Rolling out of her bedroll, Robin rises, stretches and looks around at her. A few quick tugs get her clothes back in order and brush off any larger sticks or leaves that might be clinging to her. Then on with the boots and the weapons belt. Digging around in her pack, the Ranger brings forth a battered canteen for herself and a crisp green apple for Morgenstern, if he's about.
Morgenstern is indeed about, and the great grey horse comes to see what his master's daughter might find in her pockets for him.
Robin chuckles fondly under her breath as she offers the apple to her four-footed 'Uncle.' And if he allows it, Robin will pat him fondly along the neck and shoulder as he eats.
Totter rises about the same time as Robin, and absents himself for morning ablutions and other tasks. Julian is nowhere to be seen, but he rises early, goes to bed late, and sleeps less than any other man or woman in a corps where hardiness is legendary. Morgenstern's presence and calm demeanor suggest that he's somewhere around and not in any danger.
Once Morgenstern is finished with his treat, Robin thumps him fondly once more and heads over to start the breakfast chores. Once the fire is stoked, the water on to boil and everything else is in readiness, the Ranger sighs, wrinkles her nose in distaste and withdraws her Trump case. Opening it, she rubs a bare thumb over Reid's image. Calling.
//Speak.// Reid intones under his breath to his contactor.
"It's Robin." The Ranger says. "Are you and Breeze alright?"
She sits in Arden, the smoke from a low campfire drifting past her on the early morning air.
Reid is sitting in a pub at a table with three others gather around, sharing a meal. "It's Robin," he informs his party in a hushed voice.
"Breeze?" Reid tries to place the name. "Oh, the person you passed through? He was still breathing last time I saw him, I think. I suppose all of him made it through to the castle. At least I didn't see any bits left behind. I had to deal with him quickly. Local constabulary types, while interrogating a wagon with two riders, don't take kindly to a third being introduced from out of thin air. I would check in with someone at the castle if you'd like to ascertain his current disposition, though.
"Or, if you don't have a way to reach family back home, you could join us in Abford. Ossian, Marius and I seem to be invading the territory and perhaps abducting a possible new relative. We were thinking of inviting Dworkin." Despite his previous comments to his fellows, Reid seems pleased with the idea of bringing the whole family to Abford at once. It almost seems inevitable at this point.
Robin listens to Reid's recitation with an ironic smile. A small flare of anger/indignation at the mention of Breeze's body parts is quickly subsumed into an wry appreciation of Reid's phrasing.
"Thank you for your assistance on that." /I owe you,/ drifts through her mind as well as an unvoiced apology for any difficulties her situation might have caused Reid in his own awkward situation. "I can contact the Castle from here." She shakes her head slightly in response to Reid's invitation.
"Reid?..." the girl licks her lips. Her eyes soften. And through the Trump link comes an unguarded, almost agonizing, stab of sympathy and sadness for the poor SOB about to be inducted into the horror that is Amber and Family.
"Never mind." Robin clamps down her lips and her feelings hard.
"Now, now. It's been my experience that the process of one of us realizing that we're part of something bigger is far less painful than the alternative. At least she'll have a support group. We're not, for the most part, out for each others' blood anymore, and I can think of at least a few cousins who are more than capable of aiding in the transition and orientation," Reid suggests.
Images fly through Robin's mind a lightning fast flicker of kaleidoscopic images; a frenzy of flames and swords as her Uncles devour the lives of her blood-brothers, Brita being dragged by Death through a tear in the very air, horrible looming walls of stone tilting precariously upon the shredded cheesecloth of Reality, Bleys' amused snake-stare across a breakfast table, quickly packing as the drums warn of Caine's approach to the camp.
With screaming claws of mental effort, Robin pulls herself back from her own abyss. Vere, wonderful brilliant light of reason. Reid, patient, patient, patient. Jovian, warm enfolding hug. Aisling, fellow stranger in a strange land. It's not much but it allows Robin to get out.
"I should be going. Is there a message you want sent to the Castle?"
"One moment." Reid asks his table of compatriots, "Any messages for the Castle? Robin's either heading home or, at least, checking in."
Robin waits, perhaps a little less than patiently.
Reid tells Robin, "No messages. Ossian sends his love." Reid anticipates the fluster and confusion this will cause Robin, but decides not to let her off easily. Or maybe he does... "Don't hesitate to contact me again if you have futher concerns. My door is always open, as it were."
Ossian... her nomad who enjoys dancing with women bearing steel. Flustered and confused about covers Robin's reaction. To both the name and Reid's further courtesies.
And with that, Reid breaks the connection.
The Ranger blinks a little as her mind returns to the verdancy around herself. A minor curse sparks from her lips, lacking in any real power. Damn cards.
Shaking herself, Robin gets on with the business of making breakfast. Even though Totter a damn sight better at it than herself, she still can't let him shoulder all of the chores. Besides, her fluttering hands need something to do.
Totter provides that something with work to make breakfast. About the time breakfast is ready, the Warden of Arden appears. He looks not exactly tired, but certainly he has expended some effort doing something from the way he moves and the precise but speedy manner in which he inhales his breakfast.
[OOC: If you want a breakfast thread with Julian and Totter, we'll double-thread, but I'm also going to move you forward.]
Robin gulps down her meal as well, not eager to break the wonderful companionable silence of the forest morning. Though she does mention to Julian around a mouthful that she got ahold of Reid, and that he reported moving Breeze on to the Castle.
Julian does his share of cleanup and soon the three rangers are ready to move on. Three horses are present: Morgenstern, Totter's horse, and a new one for Robin. She doesn't think that it's the only thing that Julian did, but certainly it was on the list.
The trio rides back to the east, out of the heart of Arden. The day is sunny and the ride is pleasant. After several hours of riding, not long before Robin expects to stop for a quick midday meal, something strange and frightening happens.
Robin doesn't see it so much as hear it and feel it. There's a sudden scream of pain and rage that Robin can't fix a locus for before it's over, and a sudden gust of hurricane-strength wind that threatens to buffet her off the backside of her horse. She hears Morgenstern's answering scream and, out of the corner of her eye, sees the great grey stallion rear.
Then it's over and the horses have halted in their tracks. Julian is leaning forward and shielding his eyes from the sunlight like he has a splitting headache of some sort, probably the mate to the one Robin suddenly feels coming on. Totter, by contrast, just looks confused.
"Robin, are you all right?" Julian asks.
"In the saddle, sir. But hurtin'." Robin's voice sounds faint and fuzzy to herself as she fingers one throbbing ear. "What was that?"
In her heart, the Ranger wonders if that was what it was like when the Pattern split. To those... on the outside that is.
"I'm not quite sure," Julian answers her, slowly and precisely.
Totter is looking around anxiously. "What was what?" he asks Julian.
Julian looks up sharply, then winces. "You didn't sense it?"
"No, Warden."
Julian's expression grows grim. "I mislike this. Let's dismount and investigate, and take a little willowbark before we start moving again." He swings one long leg over Morgenstern's flank and carefully lowers himself to the ground.
Robin accepts Julian's aid as she gingerly slides out of the saddle. Her balance seems to be a little off as she fights to keep from tipping forward. Or backward. Or to the side. Slowly the rush in her ears is being replaced with a ringing sound to go with her headache. The Ranger finds herself unconsciously shrugging her shoulders up and rubbing her ears against them.
Despite the pain, Robin checks in with the blue fire in her veins. Still there?
Whatever it was doesn't seem to have moved them out of Arden.
"Totter," Julian says, "Willowbark for Robin and me. A lot of it."
"Yes, Warden." And Totter produces some, and a canteen with water to wash it down.
Not riding sounds like a very good idea for the next little while, and after some discussion, Julian and Totter decide it's time for a lunch break. Totter goes to work preparing a little lunch, and Julian sits.
Robin works on getting the bark and the water into herself. And not moving around a whole lot. After a while, the girl's natural restlessness gets to her and she starts whistling quietly to herself. Something abstractly tuneful, that speaks of the place they are at. Horses stepping gently or blowing to themselves as they graze, the wind lightly dancing through the foliage, sunlight -- gentle sunlight! -- dappling through the shifting boughs overhead, Rangers sitting around quietly in the sleepy afternoon, the drone of insects, the little scurryings of underleaf mammals, soft wingbeats both high and low... Arden. Home and happiness.
Julian also takes his time ingesting the medicine. At one point Robin sees him wince and bow his head, but when Totter stops to come to his aid, Julian waves him off. "Trump," he says to Robin. Robin thinks it would be be painful to try to take a contact, and painful to try to block it. In any case, the attempted contact is not repeated.
His daughter nods at the aside with a quick flick of a distasteful tongue. Of all the things to deal with when one is feeling icky already.
Julian and Robin are both made of stern stuff, and by the time Totter sorts out their lunch, both are of them are ready and able to eat. Lunch is a quiet affair, except for Robin's little tunes, and afterward Julian takes her aside.
"Are you ready to ride again? I find myself worried about that Trump contact. I was cautious and blocked it, but now I feel certain that it had something to do with that--power--we experienced. I think we should get back to the nearest post as quickly as possible."
The Ranger nods. Riding she can do, as well as whatever else is needed. Mentally Robin gears herself up for horrendous consequences. Shit like that doesn't whip through the wind without there being some serious cleanup afterwards.
The nod reminds Robin that her head still isn't in perfect shape, but she's still much better off than she was before. Julian measures her expression as he asks, "I could contact one of my brothers instead. Or perhaps we could use one of your Trumps, if you have any of your cousins."
Robin steadies herself from where her nod has unbalanced her stance with a muttered "Shit."
"Do you think we can get from the Castle to No-Sun quicker than to Brousailles from here?" She asks.
"I mean, now that Breeze and Adonis are out, I'd really like to take a stab at snagging Fur and Fang. But I'm guessing all I'd make right now is a great cat-toy. And you're right, we need to find out what the Scream was about."
"Perhaps I should send you ahead to the Castle and I should ride to Brousailles. If I am needed in the Castle, you can call me, or give me any news. And when I reach Brousailles, I can give whatever orders are needed and join you at the Castle--or you can contact me to return, and we can proceed to No-Sun from there." Julian waits to see what Robin thinks of this suggestion.
The Ranger wrinkles her nose and sticks out her tongue quickly at the thought of returning to the Castle. But, after a mildly pained wince of acknowledgement to her headache, she shrugs agreement. It's a good division of labor and allows her father to get his daughter somewhere he at least considers safe while getting the information he needs. And maybe, just maybe, she can help Adonis as opposed to getting them both in deeper trouble or having yet a different over-the-top emotionfest with her brother. And there's Breeze to check in on too. That's a 'good' and three 'ands' so...
"Okay. I don't have a Card of anyone at the Castle, though."
"I have a card of the Castle," Julian answers. He pulls his deck from a pouch and begins to shuffle through it.
"K." Robin stands, almost straight, gets her gear together, dusts herself off. And tries to... well, mental centering has never worked for the Ranger. So instead, she lets her thoughts flutter a little more freely so that she won't tense up at the joy of being passed through the Damn Cards with a headache like the one she's packing.
Julian finds the card and takes it in hand. "Be safe," he tells Robin, and embraces her for a moment.
Robin returns the embrace, gently -- for her -- given the fact that they're both still hurting. "Love you, Dad. Be safe too." She murmurs into his ear. Then thumps him lightly on the upper arm as she reluctantly releases him.
Then he concentrates on the card and passes Robin through.
[Assuming she goes.]
Oooggg! Icky. Just as bad as she thought it would be.
She finds herself at the Castle gate, still outside the wall. The portcullis is open, but the guards are on high alert. Robin can tell by the way their crossbows are pointed at her. "Halt! Who goes there? And who sent you?" one of them calls down from the parapet.
The Ranger stumbles slightly as the relocation pounds through her. Still, she manages to hold her arms out to her sides, well away from her weapons and showing her peaceful intentions.
"Robin of Arden. Sent by the Warden." She returns the hail, wincing at the loudness of her own voice as she lists back to center.
A dark part of her chuckles. Yep, tighter than a bug's ass. Good thing she told Daeon not to try and sneak in here.
The guards confer for a moment. "Prince Martin will want to see you." They gesture her in through the gate and two guards fall into step with her, as much guarding from her as guarding her.
Robin frowns, shades of her first meeting with Prince Martin running through her head. But then, as now, she has no intention of arguing with the Prince. And so she steps through the gate.
When the two guards step in place around her, the Ranger's frown deepens. And in the depths of her never-peaceful mind, an oil-slick glimmer of fear wonders just what kind of Amber she's 'returned' to this time.
Martin rises to greet Solange and Lucas. "Solange, Lucas. I'm glad you're here. I brought Caine and Cambina in. Caine and Bleys are securing the castle with Venesch's help, and Fiona and Merlin are dealing with the remains of the possessed victims in Paige's quarters. We all think the emergency is over, but I don't want any of us alone until I get the all-clear on both the military and the magical ends."
Cambina is examining Solange with some disapproval. "Martin, have you even let poor Solange get out of her armor?" She turns to Solange. "Would you rather walk down to your quarters while the boys here watch each other's backs, or shall I call a page to fetch a change of clothes from your quarters? I can squire you out of all that in the side room while we wait."
Solange sends a small, grateful smile in Cambina's direction.
Martin nods. "That's a good idea, Cambina. I think we're all in shock or someone else would have thought of it first. Solange, why don't you let Cambina help you, since she seems to be the only one of us with any sense right now, and Lucas and I can discuss a couple of things." He gives Lucas a rather flat look. "And when you've had a chance to change, we can call Julian and--tell him."
"Yes, sir," Solange nods, recognizing a dismissal when she see it. She glances at Cambina, then starts off for the side room.
Martin smiles at her to soften the dismissal, but she knows him well enough to see that he's worried and upset. It's the kind of expression she'd have expected to see him wear going into an ugly session of the Regency Council.
She gives him a small, encouraging smile back, then turns away.
Cambina nods at Martin and follows Solange into the side room, closing the pocket doors behind them.
Lucas lets them depart , then glances at Martin before taking the trump card and placing it down on on a table between them.
Many years ago, Lucas was trained in the protocol of one of the most exacting courts ever known - where every element of of the minutae of human life and interaction was rigidly defined and regulated - the pointless painstaking of a culture that had elevated art over substance to a preposterous degree. While peasants sweated in muck and children starved in filthy hovels, the exact positioning of a silken patch upon a powdered face could excite courtly gossip for a week, a month, a lifetime.
Since those times, Lucas has lived in many and varied cultures, with protocols and procedures ranging from the absurdly formal to the ludicrously relaxed. But breeding shows. No calling card set on a silver salver, placed with exact nicety between the opposing edges of curved fluting of the rim, could have be set with such careful exactitude as Lucas set down the trump between them, with a faint, polite smile.
"My thanks," he says. "And don't blame the boy. He was the victim of manipulation - I took shameless advantage of the fact that he is so lately come to the family that he might be motivated by human frailty such as a desire to protect the innocent. Speaking of which, I find myself in the embarrassing position of having to ask you to grant a further favour."
Martin says, "Let's finish discussing my brother first. There are two things you need to know about him right now." His eyes narrow. "First, you got lucky. I've taken his measure and I've taken yours, and if he wanted to, he could have pounded you into the dirt, Lucas. Next time, he probably will. And second, and more importantly, until the boy comes into his birthright, he's under my protection. If there is a next time, if you trifle with him again, you'll answer to me. Don't pick that fight, because you won't like what I'll do."
For all that he wears a workman's garb by choice, Martin's hands show only evidence of his noble heritage: swordsmanship and music. He takes the trump from the table and glances at it, looking back up at Lucas and smiling, a baring of the teeth that someone other than Lucas might perceive as friendly, but that Lucas can see doesn't quite make it to his eyes. "And all for a Trump that didn't even get you where you needed to go." Martin tsks as he takes his well-worn card box from a side table and slides the Trump into it. "You could have just hitched a ride with me and been inside the gates, and I could have gotten here faster, maybe in time to help save our cousin's life." The lid of the box snaps shut under his fingers.
His expression relaxes a little. "Now, what was that favor you needed to ask me, Lucas?"
"I need my mother's trump," says Lucas. "I'm taking the children to Paris."
He reaches into his jacket and withdraws his cigarette case, flicking it open with a practised fingernail (he keeps it slightly long - probably for no other purpose). He offers it to Martin before taking one himself and lighting it.
Martin, unusually, shakes his head, once.
"I want them in a place where ascertaining their safety figures higher than about Number 35 on the Urgent Questions to be Asked in a Crisis list - slightly behind 'Do we get any dinner tonight?' and just ahead of 'Has someone checked the horses?' My mother will have them rather higher on her list, probably straight after 'Is my hair all right?' and that, for Maman, is high priority.
"Xanadu may well be their eventual home - but for the next few years it's going to be a building site. Including the house I'm proposing to build for my family. I thought about a Shadow home as a temporary measure - but this has shown me - that won't be good enough. They need to be at a centre of reality. Protected. As does Solace.
"As you have so forcefully pointed out, I'm no warrior. No sorceror either. And you appear to have those options admirably covered here - Caine, Bleys and Venesch. Cambina and Merlin. My skills lie in talking. Someone needs to take the news to Corwin and discuss the implications with him. Paris intersects with Rebma. It might be worth finding out what lurks in its forests too - and letting Random know."
He takes a thoughtful draw on his cigarette. "There's another thing. Your brother feels a great loyalty to his other family - understandly. While they are here, and vulnerable, he will worry and be distracted from his new life. Random is hardly going to want them in Xanadu where he or Vialle could be tripping over them at every opportunity. If they - and you - agree, I can take them to Paris and see them respectably established - either in my service or in the King's. Or see them established independently if it seems to you more in keeping with their status.
"I told the boy I'd do my best to see them safe."
Martin's jaw has set. After a moment, he says, "My father and I will consider it when the time comes."
Lucas nods in acknowledgement.
[Martin] turns his attention back to the trump case, drawing a card from it. He hands the card, face down, to Lucas. [It is Flora's card, but Martin is using the correct protocol among Trump users.] "Fiona has told me the emergency is over, so there's no need to keep you. Return the card to my father or Bleys when you're done, and they'll arrange to get it back to me. You have leave to depart."
There are a lot of things Martin isn't saying, and he's using formality to keep his anger in check.
"Thank you," says Lucas.
He does not reach for the card immediately, but watches Martin's face, his own seemingly urbane and relaxed as ever. Finally he speaks - and his voice is calm, low and - as he begins - without passion.
"Listen to me, Martin - for I would have you understand exactly what is at stake here."
Martin cuts him off, sharply. "Lucas, you're at six feet. Stop digging." He starts to say something else, but then his expression changes and his eyes are looking beyond Lucas. "Who is it?" He holds his hand up to Lucas to signal that he's no longer entirely in the room.
"No, Dad, but there's not going to be a better one. Looks like it's all over."
[pause]
"I've got Caine and Bleys for that. Who's wounded? Brita, Conner, Paige, the kids? Solange told me about Adonis."
[pause]
"No. Lucas is removing his children to Paris." Lucas and whoever is on the other end--presumably Random--can hear the anger in his tone about that. "Everyone else can wait, I think."
[pause]
"I don't know yet. I haven't got a final on what happened yet to address them."
[pause]
"Solange. She was a witness. She said she tried to get through to him, but he wasn't answering. As soon as she's out of her armor, we'll probably try again. You stay there. There's nothing you can do now and it's not safe here."
[pause]
"Don't f**king argue with me; I have my cousins for that."
[pause]
"Not on my end."
[Possible handing through of people here]
"I'll see if I can shake free, or send someone. Be safe, Dad."
[pause]
"Will do, Dad."
Martin's eyes come back into focus on the receiving room again.
[Lucas may have left during this conversation, and other people may have joined him, so I'm waiting to see whether there's anyone to respond to.]
Lucas, having been dismissed, has left, taking the trump with him.
"Let me help you out of the armor. Or do you want to sit? Martin told me about Adonis," Cambina says, and waits to take her cues from Solange's response.
"That's all right, I'll stand," Solange says, starting to pull at the nearest buckle. "I assume, since Adonis named the entity 'grandmother,' that this all has something to do with the Arcadia situation, but I have to confess that I don't really understand what happened. Do you know any more?"
"I know a lot of details, but not enough to make sense of what happened. Apparently there's some internal power struggle between Adonis' maternal relations, who inhabit some of the shadows near Arden. They're apparently related to us too, through Finndo, so there's real power in them, and magic we don't understand. That must be how 'grandmother' possessed Adonis and the others."
As she speaks, Cambina moves to the door and pulls the bellpull. A moment later, a page comes to the door, and Cambina gives him quiet instructions, then closes the door behind him. "There, I've asked for a change of clothes for you."
"Thank you."
She starts back toward Solange, ready to assist with some of the more difficult buckles.
From the other room, Solange can hear Lucas and Martin. They're not yelling, and she can't make out what they're saying, but what she can determine about the tone suggests that neither man is happy.
[OOC: Solange will recall that Julian closed Arden, but that she is exempt from the closure, as conveyed by Robin after the coronation]
Solange hopes fervently that they work it all out. But there's nothing she can do about it here and now. She turns her attention back to Cambina.
"Any idea why Adonis would choose to commit suicide?" she asks. "I'm particularly puzzled about that part of it."
Cambina shakes her head. Her expression is troubled. "I wasn't present when he tore open the wound Aisling had healed in Heather Vale, either, but I heard about it afterwards. I'm puzzled by most of what I've learned about Adonis."
[OOC: as related in the last item in this log for which Solange was present]
Solange sighs and tosses a gauntlet onto the floor. "I was there at Heather Vale. 'Twas strange, his behavior, bordering on disturbing. Certainly disturbed Aisling, who was only trying to help."
At the mention of Aisling's name, Cambina frowns a little, but she doesn't add anything.
She's silent after that and busies herself with helping Cambina remove the rest of her armor.
A few minutes later, there's a knock on the door, and Cambina goes to answer it. She comes back with a dress in the Amber style from Solange's wardrobe, together with accoutrements and accessories. "Now that you've cut your hair as short as mine, I guess you won't be needing these ribbons," Cambina says with a grin, and puts them down.
Dressing is quick, especially with Cambina to help her. The Amber dress feels strange after so long in comfortable Shadow clothes, but Solange hasn't forgotten how to move around. She does notice Cambina's divided skirts, not for the first time, and recalls how scandalous they were when she first came to Amber to live with Aunt Felicity.
[If Solange goes into the other room, Cambina will follow. If she trumps Julian, Cambina will fetch Martin. Otherwise, I'll play it by ear.]
Traveling and living in shadow has certainly changed her ideas about all number of things, clothes not least of all.
On the other hand, it's rather nostalgic to be wearing skirts again.
"Thank you again for your help," she says to Cambina, and gives her a quick hug.
Cambina returns the embrace and smiles at Solange. "You're welcome."
Then, almost reluctantly, Solange turns toward the door. "Shall we go back?" she asks.
The voices in the other room are different. Martin's, still recognizably tense and unhappy, and another man whose tones are familiar but Solange can't immediately place. "That's Brennan," Cambina says, and her face lights up as she goes to open the pocket door.
Brennan steps through into a receiving room in Castle Amber. He and Martin are alone in the room.
Martin is winding down his conversation with Random: "I'll see if I can shake free, or send someone. Be safe, Dad."
Brennan waits patiently, observing some bit of minutia in the room until Martin is finished.
[pause]
"Will do, Dad."
Martin's eyes come back into focus on the receiving room again. "Lucas--" he begins, but then he sees that they're alone, and shrugs, his jaw set in frustration. He turns back to Brennan. "Was my brother with you? How is he?"
It is evident from the tilt of Brennan's head that he regards this as an odd question, but he answers it anyway. "He was, and he was fine--"
Martin looks relieved and murmurs something about "Folly cleaning him up" half under his breath.
"--about as eager to Walk and jump in with aid as your father was to ignore the idea. I hope I didn't step on any toes, but I offered to squire the young man. If things are going to stay dangerous, the sensible thing to do is keep you two separate until he can handle himself."
Martin nods, once, although it's not clear what he's agreeing with. From his expression, it's probably not the part about stepping on toes.
He lets out a breath, and scratches his beard, giving Martin a chance to respond, then continues, "I was there when the rest of the Redheads came through to Gerard. All still breathing, but Brita's burned up pretty badly. What do I need to know to start helping? Are Bleys and Fi here?"
"We think it's all over but the shouting. Was before I got here, really." Martin scowls about that. "Fiona and Merlin are checking over the site where it all happened. Caine and Bleys are conferring with Venesch about the defense of the Castle. Cambina is in the side chamber helping Solange disarm." Martin gestures at a pocket door on one side of the room, which is closed. "She was there and saw the whole thing. And Lucas--" Martin's voice goes slightly flat "--is somewhere around after leaving while I was talking to Dad. Probably packing the kids up to send them to Paris."
Brennan starts: "What? Cambina was here when it happened?"
"No, no. I called her and Caine after I got here. They were still in Xanadu; they went down to the town while we were sparring." He takes a long look at Brennan. "Did Gerard pick all the bits of that sword out of you, or should I send for a physician?"
"Lucas got most, if not all of it," he says. "Gerard was admiring the Lucasian handiwork when Brita and the rest rode in on a Trump."
Also, now that he's back in Amber, Brennan either conjures a damn set of clothing or has a servant fetch some at the earliest possible opportunity. Starting with some shoes.
There's a bellpull for fetching servants. In Castle Amber, there are always servants to see to the royal family's needs.
The bellpull is duly employed.
A servant arrives and Brennan dispatches him to bring a change of clothes.
The pocket door that Martin indicated when he mentioned Cambina and Solange opens and Cambina steps through. She clears the door and starts to move to Brennan, looking concerned.
Regardless what clarification Martin offered on Cambina's whereabouts during the attack, he still takes a brief moment to make sure she's visually unharmed as she enters. Then there's a longer moment after he closes the distance between them in one step and holds her.
Cambina looks relieved to see him, and slides her arms around his waist, leaning into his embrace.
Solange follows Cambina, dressed now in traditional court garb, her expression somber. It turns to bemusement at seeing Brennan and not Lucas present with Martin, and seeing Brennan either shirtless or getting dressed (depending on whether he sent for clothing or conjured it).
Still in robe, waiting for the clothing to arrive, I expect.
While Brennan and Cambina renew their acquaintance after the long separation of a few hours, Martin gestures Solange to a seat. "Do you need a drink? Is there anything I can have brought for you?"
Solange declines the seat, preferring to remain standing. "I'm fine," she reassures Martin. She raises her eyebrows at him, returning the question: Are you fine?
He offers a reassuring smile, but it doesn't quite make it to his eyes. The weight of the world seems to have settled on his shoulders.
Eventually, Brennan becomes aware that Solange followed Cambina into the room. He mostly lets go of Cambina, and greets Solange. "I've already heard," he says to her. "Everyone back in Xanadu is alive and safe, if not exactly healthy."
"Good," Solange replies, letting out a breath.
Addressing the larger crowd of Martin, Solange and Cambina, he gives a concise account of what he knows, ending with: "The King agrees with stepping up the defenses of the Castle, and is thinking forward to an evacuation of some sort. I suggested laying a land path, he suggests amassing the full naval might of Amber and her allies." Brennan looks a little skeptical about the notion of moving a large fraction of a million people by sea, but doesn't dismiss it out of hand. "I think the right answer might end up being 'both', but what do I know?"
"As far as we know, no one has told Julian, Jovian, or Robin. The King is planning on the first. I'm planning on the second.... and I don't know Robin well enough to judge that situation, except that she shouldn't hear about it on the street." A bitter scowl.
Martin glances at Solange sympathetically, but doesn't say anything as Brennan rolls on.
Solange's return expression is grim.
He turns to Martin. "He's your father-- how much rein do you think he's giving us to implement this? If he's serious about a naval evacuation, say, then we probably need to Marius, too. If he's serious about militarizing the Castle and countryside-- and I think he is-- that's probably Bleys and I. And if I'm right about needing an emergency land path..." he shrugs. "Not my expertise. Yet."
"First thing we do is get our reports back from Fiona and Merlin on one hand and Bleys, Caine, and Venesch on the other," Martin says. "We should be hearing from them in a few minutes. Before we make any plans, we need to know whether this castle is defensible against whatever got Adonis. Then we start figuring out who goes and when. Once we start moving people, once word gets out about what happened here, we'll have to beg people NOT to go. How we'll bribe the ones we need to stay in the war zone is a big question."
A page arrives at this point with Brennan's gear and anything else that either Brennan or Solange requested.
Brennan also requested a lunch of starch and protein. He does not begin changing clothes just yet.
"Sending people by trump to Xanadu is another option," Solange suggests. "Yes, that's a lot of people to move, but perhaps someone like Aunt Fiona or Uncle Bleys can hold a trump open wider so more people can be marched through."
"It'd take something like a mural," Brennan muses, "And I'm not sure anyone is best served by having one of us do nothing but hold a Trump open for months on end. Nice, if someone can work the details out, though. And we definitely need some Xanadhavian handhelds."
Martin nods at that last thought. "I vote against any solution that involves repeating the army transport."
Brennan answers that with nothing more than a wry smirk. He does not at all disagree.
Then, addressing Martin's concerns: "Greed is a powerful motivator. I'm not up on the fine points of Amber law, but is there anything that implies that the ranks and priviledges of nobility here in Amber will transfer to Xanadu? Be a damn shame if most of the nobility found themselves effectively out of their cushy lifestyles." He punctuates that with a hard smile. "Make that clear, and let it be understood that there are more patents for those who serve well, and let the nobility figure out how to keep key players here. The Knights will stay, of course, and the armed forces will stay." From his tone, 'or-else' can be easily inferred.
Martin nods again and is about to add his own comments when he's interrupted.
Comes the sound of an official type knock at the door.
Cambina goes to the door and opens it.
Outside in the hall is one scowling Robin, carefully allowing herself to be watched by two of the Castle guard.
Cambina looks back at the others, and ushers Robin into the room, sending the guards on their way. Her expressions is concerned and somewhat disconcerted. Martin is standing with his hand on the back of a chair, dressed as formally as Robin has ever seen him except for the coronation and the masquerade. He looks like he'd like to get out of those itchy clothes, and his expression is grim.
Solange and Brennan are also present. There's a generous spread of cold meats, cheeses and bread on a side table. Someone has been digging into it.
[descriptions of the rest of you are in order, too]
Solange is dressed in court attire. Her hair is shorter than Robin remembers, closer to Robin's own length. She closes her eyes when she sees Robin, taking a few seconds to compose herself.
Brennan is the one popping the second half of a ham-swiss-ham roll in his mouth when Robin enters. Rather oddly, he's dressed in a black silk robe, black and red silk pants, and has one-- but only one-- of his blades in a swordbelt buckled over the whole thing. There's a change of clothes in his colors sitting on a table behind him.
When he looks up and sees it's Robin at the door and coming in, his eyes lock on hers and he stops chewing for a long moment. Then he chews rapidly and swallows, expecting to need his mouth clear. He sends a lot of glances around the room, but without the prior context of the conversation, they might not be Robin-decipherable.
The first, to Martin: Aw, crap.
The second, to Solange: You? Me? Martin? Cambina?
What should be clear even without context, is that he's not looking forward to what comes next.
Solange's return look at Brennan is very direct: Me. I will do this.
Martin comes to greet Robin, his expression also turning concerned as he approaches. "Robin. We've been worried about you and your father. Are both of you all right?"
As the Ranger enters the room, the observant can notice that she's slightly off-balance. Literally. The girl is leaning a little as though having difficulty finding her center of gravity.
As her bright green eyes track the various looks and takes around the room, her brow furrows. Brennan and Solange, both back, and eye-talking. Has something happened to Brita? Robin's brow furrows even further. Cambina disconcerted and Martin solicitous. What's going on? Dammit! She still has a bit of a hush where her Hearing should be. So the girl guesses that she'd just better ask.
She starts to nod in response to Martin's question, then thinks better of it with a wince. "We're okay, sir, though we definitely felt it. Still a bit head-achey. And... bedazzled." Robin has trouble finding the word and waves a hand by her ear in way of demonstration. "What happened?"
Her voice is slightly louder than it strictly needs to be.
Solange cuts in before Martin can answer. She turns to Martin and says, "Sir, may I take Robin aside and explain things?" She gestures to the side room she just came from.
A momentary flicker of emotion passes over Martin's face at Solange's use of the formality, but he hold's Solange's gaze and, seeing that she is determined, he nods his assent. "If either of you need me, or if you have to contact--anyone--I'll be here," he tells Solange.
Solange nods her thanks.
His hand comes up as if to offer a reassuring touch to one or the other of the women, and ends up uselessly suspended in space.
Robin watches the currents around her, her brow furrow faltering away to a look of sheer bewilderment. Martin's aborted gesture brings a -- gentle and slow -- nod of acknowledgment. While far more 'touchy-feely' than the Prince, Robin understands and sympathizes with the limits of her more reticent kin in that regard.
Already preoccupied by the forthcoming conversation, Solange turns from Martin and looks significantly at Robin. Come with me? her expression asks.
Meeting her stranger-sister's eyes, Robin nods again. Whatever's going on, between Martin, Brennan and Cambina, this is not a good time to raise a stink. She starts moving in the general direction of the door, her pacing still a little loose-jointed and off.
Brennan realizes that he has little or no place in the conversation that's about to happen. Assuming Robin goes with Solange and passes close enough, Brennan says with a firm but surprisingly gentle touch to Robin's shoulder, what Martin had said with words.
It probably doesn't do any good, either.
Brennan's touch brings a start of surprise from Robin but then she covers his hand with her own in thanks. Green eyes meet blue ones in confused acceptance.... of whatever. With a final pat, the Ranger moves off to whatever fate seems to await her.
Cambina has a glass of whiskey that she's produced from somewhere, and she hands it to [Martin], but it doesn't quite disguise the unnaturalness of [his] gesture as he steps back and lets the two women pass him as they go to the side chamber.
As the door closes behind Robin and Solange, Cambina tells Martin reassuringly, "You did the right thing."
Martin glares balefully at his drink. "Then why do I feel like such a s**t?"
"Because shit's about all we've got, today." He rubs his temples for a long, long moment. "Something's going to have to be done about all this," he says, gesturing vaguely, and he doesn't mean evacuating, and he's not just talking about Daeon and the Dragon.
He lets out a heavy breath, at length, and then says, "I'm going back to my suite, to change my damned clothes and check my correspondance." He's not looking forward to any of what he needs to sit down and write, tonight. "Checking in with Bleys and Fi is a priority, and then the Trump Booth to tell Jovian."
They hear a squawk from the other room, undoubtedly Robin, and Martin winces.
Martin shuffles out his cards and contact Merlin briefly, then Caine. Afterwards he reports that Fiona and Merlin are scouring the room where Adonis died to ensure no influences are left, and that Venesch has the castle secured against external threats, although it will take some time to be sure that the interior of the castle is secure.
There will be a working dinner this evening. While it looks like it's all over, until Venesch sounds the all-clear, Martin would prefer that people stay together, in case there's a sleeper left. Unless Brennan objects, he'll send Cambina with Brennan, since Robin and Solange are next door, various other people will be returning soon, and he'll be needed when they speak to Julian ... unless Brennan wants to stay in case they call Jovian sooner.
[OOC: there are reasons for those choices, not least of which is that Martin doesn't have his Bleys trump.]
Last modified: 3 July 2005