Brita settles into the small cabin Captain Raven directed her to on the Vale. The small desk and chair are bolted down and too rigid for her liking. Instead, she settles in the corner of the small bunk against the wall with the open porthole to her side so she can gaze at the water. A sketch of herself requires water nearby.
She arrays her selected paints - a collection of reds, emerald green, deep blue, walnut brown, sunny yellow, black, and white - by her side on the oiled cloth that wrapped her notebook. She adds a thin tile slab and a few brushes of varying sizes. She lets Weyland settle as he wishes and quickly sketches the outline of herself and surroundings on the small card of paper. Then she focuses inward - losing touch with the outside world beyond the sound of the water lapping against the boat. She picks up a thin brush, dips it into the white, the yellow, the red - mixing the three on a corner of the slab to create a light peach colored tone - and begins to paint.
Weyland asks questions of Brita as he watches her paint. How much is her ritual to get ready to paint, what is required, what makes the trump become different from a portrait, and such. He wants to know about her connection to the water, as well.
"The Process for me is More Dependent on Who I Paint," Brita notes. Pointing to herself with the tail end of the brush she is weilding, she adds, "Goddess of Pure Water in Shadow Asgard - it Helps to Have Water Near to Remember Where I Came From." She looks up at Weyland, "I Cannot Explain How a Trump Becomes - it just Does when the Image Is Who it Is."
He nods. "That's basically what I told my daughter about how I know when I'm done making a sword."
He asks if he can observe the trump making process with sorcery, or if that will interfere (OOC: it will, but not horribly. It will double the effort or halve the effectiveness of the trump...).
"Trump is Order - the Reality of the Person. Sorcery is the Illusion, What We Wish Reality to Be. They do Not Blend Well. I will Make a Place Sketch after This and you can Observe Then."
"Thank you, most kind of you," he replies.
After a few minutes, Weyland asks "How important are the tools? Could a drawing or an etching be imbued with this trait? Or a statue? What are the boundaries of it, do you know?"
Brita nods although her focus is on her work. "I have Created a Successful Trump on Shell and Slate and have Painted Underwater. A Cousin Painted a Large Trump on a cave wall. I have Not Tried Other art forms -- My Skills do Not extend that far... Yet."
Weyland nods. "Hmm. It's very interesting. When I make art, I don't always like what I get the first time through. It might not always be wrong, but I thought of something I like better. Does the process work if you make mistakes, or intentionally diverge from strict representation?" He peers at her trump of herself, a work in progress. "Do your self-portraits change over time, as you change?"
"Well, they Change in the Sense of Dress, Composition, Perhaps even Looks," Brita flicks at the braid hanging over one shoulder. "But the Essence of the Person Does Not Change, per se. The Potential for All that they Could Be is Always There. The Artist Taps into That Possibility. At one Time, that might mean I have Blond Hair and am Clueless as to Sorcery; but at Another Time, I May be a Redhead with Mad Sorcerous Skills. The Potential is There." She grins.
"With your Art," Brita looks pointedly at the blade by Weyland's side, "do you Feel that Those Pieces you Do Not Like are What they Should Be? Maybe your Dislike is because you Wish Some Different Control over the ... Art. I can Wish that a Subject were More Unbending, More Caring, More Present, but the Trump will Only Be what it Must Be to Represent That Person, Otherwise it is Not a Trump. Have you Ever Made a blade that was Not a Blade?"
She cocks her head to the side, "Or a Blade that was not a blade?"
His hand falls to the pommel of his sword. Not threateningly, just reflexively. "I have failed to make a Pattern Sword, but only once. But when it was not the Blade I needed it to be, I destroyed it in the fire. There are blades I will not attempt, because I do not know the places they belong to, or their masters, well enough to make them, or I am concerned that I will be unable to separate myself from the sword at the end. There can never be a sword for the Pattern of Dworkin made by a creature of his creation, because the smith would necessarily be part of the blade."
"That makes Sense. Grandda is Hard to Know. I Cannot make a Trump of Someone I Have Not Studied Well," Brita notes. "Which Pattern were you Unable to Capture in a Pattern Sword, Master Weyland?" She has stopped painting and is looking directly at him.
He smiles and shakes his head. "Unless you are making a trump of me and need to know me well, I prefer not to dwell on my failings."
Weyland shifts where he sits. "Tell me more of your art. Are there people or places that you can't make a trump of?"
Brita's deadpan look still manages to clearly expresses her displeasure with recalcitrant elders. "Yes," she responds and goes back to her painting.
Weyland comes around behind Brita, watching her work. "Your brushstrokes are shorter now, is it because I have annoyed you?” He looks at her self-portrait. "And you're drawing yourself more harshly, as well. Is it who you are or who you, at this moment, wish to be?"
Brita does not roll her eyes. Honest. "It can Only Be if it Is Me. Perhaps My Berserker is Near the Fore, Un... Elder-Kin Weyland."
Weyland nods, absently. "Is she? How very interesting. Tell me, Brita, does it mean anything if two different trump portraits look different from each other, if both are true? If you paint yourself while cross, will you be subconsciously cross when contacted by someone over that trump?"
He returns to his perch on the corner of the desk. "I've always wondered if there is feedback to the subject from the image. It's one of the reasons I've avoided being a subject in the past."
Brita cocks her head to the side, "It is Always Just Me. A Trump of someone in Certain Attire does not Magically Force Them to be wearing That attire when you Use the Trump. It is the Same with the Differences of Facial Expression or Stance or Background or even Age. It Reaches You as you Are, Not as you Were or Could Be although All of That Makes the Person Real." She begins painting again as she notes, "The painting becomes a Trump when it Is the Subject - All that they Were, Are, and Could Be swirled Together. When Used, it Opens the Line to the Reality of the Subject but does Not Change them."
"Are you so static, then? Like an ancient insect, encased in Amber.
"Or," he drawls, holding it out as if he's thinking, "is it actually a part of the subject? We've all met primitive peoples who believe that part of the soul is taken when an image of them is created. Maybe they're more right than we think? What if it's not a conduit, but a contact?"
"Wow. You Listen as well as any Uncle," Brita shakes her head. "We are Not Static, but Real as others are Not. We have Potential to Be and That Is Captured in the Trump. It does Not Take from the Subject, though. I Do wonder if those tribes you speak of Think as they do Because, in Some History, they Saw a Trump In Use."
He sighs. "If you're not static than either something you are now was once not or something you once were is no more. How much change can happen before the subject is no longer the subject?"
Weyland shakes his head. "Let me put it another way. Can you reach Saeth using a trump of Aisling? Or Cleph with Borel’s?"
Brita gives Weyland a half smile and a shake of her head. "A River is Not Static, but it is Still the Same River. I can Not Reach Cousin Saeth through Cousin Aisling's Trump or cleph through Lord Borel's, just as I cannot Reach My Brother through My Mother's Trump. They are Separate Children no matter How they were Conceived. Can a Daughter Wield the Sword you Made for her Parent?"
Weyland looks surprised. "Well, yes, but I take your point." He sighs. "I'd ask you about Corwin, and when he was and wasn't reachable by Trump, but I think I understand your position clearly, so let's change the subject.
"If you made a trump of a person or a place that wasn't real, or that might be real but that you hadn't met or that you hadn't been to, what would happen?"
"Ask about Uncle Corwin Later; Perhaps my Answer will Change," Brita notes. "I Cannot make a Trump of One Unreal. Even for Partially Real it is Difficult... and Painful. For a Person I had Not Met or a Place I had Not Been, it would be Very Difficult to Make a Successful Trump. A Sketch Might be Possible, if the Description was Expansive."
Weyland leans back in his corner, out of sight of Brita, but reflected in her painting mirror. "You know the story of Brand and Martin, I presume? He painted a nephew he’d never seen, based on years of research."
Brita nods in agreement.
"Without getting into sophomoric 'is reality created or discovered?' I do wonder about place trumps. Assuming people are real, and can be connected to, what about places? One image could be identical to a thousand thousand shadows, could it not?"
"Shadow Places Could be Similar, but they are Not Identical. There Are Difficulties in Painting Shadow Because of Those Differences. Again, I must Know the Place to be able to Connect to It. I Believe One More Skilled than I could Paint a Place or Person with Less. Grandda, for Example, could Create Trumps with Much Less."
"Well, what I was thinking was that the part you see might be identical. There's only so much uniqueness on a 3 inch by 5 inch placard, if you take my meaning. You paint the back of a cave, for instance. Is there a bear in the front part or an onrushing tsunami, or is it dancing girls and a cake? All the things that control over the pattern actually controls. Even if none of them were there when you painted it, if there's no one there now, how does it know which possible version of the place you mean?" He waves at her painting. "Forgive me if these seem like obvious questions, but I'd like to understand the pattern realms better, and this does clarify things."
Brita actually stops painting for a minutes as she considers. She dips her brush in the paint and continues painting as she says, "Interesting Thought, Master Weyland. I Wonder if One Knows one Shadow and Another Knows a Variation of that Shadow would they Arrive in Different Places Using the Same Trump. We will Have to Experiment. Have You Used a Trump, Kin Weyland?"
Weyland nods. “I have; it was a bit disturbing. When you suggest the trumps know something, in what way do you think they are capable of knowledge? Like us? Or, at least like me?”
Brita looks startled for a second and then actually giggles. "Ah, No - You Misunderstood. If one Using the Trump Thinks of It as One Place but Another Person Sees a Different Place in the Same Trump will they Go to Different Places?"
"Ah, I see," he nods. "Good, some things need to be things. I've never understood how anyone in Chaos can get anything done, when their toothbrush will argue with them about if they've done a good job.
"Can blind people use trumps?"
"Another Good Question. I would Think that The Blind would Need something More Tactile or Evocative of Other Senses. Uncle Random's Queen would Perhaps be a Better Source of Answers. Working Trumps are Chill; I Wonder if She would Feel Different Sensations from Different Trumps - Different Echoes."
"I see. Yes, interesting. Do you know the queen well?" He leans back into his corner, watching Brita work.
"No. I Have Spoken to Her some, but Not in any Depth. Do You Know Her?", Brita appears distracted by something in the painting.
"No," he shakes his head. "No, I avoid royalty. I let them seek me out if they want something. Seeking them out is a way to have them ask you for things."
He shifts, scratching his back on the wall a bit. "No, if they really need me, they find me. How about you? You seemed happy enough as the long-distance agent, pretending to be a sellsword. Is that closer to your self-image than a creature of the court?"
"It is Not that I do not See Myself as a Creature of Court - it is that Certain Courts do not Fit My Image of Court. Uncle Random's Court is Closest to what I Know from my Home Shadow Asgard. Court There is Family and Fighting and Chaos," Brita cocks her head to the side in thought for a moment. "Ah, I Guess That Describes All of the Current Amber-Descended Courts as well - except Maybe the Chaos part."
"It's the Chaosian courts that are most ordered," Weyland agrees. "If only because everything in them is a part of the holder, whoever or whatever the holder is. It's always a relief to find someone else visiting because then you know you're not just talking to your host.
"What Deirdre said to me about Amber was that there was a lot of infighting but not so much visible sparring. Her father didn't think much of internecine bloodshed. As long as they kept it to words, he seemed to think it kept them sharp."
"Shadow Asgard was The Opposite - Less Verbal Sparring and More Physical Interplay. Swords were Kept Sharp. Only Uncle Loki maintained a Sharp Tongue," Brita notes. "The Chaos of Nanna Clarissa's Domain was Disconcerting at First, but More Understandable once you Know Her."
Weyland grins. "It has been a long time since I have seen your Nan. She was a young bride in Amber the last time I visited your Grandfather. Mind you, this was after she had become a great power in Chaos."
"She was Not Always?" Brita asks as she rubs absently at her left arm, getting a little smear of red paint on her blouse. "Who do You Hail From, Master Weyland?"
Weyland snorts. “Hah! The best question I have been asked in a generation. There were the two, the four, and the eight. I am the eighth. Our time was a golden age, but now gone beyond memory. Even beyond mine." His smile is wistful. "Some days I can tell you what my father had for lunch, 400 generations ago. Some days I can't remember what I had for lunch yesterday. Memory is tricky; try not to depend on it."
Brita nods and says, "Muninn was Often Known to Steal the Seeds of Truth from Huginn in Grandda Odin's Realm. I was also not Always Sure he Spoke the Reality of what he Saw on his daily flights." She continues to paint in silence for a while, then says "Do You think We will Have to Destroy Shadow Gateway, Kin Weyland? If they are as Forthcoming as My Elders," and she gives him a look, "we may Never Know the Truth Behind Master Reid's Death."
“Hmmm. I am not as cavalier about it as some of the Blood are, but let me play devil’s advocate for a moment. What if you do? There’s another shadow nearly l ike it a half-breath away from you. There are too many to count, and no real wa y to tell if you cross paths with one a second time. If you leave a shadow, if you all leave that shadow, even for a moment, a million million things might hap pen. When you return, some did. If you hadn’t returned, would they have?
"If you just settle for the first place that you can't distinguish from the place you knew, is it the same or not?" He gets up to look at the trump in progress. "The paint is a bit thicker here, because you decided on a different placement for your arm. If you had two paintings, both identical, but on one you had put the arm just so in the first place, if you had two paintings that looked identical, but had an invisible difference, could they each be a true representation of you? They are different, but not in any way that matters."
"The Trumps may be Different, but Not in a Way that Matters," Brita echoes. "If Cousin Folly Makes a Trump of Me, it will Look Different, but it Is still Me." Brita doesn't have much more at this point. The esoteric discussions of Elders reminds her of celtic knots - circles in circles in circles.
Weyland agrees. "Yes, so now a question. You make choices when you paint a trump. You do certain things to try to make the trump like the person you're painting. So far, pretty standard painting technique. But you don't do everything you could, you don't use trompe l'oeil techniques to make it photorealistic. So, how close do you have to be? Can you make a trump that I would not recognize at you, but, since you do, is a working trump for you?
"I'm trying to see if you, or Dworkin or Brand, for that matter, could hide a trump in plain sight."
"Grandda - definitely. I Did not Know That Uncle, but Possibly. Me - Not Likely. Cousin Folly Could Paint a Trump You might Not Recognize, but I Paint Reality - what I Clearly See. I have Never been Able to See the Abstract Easily.”
"Hmmm. I may, one day, wish to engrave one on a blade. I have some ideas." He sits back, thinking for a moment.
"Come, come now gentlemen, it's time for business. Mustn't keep the Steward waiting." Master Cambric said, prepared to proffer the letter of introduction, cajoled from the Port Captain, to the officer sifting through the various visitors and applicants awaiting entry to the castle.
Any doubt as to his intentions towards business would be difficult to maintain upon even a cursory glance. Expensive silk finery was carefully supplemented with jewelry and other adornments as would befit someone with the trappings of wealth. A gold ring on each hand, a cloak of pristine ermine and clasped with silver and an exquisite orange gem, a thick belt pouch that jingled only slightly due to the number of coins it carried. Even the sword and dagger, ill-fitting they appeared, were well adorned and jewelled.
As he waited, seemingly impatiently patient, as the line was whittled slowly until he could offer the introduction properly, Jerod sifted his thoughts in the background carefully, letting none of it come to the fore of his thoughts, to be revealed on his face or in his demeanour. The placement of some of the Weir around the city to attack as needed on a sign from above, others to infiltrate the castle and await a similar call. The subtle shifts of reality planted previously, still there, still waiting for the nudge that Jerod can give them, if he needs to...to bring down the world, or merely to shake it. Weyland and Brita about their business, Raven as go-between, and all of it lynch-pinned on Master Cambric.
A stressful moment perhaps...
Master Cambric smiled. Stress creates tension, tension demands action, and action seeks opportunity. And this castle has much opportunity about it he thinks as he offers the document properly now.
Jerod is admitted, and led to a side office. "Greetings, Master Cambric, greetings! I am Zerbino, under steward to Lord Aymonde. He would greet you himself, were he not tied up with matters of state." Zerbino looks sad, in that way professional diplomats have of looking sad when they are supposed to look sad.
"We have heard of your arrival and, of course, your magnificent ship in our harbor. How may the garrison assist you?"
"Greetings Master Zerbino, you honour with your gracious introduction." Jerod says with a smile that one would only expect from a merchant. "I've come a long way to a land of opportunity and I find here in fact that it is I who may assist you, or more precisely, the powers that be for Gateway. On that note, I've come to request an audience."
Zerbino's smile matches Cambric's in every detail. "Of course, of course. His Lordship is eager for you to succeed, and has even expressed interest in meeting you. Naturally, the castle encourages trade, but we are, primarily, a defensive bulwark for the citizens who live here. I am given to understand that you are meeting with the port's traders already.
"How can we help you? What sort of audience do you desire?"
"I prefer to deal with those who are actually in charge. The Triumvirate." Jerod says simply.
His smile is a work of art--perfectly and precisely crafted to be the thing that it is. "I would be happy to send a letter of recommendation to the officers of the Chief Ministers. When do you think you will be going to the Gate?"
"Why would I go to the Gate when Dexamene is here?" Jerod asks, with a knowing smile, leaning in slightly. "Gold is not the only thing that opens doors. Knowledge, used wisely, buys far more than gold or trinkets ever can.
"That mage guide of mine was expensive, but provided good information. The Three are the ones who make the decisions here, and their influence is what I need to achieve my goals. I'm sure that influence is costly...but I can afford it...as can those whose interests I represent. I shall henceforth refer to them as my....Associates.
"Dexamene is the one who leads the Three. Klaya and Kranto are of no value without her. So I would speak with her, and make my proposal." he says, as he pulls out the ore chunk from the Port Captain, turning it idly in his palm.
He sticks out his lower lip. “Out of my control, my friend, even if your information wasn’t outdated.” It’s a smooth lie, but something about it isn’t right.
“But in any case, I am interested in that ore. Are you buying or selling that commodity? That’s a thing that might buy you an audience with the Governor."
Jerod looks at Zerbino a moment, a gaze that digs at one's expression, a flat effortless behaviour for Jerod that tells he knows a lie when he hears one, especially a bad lie. There is no deliberate threat, no sign of visible aggression, but there is a change in body mechanics, simple, subtle...the kind that one would see when a tiger decides that the prey it is looking at should no longer be ignored.
"Really...that's most...unfortunate. My Associates will not be...pleased." he says after a moment, then the mechanics shift again. The tiger still remembers the prey...but may have decided to wait...until later.
"My interest is in a the purchase of ore. As much as can be obtained."
He is somewhat distressed at the thought of your unpleased associates, but that doesn't stop him from replying.
"It sells for a good price in Gateway, Master Cambic. Quite a good price. Still, I suppose miners here might prefer to sell to you, if you set the price advantageously.
"You might not be the only one wanting it, though. How high a price are you willing to pay?”
"The issue is not price...the issue is how much do you have. My Associates are uninterested in...competition. It does not fit their desires. They prefer exclusivity. To acquire what they wish, and not something else...to deal with those who make the real decisions, and who hold real power." Jerod says. "I'm sure that anyone else who does not fit this description can be persuaded to...go away.
"As for those who decide to stand in the way of exclusivity....well, I'm sure they can be dealt with. One way...or another.
"What do you say to this, Master Zerbino? Do you believe in exclusivity?" Jerod asks, smiling the tiger's grin.
Zerbino recognizes that grin, but doesn't back down. "Yes, and on the other hand, no, Master Cambric. Yes and no. There are places where bat guano is used to make explosives. It is all well and good to control the guano market, but when the world goes to war, the man with exclusive rights to the guano may find himself suddenly dealing with the armed forces and their consideration of their own needs and his rights.
"If I am not making myself clear, there is a government interest in mountain copper. I hope they do not agree with your theories, or else we may not have any remaining for traders." He pauses. "You see why I wished to know if you were selling. I would that you were."
"Really? Now that is very interesting." Jerod says. "Just exactly what is their interest I wonder. Why the great need? Perhaps there might be a way of reaching an...accommodation?"
Zerbino doesn't look optimistic. "Well, as they say in Bellum, 'Nothing is impossible, to a man with infinite wealth.' What sort of accommodation do you have in mind, and why should it be considered?"
"They have a need for the copper you say. My Associates have a desire for it." Jerod says. "Logically, if the government's need could be met through some other means, then they would have no need for the copper.
"So the question becomes...why do they need it? What problem does its possession solve? Once that is known, another solution could be determined."
He seems cool to the question. “Other than your desire to know and to use that knowledge for your personal gain, why should we discuss it? Perhaps it is a matter of state, perhaps it is a matter of security..."
"Because if a problem of state or security can be solved, that is of great value." Jerod says. "It is an opportunity that cannot be bought with gold. And yes, of course there is personal gain. I gain and the state gains, or selected representatives of the state gain, it matters not in the end who gains so long as it is mutual...I'm curious as to what other outcome you think would be acceptable? One does not negotiate expecting to lose. Those who think that only one-sided trades are all that are desirable are fools."
He eyes Zerbino for a moment. "What could be a matter of state you'd be worried about I wonder? I'm wondering if those dockside rumors are true then, though I originally discounted them as being...well, unbelievable. One wouldn't expect Gateway to actively seek conflict with Amber after all. It's not usually conducive to survival. Though thankfully I'm blessed with Associates who are very good at ensuring survival...even under trying circumstances."
He focuses directly now on Zerbino. "Let's be reasonable shall we. I want access to the copper, and you've got a big problem I think...one that I can help with. We both gain, and in a relationship that requires each side to work with the other, instead of just being owned. Or...I suppose I could always wait. If the rumors are true, then it might just be easier to do that...until an army marches through here and turns it into a smoking hole in the ground on their way to the Gate. I suspect I wouldn't have to worry about competition for mining rights then."
Zerbino still isn't convinced, and it shows on his face. He doesn't think Master Cambric can deliver what he says. "You might, and you might not. Tell us more about these 'associates' of yours. Most people who think they can lightly deal with a threat from Amber are, at best, mistaken."
"My Associates were the ones who were really backing Huon." Jerod says simply. "Not the ones he actually bargained with however. Those were the front that Huon saw. They know the best way of avoiding the monster's wrath is to let someone else wake it up. Huon did that...and he'll pay the price.
"That's your first nugget. You want more? Want to avoid the wrath of the monster? Then we negotiate. Where's Dexamene?"
He nods. “I do want more. Here’s something for you. Dexamene is here, on official business, and it would be worth my skin to admit you to her without something more than stories.” He pauses. “I like my skin."
"Most people do." Jerod replies. "I've heard that the Triumvirate are...well, unconventional in comparison to Gateway standards was I believe my contact said.
"Next nugget. Amber is seriously pissed. A business contact of mine deals with a lawyer who is well connected with the merchant houses warned me to keep a low profile in some dealings there. Enough rumors have gone around that say that Gateway, meaning the Triumvirate and Huon, did something to a young lord that was sufficient to have every Prince be ready to march on Gateway and smash it to rubble. There was apparently even talk of joining together to do it. I can only imagine what must have been done to this youngling to get them to work together. They're practically like the mages of this place...like herding cats I believe the phrase was."
He nods. "Assume we know all that." Jerod thinks he may not have, but he's trained not to tell more than he has to.
"What do your contacts think they have to offer in such a case? And what do they want for whatever aid they think they can offer us?"
Jerod smiles, the smile that tells others that he is glad to have confirmed their lack of knowledge.
"My Associates have a way to rid yourself of an unfortunate irritant...one that, if Gateway does not divest itself of...will likely result in...now, what was the phrase I heard used?" Jerod muses. "Ah yes, something about salting the barren ground upon which Gateway once stood.
"Amber isn't interested in Gateway...they're interested in the Triumvirate. So are my Associates, for different reasons. An arrangement can be made I think...for the mutual benefit of all. Well, maybe not for a certain trio, but that majority will most certainly benefit."
He nods, not unsympathetically. "That’s enough for today, then, Master Cambric. Please return tomorrow at the same time and I will either introduce you to my master, or have you arrested for treason, whichever he prefers."
"My Associates look forward to your master's answer." Jerod replies. "Let us hope he makes the right one."
Zerbino smiles. "He will. He always does."
[OOC: End of this one. Do you have other things to do (with Brita, Weyland, or Raven, or just in the city? Or are you back here immediately, tomorrow?)]
He'll be back tomorrow, but in the interim, he goes about his business in the city, being Master Cambric. That gives Raven a chance to catch up and learn what's going on, which means that others can then be brought up to speed through the power of Amber osmotic gossip.
He'll also keep a deliberate eye out for the surveillance. Before it was possible that surveillance might occur, now it's a foregone conclusion.
As for what anyone monitoring Master Cambric will find is that he's still digging into the ore situation, only now he looking to see who is doing the work, how much are they digging up, what price are they paying, who is delivering it, who is working it. And for those with knowledge, he's not shy with his gold. Jerod takes care not to pull too much out of his pouches as to make people wondering whether he's got a bottomless bag of gold, but beyond that, he digs.
Raven leaves her ship in the capable hands of her crew, after a quiet word to her officers to be ready to defend or get away on short notice. Possibly very short notice. Possibly even "the docks are on fire and we have to get the hell out of here right now" notice. (Again.)
Then she starts wandering. She has a very long list of random goods that could possibly be needed by a fussy merchant and enough money in her pocket to cover a few of them. She stops to consult the list every now and then, ducking into the appropriate shops and browsing the goods.
What she's actually doing, though, is looking for barracks and soldiers. And if she can't find either of those, the places that the less reputable characters she can see stay far, far away from.
And gossip. Gossip is always good.
Raven finds goods, information, and gossip in town.
Soldiers drink. The barracks are in the castle, or so Raven is told. But the soldiers don't stay there all the time. The taverns nearest the castle specialize in the custom of soldiers-- and recruiting sergeants.
The biggest piece of gossip is the expectation of war with Amber. Most people here hope they just come in, burn the capitol, and leave. They don't seem to care much if the capitol burns.
Raven definitely takes note of the recruiting sergeants. She's got a whole ship full of potential 'new recruits'. She will keep an ear out for where else the soldiers go than the usual places that bored soldiers go, although she won't ask after it quite yet.
While she has some pretty good ideas why they might be expecting war with Amber... Raven will definitely ask why. After all, Captain Beam would be interested in such a thing; it could affect the good captain's employer. Also, why they don't care if the capitol burns - although if all that can be picked up there is, "At least it wouldn't be us burning," she's not going to look into it farther.
The answer to the question of why they're willing to let the capitol burn is two-fold. First, there is a fair amount of "better them than us". But second, and equally importantly, there's a sense among the local military that they're to be used as cannon fodder by the Triumvirate in a war that they didn't choose and have no interest in. Nobody quite voices the idea that they'd rather have the older government back or anything quite that rebellious, but why does the Triumvirate have to pick a fight with Amber? It's not like the Collegium ever went to war against Amber.
Huh. Well, that's at least worth passing on to the rest of the group, and Raven mentally files it away as such.
To find out where else the soldiers go, Raven is going to have to ask, discreetly.
Looking specifically at soldiers who would be of roughly the same level of officer/minor officer/grunt that Raven has been in Amber's navy - are there specific taverns they're frequenting? How much associating with outsiders are they doing?
The officers seem to prefer a relatively upscale pub called the Seven of Wands. They keep themselves to themselves, for the most part. Not in a back room or anything, but they seem to sit in several groups, not mixing with either outsiders or persons outside the guard (exception: servers, who don't sit with them, but seem to be familiar, and flirt with them).
When they leave for the night, do they do it en masse, or piecemeal to where she might be able to chat up a small group of two or three?
They leave in small groups, mostly. It would be easy to pick up a pair or trio that is heading out.
What's the general disposition of the servers towards them - the same level of familiar, or do they seem to be kind of... tolerating it?
It's a mix, and it depends on the officer in question more than anything else. The staff ranges from professionally flirtatious to barely tolerant to actively participating. There's not a lot of tension between the groups, even if there is tension between a few individuals.
When Raven spots a pair that seemed fairly friendly with the servers leaving, she'll settle up her own bill - with a generous but not remarkably generous extra coin for the server - and follow.
A little distance from the bar, she hurries to catch up. "Begging your pardon," she calls out. "I think you dropped this when you were settling up."
She holds out a few coins - not so much that a soldier wouldn't be carrying it at the end of a night out, but just enough that most people won't turn down having it returned.
The wider of the two soldiers snorts and holds out his hand. "Thank you, my man." He's softer than a soldier would be, if he were actually a fighter. This one looks like he doesn't fight by preference. He makes to turn away.
"Of course." Raven starts to turn, pauses, and turns back. "Actually, could I bother you with a question, sir? I hate to be a bother, but I'm stuck in town waiting on my bloody boss to finish up, and I ain't familiar with these parts. You don't happen to know where I might find some lads that'll be friendly enough to an ex-Navy man like myself?" She snorts. "Friendly, and that ain't going to roll me in a gutter for my purse before the dawn?"
The soldier laughs. "I can tell you some places to stay out of, like the Mercury Room or the Vapor House." His partner nods.
The other one agrees. "Bunch of angry hedge wizards there. We stick to our part of town, here. Close to the fort. Sailors generally stay dockside. If we didn't have to get back, we'd take you back into Lir's Head here, and let Charlie slowly drain your purse by having you buy us drinks, as a Navy man should do for the Army."
His partner laughs. "But duty calls. We've a watch to stand oursels', so we're off. Get a room from Charlie, he's as honest as a tavern keep can be."
"Yes," says the first one. "So count your change."
They make to leave. They don't seem to be on any kind of a war footing, but more like construction foremen or something. They're not very intimidating.
Raven snorts. "Find me another night, then, and we'll see if Army men still lose their money to Navy men as fast as they used to. Then I can pay for my drinks with your money. Catch your names before you head on your way?"
He looks skeptical, and his friend is smiling. "Ask for Captain Flange or Lt. Dogson when you're ready to lose some money. And whose money would we be taking?"
"Captain Beam," Raven supplies, with a grin. "Have a quiet watch, lads."
She'll let them go then. That's a trail to follow up another night, to see if that's an in with the officers or not.
For now - angry hedge wizards? Not that sticking her head into a hive of them sounds like fun, but it bears looking into. So she'll head for the nearest of the two places her new 'friends' mentioned to see what there is to see there.
The vapor house is something more than just a tavern. The front part looks like a respectable bar, but there's a back part that they don't allow anyone into. At least not strangers. Customers appear to be wizards, and they seem to be a rough crowd.
"You pick very interesting establishments to frequent, Captain Beam." Jerod says as he approaches, his voice slowly dropping as he gets closer. "I trust all is well."
Raven snorts. "Aye, well enough. Found a few of the things we were looking for, but some of my soon-to-be friends said this place might be interesting. Figured I'd come look. How's the business part going?"
"It's going quite well. I've made some inroads with the local lord in fact." Jerod says normally, his voice then dropping much lower once he gets within quiet-mode range. "Either I'll meet him tomorrow concerning an offer I made or they'll have me arrested for treason."
His next words are quiet, his lips barely moving to defeat observers who can lip read. "Pass the word to the rest of the crew. Have them on their guard. Assume the ship is being watched. Have the Weir depart surreptitiously so they can be infiltrated before my potential arrest occurs. Make sure our favorite nordic cousin is also made aware of the situation, along with our ally. If things go to hell quick I'll be pulling the plug and going after Dexamene. Which means a lot of damage is going to happen real fast. If they accept my offer, then we won't need it. I'm portraying myself as an advanced agent for a group that was behind whomever was fronting Huon. They're my Associates, in case you need to mention it in passing for cover work. Don't embellish too much - they're secretive, lots of resources and want a foothold in Gateway and the mountain copper is all Captain Beam would probably know."
He motions to the vapor house. "What's up here?"
"Interesting people," Raven says dryly. "Or so I was told."
She lowers her voice further, making a similar effort to keep her voice low and her words difficult to read. "Found the recruiters, so that should be easy enough. Barracks are in the castle. The locals ain't happy with these three. They figure they're in for a war with Amber, and they're mostly hoping Amber is nice about it. Local military figures they're cannon fodder for that, and nobody likes that. Figured I'd see if I can't make some friends and see how deep that goes." She snorts. "And this place, the soldiers say, is full of 'angry hedge wizards.' Ain't sure what that means yet, which is why I'm here."
Jerod frowns. "Angry hedge wizards are usually to be avoided unless you have an introduction." he says. "And a very big stick. What are you looking to obtain from them?"
Raven gives him a flat look. "Well, I thought the best thing to do would be to run in, grab one, shake 'em, and shout, 'Why are you angry and would you like to commit treason?'" she says dryly. "But a big stick might make it easier to get away after." She snorts. "I'm looking to see what they're about and if there's even half a chance they might be useful for us. Looking. Not poking the beehive with a stick. I ain't stupid. Or crazy."
"I've always found poking the beehive to be a favored behaviour of our Uncles." Jerod replies drily. "Remind me to tell you some time about my dad and a diplomatic envoy from Begma. It was quite amusing...at least until the envoy's daughter got brought into the picture and then it went to hell real fast... Dad's fault on that part.
"Assuming you can get something, it certainly wouldn't hurt to see how much they like or dislike Dexamene. Wizards being like cats, they don't tend to get along, and the whole 'lording it over each other' can get on their nerves I'd guess. I'd guess most of them probably don't have much connection to the Triumvirate, but you never know."
Raven snorts. "Ma made sure I knew every girl was somebody's daughter, and that I'd best be sure I knew whose so things didn't get as far as hell. Pretty sure that don't apply just to sailors.
"Anyway, that's about the size of it. I figured, either they know something or they might work with us." She shrugs. "Or get pointed so they'll be a help, if we can get ahold of whatever they like as much as cats like fish. Or make enough of a mess to hide us leaving."
Jerod nods. "Chaos has its uses." he says. "Do you require backup or shall I leave you to it?"
"Should I have backup just for looking?" Raven asks warily. "Seeing as how I think you know pretty much everything I know about magical sorts of thing."
"Backup is offered if it is wanted." Jerod replies. "If you don't think you need it, that's fine. As for what I know about magic or sorcery, it's not whether I can cast a spell...it's whether I can make their magic not work that I look at."
"Problem is, not sure I know enough to know if I need backup." Raven shrugs. "I mean, I can go by 'if it gets weird, leave,' but seems like I ought to have a better plan than that by now."
"If your objective is simply to figure out whether those inside are amenable to supporting us, or perhaps hate the government enough to want to dump it for the *good ole days*, then backup is generally unneeded." Jerod says. "You're not looking for a fight and if you displease someone, since they are not the local authorities, you simply beat a hasty retreat. It's different with me...I made a deliberate pitch. If the local lord decides he doesn't like me, I'm prepared to jump straight to the whole 'lay waste to everything' part. Mine to own, as it were.
"If you find out more stuff to pursue, then you work it out on the fly. Opportunism and all that. You are Family after all." and he smiles.
"And that's why I was figuring that any backup wouldn't be you, yet." Raven snorts. "The local lord thing. Ain't really got a problem with the guy willing to lay waste to everything being my backup unless he's insane or not actually on my side. Speaking of - the other gent in our group. Is he 'don't let him wander off by himself' untrustworthy, or just 'don't let him get in the way of anything important'?"
"Weyland?" Jerod asks. "He's way beyond either of those. I doubt you've heard of him, though our uncles know quite a bit about him. He's Weyland the Smith, and he is true to his name. He can make you anything you want. As an example he forged Grayswandir and Werewindle.
"We're not in his league, at least from that perspective and we should remember that. Corwin offered to make a deal for me to get a blade from Weyland, and he said he'd make sure it didn't come with too many strings attached. The feeling I got was that he'd approach him as something of an equal...a request, not a command."
Jerod does a brief casual look around before continuing. "Every shadow of importance has a story about Weyland in some form or another. His weapons are unique, magnificent to behold, and they all come with a price.
"Is he here for Marius and vengeance? Wouldn't be surprised if he was...but he's from the other end of the spectrum as it were...Chaos vs Order and all that. I would also not be surprised if he had other elements to his agenda for being here. Whether we need to be concerned is another matter. We all have agendas after all - doesn't mean they're bad....unless they are of course.
"If he decides to wander off, you can always ask after him...out of concern of course...whether he might want some help or to ask what he's up to. As for not letting him get in the way, I'm not sure you'd want to get in his way. I'm good in a fight...and I'm not sure I'd want to get in his way."
Raven blinks a couple of times. "Do not poke with stick - got it. I was thinking more 'how little should he know about things we're up to' than 'do you think it's a good idea to punch him.' Which it sounds like it ain't going to matter, because if he wants to know, he's probably going to find out. Right?"
"I think he is a useful ally to have around." Jerod says. "Treat him like you would any Family..." and he frowns. "...which I'm sure will require some more explanation on my part in the near future since you're probably not used to the ins and outs of Family gossip and the rules of etiquette.
"Think of it this way. So far he's useful and he's protected us. He knows who we are, hasn't ratted us out and he's got an agenda that generally fits with ours. I'd say keep him up to date on what we're doing, but don't tell him anything specific about Amber or Xanadu. You already know not to do anything like reveal state secrets so I won't bother going there.
"And if he does actually ask you a question that you think might be wise to answer, you can always answer...just be sure to ask a question in return. Family trade information...it's our coin. You can always decline to ask for the moment, though you may never be sure to be able to ask again in the future."
"...Right." Raven makes a face. "Aye. You should tell me more about that later. Because that ain't exactly how I learned to deal with..." There's a half-second of pause before she finishes with, "us. And by the sounds of it, I probably shouldn't've just told him that I helped Marius get away."
Last modified: 2 January 2016