Brennan spares an idle thought to wonder if Benedict is going to come join the Quorum, or if Reid is going to be drawn out leaving only redheads.
But in the mean time, he turns to greet Brita again.
Brita smiles at Brennan, "Cousin Brennan, it is good to see you again."
"Always a pleasure, Brita."
"Mother, are your rooms to your liking? Would you like a drink?"
"They're fine, dear. I'll have something in a moment." Fiona glances up at Bleys, who has remained silent through most of the discussion, unusually so. He smiles back at her, and everyone in the group can tell there's some sort of brother-sister communication that's a little oblique for those of you who haven't known them for centuries yet.
Brennan leaves time for Fiona to get a response in to that, then looks around and sees that no one is yet addressing the elephant in the living room. Or, perhaps more accuratetly, the lack of it.
Turning to Bleys and Fiona, then, he says, "Okay, I'll ask the question, then, since I've only heard some rumors and half-handed information so far-- what's all this about a dysfunctional Squiggle in the basement?"
Brita cocks her head to one side quizically and says, "You mean the Pattern? Master Reid and I saw it when we first arrived. It is broken." Brita's brows furrow. "It was my luck to not be able to be initiated by the Pattern when Amber needed initiates; but it worked out well as I was able to assist with Arden."
Bleys says, "Neither of us has heard more than you. After the evening's festivities, I plan to take a look myself."
Brennan nods as Brita speaks, then after Bleys speaks, adds, "You and me both, I think. I wouldn't be surprised if half the dinner party ends up downstairs before the dessert course."
Reid smiles slyly. "In any other gathering of finely gowned women, the prospect of all of them climbing down a rope in full regalia would seem laughable. This crowd, however?" He arches his eyebrow. "You may not have yet been informed that the stairs are, in fact, out. Not that that adds considerable difficulty, but it is a tad more labor intensive than climbing a thousand stairs."
Brennan gives the half-smile. He obviously approves of the image.
Fiona says to Reid and Brita, "Did either of you observe anything in particular besides the breakage? The Pattern shouldn't just break. There's something deep happening here that I don't understand, and I mislike that."
Reid thinks back. "Well there's the matter that shadow can be shifted within the castle basement itself. If previous resistance was proportional to the distance from the pattern, one would say that it is non-existent now. Alas, the day we arrived Cambina chose not to unlock the chamber door. There were quite a few of us present when it was finally revealed, so if you're looking for varied opinions, I'm sure they're ample. The net result was a fissure through the floor, ragged though decisively damaging, rending the pattern split. No energy. No glow. Didn't barbeque a rat tossed onto it. That may have been the extent of our testing on it."
Brennan absorbs that, but whatever he thinks of it doesn't show on his face. Possibly he hasn't enough information to be sure of what he's thinking, yet.
"From what I've heard, the steps to Rebma have gone missing, and Tir-na Nog'th doesnt appear in the sky at the appropriate times, either." he turns to Reid and Brita with a correct-me-if-I'm-wrong expression both for the preceding and the following: "I gather, from the number of non-Adepts in the Family right now, that either no one has gone looking for them by convnetional means, or that all such means failed?"
He turns back to Bleys and Fiona. "Scuttle-butt has it that the Rebman Pattern room has been locked down, too."
[Bleys]
"Imagine, nephew, that you had, in your basement, a working copy of the
Pattern. Consider that it kills your people to set foot on it. Remember
that it has been used to launch several fratricidal assaults on a nearby
powerful kingdom, a kingdom that considers it something of a state secret.
Realize that in some ways it is your only lever over these powerful
neighbors. Dwell for just a moment on the fact that the entrance is
through the private parts of your castle. Now, three second quiz: You
have a key to this room. Do you lock it?"
Brennan snorts. "I believe the answer you're looking for, uncle, is, 'Duh, of course.'"
Bleys gives an approving smirk.
...As well he should.
"But the missing piece in my gossip is whether the Rebman copy is still functional or if that's going to turn out to be dead, as well. Options already constrained start to get quite cramped in that case."
He gives an irritated-with-the-situation shake of his head.
"Too much gossip and speculation, not enough information and data. What's needed here is a good briefing session."
Fiona says, "Conner tells me that he couldn't manipulate things in Rebma as he can here. That's not conclusive proof, but it is suggestive."
Lucas, noting with a purse of his lips that Fiona is engaged, lingers pointedly on the fringes.
Brennan nods sharply. "Suggestive enough to be taken almost as fact until better evidence comes along. I had not known that."
Bleys asks "was there any particular...shape to this fissue?"
Reid proceeds to sketch the fissure through the pattern, along with the remains of the pattern itself. Upon completion he holds it up for Bleys and Fiona's inspection. "Anything look familiar?"
Fiona shakes her head, and Bleys says, "No, I don't believe I've ever seen a Pattern cracked quite that way before. Of course, since I've never seen a cracked Pattern at all, that's not surprising."
He pauses. "I was wondering if it would look like a...spill."
Brennan raises an eyebrow up and shoots him a sidelong glance. "I'd have been surprised. We know what the results of that looks like. At least in one case."
Bleys shrugs. "Observe, theorize, predict, test. Now we have two cases and two results."
Brennan shrugs back with a body language that probably seems spookily similar, to most of the observers. He doesn't seem too keen on the idea of further testing....
After his children are quiet, Gerard says [to Aisling], "I'd be interested in hearing that story sometime myself, but I think we'll have other business this evening. Perhaps you and Solange could tell me about how things went in Arden this afternoon instead."
(He didn't quite say "Mighty big weather we're having here," but he might as well have.)
Vere nods at his father's comment without saying anything, and while he keeps his face turned towards Solange and Aisling his eyes once more take on the slightly distant look that Solange has learned means he is following multiple conversations at the same time.
Aisling finds a smile, though she can't seem to find one of the super-duper genuine-looking ones, and says, "And I would be interested in telling the story to you sometime soon, for decisions based on information are least likely to be regretted, and the world is a not such a hopeless place when mapped by stories. As for Arden, it seemed to me that things went quite well for the army, but Solange would be better to inform you of that, for my scant time there was spent mostly in trying to tend to the wounded." She leans back in the chair, still wrapped around herself, doing a pretty good Vere impression by looking slightly past the group without much expression.
"I meant to ask you about that," Solange says.
Aisling looks back at her, brows arched a bit.
"That healing trick you did --"
Aisling's face looks long and Benedictine with unhappiness for a brief moment at the memory, but quickly changes. While it lasted, though, it was about the only time she has really looked like one of the family.
"-- When you do it, does it include pain-dulling substances? Could that have been what made Daeon act so oddly -- some sort of atypical reaction? The only times I've ever seen anyone else act like that have been from hallucinogenic drugs."
She sighs and shakes her head, looking down. "No," she says softly. Her left hand slides down to her elbow, and she slightly uncrunches, looking back at them. "What I do... When I heal, it's like offering my abilities to shapeshift, to fix myself, to the being that is wounded. Nothing is added, save skill, and my energy, so that the creature I aid can aid himself." She looks down again. "Julian says that Daeon is a god, and cannot accept this aid." She pauses, her voice very soft, "And I did not realize how much Daeon hated me."
Solange is wearing an oh-damn-I-put-my-foot-in-it-didn't-I expression on her face. All she manages to say is a quiet "Oh."
Vere's full attention returned to Aisling as she was talking about healing, but it is a much quieter attention this time than it was previously.
Aisling looks up at Solange's tone, and offers her a little side-of-the-mouth-quirking-up smile of, 'not your fault, don't you worry.' But she's glad enough to look away from Vere's attention to her sparkling cousin.
Luckily, right then, Folly approaches the group with her very welcome introduction.
Less than a minute after the arrival of Benedict and Martin, Folly steps into the library. She is dressed in a simple, sleeveless black dress, high-necked and velvet on the top half, flowing and embroidered with violets and vines on the bottom half. Her dark hair is pinned up except for a single long purple lock curving along her cheek, and she carries a lute tucked under her right arm. She looks, to her more sensitive cousins, just a bit uneasy as her eyes scan the room, noting who is present.
A moment later, though, the trepidation vanishes. Perhaps she found who she was looking for, or didn't find who she feared. She smiles broadly to the room at large, then strides over toward the group around Gerard.
As she moves, the side slits on Folly's skirt reveal tall boots, laced almost to her knees; and above them, a flash of purple stockings. It's hard to tell from such a fleeting glimpse, but they might be fishnets.
When she reaches the group, she greets Gerard and Vere pleasantly, expresses delight at Aisling's presence, and then turns to Solange.
Aisling beams back at her, this seeming quite true; it lights her from the inside.
"Solange, dahling, you look FABulous," Folly says with a big, approving grin, then gives her cousin a comical air-kiss near her cheek.
If Solange is in Perfect Party Manners mode, Folly is in Performer mode.
Solange's Perfect Party Manners crack a little under this onslaught, and her grin matches Folly's. She allows the air-kiss its comical effect, and seems on the point of pulling Folly into a more genuine hug, except she realizes the lute's in the way. "You don't look half bad yourself," she replies. It doesn't take a very high Water score to hear "I wish I'd thought to wear something so cool, instead of being so proper," under it, but it's friendly, not whiny.
"Sorry I'm late," Folly continues to the group at large, "but it was the damnedest thing: My room, which until now has been completely reasonable and well-behaved, decided that today of all days would be the perfect time for a game of hide-and-seek. Which maybe wouldn't have been a problem, except that in trying to wedge itself under the servants' stairs, it jostled its contents all to hell. Everything's in the wrong place, and it took me forever to get this baby back in tune." As she says the last, she cradles the lute as a child might a favorite stuffed animal. Then she smiles broadly in sparkling good humor. "But I made it. Have I missed anything good?"
Vere had continued to regard Aisling during the greetings between his sister and Folly, but now his attention shifts to Folly.
Vere frowns slightly. "You were moved?" he says, almost as a statement of fact, the question in his tone barely perceptible. Rapid calculations go on behind his eyes, then the frown goes away and he gives a short nod. "Of course. With the return of the other members of the Family some redistribution was necessary. I should have anticipated this and brought it to Her Majesty's attention several days ago, so that those rearrangements which were necessary could have been carried out with a minimum of disturbance and inconvenience. Please lay any blame for such on my head, Cousin Folly, and accept my regrets."
"Thank you, Vere," Folly says. She makes a small, polite bow; but when she raises her head, she's grinning mischievously. "What I want to know, though, is who said, 'I'd like a room that smells like cat, please,' such that giving my old room to someone else seemed like a good idea. Whoever it was, I have a feeling we'll get along swimmingly."
Aisling watches the first part of this meeting with hidden pleasure, and Folly's room story is met with a bit of concern. She stands when Vere is done, "As for good things, you have apparently missed drinks, as have I, whatever category they fall into. Take the seat, if you like," she waves to it with a smile, "And can I get you anything? We would hardly be following the spirit of the excruciating cocktail hour order if there were no cocktails..."
Gerard says, "I'd like a whiskey, since you're going that way."
"But they don't have to be excruciating cocktails, do they?" Folly asks, mock-serious. She can't hold it, though -- she breaks into a big smile seconds later. "Thank you, Aisling. I think I should start with something light -- just a glass of white wine -- because I hold out hope that Solange will still be willing to sing with me despite my extreme tardiness."
Aisling says, "I shall do my best," with a little bow, her mock-serious reply to Folly shading over into a straight reply to Gerard.
Folly gives Solange a hopeful look.
"Any time you're ready," Solange says cheerfully.
Gerard says to Vere, _I need a moment with the girls_ but the words sound like "Why don't you help Aisling fetch my drink?"
Aisling casts Gerard a look, and lets Vere go with her.
"Of course, Father," Vere replies. He gently escorts Aisling away from Gerard and towards the bar, saying quietly, "I hope I did not upset you earlier, Cousin Aisling. Again, my apologies for overreacting to your statement."
Aisling gives a slight graceful shrug, such as would be impossible for an elephant in the room. " 'Twas not an overreaction; no apologies are necessary," she says easily.
He cocks his head to one side and asks, "It should properly by Dame Aisling, correct? From earlier statements this evening I take it that this order of knighthood is somehow tied to the recent events of the war?"
"Yes. Random, in his first act as king, created the six of his previously unknown relatives who had fought on his side in the last battle as the beginnings of a new order of knights."
Aisling looks over the selection of wines available in the library, milking the thrill of being able to go after one of them honestly, and then picks out the bottle of white her insider knowledge informs her is the best. And her mind lights on opening the bottle, and she comes to the sudden realization that she's only got one hand. It just begins to dawn on her how much this is going to suck.
Hopefully Vere comes in at this point to offer gentlemanly assisstance, at which she grants him a shy smile and an honest, "Thank you."
Almost as soon as she has made her selection, and as she is realizing the difficulties of pouring it, Vere has set down his brandy glass and is already reaching for the bottle. He nods slightly at her thanks, and begins to pour the wine into a glass. Without looking at her he says, "Dame Aisling, I am going to ask you a personal question. I shall not ask permission to do so, for I intend to ask the question in any case."
Her streamers lift out a bit, but her smile gets a bit brighter in appreciation of his candor."Having heard that you have abilities to alter your shape, and that you are also a healer, I am led to wonder whether the loss of your hand is a reversible injury."
He pauses, then continues, "I assure you my interest in not merely vulgar curiosity."
She's still smiling, very slightly, if he looks over; and then she's fishing out a tumbler and a bottle of some sort of alcohol that doesn't require a corkscrew to open, hopefully ingredients for a gin and tonic, answering meanwhile, "I know I will one day have two hands again, if I live. I am not entirely sure how long that day will be in coming, but I know it will be a much shorter time than 'twould had I chosen a different path of study." She pauses in her actions, hands resting on the bar, looking back to him; serious, something like hope hiding in the back of her eyes for high waters to find.
Vere recorks and puts down the wine bottle, then selects a bottle of Gerard's favourite whiskey. He looks at Aisling for a few seconds, then looks back to where his father is seated in his wheel chair. He turns his attention back to the whiskey, and as he pours it into a glass he asks, "And it is possible for you to share this gift with others?"
Aisling looks back at Gerard herself, and spreads her hand out, a nervous gesture, and looks at Vere and says softly, "Yes." Her look is unmistakably hopeful.
Vere closes his eyes and stands motionless for a moment, then opens them and nods his head slightly to Aisling. "Thank you," he says. He lifts his brandy glass and takes a small sip, the first that Aisling has seen him take since she entered the library. "There is clearly much that needs to be said on this topic, but I think it would be best to defer that conversation until a later moment. For now, let us turn to other topics, less sensitive and more properly discussed in so open an environment."
Aising sighs soundlessly and turns her attention back to mixing up the gin and tonic one-handed, making it rather heavier on the gin than she'd planned even a moment ago.
Vere looks back over at Gerard and smiles, "It appears that Father has not yet finished with whatever matters he wished to discuss with his daughters, by blood and cooptation" Vere smiles at a private joke, "so we should not yet return. I do not desire to detain you if you wished to speak with other members of the Family, such as Prince Benedict, but if you have not yet tired of my company I would enjoy further discourse, upon whatever topic is of interest to you."
Aisling smiles gamely, turning away from the bar so she can keep half an eye on the room and talk to him face-to-face. "I must admit, I am admirably situated at the moment, for the topic of interest to me is that which is immediately before me, namely, yourself." She tilts her head slightly, giving him her receptive attention.
Vere raises an eyebrow slightly. "Not a topic that I would have thought overly interesting," he observes, "but then I may be jaded through over-familiarity with the subject."
She smiles at that, and sips slowly at her own drink throughout.
He takes another small sip of brandy. "I never saw Amber in her glory, " he says, "having been born and raised in my Mother's land, and brought to the City for the first time the day before the Sundering. Due to Father's injury, he saw fit to form a Regent's Council of his younger relatives to see to the day to day management of the City, and I was given the honour of seeing to the repairs and maintenance of the fleet and harbour. To be completely honest, the period of the Regency has been one of managing crises, with barely a breathing space between them. It will be for His Majesty to determine how we have done, of course." He regards her with a slightly amused expression, "I do not know if this information in any way addresses your interests."
"I should be disappointed were the state of Amber, and how she has achieved it, not discussed later this evening," she says with a slight smile. "But what of your previous home? What was your Mother, and her land, like?"
"The two are much the same," he replies. "Mother is the Priestess-Queen of the Isles, and serves as the representation of the Isles to the Goddess and to the populace of the Isles." He smiles, and explains, "I fear that we have a strong mystical and religious tendency in the Isles, it is something I endeavour not to emphasize in my daily dealings with my cousins, most of whom prefer a more practical approach to matters.
"We are a seafaring people, and I learned to sail almost as soon as I could walk. I still have a decided preference to being on the sea to being upon the land, but that is not a desire I have been able to assuage often enough during the Regency. The Isles are heavily forested, and I also spent a great deal of time learning the skills of hunting and tracking, of course. It is expected that the men of the Isles shall become warriors, so I was naturally trained in those arts as well. I fear that I have not lived up to all of Mother's expectations in that particular endeavour. While I am skilled and powerful enough to be impressive to the people of the Isles, a woman who has lain in the arms of Gerard has the right to expect more from a son." Vere takes another small sip of his brandy, his eyes going briefly back to his father before returning to Aisling.
"I imagine if she loved him she would love you, though...?" Aisling puts forth in the manner of someone who expects that what she does not understand is about to explode.
Vere nods in acknowledgement of her comment, but does not address it directly.
"You should not judge the Isles by me, by the way. I am not typical of the men of my native land. My Mother's chancellor once complicated me by saying that I have a more feminine mind than many of the women she knows." Vere chuckles very softly, "That was both a compliment, as Chancellor Vianis meant by it that I have a great deal of self-control and a very good intellect, and an insult, as she is enough of a traditionalist to be annoyed by a man who does not behave properly." Vere gazes down into his glass for a second before continuing, "I sometimes think that I have modeled myself more after the Chancellor than any other person. I have a tremendous respect for her, and I believe I have learned more from her than even she suspects."
Vere shakes his head, smiling, and says, "I have spoken more of myself now that I have in many a year. Are you certain I do not bore you?"
Aisling has been listening to him with focus, clearly absorbing and thinking about the things he is saying. But she does glance over to Gerard and the ladies, for surely by this point they look done with their private talk, "Indeed, no; I would hear more of Chancellor Vianis and your upbringing. I am, however, bound to bring Folly a drink, and I hope that I may enlist your aid in discharging this obligation?"
"Of course," Vere replies. "It appears that they are headed in this direction. Shall we?" He deftly lifts and balances the glass of wine for Folly and the whiskey for Gerard in his left hand, still holding his brandy in his right, and moves to intercept Solange and Folly as they leave Gerard.
When Vere and Aisling are safely out of immediate earshot, Gerard says to Folly, "Lass, don't. Tonight isn't the right time for you to be singing and such. Another evening, yes, but not tonight." To Solange he merely gives a reproachful look.
"But... Why not?" Folly asks.
She's not being flip or disrespectful -- not in the least. She's obviously taking her uncle's words very seriously. It's just that it never occurred to her that there might be a wrong time for music.
"Tonight ye must a princess, not a minstrel girl. It's not like it was when it was just me and your cousins any more. D'ye understand?"
He looks at Solange, "And do you?"
"Yes, Father," Solange says resignedly. She looks disappointed.
Folly doesn't understand -- not really, not deep in her heart where she desperately wants to believe that her kinsmen are persons of good will who will accept each other despite their differences. Why shouldn't she be who she is? Why shouldn't she offer her only true gift to her family?
But then, part of her does understand. It's a game, and she knows the rules, even if she'd rather not play.
"Well, then, I suppose I should find a safe place to stash this baby" -- Folly runs her fingers along the strings of her lute -- "so I'll be all freed-up for the hand-shaking and the curtsy-making and the baby-kissing and such, right?" She smiles again, gamely, but she can't quite hide her melancholy. And as she turns on her heel, she mutters, "I should've asked for a stronger drink."
Gerard looks after Folly, as if he'd like to say something else, but he feels like he's put his foot in it already, as it were.
"Come with me and I'll get you some rum," Solange offers. "They've got the good stuff out tonight. And then we'll go say hello to Paige. I haven't greeted her yet. Do you believe what she's wearing? She looks terrific, but I wouldn't have had the nerve."
Solange is trying to Be Cheerful and Distract Folly, even though she's almost as disappointed as her presumed cousin.
"Mmm, yes," says Folly, who certainly seems distracted -- but not by Solange. And not by Paige, either.
She blinks a couple of times and comes back from wherever she was. "Rum. Yes. But here come Aisling and Vere -- I should have my glass of wine first and work my way up. And then maybe I'll properly introduce myself to Caine. I've heard horrible things about him. Perhaps he'll eviscerate me on the spot."
Folly shoots Solange a sidelong glance to judge whether Solange can tell she's joking.
Then Aisling and Vere catch up to them, and Folly carefully collects her glass from Vere. "Thank you, both of you," she says pleasantly, and her smile is genuine. "I'll be back in a minute -- I've gotta go stash my lute."
And she's off, without even waiting for a response.
Vere tilts his head to one side and looks curiously after her, then turns his attention back to Solange and Aisling. "I must deliver Father's drink," he says to the two ladies. There is a questioning note in the statement, and he seems to be waiting for a response.
Aisling glances to Gerard, glances after Folly, scans the room, hangs in indecision for a moment, and then falls. "And, my deepest pardons, but I feel I should make the aquaintence of those others of your cousins I have not yet met, before this excruciating hour is done," nodding towards the redhead group that is soon to hold both of the new cousins. She wasn't actually joking about the excruciatingness, for those of you who were paying attention. She bows slightly to the children of Gerard, and heads over to redhead central.
Vere bows low as Aisling leaves, and stares after her silently for several long moments. He seems lost in thought.
"If you'll excuse me, Vere, I haven't said hello to Paige yet tonight," Solange says, and heads over to that conversation.
"Of course, Sister," Vere replies. He turns back towards Gerard.
As Brita walks away from Jerod and Cambina, Cambina turns her attention back to her brother. Taking a sip of the whiskey sour he just fetched for her, she says, "How was your day, little brother? Apart from the bit that involved passing the army through the eye of a needle, that is? Meet anyone interesting?"
"Only the same people you did." Jerod replies.
Cambina's eyes roll mildly from left to right and she has managed to be where no one but Jerod can see her face. "And did you learn anything useful in the process or am I on my own in that department again?"
"Probably." Jerod says, his expression his usual "polite" self. "I didn't meet anyone different from you, and I wasn't questioning them on their intentions. I mostly wanted first impressions of people. You know you're better at the game of finagling secrets out of people than I am...so anything I might know you've probably already figured out. I'm surprised you've come looking for info from me. That's normally my role. Are pickings that thin on your end?"
"I spent the afternoon up to my eyeballs in supply work, trying to find out what little furry fellows eat other than "the gods will provide". And I assume you've already heard the one choice bit of gossip from Arden, since it seems to have spread like wildfire." Cambina looks a touch cross.
Jerod shakes his head. "I haven't heard anything about Arden. Except that it's still there. Well, I hope it is. I talked a little bit with our various returning cousins. Except for Lilly and the new one - Aisling. Just met them here. They all seem okay. No one's going to be tossing out too many cards right now...at least not around me. I'll pigeon hole people later and find out what they're really like then."
If there is anything significant to provide to Cambina as far as personal interactions...like Martin and Brennan's first meeting as an example, then Jerod will provide that to her (she's an NPC so I'm not going to relate all the information Jerod has picked up back to the GMs who have already read it umphteen times...:).
"So...what is this one choice bit of gossip?" Jerod asks while smiling a bit. "Julian get pissed with Brita for running the Rangers? Wouldn't be that...she's still here."
Cambina's eyes unfocus slightly. "Julian was rather fond of Brita. It was so sad..."
"None of the dragons have shown up yet so it's not that someone got eaten or sat on, or anything along those lines. And it's gotta be family or else it wouldn't be worth discussing. Give me a hint and maybe I can figure it out."
"Did Father ever take you to any of those military shadows he liked? I recall one of the nastier ones, full of religious fanatics. They would drug up the faithful and send them running across mine fields to 'clear' them.
"All the stories I've heard of Cousin Adonis remind me of that place. He's found several just this afternoon."
"Adonis?" Jerod asks curiously. "I don't recall meeting anyone with that name. Which one is he?"
(Jerod's only heard him referred to as Daeon).
"He seems to have more than one name, to go with the multiple personalities. They also call him Daeon; he's the one Caine brought through Ygg with the slice out of his midsection," says Cambina.
"Ah. And what has he found several of today I would ask. Religious fanatics? In Arden?" Jerod asks quietly, touching his sister's arm just a little to guide her to a chair so they can sit and talk quietly. "Has he passed through one of the shadow paths, one of the unstable ones?" Despite being calm Jerod's mind is racing and many questions threaten to rise up. He forces himself to remain calm and focus, to deal with one element at a time, taking the barest fraction of an instant to look over at Brita before focussing again on his sister.
Cambina says, "We don't know for sure. He's fled the camp; he knows his way around Arden, or Arden-that-was, anyway. But no-one has seen him since, and the tracker who followed him lost him."
Jerod listens, thinking for a moment of the impact. He is sure Julian will go after Daeon, he realizes, knowing his uncle well. For all of Julian's legendary reserve and insular behaviour, it only reinforces that Julian protects his own, Ranger or friends...and his children will most certainly fall into that category. Jerod looks around for a moment at his remaining uncles. But he knows also that Julian will not ask them for help - he'll go it alone.
"Julian is looking for him then." Jerod asks, more of a statement then a question.
"I don't think so; his duty binds him to the camp," says Cambina. "In any case, Adonis seems to have made a rapid recovery, and may not be in need of assistance." She leans over to speak very quietly in Jerod's ear. "Apparently he spent part of the afternoon in dalliance with Paige, and Julian and Caine caught them red-handed. Or something, anyway."
She leans back and shakes her head, mildly incredulous.
Jerod nods and takes another sip of his drink but does not say anything immediately.
"What of Brita? What is the sadness you have seen?"
Cambina gives Jerod the what-are-you-on-about-now? look.
"You seemed to have another of your visions." Jerod says. "You made a comment about Brita and you had that distant look you get sometimes. You mentioned something about Julian being fond of Brita and a sadness, then you went on to talk about Daeon."
"Anyone else know about Paige and company?" Jerod asks quietly. "I'm not surprised, but I'm also wondering if any of the army or the Rangers found out. Did Caine tell you about it?"