After Brennan, Cambina and Jovian talk, and as there is time, Brennan spies Solange. Not wanting to monopolize Cambina for the entire evening, he excuses himself and makes his way to Solange.
"You look heavenly. May I have this dance?"
"With pleasure, Sir Fox," Solange replies.
Then, assuming she says yes, and they dance, "You've been scarce, cousin-- how are you?"
"Well enough, thank you -- and yourself? I haven't seen much of anyone, except poor Nestor. I've been buried among the old travelogues."
He nods. "I've made Nestor's acquaintance myself, recently, trying to start a little research on everyone's favorite boogeymen, as well as looking for a little insight into the publishing business here. Looking for anything of interest in the travellogues, or are they considered light reading?"
"I was hoping to be able to spot places that would have the most advanced healing arts. Nanotech, maybe, or perhaps regeneration. I don't trust magical cures as well."
"Oh, I see. Your father. Yes, of course that makes sense. I know you didn't ask my advice, but your brother did some time ago. Do you want me to bore you with the same advice? If nothing else, it's a more refined message, since I've been thinking about it for a while in the back of my head."
"I'd be grateful for any advice right now," Solange answers. "There are times when I wish I'd studied medicine instead of businesss. Then I'd know where to start."
"Hmm. All right. Some of this may be obvious, but all right. I wouldn't trust technology any more than I trust magic, or soul-chaining, or any other Shadow technique. But that's the same as saying I wouldn't trust magic any less than I trust technology or psychic resublimation or whatever the Hell you find.
"My thought is that whatever you find has to be a cure, not a treatment. If it's a technology treatment, say, then you have to watch out that they're not just going to steen his bones through with some titanium alloy that will corrode and infect him as soon as he's out of that shadow. There are magical equivalents that are just as bad."
He pauses for a moment. "Of course, this assumes I know what I'm talking about," he cautions.
"You probably know more than I do," Solange says. "I have no practical experience with magic, and the technology I saw when I was at school was lower-level than what I'm hoping to find. Most of what I know about either comes from fiction. Even so, I was thinking along the same lines. I don't want a magical solution that only works as long as the spell's in effect, because that'd disappear as soon as he hit a region of Shadow where magic just doesn't work. Andf I don't want something like what you described. That's why I was thinking of repair and regeneratoin. I suppose if there's something that accomplishes it magically, that'd be as good."
Brennan nods; he sees that his message has been received.
"And I don't know how I'd go about testing the cure fully. Partially, yes, if you're willing to run back and forth doing animal experimentation. But good enough to put him back on the Pattern? You have a tough road ahead, Solange. I wish I could give a better prognosis, or a more informed opinion."
Solange nods resignedly.
"But, hey," he says, trying to turn the conversation to something a little more helpful, and perhaps a little more lighthearted, "You won't find my travelogs in the library, but I've covered a lot of ground in my time. Maybe I can give you some leads."
"Do tell," Solange encourages.
Brennan proceeds to sketch out a handful of colorful-sounding locations in Shadow, in brief, but in enough quirky detail to suggest he's been to each one. He mentions the Techno-reapers, in a place where men scratch out their existances harvesting the remnants of some previous extremely high technology civilization. Then there are the Brotherhood of the Starlit Cowls, pilotting their ghost fleets thorugh the skies of their Shadow. If they can chain the souls of their sky into their sails, and if they can chain the souls of their cotton to become their sails, well, they might very well be able to coax something back to life in Gerard's legs.
Er, but they're past Yg. Not an easy trip.
There are a few others, but when he's done, he mentions one place he hasn't been to, but....
"...I know this sounds odd. And I can't verify this. But I've heard a variation on this three times, decades apart from each other, and in Shadows widely separated. The first time, I had supposedly just missed, by a few weeks or so, the appearance and disappearance in those local waters of an Island called Vanderyahr. Supposedly an island with people living on it, in a few small cities, which-- and this was the second hand tale that the locals were telling me-- kept moving from world to world. The Yahrens were evidently masters of the quick trade."
He pauses, and editorializes a bit. "Sounds ludicrous, doesn't it? An island that, by our parlance, skipped from Shadow to Shadow? I assumed they were trying to run a game on me, and I didn't like the place I first heard about it anyway. But fifty years later and a long ways away, I heard a variation on the same story. I was centuries too late, that time, but the locals kept a good enough written history that I was able to compare accounts. Even the name was the same, allowing for transliterating into wildly different alphabets.
"And a third time, maybe a decade later, I ran into the same tale. I always meant to follow up on it, but one thing got in the way of another, and...."
He shrugs.
"It's a good story, anyway. But if it's real, and one of us sets our mind to finding it, it should be findable. And if it's real, I bet they have lots of stories to tell."
"I'll have to keep my eyes open for it," Solange agrees.
At some point when Jerod is passing close by Gerard Vere raises a hand slightly, catching Jerod's attention. Assuming Jerod stops and looks interested Vere murmurs a quick word to his father and walks over towards Jerod.
On his way to pick up a decent glass of scotch, Jerod will slow his pace long enough to let Vere catch up.
Vere falls into step beside him, and says casually, "I did not have a chance to mention one other small matter earlier. His Majesty will always do as he will, of course, but all possible information regarding the matter you brought to my attention has been passed on to him, along with a very persuasive voice whose feelings on the matter agree with ours."
"Excellent." Jerod says, collecting his drink. "I sincerely hope that it doesn't come back to bite us in the ass for waiting too long."
He pauses to purse his lips. "I've been thinking about absent friends. And that lost ship of yours. A pity we could not have more time to chase it down...to find our lost friends."
"Agreed," Vere says, with a grim edge to his voice. "I had hoped to be able to devote time to this matter. The lost ship especially. They went out on my orders, and I have been able to do nothing to locate or avenge them."
"Given the chaotic conditions in Shadow at that time, I have wondered if perhaps they did not encounter what prevented Solange and I from returning." Jerod says. "It may be nothing more than an accident. Though if the opportunity presents itself, I will see what I can find. Do me a favor. Have one of your staff send me a copy of the ship's information, including crew. You never know what you can stumble across in Shadow."
"I have already prepared such a report," Vere replies. "Both Marquess Maritime and His Majesty have copies. I am certain the Marquess has read his copy." A very small smile crooks his mouth underneath the hood. "A copy will be delivered to you tomorrow."
"I look forward to reading it." Jerod says.
Vere inclines his head in acknowledgement, and offers quiet thanks to a servant as he takes another pear cider. He takes a small sip, smiles slightly, and murmurs "Autumn...."
Jerod looks at him curiously, though he does not say anything, letting Vere decide whether or not to expound on his comment.
Vere seems lost in reverie for a few moments, before coming back to himself. "I should not take any more of your time right now," he says. "Do let me know if there is anything I can do to be of aid in the current tension with the Rebman delegation. It must be..." he pauses a second, "...interesting to be one of the points of intersection between the two courts."
"Keep an eye on Brita and company." Jerod says, responding to Vere's first comment. "The situation is not what it seems to be. Not even close. And they do not have the resources with which to determine the facts of the case. Not without blundering around and causing more damage to both sides."
Vere accepts that without comment or a change of expression.
Jerod trades his empty scotch glasses for something much milder. "I think as far as intersections go, you would know what it is like. Your return to the Isles will place you squarely in that position once again between your mother's Court and Amber. The difference between you and I is I had more exposure to both Courts early on. Both my parents had a hand in my training to deal with them. You were not so lucky I would think.
"I do not begrudge the life I have though. It punishes those who wear rose-coloured glasses. But to those who can lift the blinders, life is much clearer."
"Our talks always leave me with something to think about." Vere inclines his head. "Prince Jerod." He takes a step away, nods once more, then turns and heads back in the direction of Gerard.
"I've been called many things, but never a topic for intellectual perusal." Jerod says with an amused expression. "Have a good evening cousin."
Benedict is leading Kourin off the floor and towards the champagne fountain.
Noting Benedict movement, Lilly follows in a subtle fashion. After all there was no point letting everyone in the hall see that she was seeking out her father. If he happened to catch it though, well that was all the better. For the moment though, she too approached the champagne fountain under the pretense of being thirsty. Once there she offers a smile and gentle nod in greeting but remains silent for the moment.
Benedict offers Lilly a glass of champagne and then takes one himself. "Lady Dragon," he says.
"We meet again good sir." Lilly says with a sincere smile and a polite bow. She sips the champagne before getting onto the business at hand.
"I realized that there was something I had meant to ask you. During you absence have you been able to determine the fate of the Tecys?" Straight to the point. Hopefully her father would appreciate her candor.
"It stands, as does my home at Avalon. Jade and Mallet were very happy to hear of your success. I am sure you will be able to visit them when your duties to the queen allow."
Lilly visibly brightens. "That is good to know." For the moment there is little more to say. Finding this answer left her mind free to concentrate more on other things. So far this evening was lending itself quite nicely to good natured merriment. If it continued she might even begin to start enjoying herself.
"Well then, I do not wish to keep you from the other guests." Lilly pauses for a moment and looks her father deep in the eyes. For just a moment she allows all of her feeling to come forth. These past few weeks had been in every way the most eventful of her life. The joy she felt over having found a true family and a true home could not be contained by the weariness of the war and its aftermath. And for perhaps the first time in her life she realized that she loved the man standing before her. There are no right words to express everything she wants to say in that moment so she settles on a simple phrase, "Thank You Father."
With that the moment is gone. With a polite nod she turns to mingle among the crowd and insure the safety of her queen.
Having wandered back in from the garden - yet again - Robin looks around the Grande Hall, her eyes not fixing on anything in particular, perhaps still a little overwhelmed and over-stimulated.
With a ruffling of her shoulders, she takes herself once again to the side room cum bar. There she gets herself a gin in a decent-sized glass (not quite a pint) and another drink that she has to describe to the bartender by scent and taste, having only had it once before. In a certain cousin's room.
These she carries with her back out into the main room and casually strolls with natural grace Reid-ward.
Reid has half a glass an is vaguely trying to be discrete about watching the musicians play. He's not very successful, as it's pretty obvious what he's up to. He awakens himself from his thoughts as Robin approaches.
Robin takes in Reid's glass and the former direction of his attention, and rolls her eyes at herself. Here she was trying to be polite, and what she achieves is redundant and disturbing. A rueful chuckle shakes her frame, somehow that seems apropos for her.
But she's determined not to hide in the wings anymore, so the girl holds out the glass that matches the drink Reid made for her just the other day. "I, uh, wanted to repay you for your help. I passed my test." She smiles uncertainly, feeling more than a little awkward.
Reid smiles, downs the rest of his drink and accepts the glass she offers. "Congratulations. As a teacher, I always take pride when my pupils perform well. Was there a reward for your success? Or was the success its own reward?"
Robin cocks a very Julianic eyebrow at hearing herself referred to as Reid's pupil. Thoughts dance behind her green eyes, but she decides to let it slide. Prickly, prickly Robin, calm down.
"There was a reward." The girl chuckles. "My father didn't think I was slacking. Always a good thing." She grins.
"Indeed. One's bond with a father is valuable," Reid agrees. "And otherwise? Are you adjusting to the size and scope of either the family or the castle itself? It can be a bit much if you're not used to it," he confides.
"Tell me." Robin chuckles, though there's a edge of hysteria in her laughter. Then she quickly gets it under control. "I don't know if I'll ever adjust, Reid. But maybe, maybe I can adapt. It's all... a bit much for this forest girl."
She flaps her hand toward the Grande Hall, the swirling currents of plots and politicking, the leviathans of her kin cruising through the lesser sharks and barracudas leaving wakes and eddies within the enormous echoing and stone-captured space.
"Verde!" Robin swears quietly under her breath as her perceptions play another one of those games with her. And she takes a quick slug from the glass in her hand.
Reid sees the apprehension. "I'm guessing that soon enough we'll be off again, scattered to the four winds. Do you traverse shadow yet? Or have you not walked the Pattern?"
Robin nods distractedly, then consciously breaks away from the scene before her to turn back to Reid with a embarrassed smile for letting her attention wander. "Uh... Oh, yes. I get around a little in Shadow. I'm not a big trip-taker or anything. But yes, I'm initiated."
"Well then, for your sake, let's hope you don't have to endure the castle for too much longer." Reid suggests sympathetically.
Robin looks up at him with big green eyes, which then drop bashfully. "Thank you, Reid."
Deliberately, though not without some tensing, Robin turns her back on the political feeding frenzy out on the dance floor to look at the orchestra. When she speaks again, her voice is small and hesitant. "Reid? Do you ever worry that the Amber you left... isn't the one you returned to? I mean, in more than the metaphorical / time's passed sense?"
Reid takes the matter fairly seriously. "I have my suspicions that there is a place for us that is MORE like home than where we currently stand. I haven't been able to prove it, and it's a matter of metaphysics that I'm not as well versed in. I have been to a nearby shadow that felt more right, but there was no castle... and no pattern, so I'm not sure what it was."
The girl cocks her head, a surprised chirrup escaping her. Her green eyes dart sideways to the teacher, then back to the orchestra. A quick series of thoughts dance through Robin's mind, evidenced by a series of head twitches accompanied by the brief fluttering of her free hand.
Still looking at the orchestra, Robin sighs. Reid... scarily ancient, and yet an outsider like herself. Not one of the leviathans behind her. The girl speaks again in a very quiet tone of voice.
"I... I think I've been there. Painted. No sound except for the water." She waves her hand absentmindedly by one ear. "But... waiting, hesitant first breath before the anthem peals.
"And the way I got there. It should have brought me Home." Robin is very definite on that point.
"And..." the girl's voice drops to a whisper, a breath that is quickly swirled away and diffused into the air of the ballroom. Reverence is in her tone even as Robin does her best to make sure her next statement has no life at all beyond the two of them, "I saw the Unicorn there."
Reid nods knowingly. "I did not see her, but I felt her gaze. Brita and I found that place on our way here. I, too, thought it was home. So, at least two of us have found it independently, while not seeking it directly. I have shown it to Cambina and Paige. I also tend to wonder if some of our missing citizens may be finding natural paths there through Arden. That is something I'd like to investigate... Perhaps with your father's permission and the approval of the king, I could request your aide in that area. Brita has not walked the path, so while I am comfortable with her handling some of Arden's affairs, I feel you could be more valuable in this task. If, that is, it is something you yourself are interested in pursuing?"
"The paths in Arden are shifting. But I don't think they are leading There." Robin's green eyes dart up to Reid's. "There were no people in That Place, Reid. I looked. No sound of ax, no rising smoke. The only life beyond the green was one small creature that I created. Oh, and a solitary footprint in a most... singular place.
"And though I really would be interested in pursuing this, I... investigation in Arden will be difficult in the near future. Neither Brita nor myself will be available. For a while. Uh, neither will Arden."
Reid looks mildly surprised. "I'm usually fairly good at seeing the big picture, but I'm afraid I'll need a little bit more information on that..."
The Huntress shifts uncomfortably as a lifetime's training in not talking wars the new glasnost.
"Listen, Reid. It's not my tale to tell, so I... can't. I just can't." She shakes her head as she looks over to the man, her eyes sad. Training has won out.
"I'll understand if you don't want to tell me about this citizen leak. But I'd appreciate it if you did anyway. I may not be able to do anything about it. But on the other hand, if there's something going on in Arden," the girl chuckles grimly, "I'd like to know before it becomes critical. Or fatal."
"Oh, it came fairly close last week... I went to investigate with a friend. We came across some citizens on the move. The person leading them wandered off then came back after dark to ambush the lot of us. I could only handle one before having to trump out. I took a prisoner though, and have gotten a little bit of intelligence. Just not enough..." Reid replies.
"Some citizens. On the move through... Arden? And they were led into an ambush?" Robin has dropped the pretense of watching the orchestra and turned to face Reid. She's being very, very careful to make sure that she understands. In the depths of her eyes, a cold fire is starting to smolder.
"Yes, there is evil lurking in Arden. Though if the forest is not going to be around much longer, that might negate the need for investigation." Reid suggests, only half jokingly.
"Arden is eternal." The Ranger wishes she could make that statement stronger, but lately her ideas on what is eternal have been... changed. It used to be a maxim, now it's merely a matter of belief and hope. She smiles to Reid. "She will be around. She just won't be as... accessible.
"And Brita and I will be within the inaccessibility. Anything you can bring yourself to tell us, Reid, would be helpful."
Reid ticks off a few items on his fingers... "The man I have in custody is called Turf. He says he worked for Girth. Girth pays his other bandits, so Turf suspects the captives are sold."
2: "Many of the attackers were on horseback. So they've got the facilities and funding to keep such. That may limit where they could be based."
3: "There were men-at-arms following the wave of horsemen. I think the leader, or someone relatively high up has some military training... I'm sure they all have experience with that mode of attack from going after other citizens, so the operation has seen some practice. Still, someone had to come up with the methodology in the first place. So I'm thinking someone with military training. Perhaps even someone of rank if they can lead such a troupe effectively."
4: "When we were left, we were off the trails by a ways. I could probably get you close to where we departed, but it might take a little bit of searching to find the place of the actual attack if you wanted to track them. We were probably a decent distance down a stable shadow path before the strike itself, but I might be able to give you a starting point. I could at least get you as close as the nearest point in Arden proper."
Reid sighs. "I think that's all of the detail I can muster for now. My prisoner may know a bit more, location-wise, or might be able to provide some further description. He's, um, recovering right now but might be available for further questioning in a couple of days."
The Huntress' cold, green eyes have narrowed to slits of demon-fire within the blackness of her face paint. An unconscious and sub-vocal growl rumbles in her throat.
"I won't have days to wait. But if you can describe the path and the ambush spot, I can find it." No uncertainty about that at all. "Military action. Human poaching. In Arden."
Robin is quivering she's so mad. An actual snarl rips out of the girl. Followed by an explosion of gin and glass shards as the frail vessel in her right hand finds itself unable to cope with the ranger's clenching fist.
Reid is not surprised by the burst of emotion and making no big deal of it, offers Robin a handkerchief to soak up any spilled gin or blood if she wishes.
Robin looks around, surprised. Something's changed.
When Reid offers his handkerchief, the girl finally figures it out. "Oh! Uh, thank you." Ducking her head, she accepts the handkerchief with embarrassment. There's not much blood, but a fair amount of gin. Robin pats at herself, as though she's done this before.
Then the girl carefully squats and, cupping the handkerchief in one hand, begins to pick up the pieces of glass from the floor around herself.
He then proceeds to describe the locations involved in the best detail his artistic memory can muster.
The girl nods as she works. "Yep. I know the place." She's trying hard to keep the anger down.
[Reid]
"I do recommend you bring a family
member or two. I do not doubt you could handle a dozen or more by
yourself, but we really don't know how many soldiers they might have..."
Robin looks up at Reid. And stands back up with a sigh. "Yeah. Okay. Dad'll need to know anyway. He probably won't be as liquid in his reaction. But I'm sure he'll want a piece too." The Huntress is transmuting her anger to a rather grim humor. Arden's soil will be drinking blood before too long.
"Thank you. I appreciate it." The Huntress smiles to the Harlequin, unfortunately it's not too pretty a smile. That changes in a flash to concern. "Oh! You said you Trumped out. Your friend? Did they get out too?"
"Yes, I was able to bring her through with me, escaping any serious injury." Reid reassures. "But speaking of Trumps, please accept one of mine. If you find out anything urgent, or need reinforcements, you need but ask." Reid offers a singular card from the pouch at his belt.
"Reid!" Robin's breath goes in with startled gasp. The girl looks at the card in the Harlequin's hand warily, almost as if he were offering her a frog. In fact, Robin would be a lot less hesitant if Reid did offer a frog. "Uh..." She presses her lips together as she thinks. She's been outed, she's Family now, Family deals with these things.
"O-okay. Thank you." The Huntress looks up into Reid's masked face with questioning eyes as she tentatively takes the card.
If she accepts the card, he will take the moment of exchange to get the glass filled handkerchief back from her. Some minor slight-of-hand might have her believing that he returned the cloth, glass, gin and all back into the pouch with his other cards. He didn't, but it's a clever misdirection.
Robin barely notices the pass off of the handkerchief. But as Reid does his misdirection thing, the Ranger lets her attention be snagged momentarily by a particularly pretty arpeggio from the orchestra. The universe hates it when you watch.
"Now, with that out of the way, would you like a dance?"
"But I have to..." The Huntress' voice trails off as she notices the page, done up in his Oriental uniform, approaching with an armful of towels.
"Thank you. Sorry about that." She murmurs to the boy.
Then turns back to Reid. Green eyes look at Reid. There's questioning in there as Robin tries to figure out if there's some kind of social debt implied or being called on. Damn castle! For a moment, she runs her and Reid's conversation back through her mind. But in the end, she can't decide. And it comes down to does she want to dance with Reid?
"I... don't know any of these dances. But if you can stand me trodding on your toes, I think I'd like that." Robin smiles bashfully.
Reid returns the smile. "My feet have walked a thousand shadows. I suspect I will survive."
The Huntress chuckles warmly. Gently she places her hand on Reid's arm. It's okay, she's done this twice before. Successfully. And Reid is scary by what he is, not by what he's done. That's unfair to the man, and not a behavior that Robin wants to see in herself.
With that, he leads her onto the floor.
As a dancer, Reid is a strong lead in the traditional dances. Someone watching without the enhanced perception held by family members would think Robin's dancing was effortless. He takes care to steer her through all the simple moves, and dances around her in such a way as to make her look stunning. All the while, he tries to ease her mind so she can actually enjoy the movement without having to stress over where she's going or what she's doing.
Once Robin's on the floor, music and regular movement swirling around her once again, her smile begins to brighten. Though, like a nervous hawk, she's not easy to lead at first, tending to resist almost automatically.
She keeps her eyes on Reid, patient teacher that he is, and it takes the Huntress a moment to realize that teaching is exactly what is going on. When she does, a chirruping laugh escapes her. And she relaxes - being taught, not being directed. Okay, she can do that.
With the realization and the laugh, Robin's dancing changes entirely. From an awkward savage to a force of the wild, the Huntress emerges once again as a natural power. Even when standing in place, Robin is not still. The music moves through her body and out her swaying limbs in an expression of freedom in even this most constrained of dances.
This energy, this wildness is directed toward her stately and noble partner - painting the Harlequin in the colors of stewardship, dignity, husbandry and worth.
Last modified: 8 June 2003