Vere is in his watchful mode as Needle shows him around and introduces him to the Rangers currently in camp. Any questions Needle has about his level of woodcraft will be answered completely, but without bosting, and without any of the verbosity Vere has sometimes been known to show. Vere has his own questions about the current status of the war with the Deep Green, and any other pressing threats of the moment.
Vere is interested in learning more about the Rangers individually, as people, and in piecing together as much about there overall society as he can. He's also looking for ways in which his own talents can aid them, while doing his best not to seem like either a pushy noble who expects special treatment or a know-it-all outsider. He is approaching them with the idea that they are the experts in their own environment, and that anything that is done in a way that seems strange or unusual to him has some reason behind it.
Ranger hierarchy is both rigid and invisible. On the surface, no ranger 'ranks' another, but invariably each knows his or her place in the chain. This leads to some friction, but for the most part the rangers are all willing to work for whoever Julian and his inner circle give tasks to, and those who cannot, leave. If they can barely get along, they tend to merely spread their territories to be far from each other.
It wasn't always this way, but it's been that way as long as these rangers have known.
The organization is small and not truly suited to man an armed frontier. Some nights, not all ranger posts have rangers at them. They are eyes and hunters and protectors and each is expected to be able to face down the beasts and humans of the forest with no little or no support.
For this war, Julian has recruited from the people who live near his forest, but it's clear who is a ranger and who is not.
Julian often travels with no more than a handful of ranger companions. Here, he has two score, which is a measurable portion of all the rangers.
The rangers here are curious about what Vere can teach them.
Vere is very interested in comparing the woodscraft he learned in the Isles and the Eastern Forest with that of the Rangers, and comparing the plants and beasts of the the world of his birth with those of this Primal Forest. While his operating hypothesis is that the vast majority of his wilderness lore is tranferable, he is sensible enough of the potential differences between realms to pay close attention to anything the rangers have to say that indicates potential differences.
Vere quickly comes to the conclusion that what he knows about rocks and water is the same, that large animals are very similar, and that plants are the most different. He has much to learn about herbalism in this forest, but little to learn about hills and caves.
Still, these differences all have cascading effects. Vere has to learn which fallen leaves can be walked on silently, which plants are eaten by which animals, how to track a person based on how long ago a branch got bent as they passed by, and how not to get downwind of predators.
He anticipates that he will need several years, so that he can learn the land in all seasons. His Dannan skills and knowledge combined with his rate of learning will likely convince others that he's an accomplished woodsman long before he feels himself to be so.
Anything that he knows about woodcraft that they don't he will be happy to teach them, although he is approaching the situation with the assumption that the accumulated knowledge of the rangers will be greater than his own practical knowledge.
Vere's endurance and fire are still better than most rangers. He can teach the new ones much about fighting, especially about fighting woodland creatures like boars or monsters. Or people. Few of the rangers have done much fighting against people.
Vere will be happy to share his knowledge of fighting humans, large beasts, and monsters with the rangers. Unarmed combat, armed combat, improvised weapons and group tactics. He uses that training to learn more about the rangers as well, and to get a better feel for the social dynamics of the group. It's especially interesting that a gathering of this many rangers is an unusual event for them, and Vere watches for the sorts of tensions and social maneuvering that can occur when a group of loners are forced to work more closely than usual.
The accumulated lore of the Rangers is wide and deep, and definitely includes a lot that even a hero trained by the Brotherhood of the Stag doesn't know. It seems to Vere that perhaps the lore of the Brotherhood has been incorporated and adapted, almost as if someone had taken what they considered the best parts of the Brotherhood and used it to mold the Rangers according to their desires.
After some days of camp duty, Vere and Needle are up for a patrol. What kinds of Rangers would Vere like to take with him on patrol into the Deep Green?
Everything Vere has learned about the Rangers convinces him that they work best in small patrols, so he'll keep his to no more than five people. Besides himself and Needle he'd like one Ranger with a great deal of experience with the Deep Green, and another who has impressed Vere with the depth of their knowledge of woodcraft. The team will be rounded out by a relatively inexperienced younger ranger, as missions like this are vital to give them the experience they will need in the future.
There aren't a lot of novices in this camp, just relative novices. Those seem to be the new Rangers who were brought in during the war. The divide between them and the "old" Rangers recruited before the war is clear, even if they seem to be working together under Julian's guidance.
(None of the "new" Rangers have been accepted into Julian's inner guard, despite some losses in Julian's numbers at the far end of the universe. His close followers are all veterans of Chaos, or joined the Rangers prior to the wars.)
Needle suggests Mum for his Deep Green expert, Modal for his woodcraft expert, and, if he wants one of the newcomers, Rain.
Vere is happy to accept Needle's suggestions.
The group assembles the next morning.
Mum is a drop-dead gorgeous fellow; Vere's seen no one quite like him before. He's carrying a heavy pack with what Vere suspects is some extra gear. Modal is an older ranger. His dark hair is streaked with grey in his braids. He and Mum exchange quiet greetings, though from the size of his pack, it's clear he's already consulted with Modal. Rain, the third Ranger, is a tough-looking woman. She clearly didn't get the memo, because her pack isn't as heavy as either Modal's or Mum's.
Needle seems to have gotten some of the memo. His pack is middling heavy.
They look to Vere for a lead and instructions. Needle has made arrangements for horses for them, though sometimes horses are lost on patrol.
Vere greets everyone, and asks Mum to give them a quick briefing on what they can expect in the Deep Green.
The Deep Green is much like the rest of Arden, only more so, as far as the superficial goes. It's bursting with life, full of exotic plants appropriate to the climate and small animal life: a lot of small to medium herbivores. But there's also a sly and, to Mum's mind, vaguely hostile intelligence in the Deep Green. Paths change, so that you can't retrace your steps. If you're trying to maintain quiet, plants and animals will almost conspire to betray your position. If you're trying to go somewhere, it's almost as if the Deep Green will conspire to lead you astray. There are a million small things Mum can show on the way, and he will, but the key is to expect the unexpected.
Oh, and stay together. Splitting up is how you lose people in the Deep Green.
Right, then. Vere emphasizes the "Don't split up" rule, and stresses that we should expect the Deep Green to try to throw things at us that will make it seem reasonable and necessary for someone to go off on their own.
Do not do this.
We will set out, letting Mum lead the way.
Mum advises that Vere and Rain be in the centre, and Modal should take the rear.
It rapidly becomes apparent from the instructions Mum and Needle are giving to Rain that the Rangers expect threats to come from any direction: vertical as well as horizontal, and sometimes from below as much as above. Mum occasionally stops to take leaves from a plant.
They have food with them; Mum takes a rabbit the first evening, but inspects it thoroughly before he roasts it. He explains that there are signs of Green contamination that Vere and and the others should be looking for. (Part of the duty of a Deep Green patrol is to measure the level of infestation. Another piece is to look for demigods.)
As they travel Vere stays alert to every sight, sound, and smell in the forest, as well as more subtle sensations that he could not put a name to, but that make up a complex mosaic of information about his surroundings.
When Mum inspects the rabbit Vere asks questions about the signs of infestation.
Mum says that it’s hard to explain but he’s pretty sure that Vere will know it when he sees it. Especially with Vere being royal and all. The Warden has always had a real sense for Green corruption.
Things that are infested by the Green aren’t really what they were. And they’re certainly not safe or good to eat.
Vere nods, and marks this down mentally as something to watch for.
He also clarifies exactly what they are supposed to do with demigods if the find any...
Observe. Do not make contact unless contacted. Be polite but careful. In this situation, with Vere being royal and all, he’s probably going to be the one any demigods want to talk to. Also any goddeses.
He makes sure Rain isn't around and that he and Vere are working on something alone before he says something about the forest goddesses offering themselves to men, and how Vere should know not to take them up on any such offers.
Vere nods his understanding and agreement. He considers for a few moments, and then asks, "Do they ever combine these offers with mental compulsions or enchantments? I am thinking of various fae who will combine seduction with glamours designed to dampen the critical faculties and inhibitions. For example, appearing as the object of a man's desire, while suppressing his ability to question why that person would be wandering around in the middle of a forest."
Mum hasn't personally experienced such a thing, but he wouldn't be surprised if they tried such a trick. Mum's opinion is that he's not that valuable in terms of putting to stud. But a royal might be different, though. Mum does wonder if the royal gifts like the Warden has won't protect Vere.
Vere makes a quiet noncomittal noise in response to this.
It goes without saying that they set up a guard rotation for the night. Vere will inquire about standard sleeping protocol in a patrol such as this - back in the Isles they would have taken to the trees and made simple night nests while travelling through hostile sections of the Eastern Forest.
It varies. In this terrain hammocks or night nests or whatever you want to call them are probably safe, but deeper in the Green, you might end up with an infested tree trying to do something unpleasant with you while you're sleeping in mid-air. Mum keeps sealed tents overnight against that -- there are things it won't protect you from, but nothing can get at you trivially, at least.
Vere will defer to Mum in this, and in most things to do with travelling through these woods, until and unless he ever feels confidant that he has surpassed the senior ranger's knowledge and judgement.
Mum rousts everyone in the morning, has them all inspect themselves thoroughly and they make their way further into the Deep Green, carefully watching for corruption. It's about halfway through the morning that Vere gets a whiff of something that's wrong: not so much that he can sense it with his usual senses, but more like he feels it in his bones.
At about the same time, Mum has drawn his bow and has an arrow ready to nock. Mum's gesture sets off the others and suddenly everyone in the group is like a bristling porcupine, ready for action.
"How many of you smell it?" Mum asks.
"There is ... something," Vere replies quietly. "Something wrong."
He opens his Third Eye and examines their surroundings.
Vere's third eye is nearly overwhelmed. There is so much life and it all shines. Vere is aware of every plant, every insect, every bird and every drop of water. They move in patterns that look to Vere as if all of Nature were breathing in and breathing out. Vere can't see very far since there is so much life surrounding them, and all of it is green.
"Air De Droit," says Needle, slipping into the Ranger shorthand. The other Rangers as a unit turn to the right and point their bows up into the trees.
"Modal, you're on torch." That Ranger puts down his bow and picks up a half-burned piece of wood from the fire, coaxing it to light.
Mum clucks. "Can't tell if it's in the trees or just the trees. Rain, I need you to pack our gear, on the quiet. We're here to scout, and if it's just a tree, then we mark it and send an assault team."
Needle looks at Vere. "Can you tell anything?"
"Everything," Vere breathes. "All around us. It is all connected, all Green." He shakes his head, as though to clear it, and then tries to focus his attention up into the trees to the right, to see if anything there stands out in any way. If he doesn't spot anything with his third eye after a few seconds he will drop it and use his less esoteric senses.
Needle nods. "It's like that, My Lord. My Grandmother was a sailor. They talk of the Deep Blue the same way we talk of the Deep Green. We're not talking about the shade of the green, but the depth. Like the Ocean. We all have our Mother Carey."
Vere spots something on the branches of the tree. Some sort of giant black cat. When Vere spots it, it moves further back into the trees.
He thinks he could reach it, if he heads up into the branches. The rest of the patrol probably couldn't.
"Feline," Vere says quietly. "Large. Black."
At once all the rangers, even Rain, come to attention. To the extent that they weren't locked and loaded, they are now. "Verde!," says Mum, moving back and to the side. Needle's bow is pointed mostly in the direction of the target, but it's not clear he's tracking it yet. Modal is following his lead with the torch, but neither of them seems to have the instinct. Rain is covering them as best she can from the other side.
After a moment, Modal switches his center of attention so he's covering their back, as it were, along with Rain.
The beast seems to be aware it's being tracked, and moves back into the leaves.
"I will go up after it," Vere says. He waits for a moment to see if anyone has an argument against doing that before he begins to climb.
“Fire!” Mum calls to Vere as he moves to climb up the tree. “You’ll need to burn it to kill it.” He moves to light the arrow he has nocked so he can take a clear shot before Vere gets too close to the retreating cat.
Vere considers that for a moment, then says, "Too dangerous to take fire into the trees. I shall focus on knocking it to the ground, where the rest of you can burn it."
While Vere and Mum are debating, the cat slinks further away. Vere will need to hurry to catch up with it or to have any chance of knocking it from the trees to the ground. Meanwhile, Mum has moved toward Modal and the torch with his arrow, possibly with the idea of shooting a flaming arrow into the cat at some point if needed.
Vere turns away from his companion and climbs the tree quickly, keeping an eye on the cat. He wants to get above it, with several possible avenues to follow towards it depending on which direction it moves, if possible.
The cat is swift and seems to know its way about the trees, as it slides off into the foliage with Vere in climbing pursuit. He is able to keep sight of it and follow because he's an expert in seeing the possible lines of travel in the overground and guessing which the cat will take (usually the one most difficult for Vere to follow). Vere isn't losing the cat, though he might be leaving his ground support behind if he's not careful.
He doesn't think he can catch up with the panther without some special effort, and certainly not without abandoning his team.
Vere briefly considers Sorcery, then instantly dismisses the thought. Instead, he coninues moving after the cat, and concentrates on the certainty that one of the branches the animal is about to move onto is weaker than it appears, and will break under the cat's weight.
The cat makes a screeching noise, different from, but eerily similar to an actual cat as it falls. It hits the ground hard, and heads off downhill. If the terrain here is at all normal, there should be water that way, eventually. Surprisingly, it doesn’t seem slowed down. Vere could maintain chase in the trees or follow on the ground. His team is coming up as well, but if he waits for them, he’ll lose the beast.
There’s some blood where it hit the rocks, or at least a brown smudge. If the creature lost that much blood, it’s not in good shape.
Vere makes a long leap to the ground, rolling to absorb the shock as he hits, then springs to his feet. He takes two running steps after the cat, then comes to a stop, shakes his head, and turns, checking to see how far behind his companions are. "Do not get separated," he says quietly to himself, with a small smile on his lips.
The patrol catches up with Vere and, seeing the brown spot on the ground, immediately apply the torch to it. It sputters and smokes and spreads faster than it should, and the immediate need is to stay clear of the fire. Mum warns him against putting it out before the beast is dead, because it’s like the roadside grass on the back road.
Unless the beast is circling back to attack, it’s likely far away by now.
Vere throws a longing glance in the direction the beast took, then turns back to his companions. "I believe that I could have caught up to it," he says, "But I also believe that I made the right decision in not choosing to do so, and separating from the rest of you. It occurs to me that it might well have been trying to lure me away in just that manner."
Mum nods in agreement as the others, who were strung out behind him, catch up. "If it is, it'll be back for another crack at us. At you," he says to Vere.
Once the group is assembled, they report. The brown spot was completely burned out, so no taint was allowed to set into the ground. None of the others were injured by anything falling from the tree or as they tried to keep up with Vere and Mum. Mum has to ask the same question of Vere: any injuries, any broken skin? It sounds like a formality but Vere can tell from his tone that the question is serious, if routine.
"No injuries," Vere reports. "I never closed with it." He turns, examining their surroundings. "If it does come back, might we arrange for me to be in an apparently exposed position, to lure it into an ambush which we can turn back upon it?"
Mum says, "That's not a bad idea. If it's gone off to report, there'll be another attack." The rest of them nod, Rain a half-beat later than the others, and more out of loyalty to the shared understanding of Rangers than out of any personal knowledge if Vere is any judge. "Is it more important to deal with the cat or to complete the patrol circuit?" he continues, directing the question at Vere, whom he clearly considers in charge of setting mission priorities for the group.
Vere considers the question for a few moments before answering. "Completing the circuit takes priority," he finally decides. "It is always possible that the cat was sent as a distraction to prevent us discovering something more important. Taking down the cat remains a high priority if we get the chance, but we will not allow it to distract us from completing the patrol."
He falls silent for a few moments again, listening to the life around him, the rhythms and flows of it, so that any changes will be all the more obvious.
"Suggestions on ways to lure it, and/or any reinforcements it might be bringing, into an unwise attack while we travel?" he asks.
Mum laughs. “It’s hard to come up with something that isn’t unwise on our part, without stopping the patrol. When the war was at its worst, it would come at us in human form, actually looking like people we knew who they’d killed. Back then, if someone got separated from a patrol, they had to prove they weren’t a greenie by holding their arm over the fire.
“But the thing is, they can change shape, too. That cat might infiltrate that ash sapling over there, or a salmon if it suited it. We’ve encountered their scout, as it were. The rest of the patrol is to see if they’ve moved closer to us. There’s a river that was stopping them the last time I was here, but there also weren’t no cats on this side.”
Needle nods. “They don’t die when they should. I’ve heard stories. Decapitated greenies fighting you with their hair.”
Rain looks alarmed by this story. Modal nods. “Heard that one, mysel’. Twas a horse they used. It attacked Ro— Lady Robin.” Modal sniffs the air. "We should move. There’s a campsite at the end of today’s walk, if we don’t dawdle. If they plan to attack, they’ll attack. We ain’t more vulnerable moving as staying here."
Vere nods. "Logical," he says. "They are not living creatures in the way that we understand it. Do not assume they are dead just because they look dead. Until they are burnt, consider an apparent corpse, a body part, or blood to be an active threat."
He gives a decisive nob. "Move out," he says.
The group forms up in its previous orientation--it's hard to get anything but a file line in the Green, which are deep enough forest that they sometimes have to hack a new trail where one used to be even when the growth isn't apparently contaminated. As the group moves on, the sun slowly starts to sink lower in the sky. Afte a while of hacking and marching, Mum pulls Vere aside to put a question to him: at this rate the group won't make the campsite by sundown. Would Vere rather stop soon and pick a potentially defensible campsite, or press on after dark?
Vere looks around, judging the defensibility of the local area, as he asks, "How long do you estimate it would take us to reach the campsite if we do push on? I am inclined to think that traveling through this underbrush in the dark would be too hazardous, but it might be worth risking it for a short period."
Mum ponders the question. "I'd say maybe half to three-quarters of a glass after sundown, assuming it doesn't get any more difficult to make our way there--and that you can hold the path, if you don't mind my saying so." Needle nods to the last bit, as does Modal. Rain looks a touch confused for a moment, but then her eyes light with understanding as she catches on to what Mum means.
Vere nods. "Describe the campsite to me, and give me as close an estimate as possible of its distance and direction from here, and I shall not lose the way. A very short time at higher risk against a night in a location with defensibility issues seems a reasonable gamble."
Vere listens carefully to the description of where they are heading, asks a few questions about the terrain between, then leads them as quickly as possible via what seems to him to be the best route, adjusting probability as they travel to give as clear and trouble free a journey as possible until they reach the campsite.
The trip passes without event, which is to say no creatures of the Green attack them en route. Vere can feel a sort of pressure on him as he manipulates probability here. It's not sorcerous per se, but his use of the Pattern is--not so much opposed as tested, perhaps? He has a sense of his strength being measured and taken.
When they arrive at the campsite, it is more overgrown than Mum expected, and he takes it as a very bad sign. Fire clears out the excess vines and plants: they retreat from it almost physically. By the time they're ready to eat and assign watches, they're all very tired. Even Vere notices the efforts they've had to take.
Vere gathers them around the fire, keeping a watchful eye out while they talk. "I mislike this," he says. "I have the sense we are being observed, and this overgrowth is excessive. I will take the first watch. Get rest, you may well need it before this night is out."
After they eat (carefully), the rangers arrange their hammocks and prepare to sleep, splitting the later watches so Rain is paired with Mum and Modal with Needle. Soon enough, they're all asleep, based on the sounds from the hammocks. Even Rain has learned to sleep where she can.
Perhaps an hour into his solo watch, Vere catches a glimpse of something moving in the trees near the limit of his vision. It's pale and sort of luminescent, from the glimpse he gets.
Vere cocks his head to one side, considering it for a few moments, then slowly turns a full circuit, using all of his senses to check the surrounding terrain in all directions, including above and below their campsite, for sounds, movements, scents, and anything else in any way unusual. He doesn't want to be taken by surprise by a sudden attack from a different direction, in case this is a distraction, and he also wants to get a sense of how the more 'natural' inhabitants of the Green are reacting to the presence of this ... whatever it may prove to be.
The natural inhabitants of the Green, such as they are, don't seem to be paying whatever it is a lot of attention. It's man-sized, and roughly man-shaped. It makes no sound as it moves in the general direction of the campsite, and as Vere watches, he can see that the creature, or being, doesn't disturb the plants as it passes by them. Vere's nose isn't good enough to smell anything, either.
If Vere's historical experience with them is any guide, it's entirely possible that this thing is the manifestation of a ghost, as it appears in the Green.
Vere moves silently to Mum's hammock and nudges him awake. "Something approaches," he says quietly. "Let me know whether or not you are able to perceive it. It is quite possible you will not." Then he moves closer to the edge of the campsite, watching the figure approach.
Vere feels Mum's landing as he leaps down from the height of the hammock that Vere had had to reach up to. He already has a long knife in his hand, one that Vere recognizes as suitable for cutting animals or plants.
He spends some time looking around the campsite as Vere watches the figure approach. "I can't see it," Mum says after a bit.
Vere nods. "That is valuable information. Thank you."
He steps a little closer to the edge of the camp, careful not to actually walk into any of the vegetation. He tilts his head to one side and tries to get a better look at the figure, looking for any hints of details.
As the figure gets closer, Vere confirms that it's in the shape of a man. It's also definitely green, and it makes Vere's teeth itch in that way he's learning to associate with the Green. No: it was a man. Now it's sewn together with Green energy somehow, from what Vere can see.
He stops, finally, and looks at Vere, and says, "Hello, man of Amber."
"Something very bad is wrong here," is what Mum has to say, though he doesn't seem to have heard the approaching man or ghost or whatever it is.
"Something that was a living man once," William says to Mum quietly. Then, more loudly, he says, "Greetings, spirit of the Green."
The figure comes to the edge of the campsite and stops. "Why do you come into the Green?" Now that it's a bit closer, Vere has a better view of it. Him. This was, Vere thinks, a Ranger once, from the clothes, or what's left of him. But he was wounded viciously, mortally. And from him, from those injuries, leaks the Green, some of it as a glow, some of it like fresh maggots from open wounds, crawling out and onto the ground.
They are not approaching Vere or Mum. Not yet.
"The Warden sends us to see what is to be seen," Vere answers. "To hear what is to be heard, and to know what is to be known." He holds a hand behind his back, and gives the Ranger signs for 'Fire' and 'Wait.'
There are rustles behind Vere as Mum, and, Vere reckons, some of the others, get into position to attack, even if they can't see what they're meant to be attacking.
"Do you wish to see all that you could see? To hear all that is to be heard? To know all that you could know, man of Amber?" The man's grin splits his face, not entirely metaphorically, and green light shows through his mouth.
Behind him, Vere hears the sound of a torch in flames.
The green maggot continue to crawl off the ghost.
Vere smiles very slightly. "I have no desire nor intention to give up my identity for some greater unity," he replies. "Forget any such designs you may have."
"You are of Amber." The ghost's tone is dismissive. "Those who travel with you are not, though." From behind him, Vere can hear the sound of a torch being waved at something, or perhaps pushed into it.
"I have a message for the Warden. Will you take it?"
Vere begins mentally walking the Pattern in his mind, concentrating on the certainty and order of his existence. "I will," he says, watchful for some sort of attack or treachery on the part of the spirit of the Green.
"Tell him this," the ghost intones, and the cadence of his voice changes, as if he's taking on the qualities of another, or perhaps something else is speaking through him. "Things fall apart. The center cannot hold. Anarchy is loosed upon the worlds. The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and the ceremony of innocence is drowned.
"He will know whereof we speak."
"I shall carry your message," Vere says. He continues walking the Pattern in his mind, and stays alert to the sounds behind him and the progress of the Green.
"Your grace is noted." The ghost makes a motion and the green maggots or drops or whatever they are coalesce back into their creature of origin. "Farewell, man of Amber. I hope we will not meet again, for your sake."
Vere nods, remaining watchful. "Farewell." He takes a step backwards, then turns his head slightly so that he can see what is happening behind him in the camp.
The ghost strides off into the Green.
The rangers have gathered behind him, armed with torches and bows (in Rain's case, a crossbow), and they're all watching carefully, keyed up like high-tension wires, waiting to snap. There are no visible ghostly maggots close by, and those that might have been moving toward the rangers seem to have returned to their source.
Mum glances at Vere at a break point in his scan of the area. "Has it gone, whatever it is?" he asks.
Vere relaxes slightly. "It appears to be," he says. "We should not relax our vigilance completely, as it may be simply a ruse, but I believe the danger is over for now."
He begins to walk a circuit of the campsite, making certain that there are no encroachments of the Green left inside the perimeter.
There is nothing of the Deep Green inside the perimeter as best as Vere can tell with all of his physical and magical senses. Mum also walks the perimeter separately, widdershins to Vere's deosil, and pronounces it clear as best as he can tell.
The group looks to Vere for further instructions: back to bed with same watches, change up, or vacate the camp for somewhere else? Or something else entirely?
"Back to sleep, if you can," Vere says. "We shall continue the same watch rotation for tonight, and head back first thing tomorrow."
Vere will remain awake all night, himself, just in case.
The night passes uneventfully, although the forest is full of noise. The patrol huddles miserably in the shelter, and warm, fat rain starts falling just as the moon sets.
Eventually, the sun rises and alleviates some of the gloom. Rain looks out, puzzled. "I swear those trees weren’t there last night."
Mum nods. "That happens. They’re sending a message."
Needle follows Mum’s glance. "Yeah, 'Get out'." There’s a straight, clear path between the trees leading back towards the main Ranger encampment.
Needle looks at Vere. "I think we should take this opportunity to depart."
Vere nods. "We are being given a polite chance to leave. If we do not take it I expect violence will follow. I do not see any way in which it is to the Warden's benefit for us to allow that to occur at this point. Let us gather everything and depart." He smiles very slightly. "Watchfully, of course."
The rangers pack the camp and restore it to its pristine state as quickly as possible. Mum suggests that any reinforcement of the place that Vere wishes to do with his royal gifts would be in order. He thinks it may already be too far gone to the Deep Green, but he’s not an expert on it. No one is, save the Warden. He doesn't seem to know what they are, the gifts, but he clearly expects Vere to have some idea what he's asking for and to be able to do something about it.
Vere glances around the area, considering the request for a few moments, then replies, "There is something I could try. However, I am not certain whether or not it might provoke a reaction from the Green in retaliation, and I am loathe to risk open conflict without the Warden's express direction." He considers it a bit longer, humming a soft tune, then says decisively. "No, I shall err on the side of caution for now." He nods to Mum. "It was well thought of, however."
Once they're ready to go, Mum leads the group out along the path indicated by the straight track of the Green. After an hour or so, the track peters out and Mum takes some time and does some observations to confirm that they are where he thinks they are. He asks Vere which way Vere thinks they should be going, clearly trying not to influence Vere's observations.
The rest of the rangers are on high guard, particularly Rain.
Vere points. "Unless the Green has played us false by shifting us through Shadow, which I believe I would have noticed, the Warden's camp is that direction." He tilts his head to one side, then specifies exactly how far they are from it as well.
Mum nods, impressed. “That’s a good two days, at the pace we’ll be making, or nearly that. We should be back in normal forest by that point. The key is to find where it changes, as it were.”
Needle also stares in the direction Vere indicated. “We don’t usually take the straightest way back, though. There’s a river just south of here, seems to be flowing the right direction. We could try to float back, but I ain’t sure the river becomes the river down by the camp. It’d cost us a few hours to build a raft, but then we’d be at the camp tonight."
Vere smiles slightly. "I find it very probable that it is the same river," he says dryly. "Let us build the raft."
And unless something interrupts them, they will proceed to build the raft (keeping lockouts on alert all the time, naturally). When they set out on the river Vere concentrates on his certainty that it is, in fact, the same river that leads to Julian's camp.
[OOC: So, as a note, this is the kind of thing that doesn't generally work. Canonically, probability manipulation works on events: "Will she answer the door?” and can be overcome by strong-willed or chaos-tinged creatures opposing. You can manipulate probability such that “we won’t meet anyone on the road” or such.
You can move through shadow while rafting, as per normal moving-through-shadows. The canonical way to travel to a place of your desire is the successful way: If you know the area of the river by the camp, you can add or subtract things by shifting through shadow to get to where you’re going.
There are also powers that can help you, like Dead Recokning, which would give you knowledge of how far you were from a place you’d left in the past. With that power you might know you’re 10.3 miles from the camp, but you can’t know that this river will or won’t turn towards it.]
The rangers set to making a raft, enthusiastic to get further from the green area. The others defer to Needle, who seems well-versed in boating. He takes the lead in the endeavor. The raft launches ahead of schedule, and makes good progress.
Vere keeps careful track of their progress down the river relative to his awareness of exactly where the camp is.
Vere notices, after a while, that there is a crow or raven that seems to be following them. It doesn’t look friendly.
Vere points it out to Mum. "What do you think?" he asks.
"It's not one of the Warden's stormhawks, that's for sure." Mum scrutinizes it, his face screwed up in concentration. "Nothing obviously Green about it, but better to presume it's one of theirs, meant to keep an eye on us, than not. Especially at this point." He looks to Vere. "Can you tell anything about it, special?"
"I do not like it," Vere answers. "It feels hostile. But I do not know anything definite." He is silent a moment longer, then says, "There are things I could do to try to get more information, but I an loathe to reveal too much of what I can do to the Deep Green without more cause."
“That may be the point, if you take my meaning,” replies Mum, squinting up at it. “We could try to take it down with normal means.”
Rain has a bow in hand. “You want to take the shot? You’re definitely faster than I am."
Vere regards the bow for a moment, then shakes his head. "it is not actively hostile at the moment, and I will not initiate hostilities when I have a report to get back to the Warden. We will keep an eye on it, and watch the banks and the river for any further sign of the Green."
He moves to the bow of the raft, and considers their relative position to Julian's camp, the speed and direction of the river, and any other signs he can pick up from their surroundings.
The patrol is on high alert for the rest of the voyage back to camp. The potentially hostile black bird follows them, watching their passage down the river toward the territory claimed by Julian and the rest of the Rangers.
At a particular point, most of the way there, the crow or raven or whatever it is--the wing pattern once it's in the air is more swoopily predatorial to Vere's eyes--circles them twice and heads back in the direction from which they had all come. It is at about that point that Vere feels the group has passed out of the influence of the Deep Green and into a more Ordered part of Arden or Arcadia.
Vere nods as the bird departs. "The Green wanted to be sure we were departing," he says. "And just possibly it was trying to provoke an attack as an excuse to take us."
A few minutes later, Mum confirms: "Plants look cleaner here."
"Good," Vere says. "But let us not relax just yet. Better safe." He thinks for a moment, then adds, "And let us search the raft for any possible hitchhiker from the Deep Green."
He will use his Third Eye as well to examine the raft and his companions, and assuming the top of the raft is clean he will then swim over the side to check the underside of the raft.
On the edges of the raft, Vere finds some Green in the algae gathering itself on the boat, but no more than he might expect given that such things have attached themselves in the first place. The rangers scrape it off with their knives under Vere's direction, and Needle hands Vere a heavy knife that would be particularly good for doing the same underneath before he jumps into the water.
Mum suggests they burn the raft when they get back to camp.
Vere nods his agreement with this suggestion.
There are no riders on the people, nor any riders beyond the level of river dross on the underside of the raft.
Vere takes a last look all around them under the water, to be certain that nothing unusual (Green or otherwise) is lurking anywhere, then (assuming there isn't) he returns to the surface and climbs aboard the raft. "All clear," he tells them.
He surveys the shore, looking to see if he can spot the watchers he is certain Julian would have stationed to watch the border.
At a certain point, later in the journey than Vere might have expected, he catches the sound of Cadence whistled into the wind, and a response from one of the Rangers on the raft. Then there's a hawk in the sky that Vere can see, headed off in the direction of the river.
In all this, Vere has only caught sight of the movement of the Rangers on the shore because he knew where the sounds were coming from, and then because the hawk launched from the same place. They're good, and the blinds and shelters constructed here are well-hidden.
Needle says, perhaps unnecessarily, "They're telling the Warden we're coming."
Vere nods, then quietly whistles the exact sequence of Cadence that he had just heard. "I'm still learning Cadence," he says. "Please explain the precise meaning of this call and response."
Needle calls Rain over. "Rain, you explain to Vere what the call and response was." She looks between the two of them, aware she's being tested, and launches into an explanation.
The explanation is apparently good enough for Rain to pass, though Needle patiently corrects and clarifies her explanation on several points. Although Rain has been a Ranger for several years to Vere's certain knowledge, she has yet to manage all the intricacies of cadence.
Vere listens intently, adding this information to his steadily increasing understanding of Cadence, and simultaneously refining his opinions of what was important and unimportant to Rangers based on relative significance and complexity in Cadence.
Vere looks up as the camp comes into sight, taking in visual and auditory information, judging the mood and activities of the Rangers he sees, making rapid decisions about the state of alert and readiness shown, and analyzing any changes since they left.
It’s quieter than normal, not the sounds of camp awaiting action, but a camp awaiting news. There are fewer horses in the paddocks, and Julian’s standard is not flying over the camp.
Vere’s nose tells him that there is cooking going on, so the camp isn’t being abandoned.
As they come around the last bend, Vere sees a group of young Rangers, being taught by a youth. The youth and about half the Rangers are very dark skinned, in tones that are not common either in the Isles nor in Amber.
They stop training when they see the boat coming in and run to the makeshift dock to help land it.
Vere assists in making the raft fast to the dock, then asks the youth, "Has the Warden departed?" He examines the youth as he speaks.
The youth examines him back. While he has the outward signs of youth, he somehow seems older than his years. "He has, but I was left to wait for you. I am Iron Eye, a Ranger of Broceliande. He does not expect to be gone for very long, but is taking an opportunity to scout in force. The Green Enemy is pushing towards this place, and the Warden is flanking.
"It's likely that the lines will shift, either tonight or tomorrow. It's not clear how long the supply line will remain open. The warden and I have been discussing supply for his army via Broceliande."
“He said the paths need shoring up, which is a thing beyond even my magics."
"Iron Eye?" Vere says. "The shade of Ysabeau spoke the name Iron Eye to me once. I am Vere, nephew of the Warden."
He bows. "May her shade be at peace, as she never was in life. I am from the Rangers of Broceliande. Yee-sa-bo was my wife, and the mother of my first daughter."
Iron Eye watches as his charges go off with Rain and the other rangers.
"When the Warden returns, he will decide if this camp is to move. It seems prudent, but he will know the enemies moves. You were gathering information for him, as well." It's a statement, not a question.
Business completed, Iron Eye seems most interested in Ysabeau. "What did the shade of my wife say to you, Prince Vere?"
"She was summoned to speak to two of her daughters, and to my sister, the Princess of the Isles, so that we could ask her if the Isles could be saved from destruction. We did not know at that time that your daughter was also her daughter." Vere smiles slightly. "She mentioned your name when she said that you were the only husband she had taken who had the strength to raise one of her daughters." Vere's brief smile passes away. "I do not know if she had ever mentioned the Isles to you. She was drawn back to them in the end, to serve as goddess for her people. She advised strongly that her daughters leave the Isles and not return, to avoid a similar fate."
He smiles, it’s almost a laugh. “Hannah chose to raise herself, mostly. I am proud to have raised a daughter who, when seeing a unicorn, would follow it to see where it went.” Iron Eye becomes more serious, as if he was recalling some unhappy events. “She spoke frequently of the Isles. She was drawn to her home, and yet afraid it would cause her dissolution. Perhaps eventually she let that happen. When she was with me, she fought it like a tribesman fights alcoholism.”
The camp is watchful, but it gives Vere and Iron Eye space. “Do your men need food? Sometimes the young forget.”
Vere nods, and slightly chastened says, "You are right, and I should have seen to that already." He turns back to the Rangers to be sure that they go and get some rest and food after the rigors of patrol. Then he returns to Iron Eye. "May I speak with you more, sir?" he asks.
He nods. "Call me E-sta-mah-za. Or Carles, the name my father game me, if it's easier on your tongue. Rangers need to have the sense to sleep when they are tired, eat when they are hungry, and to come in from the rain. If not they are not likely to be of much use to the tribe."
"E-sta-mah-za," Vere repeats, replicating the cadences perfectly. He grins, "And they need to take into account that not everyone is a young fool whose parentage gives them more stamina than their companions, as well."
Iron Eye leads Vere to a camp table with benches on either side. It looks like it's normally for meals, but is being used to create arrows at the moment. Iron ye gestures for Vere to sit, and picks up an arrow. "What do you wish to speak of?"
Vere sits and begins making arrows as he speaks. "First, a question of personal interest to me. Do you know if Robin has yet returned to the camp?"
He nods. "Your intended? She was here when I arrived. I spoke briefly with her, and she went to investigate some signs of unusual activity I had seen coming from Brocéliande. She was given her choice of two tasks, and chose that one.
"The other task is still undone, which is to deliver several dispatches to the Castle of Amber. It is a task requiring a ranger whom we expect to be able to get through to Amber, which is a limited set of men and women."
Vere tilts his head to one side and considers this for a moment. "How important are these dispatches? I am one of those who can reach it, but it is my impression that the Regent of Amber prefers that members of the Royal Family not visit without good cause."
Estimaza shrugs. It's an eloquent shrug that seems to say much more than any words could. "I have not read them. Vista handed them to me in the chaos of his departure with the Protector." He pauses, for a moment. "Excuse me, it’s 'Warden'. The words are the same in my language.
"I was asked to pass them along if anyone came through who could take them to Amber."
"Indeed," Vere says. "And no specific word was left for me, regarding any other tasks that the Warden might have for me?"
Estimaza shrugs again. "That is correct. Part of how a ranger determines their role is by what they do when they have no orders. What will you do?" For a man who looks seventeen, Estimaza seems like he could be ten times that old.
"I will carry them," Vere decides. "It is a task that needs doing, and a thing that I can do."
Estimaza pushes the stack of dispatches towards Vere.
He pauses for a moment, then says, "I hope you will excuse my impertinence if this is rude. But your face does not match your age?" He makes the statement a question.
The cherubic-faced ranger nods. "You see clearly. It is no impertinence to be curious. The only way learn about the world is to question what we see. I am Estimate of the Ponca, father of Hah-nah, chief of my tribe, and a senior Ranger of Broceliande. I was born perhaps 200 winters ago to the daughter of a chief of the Ponca and a French trapper, and I spent many years living in the Blue World with one of my wives, who was Hah-nah's mother. I once was young, then I was old, and now I am young again. I cannot say how, but it is so."
Vere takes the dispatches and looks them over. He is not breaking any seals, but if any of them are open he will read them. While doing this he says, "Most interesting. It leads one to wonder if you might have the blood of the Family in your veins."
None of them are open, so there is nothing to read.
He nods. "My daughter is convinced that I am the child of Random's brother Corwin, but she has apparently decided that all things beyond normal human experience are things of your family's world. I have promised her not to try to walk the pattern and she has promised to find out why she thinks this must be."
He seems neither excited nor unhappy at the idea of being a member of the Family.
Vere considers this for a moment before asking, "Have you met my cousin Brita yet? She can smell the blood of the Family."
He shakes his head. "I wonder if her power is similar to that King Random has. He says he can tell if someone can walk the pattern, but he cannot say why. I admit that I do not find this answer particularly satisfying."
"The Family Blood can show itself in strange ways," Vere says. "We are each of us unique cases." His line of sight drifts to somewhere above and beyond Estimaza's left shoulder. "Do you have any questions regarding the Family that I might answer for you?"
Estimaza laughs, gently. "I have questions. I do not expect that you can answer them. I like to believe that there are answers. 'Why can some children of the eldest walk the pattern, and some cannot, and how does one tell?' You have already suggested that the ways are strange, but it is my hope that they are knowably strange."
Another Ranger patrol comes in, from the south this time. They are also greeted by the Rangers who are left here. Vere's estimation is that that this camp could not survive a concerted attack by the Green.
Vere smiles very slightly. "I also have the hope, and the belief, that all questions have answers. But some of those answers are either unknown to anyone, or deeply hidden. Our exact relationship to the Patterns is one of those. The strength of the blood is a major factor, I know. But there are others, or else it would be a simple matter of calculating lineage, and it is clearly far more complicated than that. I suspect Dworkin knows the answer, if one could only find him, and if her were willing to answer."
He tilts his head slightly. "Have you been told of Dworkin yet?"
"I have been told three apparently contradictory stories. He is the creator of all things, or perhaps he is your great-grandfather, or perhaps he is an insane hunchback who was once the court magician of Amber. Or some combination of the three."
He smiles. "Do you have a fourth tale of him to tell me? I am apparently a collector of tales."
"Dworkin Barimen," Vere says meditatively. "Barimen would appear to be a House of the Lords of Chaos, and Dworkin himself was a Great Lord of Chaos before he inscribed the Pattern and fixed Order into the Universe. The other Lords of Chaos consider that a crime, a perversion, or just extremely bad taste, depending on the individual Lord. He is the father of Oberon. Some say that Oberon's mother was the Unicorn, although whether that is metaphor or not I do not know. He does appear to have gone insane for some considerable time, during which time he was thought by many to be Oberon's vassal, rather than his father. Which of Oberon's children knew his true identity I do not know."
Vere smiles. "Since Oberon repaired the Pattern Dworkin appears to have recovered his sanity. Although the sanity of an ancient Lord of Chaos who created the framework of the Ordered Universe may not be something you or I could understand."
Estimazah nods. "It is an interesting tale, and mixes elements I have heard before. He sounds like Grandfather Bear. Were there other Barimen with him in his House, before the Pattern?"
Vere tilts his head to one side and considers the question for a while before answering. "An interesting question," he says finally, "And one I cannot answer. Lord Madoc of Chaos spoke of children of the line of Dworkin Barimen when I spoke with him, but did not mention any one of Dworkin's generation. And Chaosians do not understand reproduction in the same way that we do, being more likely to sprout off buds or to merge essences than to engage in what we would recognize as child bearing. I do not recall anyone else ever speaking to me of and relatives of Dworkin other than descendants."
"Your family and what you tell us is much more direct than our spirits ever told the people before. Some of our tales seem like metaphors for what you tell me, some are just long. My daughter, who is Wicasa Wanka, she deals with this herself. She is trying to map your patterns to certain of our myths, and keeps getting the counts wrong."
Est-ti-ma-za tilts his head slowly. "But I think your spirits and ancestors are exceptionally oblique with you."
Vere nods. "It seems so to me as well." He shrugs. "So it is."
With a wave of his hand he dismisses the topic. "The Deep Green gave me a message to give to the Warden. If I am going to Amber, then I need someone else to deliver it. Will you undertake this, or should I ask one of the other Rangers?"
Est-ti-ma-za only takes a moment to consider it. "I will, or I will pass it on to another. Tell me the message."
"The Deep Green came to me in the form of the shade of a ranger," Vere says. "Its identity so lost to the Green that there was nothing to identify who it might have been in life. It said to tell the Warden this:
'Things fall apart. The center cannot hold. Anarchy is loosed upon the worlds. The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and the ceremony of innocence is drowned.'
It said the Warden would know what this meant."
Es-ti-ma-za nods, slowly. "We shall have to hope that is true, because I do not know what that meant. I can't even tell if it is poetic or liberal."
Vere stands. "Then I shall carry the Warden's messages," he says. He pauses for a moment, head tilted to one side, as though considering saying something else, then simply nods his head.
Es-ti-ma-za nods, offers any assistance the camp can provide (rations, horses, etc), and wishes him well.
Last modified: 26 November 2014