Breaking Things Up

[Marius] will start moving towards finding the King.

Solange sets off with Marius in search of the King. "I think we'd better let him take charge of these cards, too," she suggests.

The King has not moved. He is smack dab in the middle of the dance floor, speaking with Bleys and Paige. Martin stands nearby, blade out and eyes searching the dissipating crowd.

The King and Bleys look up as Marius (and Solange) approach. [Immediately after Paige's conversation with Bleys, and before Bleys can reply to her. Paige may get the last word after all... :) ]

[Marius]
"Your majesty, I am available to negotiate the return of," _her most loveliness_, "your Queen, should you give me both time and place. She is as safe as any of us can be, perhaps moreso. However, I would hate to give her cause to worry."

Random nods in agreement. "Yes, she's needed here. I'm leaving shortly. By all means bring her back...Where did she go, anyway?"

"That would be a question to ask of my Cousin, Ossian. Alas," he frowns, "I am more than prepared to ask for her back, save that our connection has failed." He looks up and around, as if the Trump connection was something you could see, physically, like rainbow cords connecting people. "I am off, then, to a rescue." He will do a sweeping bow and then try to find Folly, the only one he was introduced to as, "Ossian's friend."

Fiona leans on Conner's arm a little more heavily than normal. "We will need your Uncle Bleys for this."

After a few moments of looking around, one of the two of you locates Bleys, and signals to him. He quickly excuses himself to Random and joins his sister. "What?" he says, looking concerned, and to Conner's eyes, a bit tired.

"Brita's been taken," Fiona says.

Bleys' jovial front slips then; he straightens and his hand slides to the hilt of his blade. "Dara--" he begins.

Fiona cuts him off. "I know. We'll discuss it on the way up."

Bleys says, "Lead the way."

And the three of them depart the hall into the innards of Castle Amber.

As Solange and Marius approach the King, Martin gestures to her to join him where he stands, off to one side of the King. He's doffed his helmet and has his blade out, ready to defend his father if need be.

Aisling, having finished with Lucas, looks around; and when her gaze falls on Martin, after a beat that is the direction she heads. To Solange she says quietly, "Excuse me, my lady; this should only be a moment." Then she fixes her gaze on Martin (and she arranged to approach such that she's not blocking his view of the King, or his range of motion with the blade), and asks (each word clear, no particular emphasis on any one), "Do you have the letters from my father that I left in the cubby where I lived here?"

Martin glances at Solange, then looks at Aisling. What he says is, "What was in the letters you were burning when I arrived?"

"It was my duty to report to my father in letters the doings of Amber. The return of Oberon was assurredly news. The beginnings of the letter on that subject were what I was consigning to the flames." Aisling's gaze stays fixed on the Prince, her speech still with the quiet careful clarity that may be reminiscent of her comrade Jovian's current gait. She's getting slightly paler, though, as she doesn't quite succeed in immobilizing the part of her mind that's analyzing what his reply meant about the answer to her question.

Folly, having finished tending the injured around the bandstand, is approaching the loose knot of people around Martin and Random. Her exact destination is unclear; but when she sees Aisling pale she stops several paces away to observe the exchange, her expression unreadable.

Paige is watching the exchange herself, from Random's side. Her attention was taken by Marius for a moment when he said that Lilly and the others were fine, but something about Martin's posture has it wholly now. She fights the instincts to run for cover and tries to remember how he fell when he dove on the King. She replaces the Trumps she didn't resort to on the bottom of her deck, and rolls Merlin's on the top before wrapping them in silk again. All the while, her eyes haven't left Martin, but for a moment to try and catch Folly's. _I'm worried for him,_ high waters will easily catch. _Be careful._

Folly meets Paige's eyes and nods, almost imperceptibly, then turns her full focus back to Martin and Aisling.

"What else did you burn in that fireplace?" Martin asks.

Paige shakes her head imperceptibly, her eyes watching his left arm and his posture more than Aisling's masked response.

Solange, having nodded at Aisling's "excuse me," has been listening avidly to the exchange, but has not seen fit to comment yet.

Aisling's still wearing a mask, so there's nothing visible except a pause.

[In Aisling's head: "Wood? Other drafts? What the hell kind of conversation is this? This isn't an attack-- She--" <thought choked, paleness level held steady> <reconsideration> "No, better cut to the chase."]

"She framed me for something, didn't she?" Aisling says, quiet and detached yet.

[Paige]
//No, just reminded him who you are and where your allegiances used to lie.//

[Aisling]
[Brilliant. He grew up in Rebma-- maybe he can track the connections between untended-sleeping-place and disposal-of-rivals. Probably he is. But his entire conception of how Chaosites act is probably based on her (and Merlin). No wonder any of the people he would have told stuff to treat me like poison. But the letters--!]

The blood level in her cheeks drops to where she is, in fact, pale, and her jaw clenches.

There's something to the set of Martin's jaw that reminds Solange of that council meeting where everyone hashed the handling of the hoarders and the Wind Grove situation.

"She didn't need to. You've done enough on your own," Martin says. "My father's coronation ball is in ruins, my friend and kinsman is seriously wounded, the Unicorn alone knows who else is dead and wounded just yet, and I'm trying to figure out why we're not dragging the middens for Cambina's body, and you come over here asking about letters. As if it were important, as if you have some claim, some right to an answer--" He draws in a breath. "As if you haven't had too many answers, more than you deserve, already."

Martin isn't yelling, but he's not quiet, either. Some of the people filing out of the room glance his way. The guards are too professional to be caught looking, but some of the watchers may have the sense that they're curious about what has made the Prince angry.

Aisling inclines her head just a bit.

[[This turn of the conversation is actually faintly a relief to her... A; she understands anger, and B; these Amberites! Actually saying what's on their minds! She knew there was a reason she did this to herself. But the wateriest of you are probably only picking up bits of that.]]

Anyway, so it's easy for her voice to stay lucid and impartial, and she pitches it so that anyone who heard Martin, and cares to, can hear her too. "Those letters are a connection to my father. My father likely knows more about Duchess Dara's current vulnerabilities in Chaos than anyone here. If she has them, she will use that connection to hurt him." And there Aisling (those who noticed it in the first place may notice) is kicked out of familiar-lucid state and back into the previous closely-held-mask state. "If you have them, you will be able to communicate with him, with the help of your Friend," she nods to Merlin. Her jaw sets again. Quieter, "If you care to at that time, you could then tell me whether he still lives." She bows, "Your highness."

It is then her intention to turn and leave, gliding straight to the nearest door to the inner courtyard.

Paige decides that Martin seems to have rein on his emotions, and after all, he wasn't likely to explode like Paige would have. Sure that Folly would look out for him, she decides she can let him go and remembers that she's still mad at him anyway.

Martin lets [Aisling] turn and start to go before issuing his parting shot, at the same volume. "Your father's in no danger from Dara. He's been in cahoots with her and Borel from the beginning. He was one of Merlin's teachers. Send him my regards along with your report on me when you finish it."

Folly is easy to find. She is standing a few paces away, stock-still, watching Martin and Aisling intently.

Marius will sidle up to her, and place an arm in an almost comforting manner across her shoulders, allowing him to speak in an undertone.

Folly was aware of his approach, Marius feels certain of it, yet she starts at his touch. Her shoulders are taut as a tightly twisted rope.

"Mar.... Marius," she says, the first syllable noticeably louder than the others, as if she changed direction partway through.

Marius' smile is sympathetic, the kind of smile that would be a frown if it weren't, say, Marius.

"If I may break your attention for a moment, lady Swan, I am in desperate need of royalty."

"We may have an explosion of it in a moment, I fear," Folly replies. She does not turn her eyes from the altercation before them, but she lays her hand over Marius's, there on her shoulder. He doesn't have her complete attention -- and in fact she may spring away at any moment, if she thinks the situation warrants it -- but she is listening.

Marius nods, glances over with a wary eye, and smiles a more comforting smile. "Ossian has the Queen. I have no way of contacting him, but hoped that you, his friend, did. Perhaps an Empress' grace could improve this situation?"

The Swan regards the Otter with an incredulous look, as if she's wondering whether he found an altogether different sort of crack in his oysters.

(At least he's really, truly got her attention now.)

But then she remembers he hasn't been here for the last five years. He wouldn't know. She offers up a small apologetic smile.

[OOC: All he knows about Vialle is that she's 1) lovely, and 2) from Rebma. Those two add up to: untrustworthy, probably a pirate at heart. Unless all those issues his mom left him of "Playrebman" really had it wrong. As a good member of the King's Navy, he's got to restrain her... and that gives him more thoughts that will someday get him in trouble with Random.]

"The way a spark improves gunpowder, perhaps," she says by way of explanation. "Long story. I do have Ossian's trump, though...."

"One that no doubt will be all the better for you telling it," he says, almost off-handedly, except he's quite SINCERE about even his off-hand comments. Strange, intense, Marius.

A few paces away, Martin delivers his parting shot at Aisling. Folly winces slightly but, sensing the situation isn't going to get any worse, begins to relax.

"A moment -- it's here in my pocket...." For the third time this evening, Folly crouches, fumbling under her skirt for her trump pouch. She really should've put a little slit through her skirt and petticoat, but she wasn't expecting to need it quite so much.

A moment later she comes up with the desired trump and offers it to Marius without quite meeting his eyes. "You might want to wait a few minutes to bring them through, though. Just, you know, to let things settle down in here a bit."

"That thought had also occurred to me, and now hearing an echo of it, it sounds even the wiser. My thanks, lovely lady." He takes the Trump with a twirl, and a quick step backwards. He glances at Martin and Aisling, shakes his head once at the Moth, and will step aside, watching in the manner of, say, Vere for whether the tide will part or crush.

As they come out into the main hall, Reid and Vere see that pandemonium has been brought under partial control.

By the bandstand, Gerard is examining Lucas, with Flora as nurse. Guards are bringing a stretcher to move Lucas. Nearby, Brennan is comforting Solace, although Reid and Vere both suspect he's not particularly successful at that.

Nearby, Corwin, Jerod, and Merlin are examining Cambina.

Random is speaking with Marius. Bleys has detached himself from the group around the King and is halfway across the room to meet Fiona and Conner.

Near Random, Martin and Aisling are having some sort of discussion. Folly and Paige are looking on, concerned.

[Solange is either with Martin and Aisling, or with Marius and Random.]

Caine and Benedict are speaking quietly on what used to be the edge of the dance floor.

Royal guards, Rangers, knights, and naval officers have taken charge of the situation and are moving the guests out towards the outer works of the castle. The side doors into the gardens and the door into the interior of the castle are guarded.

After a moment, Julian and Robin will also emerge from the room behind Reid and Vere, and head towards the near garden door.

Vere will pause a moment to see what Reid is doing, if he is heading directly to Random then Vere follows and remains silent while Reid speaks. If Reid hesitates, or seems to be heading anywhere else, then Vere will go directly to the king.

Reid sees Marius wander off, looking at nothing and approaches the king. "Sorry to interrupt the fabulous party you've thrown, but it seems that some joker who can cut through space and time like a Ginsu through a tin can has dragged cousin Brita, well, off somewhere. Julian and Robin are putting their heads together, as are Fiona, Conner and Bleys."

Reid lets that soak in a second.

"Can I get you a drink?"

Reid glances around for any abandoned drink trays or side bars, and finding one within reach pours himself a tall one, glancing at Vere to see if he'd like one too.

[Correction: Random is in the middle of the dance floor of a hall that holds a few thousand people comfortably. Stretch Armstrong, son of Dara the shapeshifter, could not reach a sidebar from here. However, Jovian is arriving with a bottle.]

"No drink, Lord Reid, but a napkin would be useful," Vere replies. He has placed himself so that he is facing Random as the king and Reid speak, with a clear view of the interesting drama involving Martin and company nearby.

[As mentioned, there is no ready source of stemware or napkins.]

Reid takes a side glance at Vere's wound, seemingly for the first time, chuckles mildly and hands Vere a handkerchief from his pocket before looking for other dressings within reach. Reid expects men of Amber to be resilient, so he makes no fuss over Vere, thinking "if he hasn't dropped dead yet, there's no great worry."

Jovian approaches the pair from behind and places his bottle of brandy in Reid's hand. "Good for what ails you," he quips, as he beckons with his free hand to one of the team of servants and junior knights hustling to and fro with medical supplies.

Random takes [the bottle] from Reid and has a quick sip, but doesn't seem to be overly interested in it. He looks surprised at the news and it is quite likely that he is considering a reply.

[Reid]
[always a good choice...]

[How successful is Jovian in flagging down an infirmary runner? I presume the triage and patching-up is being handled in the garden now - are people coming through here with crash-carts?]

[Not. Or rather "not in time for it to affect the next couple of posts." Unless Vere is a Wimpy Downstream Beer instead of Manly Brew, he is really in no danger. If this conversation ever ends, then you'll have a moment of downtime, in which all your infirmary runner dreams will come true. Regarding Vere and compression bandages, anyway.]

[Vere's ignoring the wound completely, other than wiping as much of the blood off as he could with the pocket handkerchief given him by Reid]

[also, no, people are getting sent out to the outer courtyards, not into the inner gardens where Robin and Julian went. Some have probably already been sent home.]

As Reid awaits Random's response to the report, Jovian has a closer look at Vere's shoulder, gauging whether stitches will be called for.

Jovian decides that if that were his shoulder he wouldn't need stitches, but he thinks the Women of the lower caverns would stitch him up, "just in case".

So. I suppose that calls for a quick compression bandage, which Jovian can handle with ease, and stitching up if Vere chooses, which Jovian is capable but not impressively proficient at. Should there indeed be a passing lackey carrying the needed supplies, he'll obtain what's necessary and await a break in the conversation to offer assistance....

[Random]
"I was wondering what set them off in such a hurry. They're the ones most likely to be able to bring her back. And, of course, they have full royal blessing if they have to strangle Dara with her own intestines to do so."

"Always a good choice..." Reid offers.

[Random]
"Barring unexpected good news from the redheaded quarter, we're probably going to need to negotiate with Dara. So far, we haven't done very well with that. She does have a flair for the homicidally dramatic. And she certainly has set my reign off to an unforgettable start."

Vere raises an eyebrow at the idea of negotiating with an enemy who has so publicly demonstrated her willingness to invade the king's domain and attack his subjects, but refrains from comment.

Reid ponders, "I don't suppose we have a handy way of contacting her for such negotiations? Always rude for someone to make unreasonable demands, and then compound things by not being around to see if they're met..."

Random cocks his head in agreement. "While I may have a card trick or two up my sleeves if necessary, my first line of attack will be to ask my sister where to look. She seems to have a vested interest in the matter." Random turns to Vere and says...

"Vere, can you make sure the queen hears about this? I'm afraid I'm going to be leaving her with a lot of loose ends."

"Certainly, Your Majesty," Vere replies. "I will give her all the information I have available."

"Where are you off to, and do you need a wind player?" suggests Reid, as if most affairs of state could be handled all the more smoothly by having a penny whistle involved.

Random smiles and opens his mouth to answer when he hears something Martin says and turns to listen.

Vere also turns to listen more obviously to what is going on between Aisling and Martin.

[GM note: this is simultaneous with the Aisling-Martin thread. Solange can disengage if she likes and go over to meet Worth.]

The crowd in the Great Hall has dwindled as the guards escort everyone who can walk out and remove the wounded. A few guards, Rangers, and naval officers move in different directions through the masses. One in particular is familiar to the members of the royal family who have lived in Amber these last few years: Admiral Worth, wearing the garb of a common tar.

He reenters the hall against the flow of the outbound stream and heads towards the knot of royals on the dance floor. Catching wind of the confrontation that his foster-daughter is in the middle of, Worth hesitates. His expression is concerned, but resigned.

Martin turns back to Solange, but before he can say anything, he sees Worth.

If Martin makes no comment that precludes Aisling's exit, Solange will let out a noisy breath, as if she's been holding it during the exchange.

[OOC: Hold it 'til peacetime, Alma.]

Solange is relieved to have a graceful exit from the peanut gallery. She takes a few steps towards [Worth], making it clear that he can speak to her without engaging in the current acrimony.

Worth waits until Solange has cleared the battle zone to step close and speak to her in a low voice. "It's your uncle. You know he hasn't been well these last few years. The shock of all this has given him a spell. It's his heart, we think."

He pauses and adds, "Felicity needs you. I think he's dying."

"I'll come right away," Solange says, folding her wings. "Where are they?"

"Outside. I'll take you," says Worth.

[If you like, you can stay a moment to see the blowup, or you can go straight on. Either way ...]

[Let's play it that I noted the blowup's existence, but was already making my way out -- suits?]

[OK.]

Aisling halts at [Martin's] words, turning her head halfway back to watch him from the side of her eye as he speaks. And for a moment more, after he finishes, she stays there, quite still. And then she loses, and she turns.

And this may be the section of the evening where everyone realizes that, in fact, they know very little indeed about Aisling. They've seen her hopeful, and earnest, and concerned, and always, always carefully banked. They've never seen her like this, with all the fire that forms her core dancing with unholy joy behind her eyes, no tension anywhere in her body or worries for the future to hinder her flowing grace; no one here has seen Aisling throw it all away and fight. Until now. Her grin is like the noonday sun in the center of a hundred mile wide desert, her voice measured and clear;

Martin turns back from looking to Solange, who has moved aside to speak to Worth, as Aisling begins speaking. His blade hasn't wavered.

"Why, Martin," she drawls brightly, like Doc Holliday, "If you know so much about the internal politics of Chaos, it's rather mendacious of you to try and make me Dara's whipping boy. But then, I suppose as one learns more about a culture, one tends to pick up its traits. I've picked up traits like the willingness to die to bring back your entire army intact, and the willingness to approach you, despite being warned by a full quarter of the Regent's Council that my life wouldn't be worth a speck of dried blood if I so much as looked at you cross-eyed, to approach you to try to get information on how to hit our latest enemy where it would hurt. But if you'd rather attack Dara here in Amber, why, I'm willing to work on that, too -- we could have a puppet show!" Aisling's left hand, representing Dara, floats waveringly up as she intones its line, "Ambeeer weeeiill beeee destroooi--" and then the bits of her right hand fly up and smack it down with a resounding %lt;CLAP!> And she grins with expansive, all-encompassing good spirits, barely short of laughing.

[[She's gone off the deep end. But she's pleased to invite everyone, Martin included, to join her. Come on in! The water's fine! ;)]]

If I recall, Merlin is still in the area, yes? There's a double clump of Cambina/Corwin/Merlin, and Lucas/Flora/Solace/Gerard/Brennan?

If so, Brennan moves over to the other clump and talks to Merlin. "You're the resident expert, Merlin. Anything we should know about these little toys?"

Merlin takes a moment to examine the card. It's not quite so glossy as it was a few moments ago. "It was ensorcelled. A preparatory enchantment of some sort, held in abeyance. There are methods for doing such a thing; she and my other teachers taught me some of them."

He looks up at Brennan. "How much do you know of sorcerous matters, cousin?"

Paige arrives on the tails of this, listening for Merlin's answer before commenting, "While we're on the subject, Merle. There's a guard that Martin needs you to look over. He's concerned that your mother used his brains for slurpee mix."

Brennan gives her a flat stare at the choice of words under the circumstances, but otherwise says nothing.

Merlin's eyes go wide. "She has eaten a guard? We must warn the King at once. Who is in charge of security arrangements here?"

Corwin has to think about the answer to this question, and Cambina shakes her head, which is apparently a mistake.

"Venesch is aware and I can't attest to what condition the guard is in, but, yes that was Martin's concern," Paige responds, turning to take in the drama she just left.

Her body is tense, as if she wants to return there, perhaps to prevent something from happening, but is afraid to provoke things further.

"Merle, I know 'shifters can survive the loss of limbs, but what about their head?" she asks quietly. "'Cus I think Aisling's about to get hers bitten off. Not sure I'd blame him either. She might've learned our culture, but not etiquette."

Brennan had been watching the slow motion blow-up, as well with at least half his attention.

"Speaking of which," he says to Merlin and Paige, "Let's make sure that doesn't happen. Merlin, let's go talk to Prince Martin, if Paige will be so gracious as to intercept Aisling."

Addendum: It is probably not clear from the above that Brennan is going to set off for Martin, hopefully and if at all possible with Merlin in tow.

Merlin rises from his half-kneeling position next to Cambina and says, "Yes, I believe you are right, cousin. Let us all do that."

To Cambina and Corwin he says, "Excuse me," as he and Brennan head across the small patch of dance floor that separates them from the potentially impending melee.

Llewella approaches the knot of people with Jerod, her steps deliberate but not slow. She looks disturbed. She speaks without preliminaries when she arrives, and remarkably calmly. "Jerod, we need to find your sister. Demond Harga'rel is dead."

"What of the rest of the delegation from Rebma?" Jerod asks. "Have they been accounted for? And where is Harga'rel?"

Llewella still looks agitated, although the years of royal training make her speech as calm and smoothly modulated as ever.

"I have servants fetching them. We should hurry, I'd like you to be there when your sister arrives. Harga'rel is in the room with the champagne fountain." She pauses. "He wasn't killed by Dara. He drowned. I mean he was drowned."

"I'll be back." Jerod says to Cambina. He looks over at Corwin. "Call me if there's any problems. With my sister that is."

"I will," Corwin says.

On the far side of Cambina, Paige and Brennan are saying something about cards and guards. Further away than that, Aisling and Martin are going at it hammer and tongs.

Once that is done, Jerod heads off with Llewella. "Have the guards on the perimeter been notified to keep an eye out for someone who's wet? And where are those two Rebman minders that accompanied my sister? They would have guessed I was going to be questioning Harga'rel further concerning his activities once the coronation and ball were concluded."

"We haven't had time to do that. One of Julian's men found him and they sent for me; I've got people looking for Valeria and her entourage, but it will take a while to find them in all this. Poor Valeria." Llewella says, and shakes her head.

And Jerod makes a mental note to verify whether or not Llewella has wet hands.

Her hands do not appear to be wet. But someone like Lamell could have done it without touching Harga'rel.

Yes, but Lamell isn't here, thankfully for some others as Jerod thinks about that. But he does remember the reference and realizes a need for further resources that he does not possess, as well as a need to prepare for possible unpleasant political ramifications.

To that end, he adjusts his course to approach the King, being inline with Random (and Martin it would seem as well).

Martin lets Aisling run out of steam and, if she needs to, laugh a little, before responding.

What he says, no longer angrily at all, but still in a voice that carries clearly, even if it is suddenly mild, is: "I must have misunderstood you. I thought I heard you suggest that I might be lying. That cannot have been what you meant. Can it?"

Jerod cuts across the ballroom quickly, leaving Llewella in his dust. Somehow he thinks she may understand. He brushes by Folly in his haste to intervene.

She'll understand too (well, he hopes she will).

"Your Majesty, a moment if you could spare it." Jerod says, turning in an arc inward to approach the king so Random can see him coming, and interestingly enough putting him within physical reach of Martin, who is conveniently close to the King.

Either Martin's distracted or he recognizes his friend and kinsman's tread, because Jerod is able to step between Martin and Random. Random turns from watching Aisling to see Jerod as the latter approaches.

Close enough in fact that Jerod can, and does, reach out a little with a hand to snag Martin. "Your highness as well, if you could attend please."

Martin winces and jerks away as Jerod lays a hand on his shoulder. It takes Jerod a moment to realize that Martin's shoulder is too warm, and damp.

Oooh crap...that's all [Jerod] thinks for a half second.

Only a moment behind Jerod, Brennan and Merlin are approaching Martin and Aisling from the opposite. Brennan is closer to Aisling than Merlin is and gets a moment to look at her before she can reply to Martin.

Brennan will use it to flash a severe glance at Aisling and silently mouth the words, "Beat it!" before turning to Martin and the nearby Random.

"Your Majesty, Your Highness," he says loudly but not shouting, and ignoring the commotion, "there is an urgent security matter that requires your attention."

Martin's wince and sudden movement are impossible for Brennan and Merlin to miss.

At the same moment, Jovian, who was closer and set off while Martin was still speaking, interposes between Aisling and Martin.

[OOC: There are a few feet between Martin and Aisling. She's out of immediate range for a sword thrust.]

Asiling opens her mouth to speak, but Jovian overrides her.

[He is] speaking in the clear, controlled tones that served so admirably for shepherding the crowd. "Misunderstandings can be cleared up, in a way that doesn't serve Dara's purposes," this pointedly to both of them, "when there aren't wounded to attend to. Aisling, I just got word from T'dor," he lies as smoothly, he hopes, as he has ever lied in his life. "They've got wounded civilians out there that they may lose if you don't help. Please."

He beckons, with hand and tilted head, toward the nearest route to the bailey. His outward expression is calm, but deep in his eyes, there is pleading, and a deep enough worry to have the ring of truth even if he is, shall we say, mendacious about its cause.

Aisling looks past him at Martin for half a moment, and then abruptly ceases blazing, like someone angrily jerking shut curtains over a window into the night.

Paige arrives from the bandstand a moment behind Jovian.

"Aisling, there's a member of the guard we're worried that the Duchess attacked. You're our expert on these matters."

She gently sets her hand on Aisling's arm, "Please?"

Aisling's arm jerks away from Paige's hand in a reflex and the look she turns on Paige has a bit of an apologetic grimace for this, but her head turns again to track the movements of Folly.

And behind it all, Folly pauses, watches each grab for attention, listens to the almost-plausible hyperbole (as clear to her as if she'd made it up herself) -- and frowns. Oh, yes, people, sweep it under the rug; that will make it ALL BETTER.

Without quite intending to, Folly takes another step forward and, in a loud, clear voice that cuts through the commotion, says: "STOP IT!"

Folly, if looking, can tell that behind Aisling's startled look is a faint tinge of gratitude.

And in the moment of stunned silence that follows Folly's command, Random grabs Jerod's hand to look at the sticky red tracery that covers Jerod's palm. "Hey!" he says accusingly to Martin. "You're bleeding!"