Kaia and Llewella exchange glances at the doorway and the three of them enter the ballroom, now mostly cleared of people. Jerod notices Jovian and Robin speaking, and sees a man standing on the bandstand looking around. There are still servants and a few other people moving around, but the room seems very large and very empty.
Who is the man standing on the bandstand?
A ranger, by the look of him, but not one known to Jerod.
[Llewella plans to bring Valeria to her quarters. PCs in the ballroom may come up to them, Jerod may speak, or Jerod may veer off.]
Unless there is something radically unusual going on, Jerod does not intend to leave his sister alone for the moment. He also notices the glances and is going to be curious as to what is up and curious to see whether Llewella tries to discourage him from coming.
Llewella does nothing to discourage Jerod.
Valeria says to Kaia, "I'm not going back to Rebma. I'm going to stay here and find out who killed my father. You must return to Rebma in my place and tell Grandmother everything. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Your Grace," says Kaia. Llewella gives her a sympathetic look. "I'll find Montage and Bend and advise them that they'll need to report to you in the morning. Your Graces and Highness," Kaia adds, and gives a half bow to the group before heading out to the outer bailey."
Llewella takes Valeria to her quarters and tucks her in like a little girl. Jerod is welcome to wait until Llewella gets Valeria to sleep, or he may go about his business.
He waits. His upcoming business will not take long and he should still have time to get some sleep before the busy morning arrives.
Once Valeria is asleep and Llewella has moved off a short distance, Jerod asks, "Are you returning to Rebma as well?"
"It is my home and it would be somewhat surprising if I did not. I have not decided how quickly I will do so, if that is what you're asking. I shall have breakfast with Corwin and he will have my answer."
"Conner's situation has intrigued me. But other word makes for disturbing signs." Jerod says. "Things will never be as they were. I will wonder how many will realize this, and fight against the inevitable. I would despair if this resistance were to disrupt my home. My homes."
He looks over at his sister for a moment and for a moment he wonders if he will ever see her again, his mind casting out upon the conversation he had with Martin. The future remains elusive, no more so than to a Prince of Amber. He hopes this is not the last time for them.
"I will be speaking to Corwin during our trip. Some...unfinished business must be resolved, between him and my father. I will act in his stead. If you accompany us, I would very much like sit a time and speak with you."
She nods. "If I do not, trump me. Our mutual interest in our dual homelands does suggest cooperative effort."
"Mutual interest is not always a bad thing. Regrettably I do not have a set of trumps however." Jerod says, his expression suggesting he's not terribly eager to change that situation (though he's too smart to refuse them). "The King has informed me there are no spares to be had. Is there another way you can be contacted?"
"I'm sure an enterprising Prince such as yourself in the company that you're travelling with will manage solve that problem. Sadly, my deck is in Rebma."
"I'll be sure to see what opportunities can be made to present themselves." Jerod says.
"And as to Corwin. While I do not subscribe to the theory that we have been tricked by a clever impostor, he does seem very unlike the man from my youth. Old business once buried is often best left interred."
"Maybe drawing your own Pattern will do that." Jerod muses. "Sometimes old business must be dealt with or else it re-surfaces. It is precisely because Corwin seems unlike the man my father described that I will do what needs to be done. I have done so with Random. Corwin is next. The last in line will be grandmother."
"Try not to kill anyone who doesn't need it."
"Random didn't get the bolt shot through him. And Corwin survived his first day back without a bullet in his head." Jerod says with a dry smile. "Unless grandmother tried to have dad killed, I suspect she has little to fear. Though she may not like what I have to say."
Llewella nods.
"Course, I may not like what she has to say either. I will wait to see what the future has in store. That and figure out if what I'm praying isn't going to happen, isn't happening."
"In my experience, praying against something is even less effective than praying for something. And we've generally got a reputation as a pragmatic family. To whom are you praying and what do you wish not to have happen?" She seems genuinely curious.
"The Tritons." Jerod says. "How were they bound by Moins? And did the Sundering have any impact on that? There have been some comments made that under other circumstances I might dismiss. Now, I dismiss very little without checking it for myself. If the balance has shifted, that would not bode well. Home is just as hidebound as Amber. They will not be appreciative of change. It tends to be violent."
"My sister said to me, when I asked her, that if I ever needed to know I would know, and I would know why I knew, but that she hoped it was never a burden I had to take up. It was by her abilities with them that it was clear to the council that Moire was Moins' successor."
"So I presume you never found out?" Jerod asks.
"There are, indeed, burdens to the royal mantle that we mere princes and princesses cannot know. I would accept the duty, but I would not seek it. Who would? Even Random seems different for it."
"I wonder how much of that comes from having a mythical beast drop a jewel in front of you." Jerod muses, not expecting an answer.
And upon her answer or not, he continues. "Let us hope then that grandmother remains the successor she was first chosen to be." Jerod says. "There is enough to do already."
"Certainly peace in Rebma is a thing to be desired and Moire has maintained that."
"Peace everywhere is good. So long as the price is not too high."
She nods. "Upheaval in Rebma would be reflected here, even if Amber were not directly involved. But yes, there are costs that would be too high."
"It is late however and the morning approaches too soon. I must be off with Uncle Corwin and there is still much to be done before I depart. Breakfast appears more as work than nourishment. You will be well?" Jerod asks of her.
Assuming she is okay, Jerod will nod his departure and set off for his rooms. The morning is too soon coming for his liking.
As Robin is pointing out the interconnectedness of Ranger communication, her father comes into her line of sight, accompanied by the sought for griffin. The girl's eyes follow as he leads her into the champagne room and a small sigh escapes Robin.
[I understood our conversation to be in the hallway, on the way to the bailey. Jovian not being a total cactus, he would have avoided opening the discussion in still-populated areas...no problem, they pass us in the corridor going the other way.]
[Works for me. Sorry for the confusion. :) ]
"Okay. Okay." She quivers a little under Jovian's arm. Pulling it together for a moment, the Ranger purses her lips and lets out another brief whistle in Couth's direction. [OOC - 'Robin off-duty.'] It looks like it hurts her a little.
Then she looks up to Jovian. "Please, Jove. Let's go." She whispers to her brother.
"Sure. Where are you sleeping tonight?" he asks, intuiting that the answer will not be inside the rockpile. "You need a change of clothes?" He can't resist grinning as he adds this, surveying the luminous paint - and the linen drape hanging half-off from the single remaining shoulder pin.
"Uh, I was thinking the northeast garden for tonight." Robin's brows furrow and she swipes at the damn skirt.
Looking back up at Jovian, she can't resist a chuckle to match his grin. "That'd look great, wouldn't it? Little glowing ball tucked into a tree branch. Given the mood around here, I wouldn't be surprised if the gardeners took a couple swings at me with a broom or something."
"Uh, yeah. I guess..." she looks around, obviously disoriented. "Where are the baths from here?" A shudder ripples through her at the feeling of dislocation that overwhelms her every time she enters the halls of Amber Castle.
"Here, let's get to your room, get you your things, then the bath and straight out from there." With quiet, easy confidence, Jovian guides Robin back to the makeshift family wing.
Robin follows Jovian's lead, obviously unfamiliar with the way. And a bit wearied by that fact.
Along the walk, Jovian begins quietly, tentatively, and only in the most deserted hallways. "You had a bad time of it out there."
"Yeah." Robin admits shamefacedly.
She leans her head against Jovian's shoulder as they walk along. "I knew it was going to be hard, Jove. And I was expecting trouble. At least, I didn't lose it too much, too publicly. But yeah..." she shivers.
"This place just wears me down, mon frere. 'Come to magnificent Castle Amber. Wonder at the incredible cacophony. Thrill to odors you never knew existed. Bask in the delicious bug-in-a-bell-jar ambiance.'" Robin wrinkles her nose and sticks out her tongue.
"I know exactly what you mean, little bird. Exactly."
Beat.
"Still...that's not quite what I meant." He looks down at the girl and feels his chest fitting a little too tight. "I meant out There. Freaky shit. Before the Isles." His tone does not demand an immediate answer.
"If you need to talk about that, I'm always here for you, OK? When you're ready?" There's nothing there but concern and the full reach of a brother's love.
"Oh." Robin's voice gets small. Her eyes squeeze shut and she shudders. Moisture appears at the creases of her lashes. "I... oh, dung, Jovian." Her voice sounds broken.
"I don't know. Sometimes... I think yeah. It was... bad," she whispers. "That I'm never going to be free of it. Then at other times I think I haven't slept enough, or I'm stressed and I'm making a mountain out of a mole-hill."
She opens her eyes and looks up at her brother. "But I can't talk to Dad about it. It cuts him, Jovian. Knowing that he sent me into that. That I'm not alright because of his decision." She looks down the hall, her face haunted.
"I... I don't want to be alone anymore." She whimpers, and buries her face in Jovian's shoulder.
He wraps Robin up in the wings of his cloak, just about hiding the girl down to luminous ankles. He draws a breath to speak, but saves it - sure, he could promise that between Dad and Vere and himself she wouldn't be alone, but what point when she would still be alone with her haunted memories?
So he holds her only, rock-steady and secure, and waits her out until she's ready to look up again on her own.
The Ranger gets it under control relatively quickly, with an undignified snuffle. After all, they are still in the bell-jar.
"I'm sure it's too much for tonight, but I'll be staying around for at least several days. We'll find time...to sort out what happened together. You won't have to be alone anymore."
"Th-thank you, Jove." She ruffles a little under his cloak. "Dad... I... we have to leave tomorrow, early-ish. I'm not sure I'm going to be able to go flying with you and Canareth." She sounds both very sad about that. And worried for her brother.
Her green eyes peep out. "And you have things to talk about to me too, right? Arden's officially closed now, but I'm sure that doesn't mean you, Jovian. Can you come with us? Base out of there while you and Vere get your forces together? Or something? I mean, I have Ranger business I need to deal with right away... dammit!"
She thumps her forehead against Jovian's chest. "By the time I'm done with that," it's obviously something Robin doesn't want to rush, "you and Vere will probably be ready to leave."
"Joooovee!" Her green eyes crinkle and tears form in her lashes.
"Sh-sh-sh-sh-shhhhhh, it's all right," he soothes, stroking Robin's shoulders. "My people are camped at Ruby, remember? Dad can't shut me out, we've got nowhere else to put the dragons. And you know you're welcome among our lot," Jovian adds, poorly masking gleam in his eye.
Robin fights back the hysteria and buries her head in Jovian's chest. Deep Green Shadows! This place was really and truly gutting her. But she can't go back to the gray haze that she wandered around in before. All the things -- all the people -- she missed! But... was this constant on-the-ragged-edge any better?!
"Look, the Rangers don't need your constant attention seven watches a day, right? Big strong woodsmen, can take care of themselves without a nursemaid? We'll find some downtime sooner rather than later, and we'll catch up. Besides, from the sound of Vere's arrangements, we won't be dashing out to the Isles this Moonday, and probably not next." His chuckle is obviously meant to be encouraging.
Robin snuffles again and nods, letting Jovian's strength and bright humor wash over the fears and uncertainties. The Ranger's breathing grows more even. She nods again.
"I like riders and dragons too. It's nice. The humming." She murmurs quietly into Jovian's chest.
She leans back a little and inelegantly wipes her nose on her forearm. Tears moisten the various dyes on Robin, loosening them. And the black face paint leaves a dark streak down her forearm while the luminous white body-paints leaves an uneven glowing splotch around the tip of her nose.
"But... but seriously, Jove. I've got something very important and full-time to do right when I get back to Arden." She sighs unhappily.
"We'll work it out, don't fret," Jovian promises, a warm, steady hand smoothing Robin's hair. "I'd rather find time, but if we need to, we'll steal it - this is important enough, I think." He turns again to continue toward where he's pretty sure her quarters lay, drawing her into one arm as they walk. "I love you, kiddo."
The girl curls into his arm, still ruffling and rattling slightly, but much calmer.
At Jovian's declaration though, languages crash together in her Robin's head and, in the end, it's her earliest that escapes first. She looks up at her brother as a long low whistle of warm familiarity and fondness emerges from her lips. She drops her eyes to nuzzle against his shoulder with the top of her head. "Love you too, Jove... Thank you." A slow smile creeps across her face, faltering to begin with, then settling in.
"Will work it out." She murmurs to herself, repeating his words as a mantra of comfort.
"I know you can't fly down to Ruby Falls with us," Jovian continues as they walk. "Dad mentioned. But will you meet me for a bit of breakfast anyway? Four bells of forenoon?" Jovian names a room that shouldn't be too hard to find. "Want to talk a little more before you and Dad hare off, but I'm going on 40 hours straight, it's time to give my brain a rest."
"Good plan, mon frere." Robin nods wearily, almost drunken with exhaustion. "I'm... really strung-out." She shakes her head with a rueful laugh that still sounds somewhat ragged.
"I'm not so good on times and places in here, Jove. I'll do my best to show. Don't clock me too hard, though." A teasing grin fights its way to Robin's face and she thumps her brother on the bicep. A weak thump, hardly counts, but at least it's there.
"I'll see about getting a hurricane-glass for your candle," he replies, sticking out his tongue. "Mine's been burning fast."
"Glass, oh yeah." She chuckles as she leans against him. "That's gonna work."
"Drafts," Jovian nods sagely - then dissolves into laughter.
Jovian escorts Robin to her room, getting a good look at the tumbled, spilled cartons that the Ranger doesn't live among as she gathers up her clothing from various places around the room. The jumble has been accented by a spray of luminous paint in one corner of the room, under the narrow, high and only window in the place, but Robin doesn't seem to need any other light to find her gear.
Once she's got all her stuff roughly bundled up, the girl lets Jovian take the lead back to the baths. Robin's pretty much run out of energy to talk or trauma with, so she contents herself to stumble wherever Jovian cares to point her.
At the door to the bath, he indicates the neatest route to the northeast gardens from there, gives his sister one more big hug for good measure, and bids good night.
Robin gathers herself into an extra sincere squeeze for her brother, mumbles a heartfelt thank-you into his chest and heads into the baths.
After Jerod, Llewella, Kaia and Valeria have left, Reid turns to Blister and says, "I thought they'd never leave."
He turns to Vista. "Who'd you send after Harper? Ranger or guard [or perhaps snail]?"
Vista turns back to look at Reid. "Oh, couple of people. Lady Robin, Prince Julian. And Couth called ahead to let anyone down there know to hold her." He sounds totally unconcerned by Reid's tone.
Reid is unconcerned by Vista's lack of concern.
[Reid]
"What do your years of experience with the rangers tell you about this
scene. Anything I'm missing?"
"I don't know much about any magic being used to drown him, but if a man did it--or a maid--they'd stink of the stuff all right. Might also want to look for discarded costumes in case someone was wearing gloves," Vista says.
"Good point." Reid acknowledges. "Can you arrange for enough men to cover the necessary ground in such a search?"
He nods, laconically. "I reckon I can, one way or another."
Reid does a mental count of the other unnamed guards in the room and considers giving them names. He may also be trying to determine if there are enough for any team sports or other activities to drive life into them.
There are only three guards, including Blister. Now that a royal or three has taken interest, there are several other guards outside, keeping the riff-raff away. The other two guards, Reid catches, are Spend and Shear.
Failing anything more productive, he'll drink from the fountain that recently had a dead body in it. "It's clean," he sniggers at any guards who look at him crosswise, "he was a noble..." Turning to Blister again, "Nice vintage, but not as much body as one might like. Perhaps that was the motive..."
It's at about this time that the winged form of Prince Julian returns, with a fiery-haired griffin on his arm. "Nephew. I understood that you needed to speak with Ambassador Harper?"
He turns to the Ambassador. "Ambassador, this is my nephew, Reid. He requires your aid in certain inquiries."
Harper spots the body on the floor, and her mouth opens in shock.
"Happens to the best of us, I'm afraid. Jerod mentioned you might know something of our late friend's recent concerns?"
"He. He was late of Rebma and his family had extensive business interests in Gateway. I am not convinced that it does happen to the best of us. It is not commonplace to drown at a party, accidentally or otherwise. What happened?"
[Vista]
"Prince Julian. I was about to have a squad of rangers search the grounds
for physical evidence related to the murder. At Lord Reid's request."
Julian nods, waiting for Reid's answer to Harper. "Carry on."
Vista exits the room, Shear in tow.
[Reid, to Harper]
"That would fall into the 'otherwise' category you just suggested. I
believe he was pushed in and held under until he drowned. We have
guards checking all remaining guests for any undue amounts of champagne
on clothing or costume, but I'm afraid that a large number of people
left, and there have been some whisperings that magic may have been
involved. Did he have any enemies in Rebma or Gateway?" Reid inquires.
Harper laughs loud and long. When she catches her breath she replies. "Oh, my. Yes, both. And Amber."
"Oh. Well. Good to hear it. Sleep well. Good night." and with that Reid makes towards the door. He'll stop if Julian or Harper make any protests, but if she's going to joke about it, he'd rather get to bed and let someone else deal with the mess.
"Reid," says Julian, stopping him at the doorway. "A moment."
[Assuming he stops]
He does.
Julian looks at the two guards. "Shear, Blister, the Ambassador is in shock. Please have some water sent to this room. Then you can report to your Captain. Ambassador, you should sit."
They nod, anxiously, and leave.
Julian turns to Reid and raises an eyebrow.
Reid shrugs in frustration. "Well, a lot of people wanted this man dead. He's dead. That should make that particular lot of people very happy. At this point I don't know if the count of his enemies outnumbers the count of his friends, so I'm ambivalent as to how to proceed or why I should. People who collect enemies have met worse fates; there's nothing I can do to bring him back to life; and meanwhile a girl I cared for and practically raised for a number of years has just been snatched before our eyes, and has a much better chance of breathing Amber's air again."
He takes a deep breath.
"I'm not saying I CAN'T solve the puzzle at hand. Merely questioning the veracity of the WHY. Perhaps you haven't heard much about me, but I tend to offer vengeance a lot more often than justice. I don't know that I'm the best one to act in the crown's interest on this matter."
Julian nods. "If I thought there were anything to be done immediately for Brita, I would already be doing it. If Fiona wants my aid, she knows it is hers, for Brita's sake and for her own. But I am not certain that anything I can do will aid rather than hinder whatever she is already planning. And I have known her long enough to know that she has a plan, one that I do not want to cross.
"As for the question of 'why me for this?', I cannot answer it so easily. You might as well say 'why Julian for Arden?' or even 'why Random for Amber?'. But someone thought you would be the best of us to solve this conundrum, just as someone once thought I would be best to handle matters in Arden." Julian's expression shifts for a moment, just enough for Reid to see--something--but then it's gone, and Julian is his usual impassive self. "And I took up the job because it was there and needed to be done, and I could do it. That is the way of things in this family."
He comes to stand by Reid, and says in a low voice that shouldn't carry to Ambassador Harper, "And if Fiona's son is a suspect in this crime, to know that someone is seeking the real murderer will be one less burden on Fiona's mind, and one less thing to keep her from finding Brita. Unless, of course, he did commit the murder, which presents a different set of difficulties."
"To say that I will be fair implies an evenness I may not posses, but I can do my best to offer an impartiality to the matter at hand. Justice shall be served, even if I found myself guilty." Reid offers.
[Julian]
"It is possible that in this case the real or perceived prerogatives of a
member of the royal family are at odds with the diplomatic niceties of
relations with one or more power, more or less friendly and more or less
nearby. I would advise you to concentrate on gathering information. Once
you have it, then you can decide what is to be served and to whom."
He lets his voice return to a normal volume, but he is still speaking quietly. "You may contact me if you wish aid in determining what course is best with what knowledge you acquire."
Regaining composure, [Reid] turns back to Ambassador Harper. "You had business with Haraga'rel tonight. I'd like to know where you met and what the subject matter was. I realize that such information may be matters of state between Gateway and Rebma, but I assure you, I need to know as much as I can to find his killer. Spare no detail. If you can recall what music was playing when you met, it would help me with the timeline of events as well."
She's still breathing heavily and it takes her a moment's thought to collect herself. "We spoke of trade opportunities. I think he hoped to arrange a trade mission to Rebma. He was looking for Gatwegian support for it."
"And the rest of it? I did say spare no detail. The 'when' and 'where' may be important. I need to know his movements before his death, as it might provide insight as to the extent he was stalked before his demise," Reid replies.
"We had danced together," says Harper. "The Queen's Pavane, when the King brought her out for the first time. Afterwards, we came here for a glass of champagne." She pauses, remembering. "Prince Jerod came to speak to Harga'rel, to arrange to have breakfast with him in the morning. Some sort of a business discussion. Afterwards, Prince Jerod went to speak with a woman in a wolf costume. One of the Rebmans. Harga'rel called her Bend."
She pauses and thinks some more. "Any number of people might have overheard the assignation being made. Not long afterwards, we separated and he went to speak to Captain Navneeth, and I to dance with Lord Boreal."
Harper looks at Reid, as if waiting for the next question.
"Did you tell anyone about the assignation, either directly or in passing?"
Harper nods. "I mentioned it to Lady Thalia, formerly Gateway's Ambassador to Rebma. As you know, she came to Amber with Harga'rel and your cousin Lord Conner. She has been concerned about all matters that might touch on her departure from Rebma since Duchess Valeria's arrival in Amber."
"I think that covers it. I would appreciate it if you could remain available for follow-up questions as the investigation continues."
Harper nods again. She's still a little off-balance.
Reid escorts her to the nearest exit and says his farewells before giving final instructions to the guards. "I suppose you boys know where to put this?" He nods toward the body. "I wasn't planning on taking it with me back to my room. I'd suggest the kitchens, as he's pretty pickled, or might make a nice flambe, but I'll leave that up to you."
With that, Reid calls it a night.
After leaving the Queen, Vere heads directly for the family infirmary. He walks in and glances around, quickly taking in who is there and what condition they are in.
Gerard is alone. From the state of the place, recently so. He's discarding some bloody cloths that probably were used in treating Lucas' head.
"Lucas came conscious while he was in here. He's been taken back to his own chambers, with his wife and his mother to watch him for the night. How many more are coming up? Corwin came by and said Cambina had taken a lump on the head, but she's not been by. Also said you should be ready to ride at noon for Paris."
"As far as I know that is all of the family that were injured, Father. Save for Prince Martin, and apparently His Majesty chose to see to that himself." Vere indicates his shoulder. "A minor scratch, but Prince Julian thought it best it receive attention. And Her Majesty, while not able to determine its mildness, and possibly overreacting, also thought it should be attended to." Vere approaches his father, waiting to be waived to a seat convenient for his father to treat him. "In addition," he says, "I wonder if you were informed of whatever drew Solange off so rapidly? From Lord Worth's expression, and her speed in leaving, I assume it was an injury in her foster family?"
"I don't know, but it can't be good. You know old Fleet's not in the best of health." Gerard says, indicating to Vere that he should sit down on the low table that Gerard uses to examine his patients these days.
[Assuming Vere does so, and removes his shirt.]
Gerard examines his wound.
"Aye, that's not so bad. I've seen nasty wounds on the Black Road, but this seems clean. Let's talk a little and you'll notice what I'm doing back here less. Tell me about your evening, son, and what you saw. And more important, what ye make of it all."
"A complete recitation of the entire evening, Father?" Vere asks with amusement. "I suspect that would take nearly as long as the evening itself. Perhaps the high points, only?" He pauses, considering which of the events of the evening should be considered most important. A brief smile crosses his face as he realizes that, as far as he is concerned, the most important event of his life has occurred, and yet holds little significance for the realm of Amber. He turns to the next most interesting event.
"The Duchess Borel's actions were unexpected. It is interesting to speculate on whether we should have been expecting it, or at least whether we should have been expecting that some enemy would take advantage of Amber's current vulnerability. She has demonstrated, publicly and to great effect, that our enemies can enter the realm and attack the king's subjects without apparent fear of retaliation. This is a bad way to begin a reign. It seems to me that His Majesty must strike back, and soon, if he is to retain the trust of his subjects. And yet, one cannot help but wonder why the Duchess chose to do this. It is not an effective way to begin diplomatic negotiations, and if she truly wishes war between our people should she not have acted more forcefully? It seems she could have caused much more serious harm than she did. Is her desire to provoke the king into rash action? Was the kidnapping of Brita a premeditate act, or a spur of the moment seizure of an opportunity? Her actions raise many questions. Not least the identity of her companions."
"That red-headed boy--I wish we'd gotten a better look at his face," Gerard says. He does something unpleasant that even the local anesthetic can't entirely mask.
Vere closes his eyes momentarily, but otherwise doesn't react.
Vere pauses, then turns to the next matter. "The confrontation between Prince Martin and Dame Aisling was unexpected and troubling, but not truly surprising. That she is suspected is a matter of course, that Prince Martin, who is among the most suspicious of all of us, should be one of those who suspects her is also natural. I would have thought she would have had a better sense of the precariousness of her situation, and would have deferred to him more. Becoming the heir apparent might have been a surprise to His Highness, yet the prerogatives of the position go well with his natural ... pride." It does not sound as though 'pride' had been his first choice of word.
"Heir presumptive, son. Don't ill-wish him. He has a hard enough road as it is."
Vere makes a quiet noise of agreement.
"There is quite a lot else that happened, Father. Did you have any particular moments you were most interested in?"
"Did ye see what set his young highness off? I mislike that business. Martin's suspicious and--proud--but he's not M, to see a poisoner under every rock. He's got an uncanny track record for being right."
Vere frowns. "Unfortunately I did not observe the beginnings of their conversation. I know that just before things came to a head he as much as stated that Dame Aisling's father aids or serves the Duchess Borel, that he was one of Prince Merlin's teachers, and that Prince Martin clearly assumes that Dame Aisling is still reporting to him. I do not know if he made any claims about evidence for these statments."
"I'll make no judgement on the lass without some evidence either way, but I'll know who and what I'm letting have at my legs before I pursue any healing," Gerard says.
Vere makes a noncommittal noise.
Gerard thinks for a moment more. "And have ye decided what you're going to say to Julian, and when, if you're leaving in the morning?"
"I have arranged to meet with the Lady Robin later tonight," Vere replies. "I must speak to her of my oath. Once she knows of this, and I know her feelings, I will have a better idea of what, if anything, to say to Prince Julian." Vere shrugs his uninjured shoulder slightly. "Perhaps there will be no need to speak to him at all," he says gloomily. "Perhaps there will be nothing to speak of."
"Nonsense," says Gerard, and punctuates it with something unpleasant. There's some tension and then a release, and then some more. Probably, Vere suspects, knotting up the stitches.
"The girl's enough in love with you to ask me for permission to court you. I doubt she'll throw you over for lack of bedsport, and she hardly seems the type to care what the court thinks."
"Perhaps," Vere replies. His head tilts to one side, "That reminds me...." and he reaches into his pouch and pulls out the small bundle Robin had handed him earlier in the evening, which he has not yet had a chance to examine.
Vere holds in his hand two feathers, their quills joined through three beads. A small thong of impossibly fine and light colored leather is attached to the top, allowing the entire piece to be woven into or tied around something.
The feathers are the primaries of an osprey, dark blue and grey, it's diagonal stripping elegant and clean. And a the primary of a red-tailed hawk, browns and creams with a kiss of rust, the stripping more mottled and chaotic, camoflage at its best. The two feathers are nested so that the hawk feather curves around the osprey feather, though both are of a size.
The beads are simple wooden affairs with no color other than the magnificent striations of the wood from which they were carved. They're small, but each one has been delicately etched with abstract patterns that blend into patterns of the wood grain to magnificent effect. One bead's seerns seems evocative of mightily rising tree trunks, the next the curling swirls of waves, the third... nothing so concrete to see, merely happiness in the hand of the artist.
While Vere examines the contents of the bundle, Gerard bandages the wound.
"Drink lots of fluid, and be gentle with your shoulder so you don't tear it open," he advises. "Will I see you in the morning, or will ye be going straightaway with Corwin?"
"I wish to speak with Solange tomorrow morning," Vere replies. "I have not had a chance to speak with her at any length since..." he pauses before continuing, "...since her understanding of her situation changed. I wish to do so before leaving. As well, I may or may not try to speak with Prince Julian, depending upon what occurs tonight." He smiles slightly, and slips the feathers back into his pouch. "I had other plans, but now I suspect they will all be set aside." He tilts his head to one side. "So, Father, I suppose my answer to your question is that I do not know. I would wish to have a chance to speak with you, if that is your desire. If nothing else you could remind me once again not to stop for long periods of time to analyze exactly what is occurring during my walk on the Pattern."
"Ye'll nae be walkin' the Pattern at all till this little scratch is healed, son. Corwin knows better than to let you walk before your stitches come out. But I'll gladly remind you of other ways you can avoid killing yourself before you leave."
Gerard sounds deadly serious.
Vere inclines his head. "At your pleasure and convenience, Father," he replies.
"I'll be around in the morning. Come see me before you ride out. And get a good night's sleep tonight," Gerard says. He gives his son a bearlike embrace before dismissing him.
Vere smiles at his father before leaving the infirmary.
Once he's outside, he pauses and considers for a few moments, then returns to the Great Hall. He slowly walks through the huge room, turning his head from side to side as though searching for something. Then he enters each of the side rooms, beginning with the champagne room, and wanders through each of them silently.
Before going to bed Ossian will try to get his hands on one of Dara's throwing cards, and examine it quickly. (I guess he doesn't find much more than anyone else?) He will pocket that card for further examination.
I don't think Marius ever gave the one he was examining back, so if Ossian declares such an intention, he would surely offer it for Ossian's observation. GM call?
Ossian might very well ask Marius about the cards, if they end up together without the queen.
Ossian can pick one up from the floor of the hall. He may also examine Marius' card if he has it.
Ok. Ossian does both. [I guess this should be run in summary mode, so we can get the evening finished?]
Ossian will ask Marius if he has found out anything about the cards, and also pick one up for himself.
Marius will note what the GMs told me. "They're sharp. Very pointy." Anything additional he observed, ("They flew well. Neat trick, getting so many out of her hand. Ask the victims if they feel weird.") will also be described carefully to Ossian, along with a suggestion to keep them under wraps (special anti-sourcery containment field, you know), such as it were, in case they can be used again.
[Ossian] will try to find out if the cards have any "Trumpy" qualities. [Are they cold?]
What kind of pictures are on them?
They were sharp and pointy, but no longer. Now they have no more sharp-and-pointyness than any ordinary playing card. They are not cold.
Ossian shrugs a bit disappointedly.
Both of the cards are the Nine of Swords.
"Hmmm," Marius remarks, brilliantly. "That's interesting," he says, sounding all the world like Captain Jack Sparrow. (erm.) "If the Duchess should invite me to a poker game, I shall be exceedingly careful in how I phrase my decline."
Ossian smiles wryly. "She won't. She threw her cards away, you know. Why did she chose cards anyway? That's what we'll have to figure out, if she didn't do it for dramtic reasons of course.
"...Which maybe is the most probable reason." Ossian adds, stifling a yawn.
Unless Ossian has anything similarly brilliant, or even better to say, he'll wish Ossian goodnight, and retire for the remaining hours before morning.
His short discussion with someone of import now concluded, Jerod returns to his quarters and prepares a short message for delivery to the Queen, requesting an audience in the morning prior to the departure of Prince Corwin's delegation.
Given that it is urgent enough, he has a page deliver it to Kemel for him to bring it to the Queen's secretary once morning comes. If a page is not available, he goes to see Kemel himself.
Then, Jerod goes to bed. There's a lot to do tomorrow.
Lilly and Vialle return to her chambers. Vialle retires to the inner room to undress herself and prepare to retire. She is undisturbed by the darkness, of course, but Lilly cannot see and has to light a lamp. As the flame brightens the room, Lilly becomes aware that there is another person in the room, one who was so silent she had no idea he was there until she saw his shadow from the corner of her eye.
Random touches a finger to his lips and points to the door of the inner chamber with his other hand.
Lilly nods once, slowly. She will not give his presence away, not yet anyway. Her sword is at her side giving her the comfort she need to guard against her rising paranoia. This might not be the king after all. It could simply be a look alike. Pulling her eyes from the king she glances toward the inner chamber door.
(OOC: Is the door open or closed? Alos, and this might be a stupid question but please forgive me and blame it on the horrible cold my kids have passed along, does it seem Random wants Lilly to follow Vialle or does he wants to? Of course she look to his stance and such to help aid her in attaining that info. <g>)
[No, he wants to go in there alone. He's grinning. Lilly suspects he wants to surprise Vialle. He doesn't appear to be thinking about the security implications. Oh, and the door is closed.]
[Assuming Lilly lets Random go in there ...]
Random silently moves to the door and opens it. He enters the chamber, which is still dark, but leaves the door open. After a moment, Vialle says, "Who's there?" then she gives a bit of a shriek as if she's been goosed. "Random!" she says, and she sounds both annoyed and delighted at the same time.
The door closes from within. There is some low murmuring and talking, perhaps a little laughter, but Lilly does not hear what is said.
After a few minutes, Random comes back out. He's dressed for travel, and carries a short blade. He says to Lilly, "I saw your handiwork on Martin's arm. Nice stitching." He starts to go, and then adds, "Take care of the Queen. Amber needs her."
Lilly bows slightly in acknowledgment of the compliment before answering his final words. "Of course your Majesty. And you take care of its King. Amber needs him as well."
And then he does leave.
Vialle retires almost immediately after Random's departure. If Lilly wants to sleep in her chamber, she offers to share the large bed. If Lilly prefers, she can sleep on the chaise-lounge.
A page is sent for anything Lilly needs in terms of nightclothes.
Whatever Lilly decides to do--sleep, write letters, or read a good book--she eventually dozes off.
Chaise lounge. Lilly simply is not comfortable being that close to anyone in bed. <g>
Lilly will also ask the page to fetch the katana. The phrase "too many weapons" simply does not register in Lilly's mind.
Once Vialle is settled, Lilly will pen letters to make any arrangements necessary for the morrow. Then she is wise enough to actually try to sleep.
After some time sleeping, she is awakened by a noise.
It is Vialle. She does not sound to Lilly's experienced ears like she is in danger. She sounds like she's crying.
Lilly freezes for a moment. Her mind races. She has no idea what to do. Should she go to her? Offer comfort? Or simply ignore it and wish it to go away? An assassin she would have been prepared for. But this? This was difficult.
Deciding it is unlikely to simply cease, she rises from the chaise and moves quietly towards the bed. Again she hesitates. Should she sit and try to be friendly? No. Best not to go too far away from normal. Leaning slightly forward, she whispers, "Your majesty? Is there something I can do for you?" She really does want to help. The problem is, she truly has no idea how to go about it.
Vialle makes a surprised noise when Lilly speaks up. She sniffles a little, and says, "I'm sorry, Lilly. I didn't mean to wake you. I had a, a bad dream. That's all. I'll be all right in a little while."
There is a moment of relief before Lilly decides that no, she can not actually just go back to bed without trying to be something of a friend. "Please do not apologize. We can not control our dreams, not completely anyway. If you would like to talk about it, or if you simply wish for company until you feel sleep can reclaim you, I am here." Her voice is full of sincerity. It is sincerity brought on by her desire to establish trust between the two of them.
"I'll be all right in a little while. It was just a nightmare," Vialle says, but she doesn't sound entirely convinced.
After a moment, Vialle adds, in a very small voice, "Would you mind sitting with me until I fall asleep? Random--I didn't think I'd miss him so much the first night."
"Of course you majesty." Lilly says as she gently takes a seat beside Vialle. Hesitantly she took one of the queen's hand within her own. It was a gesture she remembered from her own childhood. Many a night Jade stayed at her side until she fell asleep when she was young. Nights had always been difficult for her. She was always afraid she would fall asleep and awake in the morn to find herself alone and cold and hungry once more. Of course it had never happened and as the years past she outgrew the fear. But still she remembered.
For now Lilly felt it best to let the silence close in around them. They both needed their rest. She could question Vialle further about her dreams come tomorrow. It was one thing Lilly was certain would wait.
Vialle lets Lilly take her hand, and eventually she relaxes into slumber again. She does not awaken again until morning.
Lilly is content to get some rest herself once Vialle is back asleep.
Last modified: 3 September 2003