The Road To Clervaux

[Where in Paris do you go from Cafe Tubulaire? Have you got a plan in mind for Furet? Are you going to investigate things further? We can go into summary if you have things planned out and want to get on with moving toward Clervaux, or we can play out more details here.]

[I'm guessing the relocation of Furet should take top priority. Once we've determined if he wants to take refuge within the castle, be relocated to another shadow, or travel with us to Clervaux, we'll move on as appropriate... Papillon seemed to indicate her concern for him might take top priority, so Reid will move with such purpose.]

[If any of the following doesn't meet with your or Reid's approval, we'll revise it]

Reid and Papillon locate Furet, who has been staying in Papillon's garret. It has been almost a month since they went missing, and he's relieved to see his sister alive.

After some discussion and planning, it becomes clear that Furet isn't interested in leaving Paris. Papillon isn't happy with this plan, but when Reid reminds her that Furet could work at Castle Paris, she agrees that that would be a reasonable (safe) compromise.

Reid is able to speak with Alice, the King's chatelaine, who finds a position for Furet in the kitchens. He'll work hard, but he'll make good money, and he'll stay on the castle grounds.

Papillon handles her own business with Nadar. Afterwards, she looks unhappy but philosophical; Reid hears that she has resigned, or been fired, depending on the identity of his informant. In either case, she is free to leave Paris with Reid, and is ready to do so.

After getting Papillon's brother is settled with employment in the castle, Reid sets off to see if Corwin is currently in residence.

Corwin is in residence, and will see Reid.

Reid is admitted to Corwin's study, where the King is busy with the mundane paperwork that keeps Paris humming. He rises to greet his nephew. "Reid," he says, smiling pleasantly. "How are you?"

"I am well," Reid replies. "I have just returned from Brita's home shadow and have recently re-established contact with Dworkin."

Corwin looks pleasantly surprised at that news.

"My local guide, Papillon, seems to believe that I may have established some new enemies here in Paris, but I'm not particularly concerned as of yet. Regardless, we'll be off soon to try to find Clerveux, the shadow my grandmother took residence in when your mother took the king's favor."

Reid's casual mention of Oberon's dismissal of Cymnea elicits a slight frown from Corwin, but he doesn't say anything.

"Before I left, though, I wanted to know if there'd been any pressing news from Amber or our kin?"

"How long has it been since you were last in contact? Has anyone told you of Random's new project? Xanadu?" Corwin asks.

"Xanadu? No. I'd figured that a new pattern might be in the works, considering what I've inferred about your own history with the Jewel. And I suppose I know the spot where he probably inscribed it... I found it when I was looking for Amber after the Sundering. But I didn't realize the deed had been done, or the realm christened already," Reid replies. "What will become of Amber? Is there a formal transition in place? Or do you think family will try to inhabit the old castle as long as the shadow lasts?"

"Random wasn't very clear on that when he and I spoke. I think he's still absorbing what he's done," Corwin replies. He seems unsurprised that Reid has put it together; perhaps he's a touch pleased.

"I imagine there will be a variety of reactions among the family. Some will go to Xanadu, others will come here, and still others will stay put. We're creatures of habit and habits die hard when you live forever." He doesn't say just like you looking for Clerveaux, but Reid suspects that's on his mind.

"What do you have in mind to do when you find Clerveaux?" Corwin asks.

"I would be curious to know what fate befell my mother and perhaps even my grandmother. It has been far too long for me to expect either to be alive, even given the change in timestream rates, but I'd still like to know what legacy they left behind. Perhaps even check for family heirlooms..."

Corwin nods.

"I'm also interested in the propagation of a particular religious sect that may have started there and since spread both here and Amber," Reid replies.

"I can't imagine it did very well in Amber," Corwin says, musingly. "Which sect? Is there anything I should know of them?"

"A group in Amber called the Paresh may have ties to an order here that follows St. Ninnian of Clervaux. There are also mentions of a St. Willibrord, perhaps from a shadow called Beveland. There were some suspicions cast at the Paresh during the regency, but I don't believe anything specific was ever pinned on them."

Corwin notes each of the names. "I'll have my people look into them, then, Reid. Is there anything else I can do for you, or any aid I can give you before you leave Paris?"

"No, I just felt it prudent to check in before leaving, as well as to thank you for your hospitality during my stay," Reid replies. "Should I encounter any family on my journey, do you have any messages you'd like me to convey?"

"None specific, but if anyone you meet wishes to visit me in Paris, my doors are open. I enjoy the visits of my relatives, particularly my nieces and nephews." Corwin smiles. Reid feels it's mostly genuine.

"If you think of anything you need before you leave, do let me know."

[Robin wants to parallel the track she and the refugee caravan made back to the clearing where she and Adonis first met. From there, she wants to follow the Chasm upstream to see if she can pick up the trail that Avid (?) found earlier. She's going to be somewhat concerned about staying concealed and quiet but more focused on making time.]

Robin approaches the clearing by the ravine, and finds it occupied by armed men. She spots the sentry first, and can tell that he's watching the path that she's not on. Robin can smell horses from where she stops. It could be a small encampment. The sentry isn't very good, but he's awake and alert, which is better than some she's seen.

The Ranger's eyes narrow as they (and her nose) take in the scene. However, she is trying to get moving finally! so she looks for her best bet to circle the possible encampment and the definite sentries to get to the other side of the clearing and Avid's old maybe-trail.

Robin is very capable of skirting the sentries and avoiding the encampment. She moves lithely and quietly around them and passes a trail leading into the forest. The horse-trail seems to have been well-travelled by iron-shod hooves. The maybe-trail is there, maybe. It trails off a bit ahead of the the part she sees, in the tell-tale way of a path that leads into shadow.

Robin could follow it. Her instinct tells her it goes into the Deep Green.

The Ranger nods to herself. As much fun as tangling with well-mounted men and alert sentries would be, it's the Deep Green for her. Robin settles her pack, makes sure her weapons are ready and within easy reach and sets off down the fading path.

If the path were a living thing, it would be a serpent, twisting and hiding in the green, and writhing in Robin's talons as she tries to grasp it. At every obstacle it would be easiest to go around and lose the trail. When Robin looks behind her the path is very clear.

She finds herself in parts of the deep green that she has long avoided, places where the trees may not follow the rhythms of life that she has grown up with, places where there is more magic than she has experienced.

The trail leads through a battlefield.

[OOC: An active battlefield with horses and archers and wildmen going at it in large numbers? Or a former battlefield with crows perching on corpses scattered through the churned up and blood-drenched mud? :) ]

[The latter. I'd've probably said 'The trail leads through a battle' and let you assume the field if it were the former. :) ]

Robin stops in the shadow of the trees just on the edge of the battlefield, her form blending into the forest around her, her green eyes narrowed in concentration, her sense strung high as she looks out over the area. Someone is definitely presenting her with a challenge, and while there's nothing that the girl enjoys more than a challenge, several people have pointedly told her to stay safe.

Humans, horses, and centaurs lie scattered on the field. The weapons and armor look primitive by Amber standards, It's hard to tell who was fighting who. The fight happened within the last day or two, Robin thinks. There are a few items that could have been made in Amber or some other city, but even that isn't sure.

The crows ignore Robin, except when she approaches one of their perches.

It strikes Robin that in the normal course of battle one side would have been victorious and at least buried their dead. It's not clear that that happened.

The Ranger blows a breath out in measuring thought. Yep, times are definitely warming up in old Arcadia. But her track leads through the carnage, so that's where she must go.

Robin gets low to the ground, practically on all fours though she is still favoring her right arm. Slowly and in an uneven pattern the Ranger eases out of the shadows and across the battlefield.

Crows. Not the most understanding of avians, even at the best of times. Still Robin makes the effort not to mess with their various territories and prizes as best as she can. And chucks and caws to them in recognition when it's unavoidable.

"Through" may be the wrong word. Onto is certainly right, and Robin sees signs that indicate that the battle went back and forth several times. It's quite possible that the group Robin was following charged onto the battlefield in a reinforcing flanking move, because things seem to pivot that way. The good news is that Breeze isn't amongst the casualties. Robin recognizes one, though: a girl named Fortune who lived near Arden in Garnath. Her father was at Wind Grove.

'Tchh,' Robin can't help the little unhappy sound that comes from her as she looks over Fortune's corpse. One gentle hand brushes the mud-encrusted hair away from Fortune's forehead and Robin closes the girl's empty eyes. Under her breath she whispers "Unicorn be with you." In the place of Prayers, Robin hopes... what? She doesn't know, never having believed in such silliness as souls or afterlives.

The Ranger looks back over the battlefield with bleak eyes and wonders how many more of Garnath's folk she's going to find out here. But she doesn't have time to bury one girl or one battlefield. Ever a Ranger, her cause is for the living, not the dead.

With quiet slinking steps, ever mindful of the crows, Robin edges toward the perimeter of the battlefield, hoping to pick up the trail of some retreating wildmen.

It is some hours later that Robin comes across a campsite. She is far enough away to see what is happening without attracting attention, but the precaution seems unnecessary, since the occupants of the camp are not watching their perimeter.

Near the fire, there are four people tied up and gagged. On the far side of the fire are two centuars. They seem to be arguing.

Robin could get close enough to listen, and maybe to look at the prisoners, if she chose to do so.

'Centaurs... tricky,' thinks the Ranger. Stronger ears than sense of smell, still pretty perceptive bunch, even when arguing. But a look at the prisoners is vital, whereas overhearing a dispute between locals is less so.

Robin concentrates on sneaking in such a way to get a good look at the prisoners without stepping on anything noisy or letting the wind carry her scent to the centaurs.

Robin isn't the only one with this idea. As she approaches, she sees three men far De'gauche, watching the camp and looking as if they are considering a charge. Unless she's wrong, one of them is Breeze. He certainly moves like the missing ranger, and he's a better woodsman than the other two. The prisoners, three women and a man, are not familiar to her.

Timing it with the centaurs words, so that her sign doesn't occur in the middle of a conversational silence, Robin raps out on a nearby tree trunk 'Breeze. Hold.' And then, quickly moves away from her position in a looping course that will bring her to the chargers.

[OOC - Are the three men across the clearing from Robin?]

[If the clearing is a clockface, then Robin is at 6, the men are at 10, and the centaurs and tied up women are in the little sunlight/moonlight picture wheel thingy at the top of face, under the 12.]

As Robin moves through the woods to meet the men, she hears a very sloppy reply come back. 'Immediate Danger, Devant mine'

[You're the uber-Ranger. You can approach before they decide what to do... :)]

The whisper of a wind, perhaps a touch of green that might be the falling of a leave, that's all Robin is as she moves through the forest at speed toward the trio of wildmen. The Ranger keeps an eye on the centaurs, just in case the argument gets decided and they start breaking the heads of their prisoners. In which case the Ranger will turn her path to the d'droit pretty darn quick.

Robin's arrival, as described, is silent and rapid. Breeze looks well, although he hasn't repaired his torn clothing. He looks puzzled to see her, as if she were a character from a recurring dream, come to life. The other two are less prepared for a sudden arrival, and one steps backwards onto a branch. The crack sounds like a gunshot to Robin, and is also clearly audible to the Centaurs. They stop arguing and turn to look at the forest where Robin and Breeze are standing.

[How does Robin react to this?]

"Shit." Robin spares the time to glare at the unfortunate wildman before hissing to Breeze, "Stay here."

Then Robin advances toward the centaurs slowly with her hands held out from her sides and away from her (visible) weapons. Her expression is one of wary respect. She's not looking for a fight right now, but she's not afraid either.

The other two don't seem to understand, but Breeze holds them back. Robin moves to the edge of the clearing. The centaur, who looks from the waist up to be a middle aged man, shouts to her. Robin thinks that if he didn't have the body of a horse, she could've mistaken him for a slightly pot-bellied blacksmith.

She doesn't understand the words that he says, but the tone is (at best) wary.

"I don't speak your language." Robin responds to the centaur's shout, her own voice carrying and sure. "I am Robin of Arden. I would parlay for the possession of your prisoners."

While keeping her hands in a neutral position, the Ranger nods toward the bound wildfolk.

They seem confused and clearly don't comprehend Robin's words. They do note that she isn't attacking and she isn't fleeing, though. They look wary and while they lower weapons, they do not put them away. They seem prone to disagreement, since it sounds like they're disagreeing again, in whatever language it is they speak. It looks like speech isn't going to work here.

The Ranger cocks her head and, with an inaudible sigh of frustration, resorts to pantomime. Her gauntleted hands gesture to the four bound prisoners, scooping them to herself and then 'walking' off into the forest in a direction carefully not back towards the battlefield or forward along the centaurs' chosen path.

The girl follows that with a gesture toward the centaurs, a wide opening of the hands and a questioning expression on her face, and then a 'galloping' gesture that follows the centaurs' previous course. She ends with a flat 'there you have it' line to her mouth.

They seem to have gotten the message, or some message. The older centaur (or the one whose human half looks older, in any case) moves between Robin and the prisoners and crosses his arm. The younger one moves to the side and gestures towards Robin and directs her away.

The centaurs do not hear the wild men moving towards the edge of the woods, but Robin does.

"Well, dung." Robin mutters. Okay, one more nice diplomatic try and then she'll do things her way. Time to see if Adonis has set her up.

The Ranger draws herself up and rests her hand casually on her sword hilt. An ironic half-smile lines her mouth and Robin becomes the Scion of Amber she is. Her father's and his father's heritage fills her being with luminous power. Her own nature tints that power green with wildness. She touches her chest with a gauntleted hand.

"Sister of Pholus. Being nice here. Don't waste it." Robin's voice is steady and confident, not so much commanding as informing.

They look at Robin, even more hesitant as she draws upon her heritage, they seem worried when she invokes the name of Pholus with her odd tongue, and they bolt like herbivores when the three wildmen rush the clearing.

The wild men whoop and start to give chase.

Robin's eyebrows go up. For some reason, she hadn't expected that to work. But what the heck.

As Breeze rushes by, Robin casually attempts to stop him (with a trip or a light clothsline maneuver if necessary) hopefully letting the other two wild men carry on forward without noticing they are a man short.

If the other two notice, they don't stop. The four prisoners sit, tied. Breeze starts to get up and follow, but Robin can stop him easily. He looks drugged, or something. He's not focusing well. He tries to speak but doesn't really seem to be able to.

He's definitely less himself than he was when you came upon him just a few moments ago.

"Huhn." Robin blows out a breath as she looks into the young man's eyes. "Well, I'm going to call that an answer to the 'did Breeze choose this' question?

"Okaaayyy." Holding on to one of Breeze's upper arms, Robin strips the gauntlet off her right hand with her teeth and reaches into her breast pocket. She pulls out the protective case that rests there next to her heart and, with a practiced flip, opens it to reveal two visages.

One, that of her cold loving father. The other... what? Well, he said to call him if she needed anything. And he was involved with this stuff, if only peripherally. Now, if he was just back from the damn no-Rangers-needed Brita hunt.

Robin places her bare thumb on the Trump of Reid and, spitting out her gauntlet, Calls to him.

Robin opens her mind, concentrates on the image of her elder cousin, and wills his presence. The card is cold under her fingers and she awaits contact...

After departing the castle in Paris, Reid returns to his loft and collects the balance of his belongings and settles his affairs with the landlord. He then goes about acquiring a small wagon and a team of two horses to draw it (and tackle and saddles, should the wagon need to be left behind); adequate provisions for the journey including a small wine barrel, a tent, lanterns and oil, etc. Among his own baggage are a handful of canvases, his sketchbooks, photo gear (and some unexposed glass plates), etc. All said, the wagon will be packed fairly tight, but its total weight shouldn't be too much burden on the beasts.

When all is secure, he collects Papillon and they start their journey through the cobblestone paved streets of Paris, winding their way through town, over bridges and past the markets until they're through the city walls. Once outside the city, Reid pulls out his flute and plays a medium-tempo melody, perhaps from a ballad that he heard once. The road is fairly straight, packed dirt replacing the stones as they leave, and the horses don't need much in the way of guidance.

After some time has passed, he starts playing variations on the theme, changing notes, adding ornamentations and omitting some notes seemingly randomly. His tempo continues to match the pace set by the horses' gait. His mind turns to his childhood--perhaps that's where the melody came from... certainly the style of his playing is taking on more characteristics of the local folk traditions of Clervaux. His tune brings him back. He stops playing and closes his eyes for a moment to recall the field where his painting teacher once gave a lecture on color theory. "The mixing of paints can produce almost any color, if done carefully." Reid remembers how he had made color mistakes often back then, until he really got a grasp for the subtleties of color. He opens his eyes again and looks at the vegetation that sides the road. //That flower needs a bit more raw sienna... and that grass, if it were a little thicker and had a daub of aquamarine added to it, might look more right.// As he does the color corrections slowly in his mind, the landscape around them starts to follow his intent. He continues on the trees, the sky and the clouds, ending with the color of the sunset at their backs.

As the last rays of light leave them, they top a hill and see a clearing below with a soft running brook that looks like it would make an ideal camp spot for the night.

There is a small loop which provides a place to effectively corral the horses, fresh running water with fish swimming by, and a sheltered site where the tent can, if needed be put up. There is dry wood and kindling at the edge of the clearing, and a rather spectacular pink sky behind them. The only sign of inhabitants are the road that Reid has just quitted and a field across the brook that has row after row of small white stones in it. There is a cooling breeze from the river, and the grass smells of early springtime.

Papillon and Reid make camp. It turns out that she is reasonably good with horses, although she's not much of a rider. She had a grandmother in the country, she explains. The evening meal is quickly prepared, pleasantly consumed, and the remains policed. Reid and Papillon spend a quiet evening and go to sleep.

The moon is high overhead when Reid is awakend by a rhythmic scraping sound from across the brook.

Reid gently nudges Papillon awake and indicates that she should remain quiet and move under the wagon. He slips on his boots, grabs his sword and covertly sets off to investigate.

Reid finds a low crossing and slips across the brook and back towards the spot across from his camp. As he circles back towards it, he sees two men working by a hooded lantern. They seem to be digging at the base of one of the stones. They are wearing dark clothes and there is a wagon with a horse nearby. They've already dug up at least one of the stones, considering the size of the dirt pile near them.

Reid tries to edge his way around out of the pool of the lantern's light, towards the wagon with the intent of inspecting its contents.

Corpses. Two. The stones seem to be headstones, laid out in rows. Reid cannot tell of they are the bodies of men or women, but they are placed neatly on the wagon. The grave robbers seem to want the bodies as well as the valuables.

They haven't noticed Reid. Yet.

Having no personal issues with grave robbing--his aforementioned flute being made from his father's legbone--Reid decides to let the robbers be and quietly tries to return to camp.

If successful, he'll keep watch to make sure the men don't come their way, but he's not looking for confrontation just yet.

Both of these work. Papillon wants to know what's going on.

Reid explains the situation as well as his reluctance to get involved. "These aren't my lands, they're not my people. I owe them no protection."

After a while, the men leave. Papillon is not interested in further sleep and decides to sit up in the wagon until sunrise.

As Reid is preparing to get back on the road the next morning, he hears hoofbeats from the road behind them. A single rider is coming down the hill towards them. "Hey, you! What are you doing there?," she calls out as her horse navigates down towards the wagon.

Before he can react, Reid feels the familiar, compelling stirring that indicates that someone is calling via his trump. The call seems to come from a far distance, perhaps from the far side of Ygg.

"Timing." Reid mutters. "Papillon, can you deal with her? The cards are calling me."

Reid focuses on the pulling, somewhat marveling at the idea that this could be a long distance connection. someone strong he thinks.

/Who calls?/ Reid answers, sitting on the front board of a wagon alongside a female companion. It is early morning, and Robin can sense the chill and dew in the air.

"It's Robin." The Ranger stands at the edge of a great primal forest that is not quite Arden, though the scents and whispers of life are vibrant enough that she must be close. The sunlight of an early autumn afternoon tints her features with gold and green. She is blinking a little uncertainly, obviously unfamiliar with Trump use. And her right shoulder is moving slightly as though she were holding onto something wriggling with an iron grip.

"Are you in..." she takes in the scene and corrects herself, "near Amber?"

"No, we're a day out from Paris on our way to a shadow of my youth." He seems pleased by his play on words. "What can I do for you?"

Reid hears Papillon speaking to the horseman.

"Hunh." Robin blows out a breath in thought.

"Would you be able to get...
someone," says Robin's professional voice
/nephew,/ says Robin's wondering mind
'mine,' says Robin's Ranger heart
... to Amber pronto? As a compromised friendly?"

"You might want to pin a note to his jacket so they know what to do with him when he arrives, but yes, I can get him there," Reid replies with confidence.

'Writing?!' Robin thinks with a fine mix of frustration and distaste.

"I don't have time," she temporizes on the inside, while she's all professional on the outside. "If you could ask your receiver to get him to Couth, that should do. Thank you, Reid." The Ranger finishes with a smile.

"No receiver in Amber. I'm dropping him off in the front hallway where he'll likely be apprehended by the guards, if they're paying any attention. Hope he's good under interrogation." Reid smiles to himself as he recalls his last interrogation in the castle and wonders how Venesch's methods might differ from his own. Perhaps they should spend some time together when Reid is in Amber again.

"Uhhhh, he's kind of active. You ready?"

"When you are." Reid replies, ready to receive.

'Okay,' she thinks, 'Just like to Dad.'

And drags the wriggling and wild-eyed Breeze into frame by his upper arm, which she then pushes toward to the Reid in her mind's-eye.

Reid gets the struggling young Ranger by the upper arm and takes him from Robin. He is neither here nor there, although Reid suspects that if he let go of the man he'd fall into one place or the other.

Reid (but not Robin) can hear the following conversation between Papillon and someone.

"Funny, my Lord? No, he is ill, and his medication makes him like that. He thinks he is talking to someone. I'm taking him to Bedlam Hospital, my Lord. They'll take care of him. It shouldn't be catching, my Lord. I think the illness runs in his family."

/oh, joy./ thinks Reid. /Time to play mentally unstable and pull a person through./

Reid rocks back and forth on the seat of the wagon for a moment before pitching himself backwards into the wagon itself. Under cover of the canvas, he brings through the ranger, and tries to cover the ranger's mouth with one hand while listening for the reaction from outside.

'Huhn.' Robin blows a non-plussed breath out as Reid goes into his rocking instability act, but doesn't try to interfere.

Breeze starts to struggle, and Reid bangs his head against the side of the wagon as Breeze tries to push him away. For a moment, Reid sees stars, and the trump contact slips away. But Reid is strong and a scion of the blood, and he is able to overcome Breeze and keep him from crying out.

Outside, Papillon says, "No, my lord, we're not carrying any cargo. But you're welcome to look if you need to."

Reid quickly pulls out his trump of his trump of the great hall of Castle Amber, with one hand while keeping the other over Breeze's mouth. He attempts to open a connection and shove the ranger through before the voices outside peer in.

Breeze is easier to shove than Reid would have expected and, as the connection fades, Reid sees the ranger stumble. Breeze doesn't quite hit the paving stones before the vision fades.

Reid turns and sees Papillon talking to a man on horseback, lightly armored and armed. He has a heraldic device on his cloak, a hunting horn suspended on a chain.

"You're lucky you weren't murdered and robbed in your sleep, camping here. What's in the wagon?" He rides closer and he should soon be in position to look into the back himself and investigate.

"Did ya see dat, m'lord?" cries Reid from within the wagon, rubbing his head. "Some ruffian accosted me in me own parlour! Banged me up good. But you show'd em, didn't ya? Heard your voice an he just plain vanished, he did." Reid struggles to untangle himself from their cargo for a moment. He holds up a wooden camera tripod leg. "And what for? Fish, I tell ya. Cod. The bugger wanted me fish. But you showed 'im, sir, yes ye did. Bet he's a running now, sir. But if you're the constablatory, maybe you should track 'im down, just to be on the safe side. No point 'in letting a fish thief roam free under your watch now, is there, sir?"

The rider looks at Reid, but does not address him. He turns to the girl. "You haven't seen any strange activity around here, have you?"

"No, my Lord. None other than that as I brought with me."

He nods, and pulls back from the wagon, and Reid. "I don't want to see you in these parts tomorrow, understand?"

Papillon nods.

And, [unless Reid says something that stops him], he rides back to the hilltop and turns to watch them pack and leave.

Reid helps with the final preparation for departure, but does so in a manner that would not seem skilled or competent. Once they are ready, they get in the wagon and go on their way. Once they are fully out of range, Reid becomes himself again. "Well played," he tells Papillion, smiling. "Sorry we had to improvise like that. The timing could have been better, but family IS family... Anyway, your story was good." He is quite pleased.

"Thank you," she says, blushing. "I suppose it's nice to be appreciated for my talent of bullsh1tting authority figures."