Bringing Home the Wounded

It happens that on or about the sixth day after Random's appearance and announcement, Martin contacts Reid on his Trump. It's apparent from the course of the conversation that Martin has already been in contact with Random.

Reid passes Jerod and Cambina (IIRC) through to Martin and then comes through himself.

Your location is apparently partway up a hill, or down a valley, depending on how you look at such things. There is a gnarled, ancient tree nearby. The sky changes color here from time to time. It's bestreaked with different shades as if it were being fingerpainted by an impatient god-child of enormous size. The valley beneath you is covered in a fog that changes color in similar fashion.

Once all of you are through the Trump contact, Martin, who looks very tired, goes and sits, leaning against the gnarled old tree. "I don't suppose any of you brought any fresh coffee? Or a snack?" he asks, somewhat wistfully. The saddlebags of his horse, which grazes tiredly nearby, have that peculiar bulge that formerly overfull bags have when empty.

Not having believed that food would be available at the other end of their journey, Jerod would have taken the precaution of bringing supplies with him.

Were horses brought through?

[Did you all plan to bring them?]

To Martin's query, Jerod pulls the strap on his backpack (one of the military type pull-away that are easy to remove), and pulls out something from a side pack to toss to Martin. Something fast and tasty and to both Jerod and Martin's liking. "We can brew some." Jerod says, settling down for a minute. "I've still got some of my stash and Solange has been making trips to find more now that things are settling.

"What's our situation?"

"I just got here a few minutes ago. Trumped Dad, then Reid. I can try Merle after I'm done eating. I don't think we need to do anything to maintain this place as long as we don't go down any. Especially not for us. But I don't know what will happen if we bring an army through on the other side. Why don't you guys tell me how things are in Amber?" Martin says, and tears into the dried fruit Jerod handed him.

"Pretty much business as usual. A lot less hoopla than one might expect. Introduction of your father as King went off without a hitch; the nobles seemed to take it in stride. Robin's gone missing, probably looking for her dad, but we'll work on a trump of her and while we're at it, bring her father closer to her so she won't have as far to wander. Bowling averages are way up, mini-golf scores are way down and the music is excellent." Reid replies.

"A few other minor things. Delegation from the Land of Peace, usual politics." Jerod adds. "And one interesting bit. The Rebman delegation decided to depart very hastily. According to the Gateway Ambassador, the stairs must have re-opened. I was not able to verify this however so I'm not sure if she's right."

Martin finishes the fruit he's chewing on and says, "I don't see why it would have, unless Dad's mere talismanic presence -- or something he did -- set things right. Let's assume not for right now. Even if they know the back way, do you think they could get there from Amber, Jerod?"

"Under normal circumstances, I'd have said no." Jerod says. "Things are hardly normal now though. Since I cannot see it for myself, nor can I verify the situation as false from someone I trust, that means I've got to at least consider the possibility that it might have happened."

Martin nods. "I hope you arranged to send someone down there to check it out before you left. Not that there's anything we can do until we get back, anyway." He stands up and pulls out a deck of Trumps, shuffling one in particular out. "Let's put this plan to the test, shall we?"

Cambina, who has started a small fire, perhaps to prepare the coffee, stops what she's doing and watches.

"It's been taken care of." Jerod replies, referring to the stairway. He settles back onto the ground to watch as Martin begins.

Martin concentrates on the card, a little nervously to Reid's eyes. After a few moments, Martin lets out a slight breath that he probably wasn't aware he was holding. "Merle? Yeah, it's me. Where are you?" A pause. "Everything's great. Dad made it home just fine." Another pause. "She's fine too. She's not with me. Some of the other cousins are, though. We're at the tree." Another pause. "He is? Just you two? Yeah, pass him through."

A rainbow glimmer turns into a man all in black, and then a smaller, slenderer, younger version of the first follows him through. The younger man hugs Martin enthusiastically; Martin pounds him on the back, looking very pleased. He turns to the rest of the group and says, "Guys, this is Merlin; Merle, this is Jerod, his sister Cambina, and Reid," indicating each person as he speaks their name.

Jerod nods a reply to the introduction, not wanting to interfere with his friend's reunion. He looks Merlin over briefly, his own expression one of friendly neutrality, waiting to see how Merlin reacts in current company.

Then, perhaps, Martin realizes in his enthusiasm at seeing his friend, he's lost his manners. "But of course you've met Jerod and Cambina," he says to Corwin. "This is my cousin Reid," Martin adds, "Osric's son."

There is none of the animosity or rage that was evident the last time that Jerod would have seen Corwin, though one would not say that Jerod does not make friendly overtures either. Five years at least has blunted or faded most of those memories. He looks briefly at his sister as Corwin steps through the trump link, then returns his attention to the scene. He nods to Corwin when Martin speaks but says little else.

Reid is peripherally aware of Jerod & Cambina's reactions to Corwin and, as such, reins in his own response a bit. He turns to Martin and says, "You drag me half way to Chaos to bring back an army, and THIS is all you have to show me? Some army!" He breaks into a wide grin before deciding on formal protocol... "Pleased to meet you, gentlemen." He extends his hand to each in turn, elder first.

Corwin takes his hand. "I'd ask you if your father had any children that lived, but I thought I knew the answer to that one. I'll settle for 'are there any more at home like you?'" Corwin's smile is dazzling, bright and insincere.

"God, let's hope not." Reid answers dryly. "Afraid pop didn't live long enough to spawn more of my kin. His brother Finndo's line is quite a bit longer, and even intersects Fiona at some point, I believe. And from what Random tells me, Uncle Ben's wild seed as gotten all sorts of convolution with chaos, but I'll take that up with him once I pull him through. Won't he be surprised?"

"Ben has had a number of surprises lately," Corwin says pleasantly, "and I'm sure he'll be pleased about this one, too. How are things in Amber these days, whenever these days are? What are we bringing people home to?"

"Coffee?" Reid pats the pouches and pockets covering most of the surface area of his traveling clothes before finding the right one to produce a suitable mug.

Merlin says. "Yes, Please. My father is not at his best, you must excuse him. He has had a difficult few days."

"Hmf." says Corwin.

Merlin changes the subject, artlessly. "Jerod, Cambina, it is a pleasure to meet cousins, and one I have had a great deal these last few days. May I ask of your descent from Oberon?"

Jerod glances again at Cambina before looking back at Merlin.

Cambina is doing her best to look neutral.

[Jerod]
"It would seem that the descendants of Oberon are coming out of the woodwork now. I'm going to have to keep my social calendar open for awhile.

"My father was Eric." Jerod says simply, watching for any reaction from Merlin. "My sister and I are both descended from him, though with different mothers."

"Ah," says Merlin. "You two and Marius, then, are my closest cousins." At their blank looks at the unknown name, he adds "Marius is the son of Deirdre."

"He is unfamiliar I'm afraid." Jerod says. "A situation that appears likely to come up frequently over the next little while I suspect. It will take some getting used to, having this many new relatives."

"How is the situation with the rest of them?"

Reid, to both Cowrin and Jerod, "I'm sure the warriors want to know what's going on at home, and the homeland folk want to know what's happened at the front, but we'll just be repeating all this information for the next batch of people we pull through, and as lovely as it is here, I don't know that I could stomach the retelling as often as it will be necessary. If you gentlemen need time to prepare or make contacts, by all means do so. Martin, if you need a rest, as you've been hellriding for god knows how long, then rest. But I came here to get the troops home, and I'd like to begin that process as soon as it makes sense to do so..." He looks to Jerod for confirmation, then to Corwin and Martin for a response.

"Agreed. My curiousity can wait a little bit." Jerod says. "Given the situation at home, it would be best if we got things going as soon as possible."

Cambina looks Corwin in the eyes and says "So, who do we gather in next? How split up are you all?"

Corwin looks back at her. "Julian has the flyers and the wounded. Caine has the troops that could march. It'd be best to get Julian and the wounded back here first, before the Rangers. We may have Ranger issues."

"Huh!" snorts Cambina. "Tell us about it," she says, meaning the opposite.

Corwin says "Or we could contact Caine or Bleys and get the main body. But..."

"Coffee" says Martin, coming out of his reverie. Cambina is already handing him the mug full of steaming hot strong black coffee.

Merlin just sits back and looks at the two of them.

"Julian." Jerod says, after thinking for a moment. "The flyers will need to be settled first. I've got a feeling they'll take some extra handling and you don't want that when you're full up on space already with troops. That and dealing with the current troops in Arden already.

"After coffee, of course."

Martin, who has downed his cup of coffee in the time it takes Jerod to finish his comments, hands his cup back to Cambina and says, "Why doesn't one of you contact Julian and somebody else contact Caine? We have enough Trumps for that."

Cambina pours Martin a second cup of coffee and hands the cup back to him.

Once it's reported that they've contacted Jerod and Reid, Paige had Liam run off to the stables to have horses readied for herself, Folly, Solange and whoever else might be within the Castle. Paige has gathered some dried fruit and jerky and tosses it in the saddlebags.

She's dressed in a split riding skirt of emerald green, of simple practicality, but wonderfully well tailored with golden thread decorating the hem. Her blouse is ivory silk, currently covered by a short riding jacket that matches the bodice and skirt. In her jacket pocket are her personal Trumps.

[Vere, Conner? You guys on site already or riding out with the ladies?]

Vere was managing the arrangement of manpower and resources from the Castle; once the notification arrives that the return is imminent he will send out messages to initiate all the pre-arranged plans and relocate to wherever he can most efficiently oversee the distribution of resources.

Leaving all the prearranged plans in Vere's capable hands, Conner has relocated to the field hospital to put his medical skills to good use.

Ossian is riding with the ladies. (I have a bit bad grip on the time scale here: how long does it take to ride from Amber to Britas location in Arden?)

[I'll have to get back to you on that because I'm not sure off the top of my head, and all the books I use for reference to answer that kind of question are at home. That's why I mentioned the possibility of a Trump down to Arden.]

Ok. Ossian travels by Trump if necessary. (That probably involves travelling via Ygg? As far as I can remember Brita has no Trumps of anyone in Amber, and we have none of her or the right place in Arden. Then, I might remember wrong)

He brings his trumps and some painting equipment.

Paige will have someone inform the Queen and the Prince-Regent what they're about, and lead the horses off to Heather Vale, after collecting Ossian from his sketching at the Sundering Monument. She sets a quick pace, but not so quick as to wind the horses.

Folly joins the crew in Arden (perhaps tagging along with Paige, if Paige is there). She's got a mandolin slung on her back; her intent is to provide soothing music for the injured and strengthening music for the Trumpsters, as needed.

Paige jokes along the way, "Wait until you meet Merlin, Folly. That is if he's coming back with his father, Uncle Corwin."

"He was my other student, you know, Ossian." Paige smiles, "Sometimes he knew what Maestro had taught me better than I did myself. I think I grew almost as much from the teaching as he did from the learning."

"He's a Trump painter too? " Ossian asks with a smile.

Folly grins -- she's in a better mood than she's been all week -- and asks, "Is he cute?"

"And does he have any cute friends who aren't my cousins?" Solange asks.

Folly laughs, perhaps just a shade too loudly.

Solange sticks her tongue out at Folly.

Paige looks to Folly and then Solange, not paying attention to where she's riding nor the clue by four about to hit her. A momentary thought, _Who?_ and then she answers her own question, at least to her satisfaction. _Good for them._

She then goes on to her exploding fruit salad story...

[Paige is assuming her audience is composed of Folly, Ossian, and Solange. Brita's already in Arden at the field hospital with Conner and Vere's managing the back end of the supply lines. (And alot more...)]

"Merle?" Paige seems to think about this for a while. "Yeah, but it's almost the mannerisms more than the look, although that's not bad either, not bad at all really.

"He has no concepts of some things we take for granted; the sky being one set color... time... sexuality." Paige delivers the last totally deadpan. "I remember one night in Heerat....

"The guy I had been dating for a while had one hell of an arguement. I'm talking the kind of funk I was in before. Thrown furniture, screams that cut the warm peaceful night like Lucas through a hetera's underclothes." Paige laughs, "I have to admit, if nothing else the relationship had passion.

"Anyway, Merlin decided to take it upon himself to try and repair the rift that had formed. He prepared a picnic luncheon for me and my lover to share." A smile, warmer than most in years crosses Paige's lips in rememberance.

"Apparently, things for a picnic lunch are much different in Chaos than on the Orderly side of the universe. He had botched the entire thing, but as my lover and I cleaned the kitchen after the fruit salad or whatever it was exploded, we found ourselves laughing, and talking and eventually, a few hours later, totally over the arguement that so recently had torn us apart." A wicked grin implies that the reconciliation was just as passionate as the arguement.

"Merlin tried apologizing for days. I didn't have the words to make him understand that his mistake had achieved just what he had aimed for.

"Is he cute? Yeah, he's cute."

Folly laughs. "Exploding Fruit Salad -- that could be a garage band name. Does he play?"

"As to friends who aren't cousins, I'd assume so, but then again it seems they might not be human, so cute might be relative," Paige offers.

"I'd settle for a pretty Goblin King," Solange allows.

"Oh, as long as they look at least a little bit like llamas, Folly would think they are cute." Ossian says with a grin.

"You know what we need? We need to organize a family-only-post-coronation-trans-Shadow-golf-outing," Paige suggests. "18 Shadows, with a par of 3-5 drinks per Shadow. A drink consisting of 3 shots, one bottle of wine, or one pitcher of beer."

Solange frowned at the word "golf," but brightened considerably when Paige's description suggested that nine-irons didn't figure anywhere into it.

Ossian shudders disgustedly. Obviously he would not like to join Paige on that trip.

"It'll compliment our other drinking game wonderfully," Paige snickers in a very unladylike manner.

"What other drinking game?" Solange asks. "What'd I miss?"

Folly lets out a little snort of laughter. "You missed me being catty, I think. Let's just say that some people who may or may not want to whack me can be kind of predictable in a drinking-game sort of way."

"Dawn breaks over Marblehead," Solange says in a now-I-get-it tone. "Fill me in on the rules sometime, 'kay?"

[just a quick question to the GMs: timing-wise, the above happened when Martin contacted Random and then Jerod/Reid, correct? So Paige, Folly, Solange, Ossian left immediately at that point (at the same time Jerod/Reid/Cambina go to Ygg). Does everybody get to Arden before Cambina contacts Brita or do I have to delete the part about Folly being there? I will assume that Conner had left before Martin called home to come to Arden and assist Brita in the setup of the field hospital.]

For the sake of playability, we'll assume everyone who wants to be is in Arden now. They can have ridden down, or, if there's a real time concern, some of them might have come down on a Trump.

Right. Solange is there, because even though her medical skills are pretty basic, she can fetch and carry as well as anyone else.

When the party has arrived in Arden, Ossian will spend eventual time waiting for the Trump call doing sketches of Folly, in preparation for making a trump of her.

Jerod will pull out the deck that Random gave him, selecting Julian's card. "I'll do it." he says, looking at Reid. "He won't recognize you and I've dealt with Julian before so he won't get too defensive if he sees it's me."

Jerod initiates the contact. It's more difficult than any other contact he's ever made, but then again he's hardly a high initiate into the arts of Trump.

The sense from the other side initially is "Who?"

"It's Jerod...I'm at Ygg with Merlin and Corwin."

Jerod faintly senses both a certain relief and a certain disappointment through the connection, but they are both fleeting.

Julian is on a hill, near a stand of trees, overlooking a different foggy valley. A sun is beginning to rise behind him. Something is wrong about all the colors and textures, although Jerod can't say what other than that it's disorienting and jarring. It makes it hard to maintain the contact.

Julian says, "Well met, Jerod. I have a flight of twenty dragons and a dozen or so seriously wounded, including Deirdre's son Marius, who is sorcerously injured. Flora and my son Jovian are with us, and we have a scion of Benedict's who is also able to travel in what passes for Shadow here. We cannot walk the dragons through a Trump, so we must take the long way." He sounds particularly emphatic about not walking the dragons through a Trump.

"How fares Amber? I assume you have met our new King."

Jerod smiles at the last comment. "Well met Uncle. And indeed I have met our King. I would speak with you later when there is time about the matter of his selection. I've heard only a few fragmentary bits concerning that. It sounds like it would make for an interesting evening of storytelling.

"Amber is well, though things are not as they once were. Five years has past. I'm sure people will not have much trouble adapting though.

"Have your people who can travel or carry others prepare to come through to here. We can trump them forward after that. Given the current situation in Amber it might be wise for you to arrive first in Arden, to take charge of relocation. It's the only place large enough to handle the troops. Is there one with the dragons who can guide them to Arden?"

"My duty is is with the wing until we are closer to Arden. We can move the wounded through, but the riders must return here where their dragons are. Flora and Aisling can remain with you, however. Do you have a field hospital set up?" Julian asks.

"In Arden, not here." Jerod replies. "All that is being taken care of, as well as all the logistical requirements for supporting the troops in the field."

He focuses his attention just enough to speak to the others at his location, without losing the trump contact. "We've got company coming. Wounded especially...everyone get ready. We'll need to get them through to Amber without delay."

Reid softly steps beside Jerod, reaches out and gives strength to the Trump connection as necessary.

Jerod is aware of Reid's presence as an unexpected strength and steadiness. The sense of Julian is much stronger when Reid joins in. However, his presence doesn't cure the bizarre nature of the Chaos landscape.

Jerod has this not so controllable urge to impose Order on Chaos...:)

On the other end of the connection, Julian is aware of the change. "Kinsman?" he says, and it's not clear whom he is addressing.

Jerod does not react overly to Reid's entrance, though what reaction there is comes across as dualist - relief to having the additional clarity in the contact, and resistance to an invasion of privacy. However, he suppresses both for the moment.

"My tutor in trumps." Jerod says. "Reid, go ahead and introduce yourself. He's okay Uncle. I haven't had the urge to beat the crap out of him since I've met him." Jerod smiles a little at that comment, knowing Julian will understand it.

"Reid, son of Osric..... It's a long story. We'll be ready to pull your people through soon."

Julian nods, once. "I look forward to hearing it, Reid. Let me know when your people are ready."

Behind all of this, Cambina touches Reid and whispers, "Your Trumps?"

Reid deftly slips his deck out of the appropriate pocket without any second thought, using only one hand as the other is involved in Jerod's connection. A one-handed shuffle moves Brita to the top before he hands the whole deck it to Cambina. Once the deck has left his hand, he leaves his arm extended, expectantly.

Cambina takes the cards from him and initiates contact with Brita.

"We're ready." Jerod says.

Reid hisses, "Wait for it..." loud enough for everyone at Ygg, and Julian via the trump, to hear, his left hand still hanging away from his body towards Cambina, his fingertips tingling with anticipation.

Brita's trump begins to shift and the snow covered mountains behind her resolve into a wall of pine trees. "Cambina!" Brita cries as a smile spreads across her face "Are they ready? When do the dragons come through?"

[Cambina]
"Not yet. We have some injured who need to come through in a moment. Are you ready with the field hospital?"

Brita deflates a little at the thought of no dragons yet. She snaps back into commander mode with Cambina's question. "Yes, we have tents set up for injured and what equipment I could gather to tend them without knowing the extent of their injuries. Our field doctor is on hand and we will alert Amber if there is need for more extensive medical assistance.

"Folly is also here, ready to soothe the injured with her music. [Of course, I don't know how soothing she will be right now as she is practically bouncing off the trees.... ;)]"

Cambina says "Bide, and we'll pass the wounded through as soon as they're ready."

[Aisling]
"Milady," she says tentatively, with a bit of a moving bow. "I did not have much warning that I would be coming to this war, and I failed to pack accordingly." A smile flickers over her face, though she's still nervous. "Yet I would very much regret it if my introduction to Amber found me in bloodstained house-clothes. I have long admired your taste, and I gather that your family has the ability to find what they desire in Shadow... Do you think it is possible that in the time until we reach those coral shores, you could aid me in this?"

[Flora]
She smiles, radiantly. "Of course I can help you, my dear. First you'll have to tell me what impression you want to give, though. You have so many advantages over those of us with just one shape, you know. It would be so nice to be able to change one's complexion or shoe size to match the perfect accessory..."

Aisling had not considered this. For her, form followed function... But then, thinking back, she realizes that she has done it, and smiles faintly. Flora probably would understand the need to fill out scuffed square-toed large-cuffed clomping boots around the docks...

"You have, I think, been around the family enough to know that what is done with shapes in the far places is often done with clothes in the city. One indicates expected treatment and status by how one dresses. For a woman, this is especially important, even if you intend to play against the type you set up, self-knowledge of what you are telling others about you is vital."

On one hand, Aisling is absolutely confident that she has come to the right place. On the other, she's a bit daunted to come across such a master. And she's very thoughtful as she tries to lay out what she wants consciously, instead of just doing it...

Flora looks Aisling over throughly , as if painting a trump of her in her head.

"For so many of us, the message is 'I can be ignored with impunity.' We shan't set you up as one of those, I don't think. Unless that is your desire? Do you always maintain this complexion? It will be easy to make you stand out with it."

Aisling blushes a bit. "It complements my other colorings..." she says unapologetically, shrugging her streamers in a slight wave. Then she thinks deeply for a moment. "...No, I think it would be good to stand out for this. I believe I shall be playing the part of the mysterious sympathetic outworlder for a while yet, but then again, I am now a Knight Commander of Amber..." glance at Flora, is she at all unhappy at this/jealous that she's not a knight? "And although I am not very militaristically inclined, I think it would be most appropriate to emphasize that honor." Kinda shy again, "And I want to look good. You know how first impressions are."

It's difficult to tell how Flora feels about the military honors. Currently she's absorbed in the fashion question.

"Will you keep the streamers? We'll need to take them into account if you plan to."

Aisling nods. "Yes." She leaves it at that for the moment.

Jovian is about to give the order for the wings to make ready to launch when he notices that his father has a distant expression (more so than usual, even), and is speaking to someone who clearly isn't there. Kourin, with whom he is riding, is looking at him with some concern, then glances up to scan the sky, as if expecting an attack.

//J'rim, Hoshith says J'lin may be ill. He's talking to someone who isn't there.//

Jovian watches for another moment to confirm his suspicions. //Tell her not to worry, Canareth. Remember the little pictures of my uncles we've seen him talk to sometimes, especially right before he goes between with that colorful shimmer? I think someone is using one of those to talk to him.//

Jovian dismounts and walks over to Hoshith, covering the ten yards or so at a brisk pace. To Kourin's questioning look, he waves casually. "He'll be done in a minute," he says with an insouciant little smile.

Kourin rolls her eyes and mutters something about "bronze riders".

Jovian just blows her a kiss, his grin becoming slightly more insufferable.

When Julian is finished, his son calls up to him. "What's the news?"

Julian comes to more of a pause in the contact than a full stop. He dismounts smoothly and reflexively despite the fact that half his attention is elsewhere, and says "We have a Trump through to Amber. We will send the wounded through and proceed at our own pace from here."

"Right," the wingleader nods crisply. "Canareth," he continues aloud for his father's benefit, "give the word down the line to unsling the wounded and carry them forward. Best have the Fledgling and Bloodflower come up too."

The word is given and the wounded are brought forward. One of the riders summons Flora and Aisling, and ...

Aisling thanks Flora for whatever she just received with a great big beam, barely resisting the urge to hug her. And they still likely join Julian together, at a quickish pace.

Aisling is all in black, with her streamers emerging from the top the shoulders of her outfit, sort of like epaulettes. She looks very sharp.

Jovian notices and evidently approves on multiple levels. It would, in truth, be moderately difficult not to notice him noticing.

Aisling notices Jovian noticing, and looks leery and uncomfortable for a bare moment until she willfully ceases to notice.

Jovian notices her noticing him noticing, and in a brave effort to keep the thread from further recursion he ceases to notice as well. But the echo of his admiring (not lecherous, but appreciative) smile lingers about the corners of his mouth through much of the serious business to come.

Flora, recognizing the look of "trump in progress", says to Jovian, "We have contact with Amber?"

"Getting ready to pass wounded through," Jovian nods. "With how far out we still are, I'd guess the home guard set up a connection point somewhere between. We'll still be flying straight...." he trails off, clearly meaning the dragonriders but with the mildest undercurrent of invitation to stay along for the ride, if she or Aisling is not urgently needed in Amber. That he expects both will choose to take the short way home is plain and unlamented, however.

"I'll go with the wounded," Aisling states with barely a split-second of thought. " 'Twould save time to have someone familiar with their ailments there." She nod/bows and takes her leave to go see that the wounded shipment looks ready to go.

"Of course. Your help continues to be greatly appreciated," Jovian acknowledges, bowing from the neck, which is rather a different thing from nodding.

Flora says, "I should go too. As pleasant as I have found riding with you, Jovian, I think my business lies in Amber now." She favors the dragonrider with a dazzling smile. "I hope you and your charming friend L'tarn will call on me for tea when you've returned to Amber."

//Canareth, are the riders about done shifting the wounded? I'll want to confer briefly with the wingleaders and seconds when the transfer is completed. With a little luck, we'll be able to make our way faster now.//

//Hoshith says to tell you that Kourin says that they are almost finished.//

Aisling summons Ce'e to her side.

"Return to the form that Lord Madoc gave you," she orders, if the creature has not already done so. "We will be travelling to Amber using Trumps, a magic of Order. It may hurt. Follow me through, and when we are through I will give you what aid I can."

When her affine is as spiffy as she can make him, and Julian seems ready, she makes a wide gesture of farewell to Jovian and the dragonriders. "May I speak with you soon in Amber!" she calls, like a toast, and then offers her hand to her great-uncle.

"Clear skies, Fledgling!" Jovian calls, waving back with a grin.

Julian passes Aisling through, then Flora, then Ce'e.

[Based on the retcon on the other end, there will be some delay in actual passing the wounded through.]

[Reid's extended arm starts getting tired...]

While you all are doing this, Merlin has sat down next to Martin and is talking to him in a low voice. Corwin has produced a cigarette from somewhere and is having a smoke, keeping half an eye on the Trump contact and half the other on his son. While he's not overtly on guard, the more perceptive among you are certain any threats that presented themselves would find themselves confronted with the business end of his blade.