News From The Mountain

While Brennan is scouting, Martin and Fletcher are leading the defense, such as it is when nobody is attacking, of Avalon. Martin is preoccupied by the new baby a lot of the time and pitches in where he can, but Fletcher is clearly going to need to take the lead. Martin is functional at all because he can handle a lot of work on almost no sleep.

Folly has the option of having a wet-nurse or three or five to help her keep Lark fed and cared for, so she has time to sleep and also possibly to work on Trumps. She also has access to the castle's store of materiel, which is not great--apparently nobody who lives here regularly is an artist--but will certainly do for her purposes.

Anything to do with weapons is, of course, top notch.

After talking it over with Martin, Folly does decide to take on a wet nurse to help with Lark's care -- just enough to help her get at least a few hours' sleep a night and at least a couple hours of painting each day. Folly will be looking for someone who already has several children of her own (and so is laid back about the needs of newborns and about parenting in general); who is personable enough to chat amiably and pass along helpful parenting tips, but not so overeager that she talks Folly's (or Martin's) ears off when they are trying to do other things; who has at least a passable singing voice and knowledge of local lullabies and folk songs; and, most importantly, who doesn't irritate or stress out her husband or the baby.

She'll start her Trump work by making a trump of herself. She figures it will be easiest to find and work around the limitations of the materials using the subject she knows best -- and that trump will be easiest to test definitively once she's done with it. After that she'll work on a trump of Brennan; then Garrett; then Random; then a place-trump of Xanadu.

The nursemaid they select is the probably misnamed Vixen, who has several children of her own, all but the one (whom Folly guesses was an oops) old enough to be about the castle as, if not pages and squires, at least serving lads of some sort. She's happy to chat with Folly and has a pleasant, but untrained, singing voice. No instruments, either. Martin seems to find her reassuring and is happy to take his share of working with Vixen and Lark and Vixen's infant, a boy named Chisel.

Meanwhile, once Folly starts work on the trump of herself, she thinks it'll take her two months, although if she puts more time than a couple of hours a day in, it'll go quite a bit faster.

[OOC: Math works it out to be a fortnight; that assumes an eight-hour day. The floor for making a full trump is a week so it will be a month at 2 hours/day minimum regardless. We have not drawn a card yet, which could reduce the specific time for this trump to a week (x4) or increase it to a year (x4) depending on the draw.]

As they settle into a bit of a routine -- and particularly once Folly sees that Martin is comfortable with Vixen and with taking on these new childcare duties (in an environment very different to what he experienced when Merlin was an infant) -- she will increase her time working on trumps to about six hours per day. She makes sure to spend plenty of quality time with the family between painting sessions.

Martin's adjustment to paternity is fairly easy; it's obvious he's done some of this before. He does have to get used to the part where he doesn't worry about the furniture trying to eat the baby. He and Vixen only have one close call but they seem to make it up easily enough.

When Folly adjusts her schedule, she thinks she could do a Trump of herself in about three weeks under that regime.

Sounds good. She'll start with that and see how it goes.

Fletcher will take advantage of the fact that no one is currently attacking to thoroughly familiarize himself with the fortress's layout, soldiers, staff, and technology. He will review guard and watch rotations, and organize drills. If the guard hasn't already been placed on a heightened state of alert, he will see to that. He will also want to test the range from the fortress at which Pattern becomes usable. (I'm unclear on how big exactly the island is, but I imagine this is a little ways out to see.)

Fletcher is operating on the assumption that the influence of Avalon's Pattern makes magic more difficult in it's proximity, and so plans to gauge said influence by measuring the difficulty of manipulating the Pattern. He also intends to trace the Faella bionin, to know where it lies in relation to the island and the sea, in case it ever becomes important which side of the "wall" something is on.

If there is no enemy on the horizon, he will also send someone to trade for supplies such as Folly might need.

(It's a few art supplies and pigments she asks for primarily. If she has a wish-list of baby-care items, it is mostly things that would require a higher-tech shadow. No electric milk pumps in Avalon, alas....)

The soldiers and gear and drilling are what Fletcher expects from men who have served under his father.

Fletcher's early explorations of Avalon suggest that the influence of the Pattern proper extends about as far as the influence of the Amber Pattern once did in Amber, which is to say the riding distances before he can act are similar given the differences in terrain. Avalon is on a cliff and the ride down the back side of the mountain or along the shore is much easier, with the distance from where Fletcher feels the Pattern should be in the clifside altering appropriately compared to Amber's mountainside.

[Holding on the other until we see what Folly does so there's an idea of time passing.]

He has time to send off for trade if he desires. What does he send out to trade?

Fletcher considers what Avalon has to trade. Obviously not things that might be needed in a siege. He idly wonders if his dad had bothered to establish any sort of currency or other medium of exchange. Perhaps precious metals or minerals? Copra or such? He tasks a steward with drafting a proposal.

Avalon's primary exports are apples, applewood (and other hardwoods) and fine crafts made of it, and cider. There is also a strong metalwork trade, which includes practical tools as well as the capability to produce war materials. Food, wooden and steel weapons, booze, and anything that could be made by a society making those goods is likely available.

Martin doesn't like the knife-money, because it's hard to conjure up a pocketful of it.

Fletcher sends out a trading party with tools and booze. Although Benedict's followers are probably in the habit of bring guards along for security, Fletcher makes sure there's at least a couple extra guards in the event the party runs into something unpleasant.

It takes a couple of weeks to get the trade goods and the caravan assembled. Fletcher has no trouble getting the tools and booze together, including some handsome tools crafted by Mallet Smith, who turns out to be a smith of some note according to Martin and other members of Benedict's staff, and also Lilly's foster-father.

Meanwhile, on the trump end of the universe, Folly is finding that the toll of dealing with a newborn is more difficult than she expected. Her body spent a lot of energy growing that little person and she needs to sleep more than she expected. By the end of the first week she's sure she's operating at about half-speed compared to what she thinks she ought to.

Folly finds this more worrisome than she's ready to admit yet. Gerard's voice echoes in her head with stories of his mother, who was weakened by bearing children away from the home whose essence was the source of her strength and power. The thought makes her long for Xanadu with an almost physical ache. She's not ready to abandon their plan to spend some time away, though -- not yet.

But she does start eating more red meat.

It's hard to eat less red meat in Benedict's castle, unless you are interested in being an Apple-vore. The red meat seems to help with Folly's general energy level.

Fletcher continues to examine not only the Pattern, but Avalon itself. His next topic of inquiry is about the history of the island and the fortress. He wants to get a feel for the population (are they all military of some sort? etc.) and how long they've been established here.

The Protector has been in Avalon in his Castle on Avalon, protecting his people from the raiders of the isles and the mainlanders. He saved the people from the chaos of after the fall of the Sorcerer King.

Folly, for her part, is interested in what the local folk-songs say about the Protector and the kind of man he is -- and whether those descriptions seem to have changed over time.

The population is feudal, which is to say, a lot of people living at subsistence level in vassalage to support an upper class, which is, to nobody's surprise, military in nature. Fletcher, who has more experience of Amber than Folly, is reminded of the ancient days of Amber, when he was a boy. To Folly, the place seems like something out of the ancient history of her own Shadow, stylistically even more so than Amber did.

Descriptions of the Protector in song and story show some changes over time. He's always been a good and martial man, he's a great leader and hero, and so on and so forth. But, for instance, he used to have two hands, although as far as the songs go, there's no clue as to how he lost them. Folly guesses, and this jibes with what she knows, that it happened in the late war based on the paucity of songs that mention the single hand.

Fletcher's interest is piqued by the notion of something before Benedict, because it doesn't perfectly mesh with his understanding of the situation. He'll look into the stories of the fall of the sorcerer king as his duties permit.

They don't name children Corwin here.

(...which brings up an interesting question I'm not sure we've asked/ answered. We've established that Castle Avalon has a reading room with books in many languages, but are any of them local history? Or is this still primarily an oral-tradition kind of place?)

Primarily oral tradition. There's a lot of writing for the literate classes, but they're not everybody, and oral tradition is open to all.

There is, [Brennan] figures, no time like the present. Brennan's been here long enough, and is easily sharp-eyed enough, to have a sense of the fortress' rhythms. Even at night. Between that and probability manipulation, it should be easy to find someplace secluded, unobserved, and unlikely to be observed-- out to the jakes and a ways past, perhaps. After some due diligence in making sure it is unoccupied, he sets Skiaza to alert him if anyone draws, takes out Folly's Trump, and concentrates on it.

Assuming she answers, Brennan speaks in a hush designed not to carry.

It takes a few moments, but then--- "...Mmhuh?" Folly is in bed, disheveled in a way that suggests she has just awoken from the light sleep of the new mother. She scrubs a hand over her face and then rests her curled fingers against her cheek as if holding an invisible phone to her ear (if Brennan has spent enough time in that sort of shadow to recognize the gesture).

"Brennan! What news?" she asks with definite (if sleepy) interest once she sees who's calling. Her free hand is already reaching out to the side, just beyond the edge of what Brennan can see on her end; it's a good bet she's inviting Martin into the contact, unless Brennan asks her not to.

"Damn," he mutters. "Was hoping you'd be awake." That's probably a plural 'you'. It's dark where he is and, for the moment, still and quiet. "I've got some reports, but they're time sensitive. Something big will happen tomorrow and I might be... occupied. Hoping someone there knows the personalities here, too." Then, "Methryn's Isle, Montparnasse," he clarifies. After all, Folly and Martin might know he was headed in that direction, but probably have no idea where he ended up specifically.

Then, "Oh," he says. "Do you need five minutes?"

Martin pushes away for a moment, not yet taking Folly's hand, and moves to the door with the sheet wrapped around him to summon Fletcher, who is also responsible for the defence of the castle, and therefore may need to be in on this trump conversation.

Folly chuckles at Brennan's question. "These days, I'm rarely too much more presentable than this, if that's what you're asking," she says -- and indeed, after a little bit of movement under the covers she pushes back the blanket to show that she's in a modest-enough shift of the sort the locals wear for sleeping (if they bother to wear anything).

"Sounds like Martin is sending for Fletcher," she continues. "I don't know this 'Methryn's Isle', but he or Martin might. Is there anything else -- supplies or anything -- we should be gathering up to pass through to you to help with whatever's coming?"

"No," he says, "because I'm not sure what the big thing is going to be. There's a story, but I'll wait for Martin and Fletcher. Besides, I want to try to keep my cover. Might be useful later. No sign of underwater involvement, though. Yet." He seems unwilling to say the words Moire or Rebma even where he can't be overheard. "Much intel on the island, though, which will probably be useful."

Martin is, in fact, sending for Fletcher, and after he's summoned a page and sent him off with instructions to come at once for a family matter. Then he takes a moment to ensure his own clothing, such as it is, is decent for family consumption, which is to say he throws on his jeans and a t-shirt with a band slogan nobody can read, before joining in the trump contact.

"What's the word?" he asks Brennan by way of greeting.

"The words are Methryn's Isle," he says quietly. "And Montparnasse." He waits to see if Martin nods or gives some other sign of recognition, but doesn't want for a real response before continuing. "Overview: Whole island's a powderkeg. Locals expect a Corsair landing to the north, immediate if not now. From there, use the isle to provision and stage the greater invasion of Avalon. To make that work, they'll need to keep any of Avalon's allies here from harassing them. The Mountain, so far, plans to stay out of it.

"Underview: Prince Maibock holds the Mountain. Marrying his daughter Mayness off to a weapon dealer named Crisp. I tagged along as a mercenary, protecting the bride price. His son and heir Trippel is away. His other daughter, Balen, apparently sees auras and made me as the Protector's agent as soon as I got here." Brennan's displeasure at that turn of events is manifest. "She didn't blow my cover, I didn't acknowledge. She claims to have intercepts from the Corsairs putting an agent here with us. Her guess is Crisp or his buddy Cledwin which is sensible. Claims the agent, whoever it is, will do something drastic, soon. Tomorrow."

He shrugs-- he hasn't seen these intercepts. But those are the facts as he has them. Rather than put an interpretation on any of it, he waits to see what Martin and the others have to say about it.

"What's up?" Fletcher arrives at a slow run, trying to track in a minimum of dirt from the guard drill he was observing on the outer perimeter. He eyes Martin and Folly inquisitively. He tentatively reaches to join trump call, waiting for a nod from either of them to actually join.

"Ah, Fletcher." Folly reaches out with her free hand to invite him into the contact and quickly summarizes what Brennan just related, as much to make sure she got the details right herself as to fill Fletcher in.

Once that's done, she says to Brennan, "What did Balen have to say about Crisp's and Cledwin's auras?" There's a hint of skepticism in her voice, as if something about the human dynamic here doesn't sit quite right with her. She glances at Martin and Fletcher to see what questions or comments they have to add about the situation.

Martin's response is a headshake; he's wanting the rest of the information. "I haven't been to Methryn's Isle in a couple of generations as they count time, I don't think. I don't know any of these people. But none of this is good." His tone says obviously.

Fletcher grimaces, and ponders how this information fits in with the intelligence Benedict shared before leaving. Oh wait, he didn't give any details, he just said to stay out of trouble and avoid adventures until he came back, whenever that turns out to be. "Is there evidence of other magic in play beyond aura reading?"

"Damn," Brennan mutters. "I was hoping he'd left a list of agents."

What could Brennan possibly have been thinking.

To Fletcher and Folly: "I'm not even sure they'd consider aura-reading magic so much as.... something some people can do. I've been called out twice, in private, and making the shadows lie didn't help. But nothing, other than that, and I've been watching. The wagons-- and by extension, cargo-- are so ordinary they might just as well not exist. Crisp, though. I didn't ask, because Crisp stands out just enough to be noticed. Claims descent of Amber, parents came over with Uncle, so he could just be someone's great grandson or something. Or something else, I don't know yet."

To Martin, but also everyone: "So, my gut check is that Balen's mostly on the up and up. Didn't try to get me to do anything specific, just watch myself and not let the Corsair agents screw up whatever my mission was. If she's right, and I have to pick one..." he's obviously been going back and forth on this in his head, "...I'd say it's Crisp. His position is perfectly opposite to mine. Weapons dealer is a great cover to poke into the steaddings' business and gather intel. Which he's been doing and I've been listening. He's made enough trades by sheer number that he must have at least one tribe feeling frisky, which could start all the dominos falling. Enough to keep focus off the Corsair supply lines when they land. But if so, it's been a long time planning. Crisp and Maibock obviously go way back, and you don't whistle up a princess marriage contract on a whim. I don't have to pick just one, though. Crisp and Cledwin also go way back, so I'm betting on both.

"Do we have any idea of Mountparnasses' standing with Avalon? Formal or under the table?" Brennan asks. "Because ideally, if we consider the hill and lowland tribes as lost-- if--- we'd want to mobilize the Mountain against the Corsairs."

Martin shakes his own head in the negative. "Most of the time I spent here was before the war, and everything has changed since then. I can't imagine the alliances are the same. We could talk to some of Ben's people to find out what the current status is--and Fletcher's in better shape to get that information out of his father's people than I am--but if Ben was keeping things on the quiet side, nobody will know it but him."

Brennan scowls. "Well, whatever happens, supposedly happens tomorrow. Ask around if you think it's wise, but the timing sucks all around. Question is, what direction now? The mission was to gather intelligence not, as he put it, to engage in heroics. I'm fine with mission creep, but I'm not creeping on my own."

"So far what you've found isn't a big game changer from the type of conventional fight Dad seemed to expect. If you can get numbers, disposition, and estimates of travel times for potential enemy forces I think you will have done as was asked. These suspicious individuals may become important so if you can pin down their itineraries that would be a help if they should become targets in the near future." Fletcher sound as if he expects criticism from Benedict regardless. "We'll be ready here when trouble comes."

"Or you can trump out there now while Folly and I hold the fort," Martin offers.

Folly nods. "Yes, it sounds as though the action will be there rather than here. We should be fine, if you want to go."

Brennan grins a feral grin, taps his temple with a finger and says, "I have a wealth of information on the route I took from there to here-- everything you mentioned, and some estimates on how fast news will travel in the lowlands once things start moving." That was to Fletcher, but he glances at Martin as if to say *fast* because Martin probably knows the style of communications they have. "Itinerary..." he shrugs, "yes, but if they're planning on betraying me it could all be nonsense. I'm fine with bringing Fletcher through, although it'd need to be in a way that doesn't break cover. Such as it is, anyway-- Balen will probably sense it and who knows if her sister has the same gift."

Brennan doesn't, because he was an idiot who didn't ask. His scowl at that slides seamlessly into a scowl at something else that was nagging at him that he just remembered. "They swear by Lir, here. Is that new, or did they do that when you were here?" he asks Martin.

Fletcher sighs. "Remember that Dad wants to save some off the glory for his allies in order to cement his alliances. How significant an opposition can they really pose to the invaders? If we are only looking at a small group of friendlies there it may be better for you to evacuate and them and then send them in with an army to retake their home." Fletcher knows how well things go for a population being invaded, and his tone betrays his doubts in Benedict's orders.

Martin is still hung up on that last question of Brennan's. Folly can feel the tension in his hand where she's holding it. "I don't remember that, no, and I certainly didn't teach them to say that. So I don't know where they picked it up--but it can't be anything good." His disgruntlement with the order of the universe carries through the connection. "Is that worth a crown investigation, Fletcher?"

"Before I left, Uncle and I spoke about the possibility of a foreign influence at play," Brennan says. Even though he took pains not to be followed, observed, or overheard, Brennan is still a bit too cagey to say names like Benedict, Moire, Protector or Rebma out loud. "He'd considered it before I ever brought it up, and agreed it was possible. Not proven, maybe not even likely, but having some power to explain some events. And that it would change the nature of the war substantially. The people here having a bit of an olive complexion wasn't too suspicious to me, but Balen swearing by Lir was. This raises the third option-- one or more of us stay here, not for heroics, but to gather more intelligence."

[Fletcher]
"I am sort of curious about what a foreign influence might hope to accomplish in this region. Do you have a cover story in mind to bring in backup? I'd want a way to quickly get back to Avalon if needed though."

Folly, who has looked since the mention of Lir as though the wheels of her mind are turning rapidly, asks, "Do you have your father's trump?"

To Brennan, she says, "Have you considered that the sister might be in on whatever-it-is? Or Balen herself, and she gave you this information to get you looking in the wrong direction?"

"The only foreign influence we discussed was using this realm as a staging ground to invade and recapture its neighbor," Brennan says. "On the face of it, it makes sense-- plenty off warbands around primed to follow adventure and treasure. And the only other good route starts in Paris. But how this specific location would play into that, if it does, I have no good idea. Yet. The target is closer to you than me.

"And, yes," he says to Folly. "My thought was that if Maibock is ended, the daughter Mayness might inherit, which is a hell of an incentive for Mayness no matter what she thinks of Crisp, Cledwin or the Corsairs. Apparently it doesn't work like that, though-- Trippel is the heir, and so I'm told, he's anti-Corsair. Barring Maibock, if one of the girls ends up dead and it gets blamed on the Island, that'd be a bad thing, too.

"Balen as bad guy?" Brennan shrugs. "We're all sneaky enough to invent a story for that, but they're all going to be complex and risky on her part, compared to just keeping her head down. She put a big chip on the table admitting she has the Sight and what she sees. Possible, but it doesn't feel right."

Martin is shaking his head before Brennan has finished. "The back route into my old home town--" whose name he doesn't say, perhaps as a matter of superstition "--comes this way. It has to be secured. This is big enough that we need backup here. I don't want Folly this close to that influence and I definitely don't want my daughter close to it. I've got Ben's card; we can call him, or we can call on one of our cousins. If she's out in this corner of the universe, it's too big for the four of us, particularly when we have to play defense with a baby."

Through the connection, Folly can feel the sudden, clutching anxiety, and nobody in the connection would like to be the person who got between an angry Martin and his baby.

"What's the plan, then?" Brennan asks. "I don't want to argue against my own findings, but I will point out we have no direct evidence she's here. Just some very disturbing circumstantial evidence. Seems our priority is to understand what we're dealing with, without letting the rest of the war go pear-shaped in the process. If we can't do that ourselves, who or what do we need?"

"Well, before we decide to call in the big guns, perhaps it's worth considering whether there are other reasonable explanations for the unexpected reference to Lir," Folly says; her voice is even, soothing. "Am I remembering my history correctly that our host's brothers spent some time in that realm? Was that a one-time thing, or did they have a deeper connection with that place and this one that could have brought some of that influence here, ages ago?" That question seems mostly directed at Fletcher, who is in the best position to have knowledge of that time and those events, although she's open to thoughts from the other two men.

Fletcher has reached into his pocket and is silently fanning three trump cards for Folly to see. Featured are several dead relatives. No trump of Benedict is in evidence. But he is also talking. "Well some folks did get around and at least one of them was a cagey bastard. Still logic dictates that this area wasn't settled before a certain point in time. A certain amount of cultural diffusion might have been possible. But I find it unlikely. If you'd like to visit the Louvre you might find more. But somehow I doubt it."

Martin makes a not-particularly-pleased face at that news. "I've got Ben's card if we need to call him, or send it along," he offers.

"Well, I guess I could take it along and if things are really messed up we can call him and report, and if not.... we'll return here as best we can without interrupting his carefully-timed plans." Even Fletcher doesn't know if that last bit was sarcasm or genuine.

"Wisdom is knowing when to say, 'I don't know,'" Brennan says. It's obvious he's quoting someone, and sure enough he follows it up with, "Something he said to me recently, after I rattled on too long. It's safe to say we don't yet know what's going on here. It's our job to find out, but this seems like an edge case. I'd say ask him now, if I get a vote.

"Beyond that," Brennan continues, "I'm happy to bring you through, but what are you going to do? If you're going to be active here on the Mountain, you need a cover, and be aware that at least one person will see through it instantly."

"Yes, I agree it's worth at least trying to contact our host now; I daresay he has more insight into the bigger picture than any of us do." Folly pauses, thinking. "Do any of you know whether it's possible to party-line these things? If so, Martin, you might want to try making the call while we've still got you in this one." It's a practical solution that will let them all talk to Benedict at once; but the suggestion was probably motivated at least as much by Folly's curiosity about whether they could make it work. "If not, perhaps you or Fletcher, or both, should make that call while I stay on this one."

Martin shakes his head. "If anybody can do it, it's not me." He doesn't clarify the statement further, but he does free one hand to grab his Trumps and thumb the deck open. In a few moments, he's shuffled out Benedict's card one-handed. "Fletcher, do you want to do the honors?"

With no immediate response from Fletcher, Martin says, "All right, Folly and I will talk to Ben. Trump us again in a few hours and we'll see what we have." He releases from the connection and drops out, and Folly at least suspects that he's significantly happier for having done so.

"And if for some reason we don't hear from you by tomorrow evening, we'll assume the shit has hit the fan and will try to call you, either to send reinforcements or pull you out of there, as needed." Folly smiles at Brennan through the contact, adding, "Be safe."

Since he holds her card, she leaves it to him to close the contact.

Brennan may look a bit more severe-- like his uncles-- than he intends. "No one can hold me against my will," he reminds her.

His expression softens, "But I will try to be free around midnight and put the call through to you. Do as you judge best, and remember to tell him that I do have a volume of mundane information to send when the time is right."

Barring further discussion or frantic gestures, Brennan closes the contact.

Once the contact is closed, Martin turns to Folly and Fletcher. "Let's do this. I think Folly should make the contact, since I suspect she's the strongest trump user of the three of us, and I'll step in afterwards." He looks at the others to see whether there's anything he needs to resolve before handing the trump of Benedict to Folly.

Fletcher attempts a neutral expression, but after Martin's comment he finally speaks.

"I'm not normally one to have to check in for every little thing, but I suppose if you have dad's trump we might as well." He's doesn't sound excited but he might be warming to the idea.

"Well," Folly says, "this may not turn out to be a little thing. We'll see." She takes the card and concentrates; her other hand is poised to invite the others to join should she succeed in making contact.

Fletcher smiles to himself and waits to join the call should it go through.

"Who calls?" Benedict's voice asks after a moment.

"Your niece, Folly," Folly answers, "here with Fletcher and Martin." She extends her hands to the others. "We've had news from Brennan that we thought you would want to hear. Is now a good time?"

Fletcher joins the call, interested in what Benedict's background scenery will be. "Or at least an acceptable time?"

Seeing Fletcher join, Martin joins (reluctantly, Folly knows) as well.

Benedict nods at both men. "It is well enough. Negotiations continue here and I suspect that they will conclude, one way or another, at a religious feast the Cordwainers are holding tonight. What news do you have?"

Fletcher may be disappointed in Benedict's location. He's in front of a stone-and-mortar wall, illuminated by candlelight.

"Brennan is at Methryn's Isle. Montparnasse, held by a Prince Maibock," Folly replies. "Brennan has been warned -- by Maibock's daughter Balen, who apparently sees auras and read Brennan as your agent -- of an impending invasion of Corsairs landing to the north of the Mountain, to take the island and provision for invading Avalon. The way Brennan made it sound, it could be starting already, or within the next day. Per Balen, the Corsairs have an agent among the mercenary band he's been traveling with, which includes a weapons dealer engaged to Maibock's other daughter Mayness." She hesitates, then adds, "He also noted that Balen swore 'by Lir'. We didn't know if that's common in this area, or noteworthy enough to suggest foreign influence." She inclines her head to the others to fill in any important details she might have missed.

Fletcher adds, "And despite your admonishment against seeking adventure this seems like something that might warrant further investigation."

"That is interesting news. Maibock and Balen are at least likely to be friendly, although they have their own agenda with respect to the valley. I suspected Balen might have been turned, but perhaps her hatred of her sister has put her back in my camp. Still, we have to trust Brennan's on-site analysis more than our second guesses from a hundred miles away."

He stands straighter and touches the end of his sleeve, rolled and pinned against his waistcoat. "I know enough to know where to move from this. Martin, the probability of an attack reaching Castle Avalon is low; it may happen at the ports on the western shore. While the castle needs to be defended from desperation attacks, it can begin to support the outlying regions if they are attacked.

"As for not seeking adventure, the admonishment was to make sure that information was gathered first. Brennan can leave if he is ready, or if he wishes to provide more intelligence or if he has personal objectives he can pursue them. Fletcher, the same goes for you. Is Lilly still in the field?"

Folly nods. "She has not yet returned, nor have we had any messages from her. Brennan is supposed to check in again by Trump in a few hours, if things there haven't gone too crazy. So if you're planning to head in his direction, we might be able to get you there the fast way, if you'd like."

Fletcher smiles at the notion of just sending Benedict through to Brennan. "I may also join him, if the castle won't be pressed too terribly. If he's able to come up with a reasonable cover story for my arrival." After a moments pause to speculate on how Brennan's companions would react to Benedict trumping into their midst, he adds, "It depends. It's been a while since I had my aura read."

Benedict seems to consider the possibility, briefly. "No, my original goals still need me to be here to arrange things to my satisfaction. I will send my allies there by traditional means. Fletcher, If you wish to speed your departure by joining Brennan in the field, you should do so. A call will suffice to brief me on what you find. I am most interested in what can be determined about intentional destabilization of my nearest neighbor. If you take any prisoners, I would happily ask them some questions. It seems more foresighted than most of the opposition I normally see here.

"And do not worry about the aura reading, it's possible but unlikely. Some sorceries are possible here, remnants of what came before me, but they are less rare than intuition or charlatanry. In Avalon, it's more difficult to have the shadows lie for you than in other places. It is easier to hide your form than your power."

The Protector blinks, once. "Is there aught else?"

Fletcher says, "Um. About a call sufficing. I don't actually have your card."

Folly nods. "Yes, this one's Martin's. I might manage a sketch with enough time, but it probably wouldn't survive the passage to Brennan." She casts a brief glance at Martin to see if he has anything to add.

Benedict considers. "I have none in Avalon, so you'll need to get some from Random. They are his to distribute, if anyone's. If you can get word back to the castle, that will suffice. I will be there soon. And if not by Trumps, Brennan should have his own redheaded means."

Folly can feel a flash of annoyance from Martin at the bit about redheaded means.

She leans a little against his shoulder, soothingly. To Benedict, she says, "We'll work it out, one way or another. Success in your endeavors, Uncle, and we'll see you soon." She pauses to see if the others have any parting words.

"We'll work it out," Martin echoes Folly, probably reflexively.

"Thank you, I shall return within a tenday, if all goes well."