With the kitchen cleaned to her satisfaction, Brita looks out at the rain. Bleh. She doesn't really feel like cleaning up after the others tromp muddy prints through the lighthouse when they return. Besides, Robin is likely Hating the Wet. Brita puts her mind to the weather - it is probably a little colder than normal, perhaps a quickly moving cold front at a higher elevation, and the falling water will quickly turn to fluttery snow.
The wind picks up and the snow falls and it may be time to close the shutters. The fire lizards who were so helpful in the kitchen now want to stay near the stove. At one point the lamp above stops rotating, but it picks back up again in a few minutes.
Vere and First leave the keeper's cottage and walk a little ways from the lighthouse. Vere closes his eyes and waits to see if he feels a connection from any particular direction, before taking more proactive steps.
"They mostly build lighthouses where sailors have died," says First. "This island seems likely to have quite a history. Do you know when the lighthouse was built? And by whom? I didn't see anyplace that looked like a quarry for the stone on the way up to the light."
First is quiet after Vere closes his eyes. Vere waits for something which would led him towards the spirits of the departed. He's convinced they are here, but perhaps not so close to the light. There are flashes of color against his eyelids, as if there were light sources in the dark. It's hard to be sure if these are traces, leading him down to the shore or just artifacts of the light high above them.
"This way, perhaps," Vere says, opening his eyes and beginning to walk towards the shore. "I do not know much of the history of the lighthouse," he answers her as they walk away from the light. "It is certainly possible that what I have senses dates from longer ago, but if the caretaker died with his charge unfulfilled he is the most likely spirit to be here." He shrugs very slightly. "Quite honestly, I am interested in speaking with whomever might be lingering here. Interesting things are sure to be learned."
"Maybe the old goat died of sticking his nose where it didn't belong." The voice, male and gruff, doesn't come from First. And doesn't sound like anyone Vere has seen on the island.
Vere smiles slightly. "Perhaps he believed that being aware of what was happening on and around the island was an integral part of his duties," he says mildly.
First looks at the figure speaking to Vere. "Are you then, another ghost of this place, or do you just wish to be, interrupting travellers in the night?"
A man steps from the shadows. He looks rough in the uneven light from above, but not intangible. "I'm unarmed, and mortal, and don't wish to die. But this island and that man were no friends of each other."
Vere lifts an eyebrow slightly. "It would seem that you wish to explain this, else you would not have approached us. Please do so." He watches the stranger, but is listening carefully for any sounds indicative of anyone else waiting in the darkness around them.
Vere doesn't detect anyone else. First is looking at the man suspiciously, and has all the signs of someone ready to defend herself in a fight.
"I was waiting to see if you was just the lighthouse relief crew, but there's too many of you for that. I'm Reef, and my goats graze on this island."
"We are here to find out what happened," Vere answers, not introducing himself. "It appears that you know?"
Reef sways in the ever-shifting light. "Nothing more than what was coming to him. He tried to shake down the locals, including me. He tried it with someone who wasn't having any of it.
"I buried him. It was that or let me goats 'et 'im, and nobody'll eat a cannibal goat."
Vere smiles slightly at that last comment. "A shake down? What did you have that he wanted? And for how long had this been going on?"
Is he reading honesty, deception, or something else from Reef?
Vere senses anger, but that's obvious. He doesn't sense deception, but something here isn't right.
As Vere leans towards Reef, he feels an unexpected coldness, and the soft rain that had just started is become large, wet snowflakes. It is the end of the year, and snow happens, but this seems unnatural.
Neither Reef nor First pay any attention to the weather.
Vere remains silently staring at Reef, waiting for him to answer the question. While he waits he continues to pay attention to his surroundings. Are the normal night sounds present, or have the living creatures of the island gone silent?
Reed looks angry. "Food, mostly. He got tired of paying us for goat meat. He thought we worked with the smugglers. Them, he was trying to get paid to look the other way."
Vere hears only the mechanical actions of the light far above, the incessant beating of the tide against the rocks, his own breath, and the nearly silent patter of wet snowflakes landing on the ground. Vere thinks it's likely that it won't stick, unless it lasts an hour or more. Snow is landing in puddles that used to be snow.
Just as Vere thinks he's identified all the sounds, and the lack of animal noises (which may be normal, given the precipitation), he hears what sounds like a rockfall from the far end of the island. Relatively, it's loud.
Vere was just starting to respond to Reef's statement when he heard the rockfall. He turns to look in that direction. "That sounded interesting," he says, and starts walking towards it. "Reef, you might want to come along with me so that we can continue this conversation. If I can give a good explanation for matters to the Captain he might not feel that he needs to question you himself for his report to Prince Caine."
First looks back to hear Reef's answer. "Where'd he go?"
If Vere turns, Reef is indeed not there.
"Interesting," Vere observes mildly.
Vere hears a distant crowing, that seems tantalizingly familiar.
Vere pauses, identifying the direction of the crowing, mapping it on his mental picture of the island, and comparing it with the direction of the rockslide.
They occurred at the same place, which Vere recalls from sighting as they sailed in, is the far side of the island from the lighthouse. It's not a big island, but a little geologic action and tidal pressure would create a sea stac from the formation Vere observed.
Vere nods, decisively. It's worth checking out. He speeds up, not quite breaking into a trot.
First keeps up. There's a sound from the direction they are hurrying (as best they can by the rotating light across strange ground during a storm that's shifted from 'rain' to 'win'try mix').
"Wheeee!"
First says, "That may not be a ghost."
Brita has been fussing around the lighthouse dwelling area for a while now. Moving things around to her satisfaction. She found a stash of mulling spices and chocolate and has set about brewing up a mulled ale and hot cocoa for when her compatriots return on this perfect evening. She is humming Viking War Ballads to herself as she works.
The mixed weather turns to snow and the sound of the rain diminishes and stops as the wintery snow blankets the island. It's very home-like and reminds her of the long, cold nights in Asgard. It's quite a relief after so much time spent in Xanadu, where everyone and everything was always sweating.
Robin nods her thanks to Brita as the goddess starts to clean up. For a moment, she thinks about telling her Cousin that the seamen have volunteered to handle the dishes. But after thought, Robin realizes that it wouldn't make any difference. And as she can feel herself sliding to a non-verbal place; the Ranger just shrugs to herself and carries on.
With a wave to Vere and First as they depart, Robin takes herself outside and a ways away from the lighthouse door. As she is checking around for what just... 'Sounds' like a good place, Robin checks in the firelizard faire to make sure there's no issues she needs to address. [Assuming there are none] Robin sends her love and lets them know that she's about to do some persnickety work and they should help Brita with 'cleaning' the dishes if they can.
They have important snacking to do, after tiring themselves out today. Perhaps Robin will bring them back a snack...
Robin notes the faire's desires with a chuckle and a reassurance that she won't disappoint.
Once Robin is reasonably sure, she won't be distracted she stands on her tiptoes and breathes deeply of the ocean air; settling herself into the place she stands and who she is. She Listens to the wind, she Listens to the waves. Pulling closer in, she Listens to the stones and land that is Cabra; to the stones, wood and metal that is the Lighthouse, to the goats, to the birds, to the rodents & insects, to the plants and moss? Until Robin is softly humming and humming with, the Pattern-music that is the entire Island.
Once she knows the tune, she ignites the lightning that is the Pattern in her Blood. Fixing the Pattern firmly in her mind, she begins walking the manageable circumference of Cabra. Just as she saw Julian firming up the Marked Places of Arden, she starts firming up, anchoring, shoring up the Reality of Cabra. Though unconsciously Robin's own ironic humor that it is a Ranger who is anchoring Amber's foremost sea-marker is probably coloring her work a little.
Robin finds it easy to reinforce, and suspects that while she may be the first to do this in some time, she is not the first to ever do so. It's something of a paradox, since it's possible that if the rock wasn't reinforced, it might've worn away and stopped being a threat to ships.
Much like Amber itself, Robin thinks ironically. Slowly, she lets the Pattern fade from her mind and sets about finding the most awesome firelizard snack she can.
There are some nests on the peaks if Robin wants to gather eggs (dangerous), and fish down in the water, or goats (Cabra is known for them. Literally.)
As Robin evaluates her choices, she realizes that there really isn't a choice. At least, not for her. Peaks, nests, eggs and danger, those practically sing out 'idiotic Robin idea.' And so the bird-brain sets her feet toward the peaks.
The stac at the far end of the island is where the birds nest. It's too narrow to support the lighthouse and too steep for the goats to climb it. It would be a difficult climb in the daylight and the intermittent sweep of the lamp that can warn ships miles at sea makes for a dizzying climb. Against most predators, the birds are safe.
Robin is not most predators.
The only way the climb could be more challenging would be if it were raining.
Robin reaches the top and finds, as she expected, several excellent nests that can be raided for eggs for the fair or even for tomorrow's breakfast.
As she is looking over the top of the stac, it starts to rain.
Hah! Robin shakes a defiant fist at the sky. She will too make a treacherous climb back down; in the dark, in the rain, with the lights going round, with a sack full of eggs. Just because.
Then Robin presses her lips together and wonders if every manipulation of Shadow by herself is going to end up in rain. Stupid rain.
Knowing that she's not going to get any dryer, Robin scrambles to gather plenty of eggs (heh.) And then sets herself to climbing back down the stac.
Robin gathers eggs and things unkind thoughts about the rain. As if in reaction to her mood, the rain turns to wet snow.
While searching carefully for good handholds, Robin finds a hilt or a handle of some sort in a crevice. It's unclear what would happen if Robin pulled it out.
"I am not 'reckless'," Robin mutters grumpily under her breath at a certain non-present cousin. She bats the wet snowflakes out of her eyelashes and makes sure she's got one very good handhold, two good footholds and an exit strategy in mind. Once set, she mutters again, "I just make things happen without overthinking everything." And she yanks on the handle.
Robin manages to hang on, but between pulling on the handle and the rocks that that dislodged, it's a challenge. If anyone is below, they may have more to worry about than she does. Robin finds herself, hanging by one hand and two footholds to the face of a crumbling rock wall, holding a sword that looks like it just cut its way out of the stone.
Without a light or a better grip, Robin can't be sure if she has a bag full of eggs or a bag full of broken eggs.
A crow of triumph escapes Robin. Then she thinks about it. She might not want to surf a rockfall in the dark-light-dark and rain-snow with both a bagful of maybe eggs and an unsheathed sword that can cut through stone. That could be pushing it.
First things first, Robin makes sure her grip will hold for another moment or two. [Assuming that it will] Then Robin introduces herself to the sword because it's a large and varied universe and - while unlikely - it is possible that the sword knows what it's about.
"Hello, there," she says to the blade. "My name is Robin. I'm a Scion of Amber and Xanadu. And I'm going to try and get us down off this stac now. I'd appreciate it if you didn't do anything too unpleasant for the next few moments, okay?"
Robin doesn't really expect an answer but it doesn't hurt.
The sword maintains its silence, and snow continues to fall. Where it hits the blade, it melts quickly.
It's starting to accumulate on Robin's hair, though.
Robin eyes the sword with respect; being warmer (or at least more moisture repellent) than her hair is good thing.
Looking around as best she can, Robin plans her way down. Her theory is to find a stable route and then stick the sword back into the stone as low as she can reach, clamber down around it until it is as high as she can reach. Then pull the sword out, and stick it back into the stac as low as she can reach. Repeat until she is within 'safe' jumping distance of the ground.
Robin jams the sword into the rock and climbs around it until it is above her and grabs it again. It slides in and down and Robin finds herself hanging onto the hilt and sliding down the stac. Sparks fly from the gap where the blade is cutting the stone.
It's too fast to be safe, but it's amazing.
Robin's first reaction is a thrilled, "Wheeee!" Her second reaction is to change that into a call of "'Ware below!" as she is coming in too hard.
Her plan is to within 30 feet or so of the ground: 1 - Let go of the sword, hoping that it will stop cutting once her weight is no longer on it, and 2 - parkour herself into a safe tumble to lose the velocity and gain some distance from the falling detritus of her descent. While the eggs are still in her mind, she's not willing to trade a broken bone for them.
Vere and First arrive as the first of the dislodged rocks hit the ground and start bouncing in all directions. They can see someone in the disjointed light above them, and they hear a shout of "Ware below!" and the figure rolls into a ball and bounces away from the stac. First falls back quickly, and a rock lands where Vere thought she was standing, but it was a near miss.
Vere sees a rock coming straight at him, and dodges it, turning back to see another just inches from his head. He feels a hand on his shoulder, pulling him backwards, and off his feet. It's enough and the rock lands between his feet instead of on his skull. He lands in First's lap and she says "Ooooof!"
Robin hits the ground and the breath is knocked out of her. To her left are Vere and First, tangled in a heap.
Robin sits up wobbily. Her shoulders shake as she tries to catch her breath and laugh at the same time. Her color is high, her eyes are bright, she is obviously having a great time. She glances over at the Vere/First pile. Which doesn't help the laughter vs. breath situation. Robin ends up chuffing awkwardly at the pair, the night and the snow.
Vere disentangles himself from First and stands. "Thank you," he says to her, then turns with a smile to Robin. "That appeared to be most ... invigorating."
First stands as well, with a remarkable fluidity. She's somehow not as snow-dusted as Robin or as wet as Vere. "You are welcome," she replies. To Robin she says, "We should get the bright sword. It's not safe to leave such things around with ghosts."
Robin nods as she rises to her feet. "Yep to both. Very invigorating - so fun!" She grins back to Vere. They both have their passions, books and - well, natural disasters. "And now to get sword." Robin is still a little breathless but that doesn't stop her from approaching the rockfall and looking around to see where the sword (whom she is thinking of naming Expediency) ended up. Hopefully, it's still in the rockface about 30 feet up.
Vere glances at First. "Bright Sword?" he asks. "Is that a name, classification, or merely a description?"
First looks up at the sword. "Not everyone has the sight. If you do, it's as bright as a person. Otherwise, it's just a sword stuck in a rock."
Vere looks away from the sword, opens his Third Eye, then carefully looks back at the sword.
It is indeed bright like a person, although not as bright as a pattern-blade or a child of Amber. The landscape looks as expected as well, although there may be something odd about the stac that Robin slid down. It's hard to tell in the weather and may bear closer investigation by daylight.
Once Robin gets the to-her-not-bright sword in her sight, she clambers up the rockfall, doing her best not to dislodge anything further onto First or Vere. When she reaches the sword, she will oh-so-carefull slot it out of the rock and then very Very carefully climb back down the rockface.
It's getting colder, and Robin has to actually concentrate to free-climb 30 feet to get the sword. Luckily, she no longer needs to worry about the eggs. Robin retrieves her sword and returns to the base of the slick tower.
Vere and first both have a solid dusting of snow, and Robin believes she may as well.
"Okay, no bright swords laying around for ghosts. Also," she looks sadly at her crunchy, dripping bag, "no eggs for breakfast."
"What say you to getting out of the weather? By the way, are either of you doing this?" she asks all bright-eyed of Vere and First.
"Not I," Vere answers. "It does seem uncanny. We met what appeared to be a ghost just before the weather turned. That might have something to do with it." He brushes some of the snow off his shoulders absently. "Returning to shelter might be called for."
First concurs. "This weather isn't natural. Let's hope that's not the spirit's doing. He seemed aggrieved."
Vere nods. "There is a mystery there," he agrees mildly. "Spirits are not always truthful, and what they say should not be accepted as fact without verification. But when they do speak falsely it often indicates what they believed in life, rather than deliberate prevarication."
Robin is listening but she has also started walking toward the lighthouse. "The beacon flickered too. But it looks like Captain Stern and crew got it back on track quickly."
First walks with Robin. "Did you note that the spirit actually had snow and rain landing on him? Is that expected?" The snow is blowing after them and getting heavier. Sounds are deadened, and it's starting to look awfully white on the sides of the trail away from the stac.
"Did he?" Vere muses aloud. "Or did it merely appear that he did? We did not touch him, so we cannot say for certain that he was physically present. I have spoken with spirits that had no physical component, and could not interact with the material world. Others were more ... interactive."
First says "Fair point, I will reserve judgement until more data is gathered."
Robin smiles as her Beloved muses. This is exactly why she needs him in her life. For her, everything is real and sometimes a more considered approach is better.
As she is thinking about real things and snow, Robin decides to Listen very carefully to the weather around her. Drawing on the Pattern in her blood, Robin tries to determine if this sudden snow is natural or if someone is influencing the area she just so recently steadied.
Robin is torn. It's definitely not Sorcery, but it could well be pattern probability manipulation.
The only way to tell is to oppose it. If she stops the snow and it picks up again, it's probably intentional.
"I am also not convinced that he is the only spirit present on the island," Vere adds. "There is a mystery here." He sounds decidedly pleased by this.
"Hmmm," Robin muses. "You guys want me to try and grab ahold of the snow. Or do you want to let this weather play out? As it's mysterious and all." She smiles warmly to Vere.
First smiles. "Good weather to be indoors, or on a warm horse."
Vere tilts his head slightly to one side, considering. "I am always interested in experimental observation," he states, "And you, my love, usually enjoy poking mysteries rather than letting them lie. That would seem to me to indicate that we would both look back with regret if you did not attempt this."
Robin chuckles. "Okay. Let's keep walking and I'll poke it."
As she walks with the others, Robin rekindles the blue fire of her heritage; bringing the Pattern to mind. She reestablishes her connection with the Island, then lifts her attention to it's oh-so-frolicsome weather. Once she's got the rhythm of the weather firmly in mind, she attempts to make it probable that the snow storm washes out to the sea and away from either Cabra or further inland.
Robin quickly finds the attunation she desires and applying her skill and the power in her veins, sends the storm away. The temperature rises as well, and soon it's above freezing on Cabra and the the snow is becoming snowmelt.
At the top of the next rise, the group has reached the lighthouse. The shutters are closed on the Keeper's house, probably to keep the storm outside from coming inside.
Vere pauses as they approach the Keeper's house, habitually checking for any hint that anything is out of the ordinary before entering.
Robin stops as well, covering Vere's back and taking in the surrounding countryside; just in case.
First stops as well. She looks from Vere to Robin.
The area around the lighthouse and keeper's house still has some snow, but the melt has started. The waves can be heard crashing on the rocks, far below. It's intermittently lit, but otherwise unremarkable.
Robin also sends a brief tendril of query to the firelizards. Is all okay where they are? And where are they?
Napping, by a fire. Hungry, if snacks have been fetched.
Snacks have been fetched. Egg slushies for all. And Robin is going to stick to that sell.
The eggs didn't quite freeze in the sack, but it would've been less messy if the sack had been watertight. Luckily firelizards are not picky eaters.
Vere smiles at First. "Merely an excess of caution on my part," he says. "I do not see anything out of order." And unless someone says something to indicate otherwise he will open the door.
Robin shrugs, "The faire are resting inside. Nothing alarming in there." And will head in after Vere.
The storm takes a turn, and drives off to the east over the sea. The temperature starts to rise above freezing. And Brita can't seem to get any traction towards keeping it as she put it.
Brita sees everyone re-enter, snow melting off their shoulders as they hurry in from the now-brisk night. Robin is carrying a bag full of broken eggs, and smells strongly of it. The firelizards in the kitchen look up from where they're napping. Apparently, they are comfortable napping directly on the stove.
Near the faire is a steaming (covered) pot and the smell of cocoa permeates the room. Brita is positioned at the table with her feet propped up on a neighbor chair, a mug cupped in her hands as she keeps an eye on the dragonets - there may or may not have been an earlier attempt made to conquer the pot...
"That smells very good," Vere says. He finds mugs and begins to pour. "Robin, First, would you care for seaclaid?"
"Definitely," Robin states, "as soon as I get the eggs and blade settled, I'll join you." Robin gestures carefully with the bag and the unsheathed sword she is carrying. Robin feels a little guilty about using a universal power - Pattern - to keep as much egg as possible off the floor as she hurries to the kitchen and the mixing bowls therein. But she's pretty sure King Random would do it too, so no harm, no foul.
First takes a mug while Robin is getting egg-free.
"Oh, Brita?" she calls from the kitchen as she is dumping egg slurry into a largish bowl, "Were you bringing on the snow or should we look for malfeasance elsewhere?"
"Snow seemed Better than Rain for Your Ventures, Cousin. I Know you Dislike Rain." Brita sips her cocoa. "It is Almost like Being Home," she says a little wistfully. "How Were Your Explorations," she pushes the question to both Robin and Vere with a look.
Vere nods to Robin as Brita confirms that she was the force behind the change in the weather. He turns his attention back to Brita and says, "First to the Fray and I both saw and spoke with a man who was almost certainly a spirit. Not the lighthouse keeper, however. Possibly one of his murderers."
Robin quickly cleans the egg off of herself and presents the firelizards with their treat. "I found a sword and fell off of the stac. It was great!" Robin says *gently* placing the sword on its flat and out of the way.
"Thanks for the snow thought. I hope you don't mind, but I pushed the storm out to sea, just in case it wasn't friendly."
Robin plops down at the table near Brita, waiting her turn for seaclaid.
Brita thinks Robin's clothes need to get the egg smell washed out of them soon, or they'll need to be burned.
First nods over her mug. "We usually move inconvenient weather into the timeflow. I had not considered pushing it physically to a different place, but I suppose that makes sense."
"You May Wish to Change, Cousin," Brita notes gently in an aside as she moves to examine the sword. "A Murderer and A Sword. Do We Think they are Connected? And No Sign of Our LightKeeper?" Brita glances back at Vere with a raised brow.
Vere had been considering First, possibly thinking over the ramification of her comment about pushing bad weather into the timeflow, but he turns his attention to Brita at her question. "No, no sign of him, although the ghost we did find indicated that his death was well deserved for meddling in local smuggling operations. It leads one to wonder whether such smuggling took place before the Sundering or after it."
"Probably both," Robin replies considering the nature of human folk.
Robin takes a quick gulp of her seaclaid and sighs. "Okay, I'm going to go change. Don't solve the war without me, please." She stands with a rueful nod to Her Cousin of the Sensitive Nose. And heads towards the sleeping area of the lighthouse.
First watches her go. "Prince Vere, It seemed possible to me that he was not even of this shadow, and might have come from a nearby, related place. This island is not too small to have natural shadow paths. I thought I felt one as we walked."
Vere nods at First's words, although his eyes are following Robin as she leaves the room. "Indeed," he replies. "Smuggling to Amber implies travel through Shadow. I did not sense the path you mentioned, but I confess myself still a neophyte in such matters. It would be interesting to locate and follow it..." he pauses, as it occurs to him that planning cross-Shadow excursions with a woman who is technically a prisoner might not be the most politic thing to do.
Brita hides a grin with her mug. "We Have a Mystery Here to Engage Us, Cousin. What Else can We Do to Call Out our Light Keeper?"
First drinks her chocolate and lets them decide.
"If we could find the place where he died, or where his body lies, I could attempt to summon him," Vere replies, thinking it through. "Those would be easier to find in the light of day, of course."
First looks across at them. "Where haven't you looked yet?"
Robin finds it very probable that there will be something rescued from a shipwreck or taken in payment from smugglers that will fit her rather plush form decently.
Robin finds exactly what she was looking for. Apparently there are clothes kept here for rescued seafarers.
Robin strip herself out of her party finery, smiling as her sartorial choices hit the floor one by one. She just knew she was going to end up climbing in that outfit. 'Course she pretty much ends up climbing in any outfit, so it wasn't that much of a guess.
In a large seachest, Robin finds what she's looking for; sturdy trousers of dark blue cotton, a simple white linen shirt and a navy blue vest of light wool. Robin dresses quickly and gathers up her egged party clothes. Crossing back through the kitchen, Robin nods to folks as she heads back out doors to hang the finery in the weather to air out.
The storm has passed and the cottage and lighthouse are as far from the sea as they can be, but it's still salty and smells of ocean smells here. There is a clothesline, unused, that hangs next to an abandoned vegetable patch.
Robin shakes out her clothes and hangs them on the line. Hopefully, the exposure will rid them of the egg smell. Once done, Robin heads back inside to sleepy firelizards, cousins, chocolate and conversation.
Egg is only a perfume for fire-lizards. Robin returns to the group.
Vere's eyes go to Robin and she returns. "We are discussing where to look for the ghost of the keeper," he explains to her. He returns his attention to First. "I have looked very few places so far. There is no sense of him in the lighthouse itself. I have not yet walked through this house, which would be the next logical step. The island itself is small, and it should not take long to walk it in its entirety."
"There's those caves we saw while on the beach too." Robin adds as she plops back into her place and retrieves her mug. She smiles at Vere; remembering their last spelunking adventure. She still plans to get him back there one of these days. "Next low tide we can peek in there and get that chest out of the ship's hold as well."
"When shall We Set Out to Explore Again? I can Await the Tide to retrieve The Treasured Chest," Brita continues to sip her cocoa.
Vere cocks his head slightly to one side. "Are we under any time constraints here?" he asks Brita. "Is it likely that there shall be other duties we need to perform on the morrow?"
"No Constraints," Brita notes as she sets aside her now empty mug. "Just a Desire to Pass the Time as we Await Further Developments after our Recent Skirmishes." She gives a polite nod acknowledging First.
Robin takes a big gulp of her chocolate. "Mmmm-mmm," she nods to Brita.
"While we're passing time waiting for daylight and low tide, First? Would you be interested in playing Questions and Answers with me? Because I've got a lot of curiosity going on right now."
"Rockslicer, I am at your disposal. I wish to make a new relationship between our peoples and it's natural that we are each curious about each other. Satisfying that mutual curiosity would go a long way towards achieving that goal."
Vere nods in agreement, but says nothing. He has settled into information gathering mode, and his attention is on First - watching her body language, gauging her emotions and reactions, getting an impression for who she is.
"Good. I think so too!" Robin chirps. "I'll go first, then it'll be your turn. My first question is: what do you think a Moonrider is? I get lots of vague answers when I ask my kin that, so I thought I'd check with an expert." Robin waves a generous hand toward First to the Fray.
"I can answer that, but it's a layered answer, with many timepieces to take into account. It is a word that has existed for ten hundred years, so it has mutated. It means, first, a highly successful clan in the early days of the nation of the Elephant God, who literally rode by the moon to rob and plunder on both sides of the border. They claimed the Debatable Lands, and held them against all comers and became strong and rich by reiving. That was their origin, and they still boast of it. Later they were the guards of the Kings of the Elephant Lands, and once they were conquered by the armies of the Land of Youth, the Borderers became the personal guards of the Queen of Air and Darkness. Reivers, Borderers, Moonriders, Moss-Troopers, and more were the same.
"Since the exile, most of those who have cleaved to the Queen have been called Moon Riders, although mostly by our enemies.
"if you were to ask my father, there have been no moon riders since the surrender at Jones Falls. The Queen simply has not appointed any."
First sits crosslegged, in what looks like a painful position, but few people are as flexible as she is, even amongst the moonriders.
Vere nods thoughtfully as First speaks, but remains silent.
Brita interjects, "Do You Consider Yourself Moon Rider Or Know of Those that Go by That Title?"
"It is both easy and difficult to disagree with one's father about who is or is not a moonrider when he was the last High Marshall of the Moon Riders of Ghenesh. Some think any warrior who can enter a temporal fugue state is a moonrider, and yet there were moonriders before the art was perfected.
"Titles mean what they mean when they mean it. Just as I am 'First to the Fray', for crossing my blade with your brother's, I am also 'First to the Table', and not because I am hungriest."
Robin looks confused, but has to grant that the question was answered. Something about the Land of Youth rings a bell with her. It's important, she knows, but she doesn't remember why.
She too holds her silence as she figures it's now First's turn to ask a question.
First takes her turn, although she keeps questions only Elders would know for other discussions. "There is much we only know through ... filtered channels. Sometimes it is not what it should be, sometimes the source doesn't think like us. I have two questions in mind, but I'll hold off on the second. Let's be very basic. How did Oberon die and Martin's father become King?"
"Weeelll," says Robin, "I don't think any of us were there. But the stories told by those who were there are; Oberon died during a ritual to save one of our greatest power sources. A ritual which failed." Robin adds flatly. "And Random became King when the Unicorn arose from the Abyss carrying a piece of the Royal Regalia (which had fallen in there earlier by accident) and presented it to him." She finishes on a more chipper note. And looks to the others to see if they have anything to add.
Vere purses his lips thoughtfully. He considers Robin for a moment, then smiles slightly.
"By the Horn of the Unicorn," First says, as if quoting something. "I was not at the funeral, but my father was, with some of his fellows. Were there, indeed, Altamarians there?" She seems to have forgotten the rules of the question game, possibly because she's interested in Oberon.
Robin answers anyway, "I wasn't at the Funeral either. And I don't think my Cousins here were either. But one of them might have heard something?" She sends a questioning glance to Brita and Vere.
Brita shakes her head. "I do Not Recall any Discussions."
"Cousin Brennan mentioned seeing Moonriders at Oberon's funeral," Vere says. "I don not recall that he mentioned Altamarians."
First is somewhat disappointed, but files that question away for a later time. "It's your turn to question me, isn't it? I'll just go on if you all don't take a turn."
Vere laughs quietly. "I completely understand that urge. I will go ahead and ask my question now, if I may. I am very interested in the unusual relationship with Time that your people appear to have. In particular, I wonder if you might be able to explain how utilizing the principle of Time can assist in such activities as healing."
'Oooo,' Robin thinks. She smiles warmly at Vere, admiring how he both asked the question she meant to have asked and at the same time applying the answer to something other than war. Yep, Her Beloved is Wonderful in all senses of the word.
But otherwise, Robin just stays silent.
"I can address it, but if you need actual lessons, we will need to return to my people. I am versed, but not practiced." She reaches behind her back, stretching in a way that seems impossible, and re-adjusts herself on her chair. "The simplest way chronomancy can be used in healing is to allow natural healing to progress faster. Cut to scar in seconds, re-knit bones, simple things like that. But a broken bone that is not set grows back wrong and if all you apply is Time, then you can just get a twisted limb faster.
"Time also works in the other direction, where something must be done quickly, such as preventing a comrade from bleeding to death, or venom from spreading through the bloodstream. It can be used to slow the flow of blood, allowing the sorcerous surgeon opportunity to work his craft without the patient dying on the table.
"There are advanced techniques, and things that are not purely Time, but of which Time is a component. Legends speak of Arthur of Avalon, who fell in battle and was persevered by his sorcerous rival and lover to return when the land needed him. That kind of magic is beyond just chronomancy."
"For simple warriors, it's best to use chronomancy just to avoid the blow altogether."
Vere nods, then smiles very slightly. "And I, again, face that temptation you spoke of to ask follow up questions. But that is not the way the game is played, so I will rest content with the answer you have given."
Robin has been following along closely, and also nods as First finishes. That... actually made sense to her.
She then glances over to Brita to see if Her Cousin has a question to throw into the mix.
Brita has also been nodding along, looking introspective as she compares this to what she has been taught. "You Could Dye your Hair Red, Kin First," she notes. "That was Clear and Concise, though, so Maybe Not." She aims a small grin at Vere and Robin. "How can We Help Your People Achieve their Goal Without unmaking All?"
She turns to Brita, nodding. "I think we can co-exist. You co-exist with Rebma, and pose an even greater threat to her than we did to Amber. Our people wish to return home. I came here to find out under what circumstances your people would allow it.
"Not all of my people agree with me, but they are not beyond reason, usually.
"What would your King accept as fair terms of peace?"
"None of us can speak for the King on this matter, of course," Vere taps his lips thoughtfully. "But I can say that he can be surprisingly reasonable as a monarch, if more than a little bit ... nontraditional. He would want some assurances of mutual protection, of course, and some way to assure him not only that this is not a trick aimed at putting your people into a position to attack Xanadu, but to also ensure that future, less-friendly generations might not do so. Hostages are traditional in such a situation, not only to keep the current peace but to provide for better future understanding between the two people. Intermarriage might also assist." Vere tilts his head to one side. "An exchange of ambassadors, with staffs given enough freedom to observe local events to watch for preparations for war and keep watch over local sentiment towards each other." He shrugs slightly. "This is off the top of my head, and nothing official."
First looks at Vere, somewhat skeptically. "Your King is non-traditional if he seals alliances with hostages. I expect to be required to marry to obtain peace. Do your people practice polygamy, at the royal level?"
Robin does not snort in amusement. "Historically - only serially. But King Random hasn't officially set his policy on that yet. So who knows?" She shrugs.
First accepts that answer philosophically.
"My turn," Robin chirps. "First, do you have any influence on what the Queen is currently doing?"
The moonrider looks at her questioners and also shrugs. "I do not. In truth, I only have hearsay and indirect evidence that she's not dead." She pauses momentarily, "I also have no evidence that she's really my ancestor, but I have reason to believe it.
"What's she currently doing?"
"Attempting a Hostile Takeover From Within?" Brita interjects. The question is aimed at Robin as if asking for concurrence. "She Has Tried to Take Over Several Kin Women and Appears to Now be Attempting the Same with a Pre-Born Child."
"She has been Seen," Vere adds, "as a vision, and as a dream, apparently searching for a suitable subject for such a Possession."
Robin nods in confirmation of her cousins' words.
She looks surprised, and perhaps disgusted. "For the record, I do not approve of possession, even of distant cousins. Your dead King cannot possess me or my cousins, either.
"And my Queen should not attempt to posess your people."
She waits. "How do you know she wanted to possess you? Has anyone spoken to her?"
"I saw her in a dream on the stair between the realms," Vere answers. "And I have seen her as a translucent figure floating in the air. Others have seen her, and felt her mind probing them, searching for something."
Robin nods. "I have seen her once and dreamt of her once. Both times as the floating translucent figure Vere mentions. The first time my brother did try to talk to her. And - uh - I threw a rock at her. There was no response, just the searching. The second time, she caught first one of my cousins, then myself in a grip and forced eye to eye contact. Luckily I was shaken awake then and nothing passed between us."
Brita nods at the descriptions. "I have Also Heard of Her Attempts and Worries of More." She turns to First, "What do You Think We can Do to Reach Her to Allow for a more Equitable Solution?"
First seems amazed. "You three have seen her more than all of my people, and they devoutly wish to. It's uncanny." She looks at Robin. "In our experience, the Queen was neither floating nor translucent. That may well have been a projection. I don't trust dreams. Dream magic is insidious, because it can affect our minds without our normal protections."
Robin nods her firm agreement on all points.
She turns towards Brita. "Negotiation would be a good way to end this, but to do that, we'll need to find a way for you to communicate with her. I cannot say, but I suspect she wants it as well, and were she to possess someone it would be merely to provide herself with a channel to speak."
Brita nods with that logic but notes, "Her Possessions have Not Yet Appeared to Provide Any Communications beyond a sense of Ill Will and Wrongness. Perhaps She Needs One of Her Kind to Communicate."
Vere sits silently, considering whether it is or is not wise to go into the matter of Cambina and Vialle.
"I'm... not sure I can concur with 'the channel just to speak' point," Robin hedges. "We believe that she's attempted a partially successful possession and is using it to make a major power play in Xanadu's hierarchy."
First shrugs. "I really don't know. But I do know you all expected nothing but an assault from my people and we're capable of being reasoned with, even if we still might end up on opposite sides. And if you want to make peace you either have to do it by talking or you have to have a way to kill her.
"She's survived a lot of things so far.
"If you don't mind my asking what's she doing in Xanadu? Working with Xanadu is why I let myself be captured."
Vere nods at her words, glances at Brita briefly, then says, "I believe that we are now treading too closely to sensitive information that would require Royal permission before we can discuss it with you. We find the timing of your assault suspicious, coming as it does at just the same time that she is making a move in Xanadu. If you do not mind, who ordered this assault, and do you know any of the background of how it was decided to make the attempt on the stairs at just this time?"
First nods. She has been waiting for this question. "That's how long it took us to get there after King Oberon's funeral," First replies. "The promise my father made was no longer binding, and he wanted to go home.
"Had I not been First, I would not have been the one to meet you first, and it would have be different. I think worse, but I may be incorrect.
"With my being a captive, I have have bought you a small amount of time, and hopefully a way to use that time to work for peace."
Robin nods. "If your people were to return to their home peaceably, do you know what affect Tir being repopulated might have on Xanadu or Amber?"
"High ground," Vere murmurs.
"Yes," First concurs. "It's tactically devastating if we go to war and it's not a position we'd vacate if we were moving towards war. However, it's the position you hold with regards to Rebma today, is it not? If you wanted to destroy the city, you could just drop rocks from above."
"Ah," Vere raises a finger and assumes a solemn expression. "But all know that we are honourable and trustworthy, and can be counted upon to act with restraint and benevolence."
Robin stifles a snort of amusement.
"And besides, we have extensive kin-linkage to Rebma," she adds. And 'Stupid Edan,' she thinks loudly.
Brita does not stifle her snort of amusement. "There Must have been Checks And Balances between All the Realms when They All Housed Royalty. What would Be the Checks in These Times?"
First nods. "We can build those again, if necessary."
Vere raises an eyebrow. "You say that as though you have something definite in mind," he observes.
Robin nods, she's curious as well.
First looks slightly surprised herself. "There are a number of ways to do it. And it's what we've been talking about before. I don't have anything definite, but once we start working through the options, we'll probably go over all the standard solutions. Royal Marriage, fosterage of children, titles on both sides of the border and trade are all the traditional ways.
"I'm told there were magical ways attempted as well, making it hard for the armies of the cities to approach each other. Ways that turned the lands into their own defenses. I don't know that we need those. But we do need what they had in those days, which was children who were willing to go against their own elders for the sake of peace."
"We Have That in Abundance Here," Brita notes. "Do You have The Same?"
"Truth, indeed," Vere murmurs, with a glance and a small smile sent towards Robin.
Robin looks back at Vere, the picture of innocence. Besides she's not rebellious... okay, yes she is. The look of innocence fades to a wry smile.
"We're a smaller clan than yours, I'm afraid. Too many things happened in the past. I have cousins, but they are much older.
"On the other hand, my value as a hostage is that much higher because of the scarcity of my generation," she adds.
"Would you marry me if it meant peace between our peoples, Prince Vere?"
Robin's mood shifts suddenly. Where before she kind of admired First's nerve and tactics, now she wants to skin the woman alive.
Vere blinks once, does not look at Robin, and carefully sidesteps the question. "I have sworn an oath by my blood not to wed until my Father is healed of his injuries, which does not appear to be something that will happen in the near future."
"Besides He has Understandings Elsewhere," Brita notes. "There Are Options in Our Generation, however, If you are Intent on Marriage."
What Robin means to say is, 'Vere is too far down the line of heritage for you anyway.' What comes out is a low growl in the back of her throat. She's remained seated and is doing her best not to mantle, but it's obvious that her territorial instincts have been roused.
First smiles, observing everything. "It was not a proposal, or even an attempt to solicit one. I could've asked if you would give up your personal happiness, desires, and goals for the needs of the realm, or I could've asked it as I did.
"Duty is a multifaceted thing, and I owe mine to my father, and at some point I need to face the question of the good of the realms verses my personal desires, and it's not something I have many examples of."
Vere returns her smile with a small smile of his own and a nod. "The romance of self sacrifice for the greater good is one thing in the abstract, but somewhat different when actually presented," he observes mildly. "Our own Elders speak glowingly of the honour of duty and sacrifice, but their own examples..." he shrugs, rather than finishing the thought.
'Teasing.' Robin thinks, 'She was teasing.' But Robin finds it interesting that her emotions considered First a real potential contender. Robin calms herself down and lets herself laugh at her own behavior in a quiet chuckle.
"There are examples among our Elders, but they tend to be among the younger of them." Robin says. "Prince Gerard, Prince Julian, Princess Llewella? I'm tempted to say that it's easier when one is not in a direct line of succession. That ambition is the destroyer of duty. But I'm not sure."
"When one is in the succession, what is good for the realm and what is good for oneself are easy to confuse," says First. "I also face the issue, mayhap also faced by your uncles, that my elders are not likely to make good decisions regarding what is best for the realm. I am conducting the kind of independent foreign policy that is only successful if it succeeds." It's a candid admission of the precariousness of her position and makes it clear that she has personal investment in the success of negotions.
Vere nods once again. "I understand." He glances at Brita. "Cousin, you are in charge of our guest. I defer to your leadership in how open you wish us to be with state secrets."
Brita is regarding First with an intent expression and it takes her a while to respond. "I Accept First to the Fray as an Equal. Her Drive for Peace is Sincere As Our Own. If We Accept That, we must Be Open to Enact Change." She shrugs slightly.
Robin is just listening and processing.
First almost seems to relax, but it's hard to tell with her odd body language. "Thank you, Brita, I name you Sister of the Moon. Change can have costs, but few people see the price of not changing. It will not be easy, but easier with allies and, perhaps, friends."
Vere nods, decisively. "That being the case, I think we have moved away from Questions and Answers, and on to a more free exchange of information. I believe that it would be appropriate to explain in somewhat more detail the reason you have not been escorted to speak with the King."
He pauses, to allow Brita or Robin to object if he has misread their opinions on this matter.
Brita seems pleased with her new title. She sits forward as Vere prepares to disclose the current issues. "We would Also Like to Know what You Know of Your Queen's Sorcery. Are You Trained?"
Robin has something to say, but she decides to hold it for the more immediate concern. Instead she gets some oil and rags and lets the firelizards know that a grooming is available for those sleepy heads who want it.
The firelizards are quite pleased to be groomed and oiled. Their skin is itchy and they don't like cold weather much.
"I'm not. Our warriors were separated from the Queen and her court after Jones Falls. There was no one to train me. I only know from people who were witnesses to it, before I was born. But she is supposed to be very powerful, and sacrificed much to save us all when magic calamity threatened the entire realm."
"It would appear," Vere says carefully, "that her sorcery includes influencing dreams and possession. Some time ago our queen experienced bad dreams and apparently felt an irresistible desire to visit Tir, in secret, taking along only our cousin Cambina. Cambina fell to her death from Tir, the queen was apparently kidnapped, but rescued..." he looks at Brita, to see if she wants to continue this part of the history.
"Our Queen was Rescued, but Prior to the Rescue Seemed... Not Herself -- Sighted, for One," Brita muses. "That is Similar to what Others at Xanadu Castle have said of Our Queen Now -- Not Herself at times."
First looks alarmed. "That could be very, very bad. I definitely would like to ask my father about this. Is it..." she says and hesitates a moment before continuing.
"Is it possible that she invited her own possession? Was there anything she needed enough to make some kind of bargain with the Queen?"
"It has just been announced that the Queen is with child," Vere says. It is not directly an answer to First's question, but the implication is clear.
Robin is just listening for now; listening and oiling critters. And scritches. Lots of scritches too. Occasionally she croons comfortingly to them.
Brita is also listening and watching First intently.
"So, and I am not by any means versed in socercerous philosophy, but it sounds as if the bargain your outline would consist of your Queen allowing herself to be temporarily possessed so that my Queen could incubate and protect a new body, which would also be the heir to Xanadu and Amber?"
Her lips narrow into a disapproving line, and her lithe body looks ready to spring. "That's monstrous. If proven, it would certainly cause any of my people to question their loyalty."
If she were a cat, her tail would be swinging back and forth in agitation. "Can it be proven?"
Vere frowns. "As i understand it, there is currently a great deal of circumstantial evidence, but we have not yet reached the point where the villain grandly announces her plot to all and sundry, removing all doubt. In addition to what we have already explained, there also appears to be a spell of some kind upon the King, rendering him passive and uninterested in anything save his wife and child. Hence the reluctance to bring you before him at this time." He smiles thinly. "There was a mandatory meeting of all the Royal Family called for the coming morning, where all are expected to be required to swear allegiance to the unborn child."
First works through the implications of that announcement. Not seeming pleased by a word of it.
"Do you have a way of contacting your Father, First?" Robin asks. "Even if there is only circumstantial evidence, by last night this was the operating principle for most of the scions of Amber. And thus would affect their actions."
"Only by going to him, or finding one of our people to carry a message. Or I could leave it somewhere that I know he has been before he goes there."
Vere frowns. "I am ... concerned about the idea of revealing the situation to your father. While we have made the decision to trust you, I am not at all inclined to reveal the current political instability to someone who might well see it as an opportunity."
Robin blushes and then nods. Oh, yeah - they're supposed to be hiding in a secure location.
"I think my father will need to be guided, step-by-step, to the right conclusion. Gaining his trust and making him a part of this plan would make our tasks much easier." Hmmm. "It could be discussed as part of a prisoner exchange." She pauses.
"He'll be a much better ally than obstacle."
Vere smiles very slightly. "Much like most of our own Elders. Their aid is vital, but they must be carefully prepared instead of just given raw data."
"Okay, given that we have to wait until we're contacted -- unless there's an emergency, of course. What else can we do to forward peace?" Robin thinks out loud.
"Soooo, First. How do your people bond?" she ask cheerfully.
First thinks about it. "Physical contests are popular, especially amongst those likely to win. Storytelling, games, shared experience. All are normal for us. Riding is popular. Fortune telling, if you have the gift."
She looks at the Amberites. "What of you? Are those ways very foreign to your experiences?"
"That sounds much the same," Vere agrees. "Shared experiences, shared dangers, shared stories. Fortune telling, not so much. It is rare among us, and not well trusted. The most important aspect, I think, is that it usually takes time to create close bonds and mutual trust."
Robin smiles fondly at the man she fell head over heels with during the course of one conversation. "How about this? Physical contests with Robin, storytelling with Vere and maybe... Brita, how are your Trump reading skills?"
"They would be Better with A Full Deck," Brita says deadpan. "I Would Like to See if I Could Paint You, First to the Fray. Would You be Willing?"
"I've never been painted before," says First. "It sounds fascinating. I shall add First to be Painted to my titles, thank you, Moon-Sister."
"I have read the cards" Vere notes. "Although I do not possess a deck. It is not a major skill of mine."
Robin smiles fondly at Vere, remembering the last time they read together. She chirps, "I'm afraid I'm useless with the cards. I tend to see too many things to narrow them down." She shrugs.
Robin smiles fondly at Vere, remembering the last time they read together. She chirps, "I'm afraid I'm useless with the cards. I tend to see too many things to narrow them down." She shrugs.
Last modified: 20 April 2020