Not sure how the timing will work out here with Hannah's patternwalk, but if Solange can't find Random in ten or fifteen minutes of looking in expected places, she trump him.
After ten or fifteen minutes of looking in expected places, Solange trumps Random.
Random answers almost immediately. "Who is it?," the King responds, in what would be described as a sing-song tone if only he'd spoken aloud.
"It's Solange. I planned to head back to Amber this morning to take care of some unfinished business. Is there any reason I need to stay here instead?"
"The minty-fresh new-castle smell?"
Solange smiles. "I can get that in a can for you, if you wish."
"No, not really, unless your father needs you. But it's not morning in Amber anymore."
"That's all right, I'll make do. So you know what the time differential is?"
"Not exactly, it's variable, although the rate of change is increasing. Fi or Bleys can give you the equations if you catch them in the right mood. I'd guess it's still between 1 and 2 to 1.
Solange tucks that information away in a tidy corner of her mind.
"Oh, and please be discreet with news of "the new replacement castle we're all moving to". Not everyone outside of the family knows, yet."
"Yes, sir. By the way, have you seen Hannah?" Solange asks, not having found her either when she was looking for Random.
"Dark-haired girl, barefoot? Doesn't drink? Yep. She's coming up on the second veil."
Solange blinks.
"Excuse me? She's walking the Pattern? I guess that means I won't have the opportunity to talk to her this morning," she smiles wryly. "If she's at the second veil, then it sounds like she's doing well. Go, Hannah!"
There's a strong desire running through Solange's thoughts to ask to come through and watch, to show support. It's followed by a realization that this wasn't publicly announced, implying that Hannah wanted to avoid the fanfare associated with Lilly's walk. A private matter, then.
Random is there--he'll take care of her. And matters in Amber call.
"Will you pass along my congratulations when she's done?" she asks Random, positive that Hannah will finish. "I'm going to trump back to Amber now."
"Right-o."
Solange closes the contact and puts Random's trump back where it belongs as she pulls out the place trump for Amber. She picks up her overnight bag, activates the trump, and steps through.
Lucas heads to coffee with something of the determination of a well-organised lemming heading for a cliff almost as soon as he opens his eyes. Well, he does pause first of all to shower, shave and adorn himself in green combat pants and a matching tee-shirt, relaxed and perfectly styled. But then he's off to the kitchens and coffee.
He finds coffee, and servants, and instructs that they are to prepare a breakfast tray for Solace - milky coffee, croissants, orange juice - and a single white rose in a glass. To be ready as soon as she awakens.
Then he goes in search of Gerard. He wants to talk to him without Solace being present.
Gerard has been in the kitchen and the servants, such as they are, send Lucas on Gerard's trail. Lucas finds his uncle in one of the many sitting rooms in the castle, enjoying a book. "Lucas," he says as his nephew comes in. "What can I do for you?"
"It's Solace," says Lucas with a directness that is, perhaps, a little unusual for him, but it might be something he knows (from his years in the Regency) that Gerard appreciates. "I returned to Amber briefly last night in order to begin to set things in train for our removal ... and I found her more than usually frail. I believe she has been hiding the extent of her weakness from me. I brought her back with me - I believe that being closer to a centre of reality might aid her. But above all, I want you to examine her.
"I left her sleeping," he adds. "It's a rare morning she can sleep in without the children rousing her."
"Rest will do her good," Gerard agrees. "Especially if she's been keeping things to herself. She doesn't want to trouble you, Lucas. She adores you and her mother's given her some definite ideas about how to be a good wife."
Lucas nods. It is one area in which he is wholly in agreement with Lady Vesper - her training has admirably prepared Solace to be the devoted wife and mother Lucas wants, if he is to have a wife at all. And having acquired one, he thinks, on the whole, he would prefer not to lose such an asset. To have a quietly popular and determined advocate on the distaff side is no bad thing.
"Then you will examine her, Sir?" he asks. "I would prefer someone who is more habituated to our peculiarities than our new cousin Hannah, which is not meant to disparage her skills."
Gerard nods at Lucas. "I'll take a look at the lass later today. Tell me what happened that made you suspicious and the symptoms you saw, so I can take the measure of them when I see her."
"It was when I returned to Amber last night," says Lucas. "I found that - in my absence - she was using a stick to get around ... "
He describes, in some careful detail the signs of weakness he observed in Solace, both in her movements, and in her physical appearance.
"I think," he says thoughtfully, "that the shock of finding her using a stick actually made me appraise her infirmities anew. I have been used to her being generally frail - this made me step back and look at it with a fresh eye. And ... I don't like what I'm seeing, Uncle."
"I don't like the sound of that either, lad." Gerard frowns. "We spoke a bit of the risks when Solace was pregnant with Philippe and we had a bit of a scare with her and you brought in the midwife. I didn't say then that my own mother died in bearing my sister. You and Solace must be very careful that she not become pregnant again, Lucas."
Gerard sounds very, very serious.
Lucas nods. "Your instructions have been noted, Sir. They were at the time of my wife's last pregnancy, and nothing since has occurred to make me relax my vigilance.
"In a way ... the fact that we have been so careful heightens my concerns now."
"Aye. And here, you have less power to ensure that Solace doesn't get with child. I assume ye know of other precautions beside the one native to our family, but if ye need any instruction in that regard, I can offer some opinions."
"There are a range," says Lucas. "If Solace is unable to bear further children, no matter who the father, which seems likely, then sterilisation is certainly an option we should consider. After all, she is unlikely to regenerate. The choice would be hers, of course, but it might be worth taking up residence in a Shadow more open to some of those options, so that she can make up her own mind as to the way forward without being constrained by the somewhat limited options available to her in Amber."
"Talk to Solange, if you get a chance. She has been travelling in Shadows with advanced medical techniques and may have some insights to offer," Gerard suggests.
Lucas nods. "An excellent notion, Sir. I thank you."
"As for power to ensure she doesn't get with child ... I have that power here, as I have it anywhere. I can abstain from congress with my wife and seek my pleasures elsewhere."
"Reports of the town make it not so likely a place to find them yet. But that's within our power to amend."
Lucas nods. If he has plans in that direction, he chooses not to elaborate on them.
Gerard considers for a moment. "I don't suppose we have any better angle on what caused her fainting spells yet."
"No," says Lucas. "Other than that it might well have been an attempted trump contact. But I continue to pursue my enquiries. Do you have any thoughts on the matter, Sir?"
"Attempted trump contact?" Gerard asks, surprised. "But who would want to speak to her? Who could have made a card of her without her knowing? You need to tell the King about that, Lucas. After what happened to Martin, he'll take that to heart."
"It was Brita who gave me the clue of it," said Lucas. "Apparently, she made a trump of her father and tried to contact him. The result was very similar to what happened to Solace. As for wishing to speak to her ... I don't know. I am, however, concerned that it might be a ploy to get at my children. The more I learn, the more concerned I become that they bear the doubled Amber heritage.
"But - for the moment - Solace is my primary concern."
"I'd think so, for the nonce at least, since she's the one people may be sending a trump attack against. We've not so many experts with the cards, and most of them are travelling: Reid and Ossian I know, and Paige and Brita in Amber. Or you might want to speak to Bleys or Fiona about it; I don't know if they can make them, but they know so much about everything that asking them canna hurt."
After a moment he adds, "There's no reason now for them to have any grudge against Eric's getting, if that is what you think the cause of anyone's grievance against her. And I canna guess why anyone might bear a grudge otherwise."
"Nor I," says Lucas. "I'll look to it, Sir. And my thanks for your help."
"You're welcome," Gerard answers.
The morning after Lilly's Patternwalk finds Brennan rising comparatively late. Later than he otherwise might, even though this is not strictly a vacation, but not as late as he'd really like to stay in... because this is, after all, not strictly a vacation. After finding himself a small (for Brennan) breakfast, he goes off in search of whatever grounds will serve as a sparring area for Martin.
He starts the search working out from first principles where such a place would be in Xanadu, and the fancy crosses his mind that, the way Xanadu still seems to be filling itself out, that the place might not strictly exist until he locates it, if Brennan is the first one to find it. The idea is compelling enough that Brennan considers the idea in more detail as he walks, working out how he might go about proving the idea true or false before Xanadu is as filled in as Amber was.
There are a few places that would be good sparring grounds. Brennan can choose from the balcony overlooking the waterfall, a practice grounds the guards have been using next to the lake, a training grounds near the armory, or the grand hall. There are also other rooms equally well sized for it, but those four are the most likely spots.
The balcony over the waterfall is rejected out of hand as being exactly the sort of place Random would want to hold a duel. The grand hall is rejected on the grounds that it is inappropriate. The practice grounds almost makes the cut, because it would at least be used for its purpose.
But when he see the training grounds near the armory, Brennan settles on that. This will, after all, be an exposition for the benefit of young Prince Garrett, to show him how he'll be expected to perform and give him an idea of how long the road is... once he's trained.
If Martin isn't already there, then by the time he is, he will find Brennan wearing only a pair of black and red silk pants, alternately limbering up his muscles and inspecting the quality of the weapons nearby.
The door opens and Bleys looks in. "Good, we're not late. We've sent for breakfast." He looks around, surveying the training grounds.
Brennan lets the air out of his lungs in what would pass for a sigh, if Bleys and his inevitable entourage were close enough to read it that way. Either Martin saw fit to publicize the whole affair, or Bleys has a... preternatural awareness of events here in Xanadu. Against his first instincts, he does not attempt a working to turn Bleys' statement into a falsehood.
"No, you're not late, Uncle. Ladies."
Celina looks past Lilly and Bleys and she reaches the doorway, careful of entering the war room casually. Once inside, she is less tentative, nodding to Brennan with a wide smile. "Morning, cousin Brennan. I wish you success this morning with your ...hawk or handsaw."
The Seaward cousin's eyes trace the fine lines of Brennan's stance.
Lilly simply offers Brennan a slight nod. The first thing he should note about her is the absence of her sword. Evidently she had not reclaimed it. She is still wearing the simply metal ring she had placed on her finger just before stepping onto the pattern. Her demeanor suggests the pattern had no ill effects on her. Or if it did, they were not physical.
As she wanders in, she moves towards the weapons on display giving each a thorough look. She had not taken the time to do that the first time she was here. "I should try to return home. It looks as if we could use a few more quality pieces for sparring," she says to no one in particular.
Bleys nods. "Nothing to write about here, no. Still, we may not wish to rush the millenial accretions that made the old-rockpile so charming. This new rockpile should rightly accumulate its own accumulata."
Gently Lilly runs her hand across the hilt of one of the practice swords. Her mind is far away, lost in another time and place. For a moment she is a little girl once again being brought into a salle for the first time. The wonder of it all came rushing back. Once again she can see Mallet's face, smiling down at her, his pride evident. That was the home of which she spoke.
"I quite agree," she whispers to her Uncle. She did not want the artifacts of Amber either. Her goal now becomes clear. Return to the Tecys. See if it still stands. Reclaim a few of the treasures of her youth. Bring them here. Create a new home.
[Bleys's] words seem right and have poetry that flows welcome on Celina's ear. But her eyes are quickly not for Bleys, Lilly, or the gleaming blades they assess. Celina steps across a secret line partitioning the room into two portions: she leaves the side of weapons and history to adventure the side of men who exude mystery.
Celina draws close enough to scent Brennan.
Brennan smells of the sweat of his warm-up, which he continues, and faintly of a contented woman not present.
Celina sighs and twitches her nose.
Bleys watches the sniffing of Brennan with barely-suppressed amusement. He doesn't say anything, but the waggle of his eyebrows to his nephew speaks volumes.
A moment later, Martin strides in. His shaggy blond hair is damp and his dress seems more haphazard than usual. He's wearing the blade he had yesterday, the one he used to knight their cousins.
"Sorry I'm late," Martin says to Brennan, not bothering to offer the obvious excuse that they didn't set a meeting place. He looks over the audience and his eyebrows rise and fall as he looks at Bleys. Then he shrugs and turns back to Brennan.
Brennan waves off the apology-- he has not been waiting long, nor does he consider Martin to be late. "Forget about it." But when Martin sees Bleys, Brennan just shrugs-- he didn't invite him. Or anyone else, actually. There's the hint of a glimmer in his eye, though, the germ of an idea not quite finished growing.
"So. Rules?"
"Nothing that requires stitches, please. I assume we don't need practice blades?" Martin kicks off one untied tennis shoe and eases the other one off with his sock-foot.
Brennan nods-- practice blades won't be necessary. He does lean in and whisper something conspiratorial into Martin's ear, though, and waits for the response.
Martin grins and nods, once, offering Brennan a thumbs-up gesture.
Celina eases to a neutral corner studying the other four. She leans to and then slides down the wall a bit, reaching a natural 'chair' position.
Garrett arrives shortly after Martin. He stops in the doorway and inventories the occupants of the room so he can adapt his responses accordingly. A little smile brightens his face as he spies one occupant in particular, there by the swords. He does not cross the open floor, but walks along the wall, glancing at Brennan and Martin to see if they've started yet. He smiles and nods to Celina as he passes.
As he nears Lilly, Garrett holds her sword more formally and says quietly to keep his voice from carrying, "Good morning, Dame Lilly. I believe this belongs to you." His lop-sided grin belies the formality of his words, however.
She gives him something of a formal bow but her eyes spark with unmistakable joy. "Thank you," she responds softly. "For everything." As she reaches for the sword, Garrett can see she is wearing the ring of strength on her left hand. She allows that hand to gently brush Garrett's as she removes the sword from his grasp.
"You did it, not me," he replies modestly, giving her hand a quick squeeze when she brushes his. "I'm just glad you're all right." He nods at the sword. "That was thanks enough."
Once the sword is in her possession, she immediately and deftly fastens it about her waist. She draws the blade, in a completely non threatening way and gives it a quick inspection. Judging from her smile, Garrett did a fine job polishing it. Sheathing it, she looks up at Garrett once more, her smile bright. "It felt quite odd not having it at my side. I've grown quite accustomed to it's presence. All the same, it was probably better to not have it with me during the walk."
"I'd like to hear about it later, after the show," Garrett says as he nods toward the combatants. He turns toward the edge of the open floor and looks back inquiringly, inviting her to join him ringside.
Lilly moves to take a place beside. "We will talk when the time is right. I promise." The right time may come in a matter of hours, or it might take years. She gives no indication of which. In her heart she knows the full conversation will have to wait until after his own walk.
Folly slips into the room in a rustle of soft velvet. She takes a quick accounting of those present and then moves with purpose along the edge of the room to the corner where Celina has perched. With a warm smile, Folly slides to a comfortable crouch a few feet away.
"Excellent view," she says, and gives her Seaward cousin a wide smile of sparkle-eyed mirth.
"Quite." Celina grins back.
While the others chat, Martin finishes doffing socks and high-tops. He also loses his flannel overshirt. The resulting bundle finds its way into a corner, out of the way of the combatants.
If it chances that Lilly is actually paying attention to Martin and Brennan, she notes that Martin uses a number of the same stretching exercises her father taught her.
And indeed, Celina watches Garrett and Lilly make their observations of the pair of gentlemen.
When Martin is ready, Brennan is ready; since they both know what they're about, they probably don't need anyone officiating, although if Martin wants that, Brennan won't stand in the way of it.
Martin doesn't suggest officiating. It doesn't seem to occur to him.
Regardless, once they start, Brennan starts out neither slow, nor remotely unserious about the affair-- one is never unserious when sharp metal blades are involved-- but not pressing for an immediate victory. There are multiple reasons for that: First, Brennan doesn't get a chance to work out with someone roughly at his skill level very often. Second, this is an exhibition at least partly for Garrett's benefit, and the lad needs to see the difference between fencing to fence, and fencing to win. Fencing to kill will be a later lesson. Third, when they do eventually send those non-verbal signals to each other that exhibition time is over, then Brennan will know a bit of Martin's style... although that works both ways.
(And of course, if Martin is pressing for a quick bout, all that goes out the window...!)
(He's not)
For now, Brennan uses the natural advantages of his body and his style over Martin's-- he has longer arms and longer legs due to his height, and Brennan uses two weapons. He moves quickly but efficiently, and does his best to use the smallest motions necessary to provoke the greatest exertion from Martin, keeping his blade as busy as it can be. They both know what natural advantages Martin and his style have over Brennan... what remains is to see How Martin uses them.
Martin isn't as fast or as strong as Brennan, but his technique is superior. He leverages every advantage he has and a few Brennan didn't expect him to have. His bladework isn't flashy or particularly pretty--efficient is a good word for it--but it gets the job done. The other clear advantage Martin has is tirelessness. Brennan thinks Martin could keep this up for hours, if not days, without breaking a sweat.
Lilly recognizes some, but not all, of Martin's techniques as things she's seen her father do.
As this is Celina's first chance to get a good look at fighting above the waves, she just goes into a learning trance, pushing away her own concerns in order to see the pattern of TaKhi of the two professionals.
Folly is similarly rapt, watching the two men, trying to read them and their tells and predict the outcomes of their strategies.
Garrett watches the bout intently from the sidelines, often mimicking moves that he'd like to learn. Occasionally, he leans over and asks Lilly questions without taking his eyes off Martin and Brennan. Anyone watching could tell by the pointing and hand gestures that his questions are all business.
She answers each patiently. It is clear she is extremely well studied. When he is not asking direct questions, she provides a sort of running commentary. She has both praise and criticism for each. Nothing about her speech or manner suggests she has a favorite. Her analysis is purely intellectual. In situations such as this, Lilly seems to channel her father.
The match varies in intensity, ranging from desultory to so fast that only the natural talents of Oberon's line allows the observers to follow the action. There are occasional breaks for water, or for one or the other to discuss some technical point. Neither man shows signs of fatigue.
During one such break, when it has been established that neither Martin nor Brennan has a significant advantage, Bleys speaks up. He has been watching the bout intently and with uncharacteristic silence. He shakes his head with mock sorrow. "You lads disappoint me. I had hoped to duel the winner, but since you seem to be evenly matched, I suppose I will simply have to challenge you both."
Lilly's eyes sparkle. She allows herself the hint of a smile. Getting a chance to gauge her Uncle's skills is truly an unexpected pleasure. "Watch and learn, Garrett. This should get interesting," she says quietly. Without thought, her hand finds the hilt of her blade. She wonders vaguely if her cousins will need her support. She hopes they do not. It would be nice to believe Martin and Brennan working in conjunction can defeat Bleys easily.
Garrett can barely contain his anticipation. Lilly didn't have to say a word. Prince Bleys was a legend to young boys in the Quarters. On many a hot summer day, Garrett and his childhood friends had battled their way up the mountain, just as Bleys and Corwin had on the Stairs, though their swords were sticks and the fallen guards kept getting back in line.
Bleys' bravado prompts a slight head tilt from Celina: she blinks. Two fingers slide upward to toy her lower lip. She watches.
"...within three inches of their own noses and ten minutes into the future," Folly mutters under her breath, audible to Celina's ears alone. The accompanying amused eye-roll, however, would be evident to anyone looking in their direction.
Brennan is talking to Martin, going over one particularly elegant routine Martin had used to turn aside one of Brennan's more audacious offensive presses, and so does not answer him immediately.
He says, somewhat sourly, and for Martin's ears only, "Well, there's no good way to back away from that, is there? Certainly can't get Lilly to duel him, now. And he wouldn't have made the challenge if he didn't think he was going to win."
"He's probably right," Martin answers, at about the same volume and pitch.
Brennan sounds his reluctant agreement... although there is that in his grunt that implies he'd really like to show Bleys wrong. Just once.
"You've been trained to fight in coordination, right? I've seen him fight close-quarters-- he'll try to use us against the other." From his tone, it's obvious Brennan is sure Martin has, and knows that, but is just making sure they're on the same wavelength.
Martin nods, once.
"Any ideas? He probably can't be forced into overextension, but see if you can draw him out as much as possible. Some of his flashier stunts need elbow room...."
"We'll need to see what he's using. He likes a second blade with that pigsticker of his." Martin eyes Bleys, who is looking at the weapons rack with some interest, taking down first one weapon and then another, weighing them in his off hand and swinging them about for heft and balance.
Brennan asks the rhetorical question: "Wouldn't you, against three swords from two sides?"
"Three and a half," Martin corrects, moving over to the wall and finding a parrying blade of his own. "There's no reason to make it easy."
Then, "At some point, I'll get him back for this," [Brennan] adds, with more wry resignation than heat. "Ready?"
Martin nods, once, and turns to watch Bleys, who is still picking his weapon.
Lilly watches them as they speak, wondering what sort of plan they will come up with. She is quite glad she will be able to preview Bleys's style in circumstances such as these before she ever has to spar with him. If either of the men meet her eyes at any point, she offers the hint of a mischievous look accompanied by a nod. Clearly she is rooting for the younger two.
Finally Bleys settles on a main-gauche, and comes back to where the onlookers are, stopping in front of Celina. "Fair lady, may I have a sign of your favour to hearten me in this upcoming contest?"
Transparently, this request catches Celina by surprise. She glances at Brennan and Martin then straightens from her wall-seat to stand before Uncle Bleys. It's a toss up in her mind whether the traditions of Rebma or Seaward are better followed for something like this. In the Seaward, the more grand fashions would call for her to give a piece of clothing, or a kiss if the champion were quite favored. Celina doesn't want to do either here. She isn't wearing enough clothing to lose a piece for one, and she doesn't have the elegant humor to pretend Bleys is her champion for the other.
In a perfect world, Celina would rather that Martin and Brennan kicked Bleys' ass. But then she remembers this morning's blood offer to Castle Xanadu.
Celina reaches and takes Bleys' hand. She draws his fingertips up to the tip of her nose, his palm cupped before her mouth. "You shall have no hurt today that I do not feel." She kisses his palm.
"Then I shall feel no hurt at all," Bleys says gravely.
Celina sighs as if her heart were touched.
From her perch a few feet away, Folly watches this exchange with obvious amusement. At Celina's words she gives a slight nod; and Celina feels that Folly thinks she chose her token wisely.
Folly rises from her resting place. "Well, I suppose to be fair---" She strolls out to where Martin and Brennan are conferring; withdraws a pair of ribbons, one purple and one gold, probably intended to be woven into her hair once it's dried, from her pocket; and silently offers them up to the two men with a grin and a wink.
Martin takes his with all due solemnity and kisses Folly's hand, gazing intently into her eyes as he does so. There's a sense of intimacy to the gesture that momentarily excludes Brennan and the rest of the room.
Folly meets his gaze with unguarded adoration, as if she, too, has momentarily forgotten there's anyone else in the room.
Then Martin refocuses on the moment and reluctantly lets Folly go.
"Let's do it," Martin tells Brennan as Bleys turns back toward them and Folly returns to her place by Celina.
When she returns to her spot along the wall, Folly leans over and whispers to Celina -- something positively wicked, judging from the sparkle in her eyes.
Celina snorts as if she has a mouth full of water. A hand flies up to cover her nose and mouth.
When Martin's ready, I imagine they'll fan out, take him from either side, and give him a hell of a workout-- at the very least.
Even before the bout begins, Lilly looks ready to pounce. She simply cannot hide her excitement. This is one match that promises to not get boring. Unfortunately spars of this nature were too few and far between.
Brennan and Martin fan out to get as close to 180 degrees apart around Bleys as they can. Bleys maneuvers to keep Brennan confronting his great golden blade and Martin, who has the smaller off weapon, busy with the main-gauche. The strategy does pay off: Brennan notices that Bleys is working harder than he normally does when he's fighting Brennan alone.
For the onlookers, this is a thrilling bout. It's not quite as fast as the fastest parts of the spar between Martin and Brennan, but the footwork and the bladework are both top-notch. Lilly thinks that her father is better than Bleys, but she's not sure how. Bleys would certainly be more than a match for her in single combat. She can tell because he's definitely better than Martin and Brennan, even with the two of them taking the best advantage of circumstances that they can.
After just enough sparring for everyone to decide that Bleys is still going to beat Martin and Brennan, Brennan attempts a tricky disarm with one of his two swords. The disarm feels right, and against a lesser man and a lesser blade it would work, but instead of release from the bind, Brennan feels a sickening vibration through the hilt of the blade as it shatters against Werewindle.
Fragments of the blade scatter like steel rain over Brennan and Bleys, and one particularly large chunk flies right at Folly and Celina.
Bleys reflexively covers his eyes with one hand and says a Word. There is sorcerous power in it that both Celina and Brennan can hear.
Lilly freezes. As the scene unfolds she knows she should do something. Anything. Reach for a shield perhaps. Or pull her blade to try to knock the pieces aside. At the very least, she should push Folly and Celina out of the way. Every one of those actions though, seems to invite unwanted consequences and bring with it the possibility of impeding her cousins from acting. She does not want that to happen. Her indecision gets the better of her. She simply watches as the metal rains down.
[No card draw for Lilly; she's out of range]
Brennan hisses, "Sonofab--"
His immediate concern is with his eyes. While he doesn't suffer himself to fling his arm over his face like a father teaching his daughter to drive the family corvette, he does turn and shield his face and eyes with his now free hand.
Then he sees where that big fragment is going.
"--ITCH!"
[Card draw for Brennan: War reversed (effort misspent)]
As Brennan moves his arm into position to shield his eyes, he feels a familiar throb in his wrist. He thinks that he should ice it as soon as he can; it's a sprain of some sort. Bleys is a strong, strong man.
Tiny shards strike all over Brennan's upper body, but they are all pinpricks. The hardest part will be having someone pick them out of him. If he were wearing even a silk shirt, he'd probably have been protected from most of the damage.
Martin, too far from either the epicenter or from the girls to interpose, makes a strangled, horrified noise that might be the word, "No!" and takes off toward Folly, dropping his blade as he moves. No large shards come near him as he runs across the room, and he ignores any small ones.
[Card draw for Martin: the Fool (freedom)]
In a flash, Garrett draws his own blade and sprints with lightning speed toward a point in front of the girls. He reaches out and swings his sword down and away from them, attempting to hit the debris and knock it to the floor.
He's too far away to make it in time.
[No card draw for Garrett. Bleys' spell protects him]
Reflexively, Folly throws herself in front of Celina, grabbing her by the shoulder as she goes in an attempt to pull them both sideways over onto the floor. With luck, this will carry them out of the path of the shard.
With bad luck, Folly is about to replace that scar she just got rid of....
Celina has been riveted to the conflict, her hand still clutched to her face, her eyes glued to Martin and Brennan's struggle with Bleys', and her emotions riding waves of excitment. She falls adroitly beneath Folly's body block and grab.
[No card draw for Celina and Folly. Bleys' spell protects them.]
Lilly, from her vantage point near where Garrett started, sees the fragment of blade rust and disintegrate into nothingness.
A fine reddish dust blows over Folly and Celina, covering their upper bodies and hair. Folly gets the worst of it, although Celina, who is underneath, still gets a nose-full.
Her head rebounds off the floor as she feels her oversized tunic tear at the shoulder seam where Folly holds the saving grip. Celina tried to fling an arm back to break her fall but with one hand trapped between Folly and herself, only managed to bruise herself asymmetrically.
To top it all off she gasps a noseful of red iron dust.
Garrett is able to put his arm out and stop himself before he runs smack into the wall.
Garrett bends his elbow and hits the wall with the flat side of his forearm. He sheaths his blade quickly and runs back to Folly and Celina, grabbing a stack of cloth napkins off the breakfast tray as he passes it.
Martin skids to his knees beside Folly and Celina and pulls the women apart. "Folly, Folly, are you all right?" He begins examining her, looking for blood.
"I... yeah, I think so," Folly replies. "Maybe a little bruisey, is all." She looks more confused than anything, and still off her equilibrium from the adrenalin rush; but with a reassuring smile she takes Martin's hand and holds it for a moment, quietly.
Martin squeezes Folly's hand, but doesn't pause in his inspection.
Garrett glances over at Lilly to make sure she's okay, then leans over Martin's shoulder. Concerned, he asks the girls, "Are you two all right?" just as...
Celina does a huge wet sneeze that lifts her head off the floor and bounces it back once more. She starts to laugh.
Celina's laughter breaks the tension. Garrett grins with relief and shakes his head. He dangles a napkin over Celina's nose for a moment before dropping it under her chin playfully.
Celina nods to Garrett and chuckles again. She sets a hand to wiping at the dust with the offered napkins.
He offers Folly a handful of napkins as well.
Folly takes them with a smile of thanks and contemplates with curiosity the dust coating her arms. "Ahh... Too bad it's not glitter," she opines, and grins.
Martin takes one too, and begins cleaning Folly off.
Then all at once she works out what must've happened. With that same look of curiosity, she looks first at Brennan, then at Bleys.
Bleys lowers his blade. His jerkin will need to have scraps of metal picked out of it, but he doesn't seem to be bleeding. "Is everyone all right? Someone call Gerard. My trumps are with my cloak."
Lilly nods and makes her way towards his things. Might as well do something useful, she thinks to herself. Inwardly she is still seething over her own lack of reaction.
She feels for the cards and pulls them out quickly. Shuffling through the deck, she finds Gerard's easily. Before making contact, she looks back at Bleys. "Shall I bring him here or simply alert him to the situation?" she asks.
Brennan probably doesn't even realize he's got steel splinters in his back, although he certainly knows they impacted him. When he sits or rests his back against something, then he'll know. Seeing that Martin's already headed for Folly, Brennan walks briskly over to Celina to make sure she's alright. He's muttering something under his breath while he walks, but while he doesn't say anything about an injury, he's flexing his fingers slightly, when he's not holding the corresponding wrist steady.
Celina is cleaning herself when the shadow of Brennan nears. She looks up casually, but is caught by his intense gaze.
"Bring him here. Folly and Celina should be fine. I'm more concerned about Brennan," Bleys replies to Lilly's query. He glances over at Brennan. "Have him bring the tweezers." A Bleysian finger crooks to beckon Garrett and his napkin supply over.
Lilly nods and begins to concentrate on Gerard's trump. The years of learning to tune out distractions come in handy. Her mind readily focuses on the task at hand.
At Bleys' words, Celina sharpens her look at Brennan, but doesn't see injury or understand all of what has happened as yet.
With a final glance at Folly and Celina, Garrett goes back to Bleys and hands him the rest of the napkins. He considers doing the squirely thing and picking up the swords, but when he sees Brennan's injuries, he winces and reconsiders. Instead, he trots back over to the breakfast tray, removes the bottle of cream from the ice bucket, and returns with the bucket and any last napkins he missed the first time. He wraps up a load of ice in a napkin and offers it to Brennan for his wrist.
And when Celina sees Garrett's transparent wince after a direct look at Brennan's back, she connects the currents and understands Bleys' comment.
So, evidently, does Brennan, who takes the ice from Garrett with what little grace he can muster up under the circumstances. He appears resigned to having Gerard rooting around the flesh of his back with a pair of tweezers.
Martin murmurs quietly into Folly's ear, "I don't think you were hurt. Let's get out of here." He offers his hand to help her to her feet.
Folly lets him assist her to her feet; but before they go, she takes one more look around, assessing the damage. Her eyes, narrowed in thought, linger on the steel-shard pincushion of Brennan's back. For a moment Martin is sure she's going to volunteer to help pluck out the slivers; her nimble fingers certainly seem better suited to the task than Gerard's meaty paws, however skilled they may be.
Celina watches the scouting of Folly's eyes and almost says something.
But then a better idea seems to occur to her, and she nods. Her hand still in Martin's, she leads the way out of the salle in a trajectory that takes them past Garrett. As they draw near, she says to Garrett in a low but conversational tone, "Looks like I've gotta go get cleaned up for court. Again." She grins. "But you and Lilly seem to have come through unsullied and uninjured. You think you two could stick around and see if Gerard needs any help?"
After all, Garrett seems to have decent first-aid instincts. And she suspects Lilly's hands are good, even if she's only ever seen evidence of her skill at inserting rather than removing metal in flesh....
"Sure. See you at court," Garrett answers, sparing a glance in her direction before returning his attention to Brennan and Bleys. It's apparent that even if she hadn't asked, he had no intention of leaving.
Once that's settled, she departs with Martin in tow.
After a few moments of quiet conversation, Lilly brings Gerard through.
[Lucas can also come through here]
He does so.
Celina smiles to see Lucas.
Gerard wheels himself over toward Brennan and Bleys. "Let's see you two. What happened? Was anyone else injured?"
"Brennan's sword shattered. I don't think anyone else was hurt," Bleys answers. "I took some care to protect the bystanders. Brennan took the worst of it."
As Bleys speaks, Garrett moves around to Gerard's side, ready to be a pair of helpful hands if his uncle needs them.
"I'm fine," Brennan protests in the de rigeur tones of someone who knows he's going to be medically treated whether he wants it or not, but is morally obligated to try and get out of it. "Barely feel it."
Lucas walks around to discover the state of Brannan's back - and winces.
"So we've decided to cut out the middlemen?" he asks. "Rather than hanging around waiting for harpies from hell to show up and throw the sharp pointy shards of metal at us, we're going to to pre-empt them?"
"Only if we don't get out of the way first," Bleys answers.
Brennan gives Lucas a look that could curdle cognac.
"Ducking trouble," murmurs Lucas, his hand lifting to caress his ear, "has never been a notable family trait."
Funny, Brennan had flicked a glance to Lucas' other ear.
Celina shows some surprise at Lucas' wicked sense of humor. Her fingers steal up to her shoulder and play with the torn seam there. She waits to see how the doctoring will begin and if she has a part to play.
Garrett merely rolls his eyes at Lucas's comments.
Lilly is quiet and calm. None of the injuries appear life threatening so now seems the time to stand back and allow Gerard to take control of the situation. Of course she is both ready and willing to help in whatever capacity she is needed. Any desire to leave and tend to other business is well hidden for the moment.
Gerard follows Lucas around to Brennan's back, and he makes an unhappy face. "I'm taking you up to the infirmary, Brennan. You may not feel it now, but you'll feel it later. But let me take a look at Celina first." He beckons to the young Seaward girl.
Brennan scowls, but decides to comply.
Celina opens her mouth to protest that Brennan should be seen first because she is just rusty dusty, but closes it when her thoughts catch up to her tongue. She steps alongside Brennan and swipes at the red dust on her sleeves.
Lucas steps back, allowing Gerard some measure of privacy to examine the Seaward lass, who might not like gentlemen ogling her as she presents her wounds (or lack of them) for inspection.
"I'll walk down with you," says Lucas to Brennan. "With two lively brats to bring here, I have a feeling I should commit the way to the infirmary to memory without loss of time."
Brennan may well get the feeling that this is not the only reason Lucas has suggested escorting him.
While Gerard is talking to Celina and Brennan, Bleys is calmly stripping off his jerkin, and then his shirt, so Gerard can see the extent of his injuries, if any.
Lucas glances across. If Bleys shows signs of wounds that need immediate attention before Gerard can deal, he'll offer his services.
Celina wipes at her nose and says over her shoulder to Gerard, "I don't think I'm hit at all. It was dust by the time it got to me." She puts her hands to her blouse hem, but does not tug it upward. "Shall I?" The question seems aimed at Lucas rather than Gerard. Perhaps a trick of sound.
Celina eyes Brennan rather than the stripping Bleys.
[Arref/ooc: so many half-naked men, so little time...]
Under ordinary circumstances, Brennan might be fascinated to see Gerard's reaction to being summarily flashed by his aquatic niece, but he looks at Lucas and nods, saying, "Let's do it." To Gerard, "I'm pretty sure I can make it there under my own steam," gesturing at his extremely mild injuries.
Lucas casts a thoughtful glance at the green flesh being so delightfully revealed ... and then moves away with Brennan.
Garrett, meanwhile, has gravitated toward Lilly's side as he watches Gerard work. It's beginning to look like they won't be needed after all. He leans in while still watching the action and speaks quietly to her. "If it turns out they don't need us, I reckon we could have some breakfast before court," he suggests with a nod toward the breakfast tray.
"Food, " Lilly says quietly before turning to look at him. "All you ever think about it food." For a moment she seems to be quite annoyed with him but the facade soon cracks. She shakes her head gently. "Men." Without another word, she begins to walk towards the tray. Though she does not wish to admit it, she is a bit hungry herself. Beyond that, there is no point in letting the food go to waste.
Bleys glances over his shoulder at Gerard. "I hear that Random leaped off the balcony into the harbor. Perhaps that would clean me up quickly."
The hurt look that appeared on Garrett's face at Lilly's comments turns to surprise at Bleys's. Leaped off the balcony?!
[Bleys] turns to Celina. "Don't worry, my dear, I felt no pain, other than concern for your well-being. It's just rust now. Somewhat gritty, and you should wash it off, but it will do no harm."
Celina nods to Bleys. "My thanks, kind knight."
Gerard looks over Celina. "Get dressed, lassie. You're fine. Follow your uncle's advice and wash the dust off of yourself before court and you'll be fine."
"And my thanks to you, uncle." Celina pulls the loose tunic down again.
Garrett looks longingly over to where Lilly has started filling a plate. Trying to sound polite, he offers, "There's still breakfast on the tray, if any of you are hungry." With an "excuse me," he heads off in that direction.
Celina watches Garrett walk to Lilly. She smiles.
Once Garrett fills his plate, he sits with Lilly, wherever that is, and starts eating. The way he glances at the others periodically indicates to Lilly that he's waiting to see if they are going to be alone to begin a conversation.
Celina hustles over and gathers five breakfasts worth of material both sweet and sublime from the trays. She brings back a portion for Gerard and Bleys and makes to eat with them if they care to.
She intends to orbit Bleys until she has a chance to ask some questions.
Bleys is willing to stay and eat, but Gerard takes his portion and says, "Thank you, Celina. I hate to eat on the run, but Brennan will be waiting on me in the infirmary. If you have any pains afterwards, come and speak to me or to your cousin Hannah."
A soft-eyed sympathetic look from Celina for Brennan that words would only ruin.
With Celina's answer, he wheels himself out of the chamber.
Last modified: 11 May 2005