The Aftermath

When Ossian feels Lilly's hand squeeze he does not hesitate. He steps through to the beach, looks around for a moment to that nothing dangerous lurks there, and then pulls Lilly and Vialle through.

With sword still in hand Lilly scans the area for any potential dangers. While doing so she is also getting a feel for the land. One necessary question came to mind as she took in her surroundings. Looking to Ossian she asks, "Do you know how time flows here compared to Amber?"

"No." Ossian answers. "But it shouldn't be too bad." [GMs? Has the sun moved significantly since Ossian checked the Trump? (just a few minutes back in Amber-time]

[OOC:Sun? You wanted a sun? Well darn, there goes my plan for this shadow.]

[BIC:No, it's where you expect it to be.]

Lilly nods. The information causing her to relax ever so slightly.

Vialle seems a little disoriented by her trip the Trump and leans against Ossian. "Where are we?" she asks. "Can we get back? Random will be very worried about me."

[Olof, please describe the beach as Ossian remembers it from when he prepared the Trump. The GMs will add anything needful to the description.]

Gerard says, "Lilly, take the Queen to the King." When there's no immediate response, he turns around and realizes that they're gone.

He curses, then, and starts to bull his way through the crowd towards the dance floor.

The sand of the beach is almost shiny white, with a tiny tiny shade of pink. If the sand was whiter it would hurt your eyes, in the light from the sun shining above (the sun is somewhat whiter than the earth sun). Over it all hangs a very blue sky (think summer sky through a pair of polaroids), without a single cloud. The beach overlooks an apparently infinite blue-greenish ocean, with moderate waves coming in. At the upper end of the beach a forest of large trees begins. One tree, not far away, leans out over the beach, shaping a pleasantly shaded area under it. The place is quiet except for the sound of the waves and the light breeze from the sea.

There are no signs of animal life except for two white birds circling very high up in the sky.

Far to the north (or perhaps the south), a sail can be spotted by the keen-eyed. The sail is a bright red, but the ship doesn't seem interested in the beach or the people on it.

"We are at a beach in Shadow. I used to come here to cleanse my brain." Ossian says to Vialle. "We should wait a few minutes, and then we'll try to contact one of the cousins back there. Trumping back should not be a problem."

Again Lilly nods and maintains her silence. It would be important to let someone know they were safe. With things as they were it would be unwise to wait too long before making contact.

"Meanwhile we should find some shade." Ossian leads Vialle to the shade under the tree.

Vialle thanks Ossian.

"What did I miss?" he asks.

"Dara." The edge in her voice is impossible to miss. "She made her presence known by hovering in the air above the dance floor along with one companion. She is seeking vengeance for the death of Duke Borel and wants her son returned to her. The King did not seem to keen on her method of making demands. They attacked with a deck of cards, none of which came near us. Those that were hit with them however were wounded. I'm afraid I do not have much more information than that to share.

"We should report in. I am certain the King will want to know that his Queen is safe. Who can we contact?" Lilly asks.

"And I will want to know that the King is safe, and our kinfolk," adds Vialle.

"Patience, my ladies." Ossian says "We don't want to break anyone's concentration if there is a fight or a stampede."

"True enough . But we also do not want to add to anyone's worry." Lilly gently takes Vialle's hand and adds softly, "The King had many at his side. I am certain he shall be fine. As for the others, well we are a resourceful lot." The Queen can sense the concern in Lilly's voice as well. It was almost against her nature to retreat when there were so many she wished to defend. Duty was duty however.

He puts his Trump back in the Trump case, considers something for a moment, then pulls another, larger and flat leather case from under his clothes. "I guess Sir Otter could handle it."

Lilly finds the choice interesting. It probably was better to try to speak with a younger. Still she would have chosen one unknown to Dara. Of course their choices were limited by Ossian's cards. Because of that she decided not to question his judgement.

Sensing that the dragons are coming under enough control to handle the situation themselves now, Jovian straightens and surveys the bloodied crowd, in that odd moment when the shadows do not flicker. The funny thing about time is when it doesn't....

He glances upward, half in the room and half out, then throws back his cowl and hood, revealing the Knight Commander's face to the assembled luminaries.

"Everyone will please stay where they are," Julian's son thunders in a powerful yet calm voice meant to carry across a formation in flight. "Our allies are on patrol outside the castle. Remain within the grounds until the all-clear is given."

When he feels confident that he has most of the crowd's attention, he continues. "If you are uninjured, and untrained in the healing arts, kindly retire to the gardens. Knights and veterans, remain to assist the injured."

//Healers are to land in the courtyard, now,// he adds to Canareth. //The courtyard, NOT the formal gardens.//

The crowd responds favorably to the confidence in Jovian's voice and begins filing out.

Knights, Royal Guards, and Rangers all move to take some charge of the crowd. Jovian recognizes a few, such as Vista.

Whereupon, with significant looks to his wingleaders, he closes the few yards between himself and Bleys. "Are you all right?" If that latter worthy is looking shaky on his feet, Jovian will offer an arm.

Bleys shakes off whatever had had hold of him, literally. "Yes, yes, fine. Have you seen my daughter?" He scans the hall, looking for Paige.

"Last I saw, she was headed toward the top of the hall, toward the King." Jovian nods in that direction, where it is presumably not easy to see because of the semi-orderly movement of the crowd, but with luck the elaborate emerald dragon on the orchestra risers may be visible.

Leaving Bleys to it, Jovian goes about collaring servants with instructions:

You, gather bottles of the purest, strongest spirits.

You, get the clean napkins, spare tablecloths, whatever linens are sanitary, and start cutting the bigger cloth in strips.

You, get the sharpest of the available cutlery together, and if boiling water isn't available, clean them with the spirits that one's collecting.

You, get some brandy and port moving outside. Calming draughts, medicinal purposes. No, not the champagne, that'd seem callous.

And all of you bring it to...hmmm. That clear area of dance floor before the orchestra risers.

All of this makeshift is just to deal with the most serious cases, of course, until proper supplies arrive. You, get to the infirmary upstairs and get us proper supplies, and run like I'm chasing you.

The servants are moving quickly, although the castle guards and the senior staff might be redirecting your collared servants into better tasks. [Some of the help here aren't allowed into the castle, not being regular staff. Not after this evening...]

With that, Jovian is off, locating such wounded as can't move much on their own and walking them to the area where he instructed the servants to converge.

Venesch, on Random's orders, is moving everyone outside of the castle. Family excepted. Some of the naval officers and rangers are helping with the efforts.

Your head is throbbing. Pounding. You have the platonic ideal of all headaches. You do notice that the other riders are also moving slowly and carefully.

//Canareth? The intruder managed to go between from inside, we're getting things under control here. What's happening out there?//

//We guard.//

Something labored in his tone reminds J'rim of the stories told by older Bronze riders of a mating flight interrupted. As if the dragons were in a state of heightened emotional responsiveness and then something was taken away.

//How did you know about the intruder before any of the riders did? Did you find out from my father?//

There's nothing accusatory in the tone, it's just a calm, level inquiry. Everything about Jovian is calm and level - he really doesn't want to agitate his pounding head, you see.

//We knew.//

//Please tell me this isn't a time-stress headache.//

[Canareth knows better than to answer rhetorical questions.]

Marius carefully extracts the cards from their lodging-places in Solange's wing-structure. They're sharp, he thinks, and is very glad he didn't take a wound from them.

The cards look like ordinary playing cards to Marius but they have an odd sheen to them.

[OOC: they look like Renaissance tarots, but heavily laminated or something like that.]

Solace hears Flora's cries and says, "Lucas!" and starts shoving her way determinedly towards the dance floor.

Jerod arrives beside Cambina and Lucas at about the same time that Flora emerges from underneath the bandstand, looking amazingly lovely even in her disheveled state.

Lucas is atop Cambina and appears to be bleeding from somewhere in the vicinity of his head or throat. There's a lot of blood.

Noting the amount of blood on the way over to their location, Jerod has already pulled off his robe and shredded a suitable chunk of it for use in staunching the blood flow. Given the amount of blood, Jerod has no qualms about bodily flipping Lucas over (and off his sister) to get the wound dealt with (assuming it's not gaping or otherwise mortal to a family member. Politeness and other wounds be damned, stop the bleeding first).

Flora looks around, sees Lucas and Cambina in a bloody heap on the dance floor, and gasps. "Lucas!" she cries, and immediately runs to her son's aid, arriving moments before Brennan.

Aisling, having surveyed the bloody ballroom, speed-glides to the bloody heap of Lucas and Cambina. Once there, looking especially iconic, she looks down on the two of them and the people around them to determine which is closer to death, and that one she will sit down beside and work on in her own way. Probably near the foot, some body part far from the site of injury, so she won't be getting in the way of people working on more usual life-husbanding techniques.

Aisling kneels at Lucas' side and takes his hand. There is no obvious effect.

"Take this!" Jerod says to Flora when she arrives, releasing his grip on the material so she can take it, so he can get a look at his sister.

Flora holds the rags to Lucas' head wound. It looks like the card was only stopped by the thickness of his skull. Before Jerod applied the rags to Lucas' head, he thinks he saw that part of Lucas' ear had been sliced off. Sliced ears are about to become Very Fashionable in Amber.

Vincent Van Lucas...may the Unicorn help Amber and its artists.

Is the card still lodged in his skull?

Nope.

Brennan is already moving in her direction by the time he bellows out, in that battlefield voice that's so at odds with his normally mild speaking voice, "Knights! Crowd control and triage!" Hopefully they're not all dead, or Brennan is going to look silly. And have a lot of funerals to go to.

Knights in the crowd start moving in response to Brennan's command, and to Jovian's speech in the other thread.

It seems extremely unlikely that any of the ordinary party-goers are going to get in Brennan's way, and that has nothing to do with probability manipulation....

Brennan seems to lag behind Jerod and Flora in getting there and assessing the situation. He'll help with the medical efforts under their direction, since they'll have a better picture by the time he gets there.

If either wound is life threatening, he'll call some of the Knights over the Jovian is dong an excellent job managing.

If there's a critical choice to be made in helping Cambina or Lucas, Cambina wins. (She's cuter than Lucas.)

I'm not sure how relaxed the timing is now, but I think the GMs know about what I intend, and I trust them to execute it in Brennan's name, up to and including Pattern Conjury tricks to get real aupplies, if that is needed and possible.

Cambina is covered in blood, but it all seems to be Lucas'. She starts to sit up, but complains of lightheadedness.

Brennan is notably relieved. Audibly, even, if anyone cares to listen for a sigh of relief over the noise going on.

There is no sound of relief from Jerod, though close family would recognize an unwinding of tension when his sister starts to sit up. Jerod continues to examine her though, making sure nothing is broken and there are no hidden wounds - blood can hide a lot (as Jerod's player has seen in real life).

A woman who is obviously Lucas' companion based on the costumes is right behind Brennan. She stops cold and starts crying when she sees Flora and Lucas and all the blood.

Brennan turns. You must be Lady... "Solace," he says, taking one or both of her hands. He doesn't raise his voice, or speak harshly, or even unkindly. He does meet her eyes and speak as firmly and insistently as he can. And hopefully, Brennan is as difficult to ignore as he usually is.

"Lady Solace," he repeats, "Lucas is alive. He's hurt, but he's alive. We need your help, Lady Solace. Jove is keeping this crowd from a panic by sheer will force, right now. Help us show everyone that everything really is under control. Help us get everything organized and everyone shuffled out of here. Can you help us do that?"

[Well, actually, it's not quite that bad. There are rangers and royal guards and such as well.]

Don't tell Solace. Besides, it's good for the distaff morale if one of the distaff is showing morale, not weeping uselessly.

Brennan's question is designed to be heard as rhetorical. Of course she can help with this. Brennan trusts her. He wouldn't bother asking if he didn't.

[In the hopeful even that she says yes, pulls herself together, and heads off to aid the evacuation, Brennan will turn to Cambina and Jerod.]

(And wave hello to Aisling.)

[Aisling's not so much for the interpersonal interaction at the moment. After looking down on the two royals and choosing the one that wasn't stirring, she smoothly kneels down next to the Shepherd and takes his wrist as if she's checking his pulse. For the next few minutes, then, talking to her is like talking to a member of some frieze carved over a door.]

[That's why it's a wave, and not a conversation attempt...]

[Then she looks down at Lucas (from where she was looking off into the distance), and nods once, and stands as quietly as she knelt, and walks off to see if there are any that need immediate patching to live.]

Solace doesn't pull away when Brennan takes her hand. She doesn't stop crying either. "Lord ... Brennan, isn't it? You've seen battlefield wounds, haven't you? You're sure he's--he'll be better? The children--" and she pauses, as if she can't quite finish the thought. She's not hysterical, but she's not ready to simply go away.

He nods at his name, and the battlefield question.

"I've seen men walk away from much worse, Lady Solace. It's a head wound, and head wounds tend to bleed and look very bad. But it is a head wound," he says frankly, "And if Prince Gerard doesn't have him sent off to the infirmary, I'm going to. I don't believe he's going to die, Lady Solace. But these sorts of wounds need treatment and attention."

Thinking of the instrument which caused the wound, he stoops to pick up the card.

The card is stiff, much too much so for the material it appears to be made of. And sharp, such that Brennan has to be careful not to cut his fingers. Not to mention bloody.

[Just a note, Brennan's costume has gloves.]

Brennan may recall that Lucas has two children. If Lucas were to die, it would be a shame if his children didn't get a chance to say their farewells.

...Cause that's exactly the heartstring to tug at, for Brennan.

Meanwhile, Gerard is wheeling over towards Lucas, and people are scrambling out of his way.

Brennan would like to scramble into another thread.

[Good luck.]

Solace clings to Brennan's hand, unwilling to relinquish his strength at the moment.

[It's such a chore, being a piller of strength and stability....]

"...I need that back, Lady Solace," he says, refering to his hand. "I've only got two, and I need to wipe this thing off to get a closer look at it." He gestures, non-threateningly, with the sorcerous implement of death he just casually picked up off the floor.

Solace releases his hand with a start.

Brennan gives her a don't-worry-about-it look.

If she does so, he produces a handkerchief from somewhere appropriate and begins to carefully wipe it down. Thinking it might be in some way related to a Trump, he takes appropriate precautions. Like, not staring at it, keeping the cloth handy to cover it, keeping it covered when he's not futzing with it. Standard no-brainer stuff.

[If she doesn't, he wipes it off on her dress! Okay, perhaps not.]

The card appears to be a standard playing card. ("Standard" in this case meaning larger early period cards, not the little Bicycle decks we get nowadays.) It's unusual in that it seems to be too thin and very sharp and slick. (Think laminated.)

When he wipes the first side down, Brennan sees that it is the nine of swords from a normal deck.

Does it have a design on the reverse? Does it appear to be hand painted?

Gerard stops his chair by Lucas and leans over to have a look at him. It's not a sustainable position, and Gerard curses as the wheelchair wobbles and creaks in protest at the strain he's putting on it. "Get some of these damned guards over here with a stretcher!" he growls at no one in particular.

To Flora, Solace, and Brennan, he adds, "I'm about ta take the lad to the new infirmary."

Brennan nods, more to Solace than to Gerard. If they're not already on their way (either summoned by Brennan, or Gerard's rumbling, or the triage efforts already underway) Brennan will summon some subtly, and say, "They're on the way."

[They're already en route.]

"What happened?" Jerod asks, to get Cambina to start talking, to refocus her attention.

"I... I hit my head when I fell. I'm OK. Is Lucas..." _dead_?, She doesn't ask.

Before Jerod can answer, Corwin steps up.

"I, ah. I have some experience with headwounds. Where did you get hit?," he asks, looking at her head. "And how's your vision?"

Since Cambina has not replied yet, Jerod will respond to Cambina's request, thus allowing her to reply (or not) to Corwin afterwards.

"He's alive." Jerod says, performing a surface examination of her scalp for evidence of injuries. "Looks like he lost an ear. This Dara would seem to have a penchant for anti-personnel weapons. Good thing for her they weren't that accurate."

Corwin watches closely as Jerod inspects Cambina. She tells her uncle, "Back of the head. Lucas landed on top of me and I didn't brace."

Corwin nods. "When Gerard is done with Lucas, he'll want to look you over. You should be all right until then. If you have any sudden nausea or change of vision, speak up at once. And if Gerard releases you, have someone stay with you tonight."

"I will, uncle," says Cambina.

Merlin is behind his father, although he doesn't insert himself into the conversation. He glances at Flora and Lucas and Solace and Brennan and the approaching freight train that is Gerard as if he's trying to figure out something to do.

"Merlin." Jerod says (perhaps when Cambina is replying or not), motioning for him to come to one side of his sister. "When she's ready to get up." (Jerod's strong enough to pick her up without any trouble, but gentleness is more applicable here).

Merlin steps up at once and gets into position to help with Cambina. "I can lighten you, Cambina." He pauses. "If you think it is better," he adds diffidently to Jerod.

Jerod pauses to consider Merlin's comments before smiling for just a moment. Merlin's way of speaking is going to keep Jerod on his toes - he likes that.

"That won't be necessary." Jerod says, completing his initial evaluation. "It's better if she can move on her own to do so. It can be an aid to the diagnostic process as well, to see how well she does as she recovers."

"Ah," says Merlin.

Off to one side, they can all hear Gerard barking orders at people and getting ready to move Lucas to the infirmary.

"We're not likely to get you away from Uncle Gerard until he's had a chance to check you over." Jerod says to his sister. "How about we head you down there along with your defender here?" motioning to Lucas.

Cambina flushes slightly, and says, "I'm fine. I just want to sit down."

"So it shall be." Jerod says, making sure she's reasonably comfortable.

Corwin says to her, "If you still want to come to Paris, and you're not well enough to ride, I'll order a carriage for you. But after this evening, I can't wait to get back to Paris. I have to leave tomorrow." He turns to Jerod, and adds, "I hope you'll be able to join us as well."

"Unless Uncle Random has something else to occupy my attention." Jerod says. "Cambina is okay which means I don't have to go hunting someone over a silly vengeance trip. Damn things are a pain in the ass.

"I will want to speak to you concerning something from...home. We can do that in Paris, after I've had a chance to see your...ummm...drawing." and Jerod smiles.

Paige rolls off Folly, looking back to appraise the situation and then scanning the nearest for who needs help once she sees that Dara's retreated. Her instinct to run to Martin is cut short by her knowledge that managing the perceptions here was going to be crucial from this point on. No use crying over spilt milk, but you can keep yourself from spilling any more.

As she looks around, "Honey, you OK?"

"Mmph," Folly says, still a little disoriented from the double-impact of Paige and the music stand. She sits up carefully. "Yeah, I -- I think so." She loosens her grip on the borrowed violin -- it now sounds like it's got something rattling around inside it -- and feels about under the edges of her skirt for something. "How 'bout you, sweetie?"

Paige can hear the tender concern in Folly's voice.

"Fine. Sorry I was so rough," she says offering Folly a hand.

"That's alright, I can take it," Folly replies, and grins. She rummages under her skirt a moment more before taking Paige's hand and getting to her feet. "Thanks," she adds quietly as she rises; it's clear she means the knocking-down as well as the helping-up.

Paige sees the Cambina-Lucas pile and the arrivals of Jerod, Brennan, and Flora to tend to them.

Behind them (from her perspective, which is to say, further out on the dance floor), she sees Martin start to get up. Something in his posture suggests he's on the edge of--something. Random says, "We thank you for your zeal in protecting our royal person." Martin snaps back into control and stands in a single smooth motion as his father continues, "Now help us up."

Martin extends his hand to Random, who rises to his feet, and they turn towards the bandstand to be confronted by the sight of Cambina and Lucas.

"They're fine, too," she says, her own concern as obvious as Folly's.

Folly nods and bites her bottom lip. She looks at Paige as if to say something; but seeing the Redhead's focus shift elsewhere, she thinks the better of it, turning her attention instead to the poor injured sackbut player and anyone else in the vicinity who requires assistance.

(The good thing about wearing a petticoat, she thinks with grim amusement, is that now she's got plenty of fabric to rip into bandages.)

[Paige is] scanning the room for Red Yin she arrived with and the Head Harem Girl. When she doesn't find them, she'll head to the floor, near the King looking for direction.

[She wants to help with Lucas and Cambina, but there seem to be more than enough bodies there. Jovian's voice can be heard bellowing orders, so if not given orders, she'll help triage injuries and after removing her mask and much of the extraneous parts of the costume (Blythe will kill her) she'll carry wounded to the rooms being used or out into the gardens.]

Random looks up when she comes over. He nods to Bleys and speaks to Paige. "I'm having Venesch send people outside. I'll address them briefly after they clear out of here. Then we'll talk in one of the side rooms. If you and your cousins could help people step outside in an orderly fashion. I'd appreciate it. And spread the word. Them out, us in."

Paige nods.

Bleys says "You're alright, then, daughter? That was more athletic than I would've liked, given your condition."

"Father, we're speaking of a week. Most women wouldn't even know that they're in such a condition, yet," she comments. "I'm fine, truely."

[Summary: Paige helps sort the masqueraders out into the appropriate groups in the courtyard. (i.e. Hurt, Hysterical, and Dragon Snacks) She keeps a look out for the leClaires, but more importantly, is concerned for the lack of Lilly, Ossian and Vialle. Assuming that's resolved soon, Paige helps as she can, where she can. Speaking soothing words, assuring people that "All is well"(tm) or at least will be soon.]

Conner falls into step with Vere as they enter the alcove together. At this moment, they are likely the same: fear and worry well masked by control. Conner takes in the scene quickly and his face falls from a grim smile to a lost child. "What's happened?" He says somewhat weakly moving to his mother's side.

The sight of Conner's face falling pile-drives sorrow through Robin like a land-slide through a stand of pine. And she shakes her head furiously, her blonde hair sweeping across eyes that are filling with liquid.

Stooping, the girl squats to pick up her dropped sling. And to, not so co-incidentally, hide her face from those in the room. Dammit, girl! Get it together. You've lost men before! While squatted, Robin takes a deep breath.

When she stands again, she's a ranger. And under control.

Vere's gaze goes first to Robin, and he quickly decides she's furious and frustrated, but not apparently seriously injured. For a brief moment relief flashes across his face, to be replaced almost instantly by his normal unreadable expression. He pauses near the entrance to the alcove, watching Conner approach Julian and Fiona, and coming to an instant conclusion about what has happened based on the actions and words of those present. He says nothing.

Robin's eyes flicker over to Vere, briefly. Not enough to be distracted from the moment at hand. But enough to notice that he is there. Enough to notice that he is injured but seems unbothered by it. And enough to notice that he... appears to be wearing what looks like an unholy combination of meringue and barbecue sauce.

Beneath her surface runs flickers of joy, laughter and the start of an slow deadly burn.

Julian relinquishes Fiona with some reluctance. She turns to Conner and says in a tremulous voice, "They've taken your sister. We have to find her, at once. We don't have very long."

Conner takes his mother's hand. "Then find her we shall." He promises grimly. "Mother, my quarters?" He asks.

Reid catches Conner's eye. "Cousin... If I can be of any assistance..." His voice is grave, and he looks at Robin before continuing. "If we gave her, perhaps, an hour our time... if she's engaged in one-on-one combat, that might be resolved, one way or the other, allowing her a better chance of making contact." His eyes continue to drift from person to person in the room, landing on Fiona and Vere next, seeking confirmation that his plan is neither futile nor foolish.

"We will try that. I have another plan in mind, one that may resolve matters more quickly," Fiona says.

Vere steps closer to Fiona and Conner and speaks in a low voice so that any nonfamily members still in the area can't overhear. "I do not presume to understand the Duchess better than you, Your Highness," he says. "But a logical conclusion would be that she will attempt to negotiate an exchange, your daughter for her son. Surely this will cause her to wish to avoid any lasting harm to such a valuable asset?" He pauses for a second before continuing, "I do not know if there is anything I can do to assist, but if there is you have but to instruct me in what you would have me do."

Fiona nods, slowly. "I didn't know Dara was here. But ... it makes sense. If Cleph is her ally."

"Thank you Reid. Vere." Conner says sincerely nodding to both. "Once we have found her, we can best determine what to do next. I suspect we'll need all the help we can get."

"Count me in, Conner." Robin's voice is grim from where she stands tucking her sling back into small of her back. "Please." She adds in afterthought.

Then, the girl starts toward where a wicked looking blade lays on the ground.

Conner simply nods to her as well. "And Robin." He adds to his list of thanks.

Fiona says, "Your offers of aid are appreciated. All of them." And her eyes move to Julian, who has silently observed the conversation, offering no opinion. "But first I must find Brita, and that will be--risky. I must do this at once; I will send for aid afterwards, if we need it."

She takes Conner's arm, as if she is ready to go.

Conner simply nods and walks her back out to the main ballroom heading for the closest exit towards his rooms.

Robin watches them leave with flickering green eyes, and then crouches down to examine the sword, being very careful not to touch it. She speaks quietly. "It was a good answer, Reid." She glances up to him with a locked-lip smile. "Just not the one I wanted to hear." A rueful snort goes through the Ranger's body.

It's wicked, but a familiar kind of wicked. Standard castle issue, Robin thinks, although she'd want to ask Venesch to confirm that.

Reid tries to comfort the ranger without making her uncomfortable. [that DOES make sense in this case, I think... if he put his hand on her arm, she'd likely freak, so instead, his body language is merely empathetic, if there is such a thing...] "And not an answer I wanted to give. Trying to stay cool and logical after watching a girl I practically raised get pulled into the void is not without its difficulties... When we do catch the parties involved, I will be first in line to hand out either justice or retribution, whichever is more appropriate."

"That line will be long and the justice will be thorough," Julian says. That Brita might need vengeance does not seem a thought he is willing to entertain.

Vere silently watched Fiona and Conner leave, then his eyes go back to Robin. After a second he smiles slightly, then strips off the gauzy food-stained robe and tosses it into a corner of the alcove. He tilts his head to one side quizzically while he watches Robin examine the sword.

Julian moves to stand by his daughter and examine the blade. He looks up at Reid and says, "Reid, someone must tell the King what has happened. Fiona can be rather--intent on what she is doing--and may not recall that she needs to do this. Will you and Vere speak to him, and advise him I shall follow momentarily?"

Vere nods silently, but waits for his elder cousin to answer before speaking or doing anything else.

"Yes, Vere, perhaps you should..." Reid sees Julian's face stiffen almost imperceptibly... "I mean, we should go inform the king. Did you see where the rest of the family wandered off to?"

Vere smiles slightly. "I could tell you where each of them was at the moment just before I left the Great Hall," he says, "and my estimate of what they were about to do. But to answer what I think you meant, they are all seeing to care for the wounded and the calming of the crowd." The smile fades. "Princess Cambina and Lord Lucas are the only members of the family who were wounded, as far as I could tell. I do not know how seriously. And I do not now how many deaths the Duchess Borel might have caused, if any." He waits still, as though awaiting a clear order from Reid or Julian before acting.

Robin's green eyes look up to her father, something swimming in their depths. Then over to Reid, a small sad smile -- grateful for his graciousness and wishing that she could do more for him -- is given to her cousin.

Inevitably, like the pull of the tide, Robin finds her gaze going to Vere. Without his gauze yet still draped in mystery. The wound on his shoulder tugs at her hands, and at her heart. Yet he holds himself so still. This is his world, and therefore he chooses.

Mixing with it all -- her father's use of the singular pronoun was not lost on the Ranger.

Vere appears not to notice Robin's glance in his direction.

Julian says, "You discount your own injury, Vere. After you have spoken to the King, have your father look you over. I mislike wounds sustained in battle with Chaos; some of them turn sour in unexpected ways."

Vere makes a slight dismissive gesture with one hand, then nods.

To Reid, he adds, "Thank you," although he doesn't specify for what. It does sound like a dismissal.

"Shall we then?" Reid inquires. With Vere's consent, they move on...

"Indeed," Vere replies. And is content to follow Reid's lead.

It's at about this moment that Jovian wanders in from the main hall.

Ruminating upon Canareth's reply [whatever it is], Jovian heads for the side room wherefor he last saw his father parting the crowd, any number of questions disturbing his thoughts as minimally as he can manage.

If he is not intercepted, he will poke around the wreckage to find what he is unshakeably convinced will be there - a bottle of decent brandy and a tumbler, both of which somehow escaped the general smashing up of the room intact.

"Jovian," says Julian, acknowledging his son's presence. "Robin and I will be taking a moment of fresh air. I will return anon."

He takes Robin's arm, and, barring a significant demur from Jovian, departs with his daughter.

"Fine," Jovian replies, the pain creeping into his voice as he locates the bottle and straightens up again. "Be sure to catch up with me when you have a minute, please."

"I shall," says Julian.

Robin looks up with flickering emerald eyes and nods her agreement. Standing she takes her father's arm and leaves with him. No muss, no meeting of eyes, no waves, no fluttering, just gone.

The dragonman casts his eyes about the room, empty now but for the wreckage, winces a bit and walks out, having a therapeutic draught of brandy as he goes. If no one else demands his attention, he'll just about catch up with Reid and Vere, intending to ask what happened in there. Seeing where they're headed, though, he'll hang back just enough not to interrupt their report to Random, but not so much that he can't hear it.

Ossian pulls a Trump sketch of Marius from the case.

The contact comes, tentative at first, but then strengthening.

"Good evening Sir Otter, how are things over there?"

Marius would likely be still studying the very sharp cards...

...but, should he be reached, he will take a moment to assess the situation and report. "Hectic," he'd say, brevity being the soul of wit. Then, not having all of his wits around him, "but act one seems to have ended. I believe we're looking at the intermission, cliff-hangers and all."

Ossian's mind speak is more playful than Marius has ever heard Ossian be: //I'm on a nice beach with two gorgerous ladies. Who could ask for anything more?//

That can't help but bring a naughty smile to Marius' otherwise pleasantly patient expression. He stands in place, listening to the crowd, as if he were the total center of calm in a whirlwind. As people move near him, he weaves back and forth, somehow remaining still, like an otter in the stream.

In a much more serious tone Ossian says "I have the Queen here. Would it be safe to bring her through to you?"

"It would be for as long as I could keep her that way," he says, sounding fairly honest. "If you are in a place where she is in no danger, I would beg you give me leave to determine if this place is similar in that respect."

"Well this place seems safe for the moment. And there's a dragon watching over her." Ossians says "Take your time."

"He's finding the king." he adds, as an information to the ladies.

Vialle asks, "Is Random all right?"

"I think he was." Ossian says in a comforting voice. "We will wait a few minutes. Either someone over there contacs me, or I'll talk to Marius again. Let them sort things out."

"I hope there's not much that requires sorting," Vialle says, sounding wistfully aware of the excess of optimism in that hope.

[Meta: Moved Marius to another post. He'll be a moment. Anyone want to do anything while you wait? perhaps a storytelling game?]

A storytelling game, huh? On one hand that could mean crossing Lilly with evil vampires and werewolves and such which I suppose could be interesting in the short term. (Amber: The Shadows anyone?) But doing all those conversions would be far to much work for such short term amusement. On the other hand we could share stories like we did with the rock people. The question then would become who will get stabbed by Lilly first. Again it would be amusing but would probably be much more trouble then it was worth. So for now consider Lilly to simply be content to wait patiently and quietly for Ossian to finish his conversation.

How are the ladies taking the heat? I suspect Ossian has no big problems with it, especislly since his clothing is almost ideal for this climate?

Vialle is dressed in light silks, so she's probably not going to overheat immediately.

"There is a small stream not far from here. Shall I find us some water while we are waiting?" Ossian asks.

"Please," says Vialle.

[Question number 729456 in the ongoing series "Olof asks about Trump": Is the Trump contact is broken as soon as Marius starts looking for the king? ]

A (729456): Not necessarily (Benedict to Corwin: "bide."), but in this case, yes.

Ossian nods to Lilly and walks away along the beach.

Lilly takes advantage of the momentary pause in activity to rid herself of the extraneous parts of her costume. As well designed as the gown had been in respect to movement there were some unavoidable aspects of creating the illusion of a three dimensional dragon wrapped about one's body that could hamper her movement. Fortunately the dress had been designed in such a way that these items were easily disposed of. Within moments pieces of dragon lie scattered about leaving Lilly in a rather seductive looking red sheath. It was doubtful Lilly realized the allure of altered gown. For her it was a simple matter of practicality.

Two minutes later Lilly and Vialle can hear him returning, singing with a tenor voice that is almost clear, but with a slight slight tinge of hoarseness:

"'All hands on deck, we've run afloat!' I heard the captain cry
'Explore the ship, replace the cook: let no one leave alive!'
Across the straits, around the Horn: how far can sailors fly?
A twisted path, our tortured course, and no one left alive

We sailed for parts unknown to man, where ships come home to die
No lofty peak, nor fortress bold, could match our captain's eye
Upon the seventh seasick day we made our port of call
A sand so white, and sea so blue, no mortal place at all

We fired the gun, and burnt the mast, and rowed from ship to shore
The captain cried, we sailors wept: our tears were tears of joy
Now many moons and many Junes have passed since we made land
A salty dog, this seaman's log: your witness my own hand"

He returns with three cups folded out of large leaves, each filled with water. (The cups look nice, of course.)

"I forgot to bring any glassware, so I hope these will do." he says as he hands cups to Lilly and Vialle.

For a moment Lilly stared intently at Ossian. He was a puzzle to her. Something about him demanded a further look. She would have to make it a point to get to know him better. With a slight nod of the head she pushed the intrigue from her mind and forced her features to return to their normal state of neutrality.

Ossian's sad eyes absorb Lilly's stare, storing it among his memories.

"Thank you cousin. These shall do wonderfully." Lilly said taking the cool liquid from his grasp.

"Oh, thank you, Ossian," Vialle says. She takes the cup carefully, and sips gingerly from it. "What is the cup made of? And where are we?"

"The cups are folded from huge leaves, taken from a tree close to the stream." Ossian says "We are under a large tree on my favourite deserted beach, far away from Amber. As far as I know we are on a small unhabitated Island. The sea stretches as far as the eye can see. There is a sail out there I haven't seen before."

"It's a shame you had to destroy that costume." he says to Lilly "It was wonderful. On the other hand..." he takes in her whole appearance with his eyes, taking a deep breath "...you fit nicely in here now." he adds a bit too quickly.

A quizzical, yet amused, look comes to Lilly's features. She had led armies into battle and killed without remorse, yet at this moment she seemed remarkably fresh and innocent. "I am unfamiliar with climates such as this so I will need to take your word on that. Actually though I had the costume designed to come apart in this fashion just in case I need more freedom of movement. For all I know Blythe may be able to restore it."

Ossian smiles broadly, and shakes his head //That is not what I meant.// But he remains quiet as Lilly adresses Vialle

[Lilly] sips delicately at the water before turning her attention back to the Queen and their present predicament. "Is there anything you need, your Majesty? And for that matter do you have any requests of me after our return? I believe with the present situation we should considering increasing your security especially during your time regency. My sword of course is yours to command."

Vialle has listened quietly to the exchange between Ossian and Lilly. Perhaps she has regained some of her equilibrium with the water.

"First, we must return to Amber, of course. Random has to go on his quest, and I must be there to hold things together for him until he returns. You're probably right that I'll have to be more careful, at least for a time. I don't know how to go about that. I've never been--important--before. Perhaps you should ask Gerard or your father what's appropriate. Gerard was Regent, and your father has long lived in Amber. One of the two of them should know."

Lilly begins to nod and then thinks better of it. "A wise idea your majesty. I shall do that as soon as possible." She says.

Vialle pauses, then adds, hesitantly, "I'd like it if you stayed in my chamber tonight. I don't think anything will happen, but, still ... I'll understand if you don't want to, though. I have nightmares, and Random says they make me talk in my sleep."

"Nightmares?" There is a definite edge to Lilly's voice as a hundred questions begin to race through her brain. There is a brief silence as she composes the myriad thoughts. "Before I get too far from the original topic, let me say that I will certainly stay with you this evening. As I have said I am at your disposal your majesty."

Vialle smiles tentatively at Lilly. "Thank you."

Again she pauses as she tries to find a gentle and diplomatic way to bring forth her queries. "If I may inquire, and I believe these questions to be of upmost importance, what sort of nightmares are these? And when did they begin?" Try as she might the daughter of Benedict simply could not be anything but direct.

Ossian leans back against the tree, and starts to fold something from a small piece of paper. He seems absorbed by his work, but is listening intently.

Vialle says, "I don't really remember much about them. And the dreams themselves aren't all that awful, but they always leave me feeling so drained. And sometimes I remember snatches of things people say in them. Things about my son dying. If it hadn't been going on so long, I'd wonder whether I were pregnant. But that's simply not possible." She flushes a little at that last comment.

"I've been having the dreams on and off for a couple of years now, but they've gotten more--intense? and more frequent since Random came home. Fiona has agreed to look into them, but she hasn't had a chance to do anything yet."