past-tense. Her memory and influence drift on the currents like blood, and I wish to find the source before other sharks do.
"You can help me in this." It is not a question, but a statement.
"This shared discovery would benefit us both. So, name your terms."
Lamell nods. "Her being dead would be too convenient. For free, I'll tell you this. Those agents of hers are going to be your key. Find Bend and you either have the Queen or you have a path to her.
"Here's my price. Spare Bend, and I'll help you."
"A fair price," Silhouette says. "And I shall not inquire as to your reasons for this request."
She taps the final ashes from the cigarette, "Tell of the Bend and how they may be of assistance to me."
He blows a particularly elaborate smoke ring, inside a toroidal bubble, and then snuffs out his cigarette. "It's a matter of public record. She’s my daughter.
"She and her brother, who is dead, spent years being the Queen's most trusted troubleshooters. They were connected, powerful, and ruthless. If she is protecting the Queen, then the Queen is well-protected. If you wish to contact the Queen, Bend would be your best option for doing so."
"I see," Silhouette says, nodding. "You know her manner, I hope. What is the best way to approach her in this? Will she place the Greater Good over Loyalty? Otherwise, it may be difficult to fulfill your request."
Lamell blinks, slowly, and replies in measured tones. "Please don’t misconstrue my price as a request. I am not looking for a 'best effort' here, but a success. We don't have a deal unless my terms are met. If it were easy, I wouldn't consider the offer. If it's too hard for you, then you may need to offer to act as go-between with someone who can meet my terms."
He moves his hands with a smoker's reflex, as if he expected to have a cigarette in his fingers.
"Your biggest obstacles will likely be Prince Martin, Queen Moire, and Bend herself. Possibly the current Queen if she won't grant Moire her life.
"I hope you didn't think you came to me with a small problem."
Silhouette offers a thin smile, "Not at all. If it were small, it would have been solved by now."
She stubs out her cigarette. "Do not mistake my Intent. Your daughter will be spared, whether she wishes it or not. I'll make certain of that." The edge in her voice could etch glass.
"The Queen's heart remains untempered, so she'll be easier to deal with. However, my cousin Martin remains a mystery. What obstacle do you believe he will pose?"
He sighs. "They didn't tell you much, did they? Martin killed Bend's brother, Montage. I believe it was a bad combination of the Prince holding a grudge and the little sh*te deserving it."
"The breadth of my Family's abridgement possesses an epic scope," Silhouette nods. "Do Martin or Bend still hold a grudge against one another? I'll need to know, as Bend will be my responsibility from this day forth."
"You'll have to ask them. I know of no reason they would forgive each other's assorted trespasses. And they're both as stubborn as sea-turtles."
Lamell looks at her, slightly impatiently. "As you're one of them, you have magical communications and transport that I'll never be able to duplicate. You'll do well to use it."
Silhouette nods. "Indeed. I'll require some idea of where Bend is located at the moment. Or have word sent to her that I am extending my protection to her. The sooner we meet, the sooner I can fulfill my promise to you."
"I have no idea where she is, but mirrors are going to be your best tool here. I have a way to signal her to call me. You'll be able to see and talk to her, but not reach her. It's the best I can do. I can't guarantee she'll answer, just as I can't guarantee she's alive, but I believe both of those statements.
"Are you ready?"
Silhouette nods lightly, "I understand. What must I do?" Secretly, she prepares to defend herself. She has little intention of becoming the next victim of Mirror Magics. But the opportunity to witness its use cannot be overlooked.
"Wait, for the moment." Lamell fetches a case and sets a mirror on a table. He uses magics to light two candles and places them in front of the mirror.
After several minutes and a definite shortening of the candles, Lamell waves Silhouette over to the table.
A face appears, lit by candlelight. "Father? Who is that with you?"
"A friend," Silhouette says, leaning closer. "But you may call me Silhouette. Your Father believes we might assist one another, if you're willing."
Her smile is that of a diplomat -— warm and intentional. "Ah, but whose friend, Lady? I am always willing to talk, but I reserve the right to choose my own friends. My father and I may not see eye to eye, for all that he's smarter than almost any man in Rebma, and most women."
"Your friend, if you choose it. If you know who I am, you'll know this is not an idle offer, Lady Bend." Silhouette says, mechanical eyes shining in the candlelight. "I Need an agent of Moire. Someone who might lead me to her. Your father informs me you can fulfill this Need. Is he correct in this?"
The woman in the mirror looks skeptical. "We would have to be great friends indeed. You know my Queen is not looking to be taken into the custody of your patron's friends.
"So, at this point, were I to suspect that someone was trying to find her, I would, in my official capacity, try to prevent such a thing."
Silhouette remains unmoved. "Understood. But I am no warden. The Queen's incarceration is not my concern nor Purpose. My reasons for finding her are independent of my patron's wishes or knowledge."
She raises her brow, "Knowing this, are you willing to discuss this further outside your 'official' capacity?"
She smiles. "I have wide latitude in my official capacity, Lady. It is often unwelcome to be sought by a scion of Amber. They so seldom wish to deal fairly in mutual profit.
"I can take a message to the Queen, if you so desire. Now, or if you wish to compose something, you can hand it to my father later."
"Profit before Blood," Silhouette says, as if reciting an ancient mantra. She returns the smile, "You may relay this to your Queen. I wish to speak with her regarding the future. She above most knows what I can offer her.
"As much as I love my cousin, her heart is too gentle for what lies ahead."
The smile fades, "No matter the answer or the future, you - Lady Bend - shall have my protection should you choose to return home. It is a Price I pay willingly."
Bend looks non-plussed, but nods. "Thank you, Lady. I shall pass your message along. I warn you that she is both cautious and used to playing the long game. She may choose to delay her response, perhaps for years. I will contact you again via Lamell, if needed."
The image fades and Silhouette finds herself looking at her own reflection in the glass.
Lamell cackles. "She doesn't think you can protect her, but she's too polite to say so. She did learn something from me."
Silhouette shrugs, her expression one of contained disappointment. "Then I shall note the potential limitations of her education. Propriety aside."
She leans back, folding her hands in her lap. "Thank you for this communication, Lamell. I hope it bears fruit. I can ask not further of you at this point."
He nods. “That is true, but that seldom stops people with power. In any case, I will send word if I receive a reply.” Lamell puts a cloth over the mirror. Silhouette is observant enough to note that it has a pinhole in it.
Silhouette adds this to her list, "Of course." She waits a heartbeat before adding, "Can any mirror be utilized in such a manner?"
Lamell shakes his head slowly. "Making a mirror any can use is a gift. Using a mirror is an art. The better the quality of the mirror, the more versatile it is. Most cannot pass words, only reflections. Prices range from amazingly expensive to unthinkably high. Adepts with recondite skills in the art are rumored to be able to use mirrors that have not been made by the reflection-wrights."
He looks up. "Most think this is mere legend. It is not."
Silhouette muses for a moment, "And what of darker uses for the mirrors? How skilled must one be to use a mirror as a weapon? Such as was employed to murder my brother." She watches his expression carefully, although her own remains impassive.
Lamell looks thoughtful, chewing on the problem. "If that is what happened to him, then no more than a handful of people have that level of control. Moving a physical object through a mirror is not easy.
"Unless one of the lesser users discovered a trick, or combined it with some other magics. You've heard there are places where they can make solid light, yes?"
If he suspects that the desire to find Moire is linked to Silhouette's brother, he does a good job suppressing it.
"Yes," she nods. "Although the techniques for doing so range from arcane to technological."
She sips from her long-cooled tea, "So, Mirror Magick can be combined with other Forms. Interesting. If one practiced in earthen magicks, could they employ their powers through a Connection? And might they even benefit from that knowledge considering the arcane link between mirrors and Earth?"
Lamell shrugs. "Mirrors reflect. They reverse. They can (if made to do so) distort. It is not my field, so I do not know the details of the limits of it. I cannot tell you what someone cannot do with them."
Silhouette nods with a frown. "Very well. Thank you for your Enlightenment, Lamell. And thank you for your assistance in this." She raises her tea cup, "To the future."
He nods, and lifts his cup, “May it be an improvement on the past, yes."
Raven awakens. She’s in her bed on her ship. She's sore all over, like she’s done a turn aloft in a typhoon. The ship is quiet, resting at high-tide in the harbor. Out the porthole she sees dappled sunlight on the calm harbor waters.
She recalls what she did last night.
Raven groans and levers herself out of bed reluctantly. She reaches for clean clothes then, changing quickly until she strips off her shirt and comes to a dead stop at the sight of a very fresh, very unexpected tattoo. On her arm. Where there weren't any before.
"Huh."
She considers poking it to see if it's really there, but she recalls other sailors with fresh tattoos and decides not to instead. The design is a compass rose; as she studies the shape, the direction indicator ticks to a few degrees off northwest, and then moves again to point south. Well, that's... new.
She finishes dressing after a minute or two of staring and heads for the door. Food and something to drink sounds good. And she should probably track down Jerod and her coat.
Raven emerges from her cabin into a hot, sweaty night, as if the weather is considering storming, but was still recruiting heavy clouds. The ship smells of a ship at harbor: all pitch and cargo and what the city dwellers throw in the bay. It would be a good time to get out of port. The city beyond the docks is lit up, in pools of gaslight, and the castle above looks to be electrified. The boatswain is an old hand named Herald but some of the other crew left on deck look like replacements.
"Captain," Herald says. He's clearly being loud so that the rest of the crew can react to the officer. Typical boatswain. She'd've done the same, two years ago.
Raven smiles faintly at that. "Mr. Herald," she answers. "Anything I ought to know about?"
Men are climbing aloft, finding duties elsewhere, or become highly absorbed in their very important scrubbing.
"No Captain. A Lord was down from Castle looking to know if you were aboard. Featherstone told him you were, and asleep. He ordered us not to wake you. After he left, the Mate decided that you really shouldn't be disturbed, so we did not. Do you need a meal, Captain? Cookie is below, even if half the crew is ashore."
Raven nods. "Aye, I can guess which Lord that was. How long ago was that?"
"He didn't give his name, and I am not familiar with the local lords, Captain. I was born at sea and never lived in Amber. As to the visit, it was around midwatch," he replies.
Raven nods. "Right." She considers for a moment. "Send some of the lads out looking for Lord Jerod, tell him we're leaving. Castle, I guess, and," she rattles off an additional list of suggestions. "And call up the rest. Let's see if we can't catch this tide."
With that, she heads off to eat something. There are a thousand things that need doing before the ship can actually leave, but food comes first for its captain today.
The crew moves and the captain eats. All is going according to plan...
By the time one of the messages reaches Jerod and he arrives back at the ship, she's back on deck and supervising the activity.
Jerod arrives a short while later with a pack over one shoulder and one of Raven's lad in tow. He is wearing clothing suitable to a merchant accustomed to being on the seas and smells of stale beer, no doubt from the hours spent at the local dive where Raven's messenger found him acclimatizing to the speech and ways of the locals.
Once at the top of the gangway, having spotted Raven long ago, he stops. "Permission to board."
"Come aboard," Raven answers immediately. She's dressed appropriately for the kind of captain that might be accompanying Jerod's merchant to sea - even if most of it comes from her actual wardrobe over the last few years. It's all a little scuffed and worn, some of it looking more well-used than well-loved. "Told you I'd come back here."
"You did." Jerod says, moving onto the deck. "Not everyone follows up on what they say though. Freedom can be...tempting."
"How long before you're ready to sail?" he asks, checking the tides and wind even as he asks.
"Not long. Better not be long, anyway." Raven doesn't add that loudly, but she does glance pointedly at one of her officers.
He looks at the deck, the sky, and holds up two fingers.
"Any more detour orders while I was out?"
"No, nothing like that." Jerod replies. "Beyond his Majesty mentioning that he seemed rather amused with your walk, he didn't say anything else of importance. We're to proceed with Gateway and make sure that gets resolved. If it means doing nasty stuff to the individuals who messed with Marius, then we proceed. I'm rather looking to see if we can confirm if the old guard was involved for sure or just displaced by those helping Huon. If the latter, and they're still around, a palace coup might be in order. Re-install the old government or a suitable fascimile and they give us the new guard as prisoners in exchange. Plus suitable penalties to be decided upon.
"If however, the old Chancellor was involved, then we need to do some pruning. Can't burn down the entire Shadow." then he pauses and frowns. "Okay, that's not true, we can but it's a lot of work. And they're still potentially valuable."
Raven snorts. "Glad someone was amused." She jerks her head in the direction of the cabins and then heads that way; it's not like the crew really needs to hear plans to hold a coup... yet. "Ain't got a problem with any of that," she adds dryly, "though I'd rather you didn't manage to set fire to the ship, if you don't mind. I still got a word or two to say to the Harbormaster; he might be a place to start. He was too slick on making things look normal until we was in his office to not be on the side of whoever's in charge. Man that's not in favor of what's going on - thugs and guns or not - I think I'd've seen something."
"If the new guard are any good at their jobs, they'd have subordinated the people in key positions of physical power or information." Jerod says as he walks with Raven. "The Harbourmaster would be key to knowing the ins and outs at the port. They'd have been smart to co-opt others as well who are in similar positions. You can bypass anyone with just a fancy title or a bit of influence - those with serious influence or just brute force strength are the ones you want when you're tossing out the old government.
"This Harbourmaster is likely to be on the lookout for us, or others like us. Enough time will have passed since you were gone that they'll know Amber will be looking to respond. They know we can't let this slide."
"And he'll know my face." Raven snorts. "Or he'd better, anyway, since he was pointing a weapon at me for a while. That ain't going to help." She pauses, clearly thinking, and then adds, "Side point - if it would help anything, I can probably find where we were being held once we hit dock."
"It might." Jerod says. "We'll want to play it by ear, see what comes up. The first thing is to get a lay of the place, see who's doing what, how things are running. If the old Chancellor is still around, or associates, then we would want to feel them out. Finding out who is still in if we can't find them, means we might want to talk to your Harbourmaster and get him to...cooperate. But that would be a risk we'd want to be sure we can take. If we have to go the salt and burn approach, then we can also talk to him as well, get any info we can.
"We will have the Weir with us, so they will provide some additional resources."
"How much of a problem is the magic thing going to be?" Raven shakes her head and adds dryly, "Can't say as how I've ever put this much thought into how to sneak into Gateway. I'm sure I'm asking things you've already got handled, one way or another."
"Sneaking into Gateway? First time." Jerod says with a slight smile.
"Magic is problematic. It's a power like any. If they're aware of us or paranoid, they might be looking for us. There are ways to scry for individuals but they have to know about us. On the way out I intend to do some adjustment to Shadow to shield us, make us blend in so if there are divining magics they'll be harder to locate us. Our biggest problem is that we're Real. We stand out. Individuals with power tend to notice us if we're close by.
"We need to act like we don't and stay away from those with power until we've got an idea what's up. Then we decide who we're going to approach and how. I also need to build some contingency plans in the background in case things go south and we need to flatten the place.
"We also need to give you some exposure to how to shift probability and use the Pattern, find your way with it."
"Right." Raven shifts her weight, her expression a little uncomfortable, and shoves her hands in her coat pockets. "You brought that up, I guess you get the question. How much of what was going on while I was walking on that thing was from somewhere other than the inside of my head? Or was it all in there and I just ain't figured it out yet?"
Jerod smiles. "You mean was the Pattern messing with you? Secretly adjusting you for it's own use?
"No, it's all us. There's a lot of different interpretations to the Pattern...I had a discussion on one those in fact with the King while you were doing your walk. He brought chairs and booze...never had that before."
He pauses for a moment before continuing. "Think of the Pattern, like a crucible. We think it burns away impurities in whatever you put into it. But it doesn't get rid of it. It...hardens...defines what and who we are. Not in stone though. More like a defining edge, less blurry. Sharper, clearer. It's what helps to define us as real in comparison to the rest of reality. It gives us the ability to recognize that difference, and to use it.
"What you brought in is still there, floating around inside your head. How you approach it, how you deal with it...whether you deal with it...that's all up to you. Walk the Pattern again, you'll get a different set of images, different things to consider.
"Something you're worried about?"
Raven snorts and gives him a look. "I just had my head turned inside out," she says dryly. "Aye. There's more than a few things that got aired that I ain't too sure what to do with. Some of it - well, there'd be a long explanation to go with talking about it. So here's an easy one: Max showed up. And he shot me. With a gun. Pretty sure I deserved it for daring him to, since he ain't me, but I can't say as how I'm okay with it."
Jerod lets an eyebrow go up briefly. "Max shot you? I'm presuming this illusory version of him had a reason? Given that he was Lucas' I could think of a few but I'd prefer not to speculate."
"Pretty sure it was because of me refusing to agree to avenge his father's death," Raven answers. "Which ain't happening in my head or outside of it. He's too young to know what he's asking for."
"That's not surprising." Jerod says. "Vengeance seems to be an essential element of our nature.
"Now, you know it's not real, so what about it bothers you?"
Raven scowls. "Some of it is the same questions from before, with the bullets," she admits. "Whys and the like. Some of it - he tried to hide the gun from me at first. And he had decent enough aim. Like he'd put some thought into it, and he'd had some training in it. Ain't entirely sure where that idea's coming from, but I don't like it."
Jerod is silent for a long moment.
"You think maybe there's manipulation involved?"
Raven hesitates. "I don't know. I guess... I can't say as how I'd leave bits of a weapon waiting for someone if I hadn't made sure that someone knew how to use it. Or unless I meant to teach 'em."
He nods. "Possible. Have you considered the possibility that it was left as a cache by Lucas for his own use and not for another?"
"Why'd it have Max's name on it, then?" Raven asks. "Can't expect a person to not open something with his name on it if he finds it, most of the time. Thought of another reason, but I like it even less than these other ones."
"And that reason is?" Jerod asks, leaning against a table.
"Somebody else left it." Raven scowls. "Which is gonna mean that someone else knows about Max that I don't know about."
"Assume there is someone." Jerod says simply. "We don't know who, but for the moment, I'd keep that in the back of your mind and bring it out periodically to look it over as time passes."
"Max is still young. You have opportunities to be involved and make sure stuff doesn't happen. So long as he's under Family protection, and observation, then it should be okay for now."
Raven just plain makes a face at that. "I ain't used to thinking that long-term. Not about family stuff, anyway. And I ain't quite yet where I am with some of those lads out there, where I know who to trust with what. So that he'll be watched is good and all, but... it ain't quite comfortable yet." She pauses, and then shakes her head and gives him a small smile. "Argued with an image of my ma about whether to trust you."
"My mentor told me once that we are the greatest opportunists in existence." Jerod says. "Opportunism usually means being flexible because you know you can't always control everything around you. You'll get used to the long term...though like most of us, I doubt you'll like it. And we're never comfortable with it where Family is concerned."
"And I'm curious as to what argument you would have had with yourself in the guise of your mother. Rebman in background and...attractive enough to gain the attention of Family is quite the combination." he says, his use of the word attractiveness not seeming to imply a conventional meaning.
"What do you think is important enough to require trusting me? Not that you can't of course. I am completely trustworthy in all things." and the last comment comes with a slight smile, hinting at sarcasm.
Raven smiles a little at that. "Heh. I ain't that new to the way things work. You find somebody that believes that line, tell me; I got some 'talking fish' to sell 'em."
"All of that, that's what I was talking about that needs explaining. Ain't going to make a lot of sense if I don't, I think." She hesitates, the smile gone. "Some of it, I don't talk about much. Might take a while. You need anything else before we leave dock?"
"Not at the moment. You can let your crew know about the Weir." Jerod says.
"As for talking about stuff...we do that in our own time. Pick your time and your person. Oh, and if you want some talking fish, I know where you can find some." Jerod says, apparently quite serious even as he smiles a little.
"I'm sure you do," Raven answers dryly. She hesitates again, then shakes her head. "Tide ain't going to wait. Make yourself comfortable, aye?"
And with that, she heads off to take care of getting them out of dock.
Jerod finds accommodations as would be suitable for his disguise and then heads back up to watch as things are done, settling into the role of "merchant of questionable background with considerable goods of value at his disposal."
The crew brings the Vale smartly about and sets her into the tide and the pilot takes her clear of the harbor bars cleanly. He departs in his boat and the Vale is true and cleanly pulling away at the tides. The helmsman and the boatswain are discussing the course: The Vale is headed towards a leeward rock, that is the first landmark for any ship departing Xanadu for the trade-routes.
The ship is functioning well, and the men seem happy to be back at sea.
The rhythm of the ship and crew are familiar ones and Raven and Jerod soon fall into their own cadences. Jerod teaches Raven about using pattern while sailing. He describes creating shadow-paths, even though she won't have the skill to do those for some time.
Jerod also explains in detail about how to search through Shadow, the importance of memory in focusing the desires of the Family in searching for what they want and for being able to differentiate between Shadow and Reality. In that vein, as they begin travelling, but before they are too far into Shadow where it might become noticeable, he will pull up the Pattern to see if Raven can detect it and use it for comparison to what is around them.
He also shows off some conjuration options, how to trick reality into giving up stuff when it's needed, though he warns that such also takes practice too.
Raven pays very careful attention, sometimes coming back with questions later; she's clearly learned on the go before and is comfortable with it.
The sailors seem slightly aloof towards Raven. It's nothing that she can put her finger on, but something has changed.
Raven keeps an eye on that, trying to see if she can figure out if it's something more than clearly being the captain and hanging out with a Royal now.
She does make sure that the crew knows where they're going and why - and whatever she can get out of Jerod that might keep them out of trouble.
On a lovely morning under light cloud-cover, the lookout aloft cries out "land ho!" Jerod recognizes the coast of Weirmonken, and the port he visited with the Count.
Jerod nods once to himself when he hears this as he scans the coastline, remembering his visit. After a moment, he turns to look at the crew, looking to see if they recognize where they are and its implications.
Regardless of what he sees, he calls out to the crew, using his shipboard voice drilled into him by Caine and Gerard while learning seamanship.
"Listen up. For those of you who are not familiar with our destination, that's Weirmonken. We'll be collecting some passengers who are coming along for the ride to Gateway. They have a unique set of skills for helping to deal with wizards if things go dicey.
"While aboard, they will be fitted in to appear as either crew or passengers so when we arrive at Gateway we're not going to be having any problems. Beyond that, they will be staying out of your way. If there are issues of how things are working out, they go to the captain first to be settled. If issues of discipline need to arise, then the captain and I will work out what needs to be done to keep things running smoothly.
"With regards to who the Weir answer to directly....that would be me.
"Questions? Comments? Cries of anguish? Speak 'em now."
Raven takes her own look around the crew as Jerod talks, looking first to the men she brought from the Vale to see their reactions and then to the others. Anybody glancing to the captain that she catches will get a quiet nod - agreement or encouragement, whichever is appropriate.
Amongst the crew, it's clear that nobody loves the Weir, but it's also clear that nobody wants to press the matter while the Vale is in Weirish waters.
The boatswain approaches and bows. He speaks loudly, in the manner of boatswains who are speaking more to their sailors than the officers. "My Lord, I speak for the crew in saying that we are the King's men, and if the King's pleasure is to have us transport monsters to fight wizards far from Amber, I am keen to take them far away from A -- Xanadu. Better to have this fight on their soil than ours, and between them and not us."
The men seem to approve of this sentiment.
Raven smiles slightly at this. It wasn't that long ago that she would have been the one making that speech; she approves too.
The man comes closer and his voice drops to more conversational tones. "My Lord, do we have adequate provisions for your marines? I don't want the men thinking they've got to worry about the Weir." The man touches a unicorn pendant at his neck. Raven didn't know he was religious.
"Provisions will be obtained here." Jerod says, matching the conversational tones sufficiently to allow for more conversation to flow, and for real speech to occur if that is to be the case. "The Weir on this mission will be serving as infiltrators mostly. We need to determine what is happening at Gateway and see about rectifying it. If our intelligence changes, then a stronger force will be in order, but for now, I'm preferring to keep the armies at bay. A few well placed jabs, done properly, will give us what we want and keep the bloodshed to a minimum. If that does not prove possible, then it will be my job to burn Gateway...enough for them to remember why it is unwise to operate against us.
"You may also assure the men concerning the tales of the Weir and their....dietary requirements." he says with a smile. "The crew are not even remotely close to acceptable, though I think you can understand that from the perspective of rumor-mongering, if one wanted to frighten an enemy, you might just let them keep thinking that."
Raven snorts softly. "And you would have known if that was going to be a problem as soon as I did," she points out. "Ain't so far gone from your job that I've forgotten what that could be like, bosun."
The man nods, in the way bosuns have nodded to Captains since Captains first had bosuns. "Aye, Cap'n. Crew's had time to get used to the idea. But seeing the forests of the Weir isn't the same as hearing about 'em. I’ll keep 'em in line, but best if the two groups are separate as possible on such a small ship. We don't want accidental tensions to cause problems.
"Shall we run up the Prince's colors? The harbormaster's already spotted us, I reckon."
Jerod shakes his head. "No. From this point forward, we go dark on our past. No connection to Xanadu, no princes, nothing. Everyone is now a merchant, leaning towards piracy and looking for their next bag of gold and easy score." he says, looking to the harbor. "Just the kind of people desperate enough to go to Gateway."
Raven nods her agreement. Normally, she might suggest relaxing discipline a little, but - well, there are other concerns this time. "Don't figure it'll be much of a problem, but keep to ourselves in dock," she adds instead. "Ain't the time or place for being so friendly that things get said."
"Aye, Captain. We are a merchant and his highness is a merchant prince." He looks at the captain, who may be able to guess his opinion of pretending to be what the crew was currently pretending not to be.
Raven certainly can. And if there wasn't someone who wasn't involved in all of that taking part in the conversation, she might do something more than just nod. Her expression is carefully neither as cautious nor as wryly amused as she is.
The Count's banner flies from the town walls and the harbormaster seems to be expecting you. There are bales and crates of provisions and other supplies and what look like lumber for making siege engines and scaling ladders.
The harbormaster is on the docks before the Vale is tied off. If there are two types of people in Weirmonken, she is a member of the ruling type. She is brusque and businesslike. "His Grace's greetings, and he wishes to know if we can take live animals for provisions or if we should rely on cured meats. I have sent word to his Grace, as he ordered."
"Combination." Jerod says simply. "We wish to keep our presence to a minimum so live animals may be kept for a short period, sufficient to get us close to our destination, after which they will switch over. All live animals would be consumed by that time."
He is also looking over the siege equipment with a smile, adding and subtracting elements in his mind as he considers possibilities for an actual assault and the difficulties involved. He does not yet make a decision as to whether to tell the Count that smashing their way through Gateway is not yet Jerod's preferred means of dealing with the wizards.
"Where is the Count now?"
Raven keeps her mouth shut for the moment. She eyes the goods on the dock, mentally arraying it in the hold with an eye for how heavily laden they're going to be, but she's listening to the conversation.
It's an easy load, as long as the anvils are placed along the keel and centered. Raven thinks that the crew isn't going to love cleaning up the poop deck, especially if there's no mutton for them, but they won't complain too much. Nor will they really want the Weir to act as butchers for them.
The harbormaster looks back at the keep, and cocks her head at an angle. "If he is not at the keep, and I don't believe he is, then he will be hunting. I sent word up as soon as I sighted you, and they'll have sent word to him. He should be back soon. Would you like us to start loading?"
Jerod shakes his head. "No. There are some details to be worked out with the Count first."
She is apparently used to dealing with nobles. "As you wish, my Lord. The best place to meet him would be the keep."
She turns to Raven. "Will the crew need berths in the barracks or will they be bunking aboard your ship? I'm afraid we don't have many of the amenities of a large port. This is generally a military dock."
"Ship will be fine for them," Raven answers. "There's plenty enough for them to do."
Looking at Vail, the harbormaster nods. "Aye. If you need shipwrights or canvas makers, let me know."
Raven nods. "Aye, I will."
She hesitates, then adds. "Do you need an escort to the castle, my Lord?" She sounds unsure of herself when talking of matters not related to seamanship.
Raven looks at Jerod at that.
"No, I'm sure we'll be fine." Jerod replies with a slight smile.
Last modified: 12 March 2015