You Rang?

When the contact closes, Gerard turns his attention to Hannah. "I suppose ye have about a hundred questions about that, if ye have one."

Hannah snorts. "Just give the the card for who you want me to call, and what you want me to say, and we'll sort out the rest later. Paige already taught me how," she explains. "Just know you go through a trump on me I'll be awhile in forgiving you for it."

"I willna go through a trump," Gerard says testily. He pulls out his own trump deck, and begins sorting through the cards. "You can talk to Bleys. I'll talk to Caine." After a moment he hands her his card for Bleys. "Tell him what Folly told us about Random and Huon and the Isles. Find out what he knows that can be of use to us or Random or Vere."

"Very well," Hannah smiles with a shrug, and closes her eyes. She takes a cleansing breath, and then opens them to focus on getting the trump call through to Bleys.

The call is answered quickly, and Hannah sees Bleys, or assumes it is him. He is wearing darkened goggles and a hooded coat with fur trim. Behind him the wind whips falling snow at right angles. "Hannah?" he answers. "To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"

"Bad news, I'm afraid, and we need your advice. Huon is in the Isles of Danu, and Random has gone there, to Vere. We need to know everything you can tell us about this Huon person, what he might be doing there, and how best he might be handled, please," Hannah says.

"Ah. Loose ends. You came to the right uncle, then. I wouldn't worry overmuch about him. He's not a serious threat to Amber unless Random has misplaced the Jewel." He turns and the background behind him gets darker.

"There, out of the wind for a moment. Advice. Advice, advice, advice. First of all, only about mid-list as threats come. I'd rate him between Martin and Jerod. Two, he was close to Ysabeau, so that might explain what he's doing in the Isles. Three, he's likely to have a personal grudge against me, which may be a way to induce irrational but predictable actions out of him. Four, he's afraid of me, otherwise he'd've already moved after me. Five, Caine. Caine is irrational about Huon, and it's not clear what he'll do if he finds out he's loose."

Bleys nods. "That should cover it. How did you find out about him?"

In the background, Hannah can hear people shouting, but Bleys completely ignores it.

Hannah tilts her head a minute and listens to make certain those sounds are coming from Bleys' end, and not hers. She glances at Gerard.

[Is he already talking to Caine?]

Gerard is talking to Caine. He does not sound pleased.

"Folly contacted Gerard because, I assume, the Isles and Vere are involved. This is the first I've heard of him. Is it possible he doesn't know Ysabeau has passed on?" she asks. "And if we were to use you as a decoy, how would you prefer we direct that?"

Bleys shrugs. "As to the first question, it's possible. As to the second ... Prefer? Spread a rumor that I'm spending time in Borel with Dara, and let him go bother her, if you can arrange it. I normally stay away from gunpowder. The last thing any of us should ever want is a great equalizer. What does he intend to blow down with his cannon to give him a shot at me? Weyland's tower, perhaps."

Hannah's eyebrows go up. "Is this tower in the Isles?" she asks.

Bleys pulls his goggles off of his face and squints into the distance. "Oh, I don't think so. It's in a place called 'The Plain of Towers', which is near Benedict's shadow. For values of 'near' that mean anything in shadow, of course. It's a plain with towers, the towers are full of magicians and the plains are full of barbarian horsemen who fight proxy wars for the tower lords. It's not a pleasant place to live, unless you're at the top of the food chain. Like most places, really."

He looks intently into the distance. "Weyland made my sword, and perhaps Huon wants one of his own or some information on how to defeat me. Not that that would help him. He's not up to the job of threatening me. On the other hand, I have to give him credit, he really takes it to heart that one can be judged by the quality of one's enemies."

Hannah narrows her eyes at Bleys. "I'm missing a few pieces here. Why would Huon being in the Isles make you think he's going to the Plain of Towers with cannon, and why does he want to defeat you?"

Bleys smiles and turns. In the goggles, Hannah sees the reflection of a moonlit snowscape. "Huon wants to defeat me because I put him in durance vile for our father after he convinced Caine not to do the same. Weyland made the sword I used when I defeated him. He defeated himself, really, but he soothes his ego by assigning his defeat to ironmongery."

"The more I hear about your father the more I am glad he was not King in Amber when I arrived," Hannah says dryly. "What would make Huon not want kill you, instead merely 'defeating' you - or do we mean death when we speak of defeat?"

Bleys smiles his million dollar smile. "There's a practical reason, of course. A Prince of Amber can issue a powerful and effective Death Curse merely by willing it so. No victory o'er one of us can be aught but pyrrhic. In less concrete terms, we have always tried to best each other. Corwin and I went to war on Eric and he just put Corwin in a cell for a few years. Moire had a death sentence against Random for centuries, but when she caught him, she didn't kill him.

Hannah raises an eyebrow, but lets him continue to spout what she clearly considers bullshit.

"And, we're hard to kill. It's much better to aim to humiliate and succeed and leave your opponent around to know it than to aim to kill and fail and have your victim come back. That was Eric's mistake, you know, underreaching." Bleys reaches up and pulls off his goggles, blinking.

"I'll be very interested to see how you all do, with so many of you and so few who knew Dad. For good or for ill, you're a more diverse generation than we were."

Hannah grins a very sad grin. "Here's hoping it's for good. So you humiliated Huon and now he's back for a... rematch, with perhaps a more even playing field. If he doesn't know Ysabeau has passed on, it's also possible he doesn't know your father has passed on. So my last question, I hope, is what makes you think, beside the obvious, that he's not after your father, first?"

Bleys shakes his head. "Two reasons. First, he wouldn't bother going for Weyland. Second I have the sword that is tied to the Amber pattern; I am between him and Oberon. He can't go after me on worse grounds for him than Amber, and if he tried, I'd be the one who set the stage for our confrontation, which I will be anyway.

"If he doesn't know of Ysabeau, he may be going to recruit her."

"Yes. Well, good luck. Thank you for all the information, we appreciate it. Stay warm, Bleys," Hannah adds with a smile at last.

Hannah sets the card gently back down on the table and takes her hand off it. She looks at the smiling Bleys in warmer environs curiously, and shakes her head.

Hannah looks back to Gerard to see if he's done yet, reaching for her notepad and stylus.

Gerard is finishing his conversation with Caine as she turns to him. He closes the contact and looks at her. "Caine is advised of the situation. He's Regent in Amber right now, and can't leave, but it's good that he knows he may be facing a testy little brother with working guns. What word from Bleys?"

"Well, he thinks Huon was going there to see Ysabeau. Maybe get her help. He thought Huon might be headed for the Plain of Towers to get a sword made by someone called Weyland to defeat Bleys with - and Bleys is just certain he's after him first, and not your father, because..." Hannah trails off, thinking. "Well, that can't be good. Because Bleys has the sword that is linked to the pattern in Amber? Except Huon seems to think it was made to defeat him. At any rate, if we were to try a little misdirection he didn't seem to mind that idea, he'd like us to say he's at Borel."

Gerard makes a scrunchy face with one eyebrow raised that suggests he has no idea what that's supposed to mean. For all that he's Julian's brother, the eyebrow is in no way Julianic.

Hannah looks dubious. "So, magic swords, a bunch of places involved, still gathering up help, it seems. If he doesn't know Ysabeau has passed on I doubt he knows your father has. Seems like, all we really need to do, is let him know Bleys is not in Amber and isn't going to be, and maybe he'll stop heading that way. How is Vere as a diplomat? It seems like someone should just try to talk to him. You know, to begin with."

Gerard frowns. "Vere's a brilliant diplomat. But I'm not sure sending Huon chasing somewhere off after Bleys with an army in tow is a brilliant solution either. Bleys thinks he can do anything, but if he were really so damned clever, he'd never have ended up arse over teakettle off the side of Kolvir, now would he?"

Hannah grins. "You'll have to tell me that story later. I didn't say it was brilliant, but it seems like a better plan than to let him go to Amber, which is where I'd be going, if I were him. I didn't ask why he was exiled - did he do something very horrible? Is there no way for Random to perhaps settle ruffled feathers and stop this whole thing by bringing him back into the family? Or was it too horrible?" she asks.

"He put his brother on the Pattern, I heard," Gerard says solemnly. "I don't know whether even Random's forgiveness extends that far."

'He put his brother on the Pattern,' she mouths silently. She unconsciously pushes her hair back with her right hand. "Well, that's exile-worthy. Sounds like there must be a lot more to that story, but I can see why..."

Hannah sighs. "Someone needs to talk to him Gerard. If the immediate goal is to get him out of the Isles, then maybe he can be moved more by someone with a connection to Ysabeau. Vere does have that. You and Huon didn't have problems, did you?"

Gerard shakes his head. "No more than any of us had with any others. He came between Flora and Julian in order of birth, but he was never legitimated. Not unlike Eric, except Dad never married his mother. So he has that resentment toward all my mother's line."

"Hm. Well, I still think he's got to be talked to. Dangerous, but too much of a chance to just ignore it. Do you want to talk to Random? See what he wants?" Hannah asks.

"If he's in the Isles, he's too busy right now," Gerard points out. "We wait a while, then we contact him. Either that or we pack up and go back to Xanadu." From the sound of his voice, he doesn't expect that to be an option Hannah will look on with favor.

Hannah smiles apologetically. "We have to at least get the new drugs first. I wouldn't mind sitting through a session of the docs telling me what they think of what these images tell us. Once we have the drugs, we need to get to someplace where we can get more. And once we have more, we need to get you off the morphine. I'm happy to be in Xanadu for that - in fact, prefer it. I think you can out shadow-shift, out wrestle, and out stubborn me, so at least taking away the shadow-shifting part would be nice." Hannah shrugs. "So I guess we wait a while, then contact him."

Gerard is about to say something, and then something on the free data terminal (well, their hotel bill includes it) running alongside the breakfast table catches his attention. One of the crawls says "Terrorists responsible for hospital bombing caught".

Hannah snorts. "I don't really like this place, you know. It's a means to an end, and that's fine, but I mistrust everything they do and say."

Gerard cocks an eyebrow, inviting her to elaborate on that last.

She shrugs. "I'm used to living close to the earth. I'm out of my league with the technology, which makes it harder to tell if people are lying to us. It bothers me that it's so... sanitized. Everything here, clean on the surface, shiny, but what's underneath? That's all. Makes me miss people who had stains under their fingernails."

Hannah sighs. "Still, it's amazing. This technology is amazing to me. So I can live with it, because it gets us what we need. But it's not like I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. As soon as we have what we need, and I plan, I'm ready to go. If the plan is to stay and do something more, I can adjust to that too."

"All right, then," Gerard says.

When the contact with Fiona and Brennan is broken, Ossian studies Bleys Trump for a few moments and sighs.

"Ok. Anyone else who wants to talk to Uncle Bleys?"

"Why don't I talk to him, so you can spend some more time on the trump sketch?" Meg offers.

Ossian frowns and then smiles "I have the suspicion he will want to talk to me in person. He might even be a bit upset with me. I think I will have to do some of the talking..."

With that Ossian concentrates on the Trump, but holds out a hand for Meg if she wants to take it.

Meg shrugs and takes his hand.

Brita says, "I will go see if Cousin Ambrose is Ready, while You Talk to Uncle Bleys." She will go and do that.

Wherever Bleys is is wintry; he's wearing goggles and a parka with a fur-lined hood and it's snowing. "Nephew. Or great-nephew, I should say. To what do I owe the pleasure of this contact? Perhaps it has something to do with Huon?"

"Yes," puts in Meg. "He's been and gone. He's recruited a bunch of foolish young men, got craftsmen to build rifles, and moved on. I don't know whether he has other stops planned on his way to you."

Bleys nods, the goggles sitting tightly on his face. "That was your first goal, as I recall. As I recall, the next step of your plan was about your family. Are they safe?"

Ossian shakes his head. "We are still trying to gather some information on the possible ways of getting the last ones out. Huon seems to have recruited them."

"My youngest boy," Meg adds, her voice tight over her pain.

Bleys pulls off his goggles and blinks. "Rumor has it he's going to Rebma. You may want to intercept him from there."

"Rebma! You must be..." Ossian blurts out before restraining himself "Why would he want to go there?"

"I have a theory, but no facts. I believe he wants to try to use his wiles to sweet talk Moire into allowing Weyland the Smith to make him a pattern blade. His real problem with that plan is that Moins is dead, but mathematically she can't be, not if the reverse pattern works. It's a glitch in the seventh equation. Something very worrisome is wrong, there."

Meg frowns and contemplates trying to extract useful information from a man who talks like that. "Where do the rumours come from?"

Ossian blinks. And then smiles. He observes.

Bleys turns to Ossian. "Nephew, you didn't ask how I knew that this was in regards to Huon. You aren't my first caller today. But the answer is divinatory. The cards say "Llewella" and "Amber Reversed", so, quod erat demonstrandum, the city under the sea."

"Ah." Ossian smiles obediently. "Did you talk to Celina, or Merlin? Or have you heard anything from them the last week or so?"

"They've left Abford," Meg adds.

"I haven't heard from them, no. Were they going to Rebma? You may wish to warn them to look out for Huon. If we had a competent ambassador there, I'd say we should come out against Huon getting what he wants, but it's Droit, which means that if he says anything, it will have the opposite effect. Hmm. Perhaps he can support young Huon..." Bleys shakes his head. "No, Moire would see through it. Well, consider me warned. Is there anything I can do for you?"

Ossian shrugs. "Meg?"

Meg blinks at the Rebman politics and notes the names.

"Do you have a faster way of speaking to Merlin or Celina? Faster than drawing a new sketch of one of them?" she asks.

Bleys shakes his head. "I? No, not one that is safe and secure from most prying eyes. I would expect Martin to have Merlin's trump, though."

Ossian nods.

Meg sighs. "Ah, nothing's easy, is it? Well thank you for the suggestion about Rebma."

When Brita goes to find out where Ambrose is, she learns he is asleep in one of the bedrooms upstairs. She opens the door to look in on him, and it's the sound of the heavy door that awakens him. He sits up, clearly startled and a bit disoriented.

"Oh. Brita. You're back," he says.

Brita looks a little sheepish at awakening her cousin and she remains at the door, "I am Sorry, Cousin Ambrose. Have you Rested Enough? I Have Returned as has Cousin Meg. We Spoke with My Mother and Your Brother Brennan. I wanted to Speak with You about How to Track Uncle Huon."

Ambrose shakes his head, as if to clear it. "I'm rested enough to talk." He swings his legs over the edge of the bed on the side facing Brita. "What did you have in mind?"

Brita stands at the door for a moment as if undecided, but then enters and sits on the floor by the bed. "Uncle Houn is of the Blood of Amber. If We had Arrived Here not Too Long after he Left, I could have Tracked his Scent and we could have Followed his Army. My Thought is to Weave a Spell to Bring that Scent Trail Forward in Time and Lead us Along the Proper Path. My Concern is the Timing - can I get a Spell Specific Enough to Track his Leaving and not his Arrival and Extend it Through Shadow."

Ambrose thinks about this. "Do we know where he entered and left this shadow from? That might make a difference."

"Cousin Meg had Told us that she First Heard of Uncle Huon Attacking a Kingdom to the North; I Believe that would be the Shadow Renady mentioned by Cousin Meg's Relative Jenna. As to Where they Went, We could Likely get a Direction at Least," Brita says. "Perhaps Runners were Sent Back for Forgotten Supplies and the News of Travel was Passed on to Those Here."

Brita's mind switches gears, "I had Thought that One Way to Pin Down the Time would be to Focus on the Three Combined Scents of Amber, Rebma, and Chaos - from when Our Cousins were Here - and then, under the Assumption that Cousin Merlin Left with Cousin Celina, Follow the Single Trail of Amber Blood Forward."

"And if they left by a different road, it would also make a difference," Ambrose muses. "I don't know about the scent trail--I don't understand your gift well enough to be sure it will work--but I see no reason why it won't work from this discussion. I'll lend you my strength when we do it, but you'll have to lead the casting."

After a moment, he adds, "If this fails, do you have an alternate plan?"

"No," Brita states baldly. "Other than the Trump of Our Uncle, which I would be Loathe to Use Directly. I do Not Believe we are Strong Enough to Withstand an Uncle, However Disconnected from Reality he may Be."

Brita's mind is obviously working on two levels as she jumps back to the other conversation, "My Gift is that of the Giants of Shadow Asgard - I can Smell the Variances in Blood that make different races Unique. It would be Much Like a Wolf Tracking its Prey by Scent. I Believe it would Work Best if we Began in the Room in which we Saw our Two Cousins and Uncle - a Known Place of All Three Scents. I will have to Ask Cousin Meg about whether we can Be There for the Proper Length of Time."

"Are you Prepared for Your Spell?", Brita asks.

"I needed to rest, and I think I've done enough of that. Shall we go down and talk to Meg?" Ambrose comes to his feet and looks around for his boots.

"Yes. Perhaps They are Done Speaking to Uncle Bleys." Brita rises from the floor and precedes Ambrose out of the room.

On the stair, they're met by Morris. "I was just coming up to tell you, Mistress Brita, the samples have arrived. They're in the kitchen."

"Ah, Master Morris, Thank You," Brita says as she halts on the stair. "I Have a Request of You. I Need to Find a Flower that Blooms at Night - a Fragrant One would be Best - and a Flower that Blooms in the Day. Can you Get Me One of Each? Also, I will Need you to Show me which Way the Army Left Town Abford. And if you Know Where Protector Huon Met with our Green Lady and Gentle Lord Cousins, I would Like to See that Place as Well."

"I'll see to getting those flowers, Mistress Brita," Morris says, by which he clearly means he'll have some of his womenfolk do it. "And I'll find out where the Protector met with your cousins." He sketches a polite bow and is on his way.

Ambrose follows him and Brita down stairs.

Brita pops her head into the room where she left Meg and Ossian. Assuming the Trump is gone [and I'll assume the timing allows that], she asks,"Cousin Meg and Cousin Ossian, did Uncle Bleys have Any Useful Information to Provide? The Powder Samples are Here, but Cousin Brennan also Wanted a Rifle to Go With the Samples. It may be Possible that One of the Raw Recruits Left One Inadvertently during the Departure; I would Like to go Search for It for a short time. Also, Cousin Meg, do you have any Herbal Teas in Shadow Abford? I would Need One for Sleep and One for Alertness."

Ambrose lets Brita handle the questioning.

Ossian sighs "Bleys thought Huon might be going via Rebma, other than that he did not say much." then Ossian smiles "Well, he said a lot of course, but not exactly..."

Brita nods and notes, "A Typical Uncle."

"Nor does he have a faster way of speaking to Merlin or Celina, other than to talk to Martin," Meg finishes. "What do you need the teas for? I can certainly find you something."

"I Need the Teas for Tracking our Uncle," Brita states.

Meg's expression says that this is very odd, but a mere peculiarity compared to other recent events.

"Bisophswort, valerian, thyme, fennel, penny royal," Meg mutters to herself. "We'll find you something, no trouble."

To Ossian [Brita] says, "We should Try Cousin Merlin once more before Continuing the New Sketch. He May have just been Busy."

Ossian nods. "I don't think he's blocking me out of spite." He pulls the sketch from his deck. "The sketch is starting to get worn. It will break soon."

He looks at Meg and Brita. "Shall we?"

"Yes," says Meg.

Ambrose says, "I'll wait until you're done, thanks."

Brita also nods in agreement.

Ossian smiles and concentrates on the card.

Meg watches to see what happens.

Ossian opens the connection, and after a few moments, Merlin responds. The focus is very tight on him. Ossian could probably force it open further if he wanted.

As a principle, Ossian does not force things around twitchy chaosites.

Merlin says "Hello, Ossian," but his lips don't move.

"Hi. I have been trying to reach you for some time now. Just so you know who has been trying to contact you. Are you very busy?"

Unless Merlin indicates he is in a very tight spot, Ossian motions for Meg and Brita to join the conversation.

"I have been," Merlin replies, still without moving his lips.

Brita will wait until the connection is establish but shakes her head at the offer to join. "I'll go Examine the Rifle Powder and Find a Rifle while you two Ask Merlin about Uncle Huon's Intentions."

She waits for acknowledgement before going with Ambrose to the kitchen.

Meg looks from Ossian to Brita, torn between pushing things along with the rifles, joining the call and caution. The latter wins out. She leans over to Brita and whispers "I will stay and see nothing goes wrong, in case he needs help. If you can solve the rifles, I'd be most grateful."

Brita nods and smiles slightly. "My Thoughts Exactly," she states and heads off to the Kitchen with Ambrose.

As Brita and Ambrose enter the Kitchen where the samples have been collected, she turns to Ambrose and says, "I want to go for a Walk to see if we can Find a Rifle. I would expect a High Probability that a Novice Recruit in Uncle Huon's Army left one Laying Around in their Practice Area where it may have Fallen under or behind something. Were you able to Learn anything in your Talks with those Of Shadow Abford as to where the Recruits Trained or How they were Enlisted?"

Amrbose nods. "I can get us a guide to the field where they trained. Huon put about word that he was recruiting and promised a good deal, or at least a fair one, to those who enlisted. Good pay and a share in plunder. He seems to have been reasonably picky about which young men he took, too. Not everyone who wanted to enlist was allowed to."

"Then there May be some Disgruntled Rejects still in Shadow Abford? Interesting. I would Suggest that we Find the Rifle First. I would Like to Give My Mother and Your Brother both the Samples and the Rifle at the Same Time."

"Let's do that, then."

Ambrose and Brita head out of the house. A couple of streets over, they find a youth whom Ambrose has clearly recruited for such services. He seems a bit down on his luck based on his clothes and general demeanor. Brita would think he was old enough for apprenticeship but maybe his parents don't have the funds to place him. (And obviously not an orphan or he'd be at St. Trista's, she'd think.)

He leads them to a place outside the town walls and explains this is where they camped and where their drill field used to be.

[OOC: How exactly does Brita go about looking for the rifle? Does she do anything else?]

Brita initially heads to the center of the open drill field. She scans the perimeter for a likely copse of trees or other concealing greenery where a more lazy recruit - one Uncle Huon would have rejected - might have tried to hide during the more onerous drills. She heads for the trees and searches the underbrush for the rifle she is sure must have dropped behind a concealing bush when the would-be truant was pulled forth to be made an example of the results of sloth in soldiers.

[The cards were not with Brita... (Autumn Reversed, Want)]

Brita finds a copse of trees and begins looking for the weapon she wants and she is not perfectly successful. What she does find is interesting. It seems to be a small hand-cannon, similar to the rifles, but designed to be held. The barrel and mechanism seem to have exploded incorrectly. The device is not functional.

Brita gathers it up and examines it. Interesting. Master Brennan can probably do something with this, but it is not exactly what she was hoping for. "Cousin Ambrose, Perhaps if we Both Search, we can Uncover a Working Model of the Rifle or one of These." Brita gazes around and spots some bushes beyond the campsite and a glint of water from a stream. "Perhaps over There," she says, "A Likely Place for a Raw Recruit to Leave a Weapon they are Unfamiliar with Carrying."

As they approach the stream and bushes, Brita cocks her head slightly and her eyes close. She takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out. Once, twice, three times. Everything around her stills and Ambrose can suddenly hear the tinkling of the flowing water clearly. Brita's brow furrows slightly and her eyes open. "They Polluted the Water. I will Need to Attend to That First."

[The following assumes the guide has been released to return to the town. Brita would not attempt this in front of Abford witnesses.] Brita moves upstream a few paces and then stops. "Here." She turns and steps into the moving water, heedless of the water lapping over her boots and just past her ankles. She squats and places her hands into the water and bows her head. "Iron," she whispers, "an odd Carbon." She wrinkles her nose, "Sulfur - that will be Hard," she glances at Ambrose and adds, "Non-soluble."

She stands and arcs her arms to the sky, hands cupped and full of water. Her eyes are again closed and Ambrose feels the stirring of something. The water drips from her hands, fast at first and then... slowing, slowing - Ambrose can see the beads swell between her fingers and travel at a pace that defies gravity down the back of her hand. They hang, suspended for a brief eternity, then slowly the mass shifts, the top narrows and Ambrose watches the tear drop drift down the long distance to the stream... which has become placid and still. A soft humming begins. Brita's breathing is even, so at first it seems as if the sound is rising from around her. The rise and fall of the notes trickle along the senses. They whisper past the ears and mix with the sounds around them - the birds trilling in the far off trees, the wind shifting through the bushes. Up and down the scale the notes continue, hinting of the cleansing coolness of winter and the renewing warmth of spring.

In a sudden spurt of motion, Brita lunges forward with a loud war cry; her hands pull out from under two small, glowing balls of water and then flip over to slap the balls into the stream at the same time as her foot slams through the smooth surface of the water. The splatter of the water arcs as high as her head, but when it settles back down at a normal pace into the now flowing stream, Ambrose notices that Brita is not wet. As she steps out of the stream, the water seems to rise slightly, clinging to her boots like a small child before slipping back and away. Her boots are dry as she returns to Ambrose. "We can Search now."

The stream flows with clean and pure water, although Brita can tell that somewhere upstream there are more pollutants.

The two search for some time, discovering nothing more. "We may have to make do with the broken one."

[Can Brita tell what type of pollutants might be upstream? Something dumped as per the army refuse or something more systemic?]

[Brita feels the pollutants are human-created. They are more than the largest towns in Asgard would produce but not so much as a city like Amber would. Probably not unreasonable for Abford.]

"Yes," Brita replies. She seems distracted. "I would Like to Explore Upstream a Ways, but I do Not wish to Delay our Cousins. We Should Return with This Weapon."

Ambrose nods and prepares for the two of them to make their way back to town. "What do you think is upstream? Besides Abford?"

"Besides Town Abford?" Brita mostly echoes, "Nothing." She shakes her head slightly. "Sorry, it is Old Duties Calling to Me. Let us Return." Brita moves to do just that.

Ambrose follows her back to the Carpers' house.

The two of them are greeted by Meg's daughter-in-law, who tell them Meg and Ossian are still closeted where they left them. Ambrose looks at Brita and says, "We should talk to your mother or my brother, I think."

Brita nods and adds, "In the Kitchen with the Samples." She moves into the kitchen and draws out her trump of Fiona. She places the broken cannon next to the samples and begins concentrating on the card.

Ambrose steps away and watches to make sure they won't be interrupted.

Fiona responds at once. "Brita. How are you?"

"Mother," Brita smiles her greeting. "I have the Samples and a Sample Weapon, although it Does Not Function. I Assume You or Cousin Brennan could Make it Work."

The red-haired witch smiles broadly at her daughter. "You've done well. I can take them now, or if you have more to tell me, I'll take them when you're done."

"There is Not Much else to Tell, Mother. Cousins Ossian and Meg are Speaking with Cousin Merlin. They Also Spoke with Uncle Bleys, although I do not Know what they Learned Yet." Brita gathers the samples to pass through to Fiona.

Ambrose stays out of the trump connection and lets Brita pass the samples through.

Fiona accepts them. "Contact me in a day or so and I'll let you know how these compare to Corwin's guns and ammunition. I can tell by sight that the gun is from a less technologically advanced Shadow than Corwin's, but I've never seen the explosive he used."

Brita nods, "I will Contact you again Soon. Goodbye, Mother." And she closes the Trump connection.

Brita turns back to Ambrose. "My Mother and Your Brother will Determine how the Samples Compare to Uncle Corwin's Weapons. We should go See if our Cousins are Finished with their Conversation."

Ambrose nods in agreement, and escorts her to where Meg and Ossian are closeted.