Fire In The Hole

Bleys is late.

This is not, in and of itself, cause for concern. Bleys has been late many times in Edan's lifetime, and he did mention that he was going to do some sorcerous research on the far side of Ygg, so some delay is reasonable. The problem is, this time, Edan is waiting for Bleys in the place where it was agreed they would meet, and unfortunately this place seems to have attracted the attention of the Moonriders. This does not bode well for Edan's meeeting with his father.

Now Edan is riding through the high grass of the plains, which come to ankle level on Aramsham, ahead of a half-dozen angry warriors, none of whom are Chases with Madness. An arrow zips by his head, not so close he can feel the wind of its passing in his ear but not so far he can't hear the whipping sound as it flies by his head.

Bleys had anticipated trouble on this trip, and had advised Edan to come ready. He had meant to follow up on some lead that Bleys had thought he'd come across in research about what had happened to Vialle. The matter of the chain that had bound the Queen has taken priority and Bleys is dealing with it first with Brita and Ambrose and Signy and young Prince Garrett. And Edan is in the sort of hair-raising scrape his father seems to thrive on.

Another arrow sails by Edan, as Aramsham redoubles his efforts to outrun the Moonrider steeds. It's possible Aramsham can succeed in the task, but Edan doesn't know how much endurance Moonrider horses have. In any case the shadows are growing long, and Edan thinks it would be a bad idea to flee them by night.

It's tempting to blame his father for all of this, but Edan knows he doesn't have the time for that kind of luxury right now. Finding the concentration to shift reality with Pattern won't be easy in the middle of a pursuit, and Edan isn't willing to gamble that a direct attack with Sorcery is going to affect them all, either.

So, he hunkers down in his saddle, head close to Aramsham's neck, and concentrates as best he can. He needs light, and a distraction, and fire. He needs people, whether it's a rude village with a bonfire or a single dwelling with a campfire, but that's what he tries to bring about with Pattern while they tear across the plains.

Edan knows he cannot erase the pursuit without going far enough into shadows that his Father will not find him. It is a vexing problem. However, he does manage to manipulate probability to gain exactly what he has hoped for. Ahead of him is a village of makeshift tents, with a fire burning cheerily in the center.

The only downside is that it seems to be in a box canyon. Perhaps Edan can use that to his advantage.

It'll have to do. Shifting Shadow, in Edan's opinion, is an exercise in accommodation; you keep going until you're close enough to your goal not to quibble with the results. This isn't too bad for the quick and dirty effort he's put in. Aramsham continues to tear through the village at a full gallop; Edan leans down from his saddle at the proper moment to grab a flaming brand out of the fire bare-handed. They slow, stop, and wheel close to the end of the canyon while he looks up at the rocks and does complicated mathematics in his head; and then he throws the torch up and to the side.

The torch bounces unnaturally off the rocks and doubles itself and travels twice as fast to the other side; they bounce off that side, doubling their speed again. Then the other side, again. Again again again faster faster faster. Within seconds there's a web of fire that just misses the village and the tents and spreads out towards the advancing Moonriders, doubling every second, a deadly spirograph in three dimensions, ready to engulf them.

Edan has to do a mental shrug; it's too bad they couldn't talk, but the riders crossed the line when they dared attack him with arrows. Time to show them how it's really supposed to be done.

The leader, or at least the one riding first, sees this and shouts out a command. The other moonriders stop and do something to the fabric of space and time. Something that affects Edan like he's been kicked in the stomach. While he quickly recovers, he definitely felt that, and it was not good for this shadow.

Edan watches as they sorcerously push the leader through the flames, but he's untouched by them. A quick sorcerous peek with his third eye makes Edan think he's moving through the space at a time before it was filled with flames. At least he'll only be facing one of them. For now. The rider draws two sabers with a fluid motion.

Edan draws his swords in response, but he doesn't leap to the attack. Might as well give it a shot. "You have intruded into the sphere of a Prince of Amber," he says. "It's not too late for us both to just back off and call it a day. I'm not looking for a fight."

The rider and the horse circle to the left. His liquid gaze seems to roll over Kyauta. "I now see you are marked, Amberman, and thus not mine to kill. This will not prevent me from crossing blades with you, and leaving you knowing whom you have encroached upon in coming here."

His grip on the sabers is unusual, with a finger over the hilt on the blade. It is protected, but still an odd grip.

"So be it, then. I go where I will." Edan salutes the Moonrider with one of his blades, buying a few extra seconds before everything goes completely south. Those few seconds give him one more peek with his Third Eye, enough to look at the man's hands and see if there's something sorcerous going on rather than just an exotic grip.

It's a grip technique that allows for quicker movements of the tip, at the expense of exposing the finger. The swords he uses are constructed to minimize that disadvantage.

With his third eye, Edan sees the moonrider salute him, and charge in at the same time. There are two moonriders, identical, to his astral view. Edan has to drop his third sight, because it's not possible to defend himself with steel and use that magic. And then there is only the one.

Edan's opponent is fast, and he's good. And apparently he can use time-magics in battle. This might be tricky.

Tricky, yes, but Edan was betting on something like that. It might even be used to his advantage.

Aramsham is trained to respond to Edan's legs and knees, so fighting two-handed from horseback isn't a problem. Edan relies on Kyauta to stay back and out of the way of the fighting, as well. They circle left, then inexplicably move forward a little and then circle to the right. All the while, Edan is prepared to cross blades, and ward off magics as they come, and if need be keep the other rider too busy fighting to mount any kind of complex casting.

Edan is more than a match for the swordsman in skill, but he seems not to tire, as if he isn't going all out, but waiting for something.

The man is a fine rider, and his horse seems to flow as much as it moves. It can turn very quickly. Blades cross, but mostly it seems to be an eternity of probing for openings and maneuvering for position.

After some moments, several things happen. The fiery wall Edan created fades (as expected) and Edan notices 4 more riders in a rough semi-circle around the combat. They aren't closing, but seem willing to form an audience. One of them seems to be cloaked with some sort of magic and he doesn't sit his horse exactly as the other moonriders do. It's hard to tell what he's doing without concentrating.

Edan may have to move fast to win this, and he may have to be prepared to have a bigger fight just afterwards.

Also not unexpected. Here's the plan:

Edan thinks the Moonriders are especially good at time magic because they've been "un-anchored" from Time as a principle. Unlike everybody else in the universe, they have special insights into Time, but they're also more vulnerable because they're not as "grounded". Edan thinks further that his opponent has a copy living a few seconds ahead or behind himself, giving him an advantage by seeing what's about to happen, and more protection from sorcery that happens in the present. Ergo, Edan's not going to do what's expected. He's going to attack him through the principle of Time.

All those weird shifts in direction with Aramsham in the last few minutes of the fight were to draw a two-dimensional representation of the current Time snarl that Edan saw with his Third Eye. It's a twisted inner spiral kind of thing, similar to that piece of string he used with Lilly to demonstrate the principle of Time. No spell has been cast yet, but the design and the bonfire will be the prop/component/focus of his spell. No time for a ritual, but the opportunity just isn't there; too bad.

The spell itself will be a patchwork-like explosion of Time. Some areas will fly fast, some will slow to a crawl, some areas diverge and separate, the whole gamut. The intent is to divide, separate, destroy; in a perfect world, Edan wants to split the rider apart from his time clone and suddenly have different parts of the man's body suddenly run at different speeds all at once.

The spell goes well, as if this place is suited for sorcery. The rider drops his sword and reaches for his neck, as if he cannot breathe. He falls off his mount and attempts to stand, and fails.

Three of the surrounding riders draw their curved blades in unison, as if ready to attack.

The fourth draws a very different blade, straight and true and inscribed with the curves and lines of Amber's pattern.

Prince Bleys throws back his hood and stands tall in his stirrups, and the moonriders hesitate, for a moment and then turn and flee.

Edan chooses not to pursue, instead deciding to let the riders go; they probably won't be a very good source of information, and would serve as a warning to the others.

Instead he crosses his arms, and with mock seriousness says, "You're late." Likely the slight smile on his face gives him away.

"A small matter delayed me, I knew you could protect yourself. In any case, I count it a pleasure to watch you fight." Bleys dismounts and steps over to the time-tossed corpse. "Clever, but this one was young. Full of pith and vinegar, but not a veteran. He did not know that he could not move you in time. The next one may, and then you may find yourself dismounted."

Bleys begins stripping the armor off the corpse. "Good luck that we dispatched two of them. You'll need this."

"Good luck that my opponent was callow," Edan says. "I was relying on being anchored in time. I didn't know they could overcome it."

Bleys shrugs. "The smart ones work around it. If he can't move you back 60 years, perhaps he can move your saddle back far enough to rot out from under you. The survivors of Jones Falls were smarter."

As he dismounts and helps Bleys, Edan says, "I talked with Brennan about disguising myself long ago. I've had a lot of time to think about it. It will take more than just dressing as one of them. Depending on the plan that you have..."

Bleys grins. "I've always been an improviser at heart, but I brought a couple of little talismans that will help disguise us. The clothes plus that will be disguise enough. These amulets will fail after a bit, but it should be enough time to get us into the Captain's tent and learn what we came here to learn." Bleys hands Edan a small box. "It's technological, which means they won't even see it as magic, but it can't function for long. Don't open the box until we're ready; opening the box breaks the stasis field."

Edan stares at the box a moment, then palms it. "As you say. I suppose I should be leaving the talking to you. If there's talking."

Kyauta, change into the form of an amulet, so that I may wear you under my shirt. Like we did at the funeral.

Kyauta does so, quietly. He seems spooked by Bleys.

"Were it so easy, I'd let you. We'll need to split up, unless I miss my guess. Do you want to sneak into the commander's tent or the headquarters tent?"

"Commander's tent, I suppose." Edan suddenly frowns. "Will the disguise be generic, or would I specifically be this man I have killed? Suddenly, letting those others escape seems like a very bad idea."

Bleys shrugs. "They can't imagine we'll do this. Failure of imagination is the source of their greatest strengths and greatest weaknesses. It's also what makes the Marshall dangerous. He's not like the rest of them." Bleys helps Edan into the armor and makes adjustments to it. "Now, you'll either need to send your horse home or we'll need to make sure we pick him up as we leave. He's travelled in shadow, so we can send him back to Xanadu's stables easily enough."

Bleys looks up and down at his son in his Moonrider garb.

"We're going to try to find two things. First, any orders or correspondence from the Marshall, second, any magical way they have of getting new orders. Third, anything that looks useful.

"Then we burn the place to the ground, both as payback for attacking you and as a way of disguising any intelligence we've actually gathered. Ready?"

Edan gives Bleys a thin smile, while thoughts race in his own head. Lack of imagination? Sans Marshall, that would make them the worst sor- no, magicians, in the universe. And the Marshall is colored by his angst and anger.

Yes, Great Lord! replies Kyauta. They can only do things they have seen in the past! or the Future!

Edan scratches Aramsham near the larynx as a goodbye; the stallion casually reaches over and tears out a bit of Edan's hair in response. "Idiot," Edan says, clamping a hand to his head, then grabs Aramsham's lead and walks him the direction he wants. "Go to Xanadu," he says, exerting his Will, sending his horse forth on the path of Edan's desire.

Aramsham snorts his disapproval, and rides away. He quickly is lost to sight, and on his way back to Xanadu.

Coming back, he says, "I'm ready. If the communication method is open and active, I will take steps not to be made known to the other end."

"Good idea, that last. I'll try the same. If the Marshall does talk to you, inquire about his family's well-being. He hates that topic."

Bleys leads the two Moonrider steeds around to Edan and mounts one. "Sorry it's not your stallion, but she'll do. Ready to go?"

As they head off, Edan has a chance to think about the last few exchanges. It doesn't take long to dwell upon how such a people would live, if they had a dearth of imagination. Sorcery was art. What if everything was like that? Who else would live like that?

"So, are they like the Mongols, then?" he finally asks. "Like the Khal, like the Horde? Nomads, all of them, taking their culture from those they oppress?" Another pause. "And was it always like this? Did the Queen do this to them?"

Bleys is reasonably subdued. "Somewhat. The culture they have is like the Horde, but it's who they were before they become Moonriders." Bleys sighs. "These aren't things we speak of, but you may need to know. Tir-na Nog'th was not always as she is now. The stairs and city were once constant. Those who remember do not speak of it, but one day, something snapped, and most of the Tirians fell thousands of feet into the great Bay of Amber. They say you could walk from one side to the other atop the corpses. Father slew those who did so to loot the bodies and used the jewel to sweep the bodies out of the bay. The few survivors and those who were absent were not so lucky. They couldn't live in Tir-na, and Father arranged for them to have a route to Ghenesh. It was there, centuries later, that their love of and loyalty to the Queen of Air and Darkness twisted them into something very different. We saved a few, who went to Altamar. The rest became Moonriders.

"It was his obsession with fixing Tir-na Nog'th that drove your uncle mad and set him on his path to destruction."

Edan ruminates on this a bit. "I don't understand his motivation," he says finally. "Let's say he succeeded, and Tir-na Nog'th became constant once more. Who would profit by it? What would he have gained? The Moonriders obviously want it back, so that would argue Uncle Brand had some kind of understanding with... I don't know, the Queen or the Marshall, or both. Or, he has ties with the Altamareans and was doing it for them. Or..." he pauses. "Or, I suppose, it might not have anything to do with them at all, but for his own benefit."

Bleys sets a swift pace, which the horses settle into easily. "It would break the Moonriders, or so we supposed. He thought fixing the broken pattern would heal Dworkin."

"Tir, you mean," Edan says. "And later he tried to rewrite things at the Primal Pattern." Edan looks troubled. "Much different goals. After his mind was... how did he try to repair Tir?"

Bleys shakes his head. "It started as the same project. Fixing the zero-order pattern would both repair Dworkin's mind and re-cast the first-order shadow that is Amber. For a while we thought it might also unsync Rebma and Amber, but that seems to have started when Corwin and Random added their first-order shadows. Things have already started to diverge, such as the difference in the two earthquakes. Give it a thousand years or two and it might not be clear the two were ever linked.

"I've speculated that there must be some connection between the Grove of the Unicorn, the real one, and the other first-order shadows. If you ever find yourself trapped in Tir-na Nog'th, that's probably the best place to retreat to. Also, less falling into the Bay from there."

Bleys nods towards the horizon, where there is a thin wisp of smoke, possibly from the camp. It's still a good distance to ride.

"I... see," Edan says, sure that he'll waste many hours trying to figure out the math on that one. "What happened with the chain that Brita recovered? Have they done anything with it yet?"

"Yes, that was what delayed me. The chain is very old. The other end of it was attached to a knight of Old Paris, who had been born in Tir-na Nog'th before it fell. We sent him to Paris, but I hope to drink with him soon and get his story. Something about this Old Paris/New Paris/Earth Paris connection intrigues me."

Bleys stops at the top of a rise, looking down a long valley towards the camp of the Moonriders. "We're almost ready to use our disguises. Do you have any sorcery or pattern work you want to do before we're cloaked? Now is the time."

In response, Edan draws his yataghan sword, holds up a finger (and watches the fingertip glow with heat), then traces over the writing on the sword with his finger. "The spell to reduce my sorcerous 'signature'," he says. "I should reapply it, considering my opponent wasn't that strong a magician. Otherwise, I'm not sure what I'll encounter, so I'll have to think on my feet."

Bleys nods approvingly, but doesn't cast anything himself. "'Thinking on your feet is better than regretting on your knees,' as they say in Altamar."

Bleys pulls out his disguise box, opens it, and pulls the amulet inside over his neck. He looks exactly like the Moonrider who so arrogantly challenged Edan in the canyon.

"So, we go in, take the horses to the paddock, then are off to our several objectives. When you're ready to go, have your affine tell me, and we'll get together and 'think on our feet' about the most flammable parts of the encampment..." Bleys smiles.

"I'm ready," Edan says, suddenly all business. If he's worried that he'll run into... someone... he doesn't show it. He does, however, draw his sword to see what his own reflection looks like, if that works.

The image is small and distorted, but Edan looks rather like the same moonrider that his father looks like, he thinks. There are subtle differences, but it would be best not to draw too much attention while he is with Bleys.

The two riders approach the enemy camp and the ride down gives them some time to survey the camp. Bleys points out a number of features: different tents, war flags, cooking areas, paddocks, supplies, and more. He also points out the sentries.

They are watched, but not stopped as they ride to the camp. Bleys dismounts and leads his horse towards the paddock. Even in Moonrider camps, men who are not on urgent missions take care of their mounts first.

"Keep an eye out for anything odd," says Bleys.

Everything is odd, slightly.

"Found it," Edan says immediately, and makes an effort to relax. "This whole place makes my teeth itch. If it's sentinel magic, I don't recognize it... mayhap I'll risk a peek with the Third Eye when we're rubbing down the horses."

"Time Flux," replies Bleys. "Microfractures in the isochronal substrate. Near-constant self-repairs will look like static -- or flak, if they're coming towards you." He grooms his horse, whispering to it about Jones Falls and grinning. The tone calms the beast, or at least quiets it.

"That's what they direct at people when they send them out of time. If you catch the attack correctly, you can sorcerously damp the oscillations on your end which causes a feedback look on their end." Bleys shakes his head. "It's messy and it takes timing, but the Moonriders learn not to try that on you again."

Bleys waits until Edan seems done with his mount. "Are you ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," Edan says, hoping that he's not going to run into... at least one person. "I'm off to the commander's tent."

The Moonrider-that-is-Bleys nods, and slips off, leaving Edan alone in the paddock in the enemy camp.

Time Flux, eh? Seems that it would also be productive to widen the cracks and let them fall in as well, Edan thinks, and spends a minute pretending to brush his horse and think on how such a spell would work while he gives Bleys time to move away.

When he judges they're separated enough, Edan moves in the general direction of the command tent. He'll keep his head down, limping ever so slightly as if he's ridden a long way, and won't seek out eye contact from others. He's looking primarily for three things: guards outside the tent, activity inside the tent, and if he moves to where he's unobserved, a 'passive' look with his Third Eye at/inside the tent for Things Of Interest.

When viewed with his Third Eye, the moonriders and the camp look like they're phasing. They vary in intensity with no discernible pattern.

It looks to Edan like there is no guard, on the command tent, but there are at least two moonriders in it.

Good news and bad news together. Edan purses his lips, and finds an out of the way spot to look like he's resting (assuming this camp is full of tents and Moonriders doing the same thing). He tries to stay within easy viewing distance of the tent. Does the light source inside flicker, like there's a lantern(s) or other flame source?

Edan finds a place to sit on a treestump. He sees two light sources: a lantern hanging near the tentpole and a candle on a table. Wisps of oily smoke exit the top.

That decides things. Sneaking around the tent is sure to draw attention, and walking in would stop the conversation and cause suspicion, even with a disguise and cover story. But the Moonriders shouldn't know this trick. Edan settles back a little more, faking a deeper nap. Kyauta, get my attention if someone is about to disturb me here, he thinks, then eases his awareness into the lantern flame.

Yes, Great Lord! Kyauta's mental voice seems like a whisper.

From the high-mounted lantern, Edan cannot see much; the majority of the tent is blocked by the oil reservoir of the lamp itself. He can hear clearly, though. The first voice is deeper and seems older than the seconds.

"-en we get the final report and can settle in for some quietude. I promised my girlfriend I'd write her. And my wife. Do you have a wife, runner?"

"No, Sergeant, I can't afford one."

"Well, don't expect to get rich serving the Moonriders, they don't want what you and I do."

"Yes, Sergeant."

The two settle into silence, except for the scratching of pen on paper.

They're not Moonriders, is Edan's first thought, followed by, I've got to know more before I just walk in. Final report? And who are these people? He pulls out of the lantern light with his mind, and tries to move into the candle light using the same method; hopefully he can tell something from a better vantage in the time he has left.

As the flame is smaller, the view and sound are worse, but it's the scene he'd expect. It looks like two servants, possibly soldiers. Neither looks nor moves like a moonrider. They remind him of servants Edan knew in Altamar.

Edan pretends like his head nods a few times, then 'wakes' up; casually, he pulls a small drawstring bag out of his shirt, and fills it with a few handfuls of dirt from the ground. He stands, stretches, and walks over to the entrance of the tent, and (if no one went into the tent ahead of him, or looks like they're coming in behind), goes in.

The candle flame flickers and goes out; in the lessened light of the lantern, Edan tosses the pouch... just right... so that it lands on the writing table with a clink. A few polished and unpolished gems spill out of the loosened top. Easily a small fortune.

"There's more where that came from," he says, quietly. "Much more."

The standing one looks up. "My Lord?" He is cut off by the older one, who is sitting.

"Go on, Lord Rider. That alone is fortune enough to buy an estate and settle my sons as riders in their own right. If you wish to hire a pair of soldiers into your retinue, it may be arranged. As you are bound, we are also bound to the Queen, but we can choose the manner of our servitude."

His eyes never leave the diamonds.

"Which is why I looked for you," Edan says. "Information is power, and outriders are in short supply. Does it surprise you to learn that some of us are left out?" He moves back fractionally, as if he's trying to move back in the shadows, but fails. Or perhaps "Lord Rides-in-the-Dark" is having second thoughts. "I want to know what's going on. Information is all I seek, if you wish to consider it a temporary contract. Tell me what has been coming from the Marshall. Pretend that I know nothing, even as to the manner of the communication. Tell me what, and how, and why."

"Like that, is it? And you from the east, I can tell by your accent. We've never been the favorites, have we? I can't tell you much, but Razor-of-Justice was at The Ending and talked to something about The Way being opened, and how that made it hard to close. We're at the forefront here, as far as our explorations have gone. He is pressing the search, and if he can find the gateways, the day will be upon us. The Marshall is preparing, in case Razor-of-Justice succeeds.

"If I were a rider, I'd be readying myself for battle. Those who can move quickly will be in the van."

The diamonds are very deliberately moved to the older man's side of the table.

Edan's mind reels with the new terms. Razor-of-Justice? Could be anyone. Male, anyway, referred to as 'he'. The Ending should be a meeting place, and close to here. The Way? Hmm... and they were close, close, to what they wanted.

He nods, in the half-light. "There is not much time, then. There is another bag, much like that one, that I have to give. Keep your ears open, and it will be yours." He pitches 'yours' in such a way to include both men, but obviously he's keeping out of any decisions of how they share it. "Then, I think, our business would be concluded."

Both men nod.

Great Lord! Your Progenitor Calls. He warns that it may be Loud Shortly

Edan starts waking, unhurriedly, in the general direction where they first walked into camp. First off, when the general melee is over, I want to know how he contacted you. But in the meantime, tell him we're ready... Edan whispers a Word and then a Word and then a Word, bringing up a simple yet powerful magical and kinetic ward around himself and his affine. When it all hits, and Edan expects fire, he'll be looking to shape it to his needs.

As you do, Great Lord! He says to prepare!

The destruction Bleys mentioned is almost certainly to be caused by the Efreet that is moving rapidly towards the Corral where the horses are. There are shouts from the camp, and they seem to think the Djin is some sort of Fire Tornado.

The plains burn behind it in a direct line.

There's a part of Edan who immediately wants to challenge this Efreet that's enroached upon his space. There's another, faint part of him that wants to drown it. That amuses him.

Instead, Edan waits until he judges the lion's share of attention is on the fire, then he 'pings' the area, looking for nearby magical sources. He wants to overcome the general interference caused by the time distortion, if only for a moment. He does knead and stretch the fingers on his left hand, however, getting ready to make the contortionist hand gestures that will summon heat lightning from the afrit upon Edan's enemies if he sees attackers coming.

It turns out there's something, back in the command tent. Probably locked in a locker behind where the sergeant was sitting. They've both run out, and have been dragooned into fighting fires. The tent is, for the moment, empty.

That, if anything, sounds like a golden opportunity. Edan slips back into the tent (if such a thing is possible, given the circumstances) for a closer look.

It's as simple as walking in, although it's dark inside and there's a raging Efreet who may set the entire camp ablaze shortly.

Inside the locker is an assortment of what look like shipboard navigation or surveyor's instruments--underneath various Moonrider baroque attachments, they look like sextants and theodolites.

A small, pocket sized, sextant is the one that Edan saw with his sight.

And as simple as that, Edan takes it. What is more complicated is hiding it, especially since so many eyes are looking for it. Hiding it in a fold of Time is out of the question; of course, Space is the same thing... except when it's not. So, Edan pulls some silk cloth and a handful of charcoal out of one of his pockets, heats the charcoal in his fist until it glows with heat, wraps the sextant and the charcoal up in the silk cloth, then moves and turns the wrapped sextant in his hands over and over until it disappears in a puff of smoke. Then, as carefully as coming in, he exits the tent and starts moving back to where he and Bleys first parted.

Edan quickly reaches the paddock. The horses are near-panic and the Efreet seems to have turned directly towards them. It will have to cross most of the camp first. It seems smaller than it was at first.

"Lord Rider! Help me free the mounts, before they are immolated!"

The speaker is another rider, in full armor. Apparently Edan's disguise is still working.

Full armor means he can't guarantee a knockout with a neck punch from behind. Edan opts to help, at least until he has a good idea of where his father has gone. Unless the other rider is his father, in a changed disguise... no time to sit and think about it. And runaway Moonrider horses are a good thing! So, Edan nods and turns his attention to the paddock gate - if it's locked that's one thing, but if it's just knotted and tied he'll opt to slash through it with his sword. Once the gate is open he'll be whistling at the horses to get them moving and out the gate.

[OOC: Edan gains a Moon Rider Name: The Horse Whistler]

A slash and a kick and the horses are in motion. It's chaotic for a few moments, but soon the paddock is cleared.

The other rider turns smoothly and gracefully towards Edan. "My thanks, brother, you have saved them and we can recover them after this passes. What name do you use?"

As Edan is about to respond, he hears a noise. He no longer sees the illusion of moonrider armor on his arm. The amulet has failed.

Edan draws his other sword, the yataghan, and plunges it into the ground. It wails and snaps, even as cracks begin to appear in the wound he's created in the earth.

"No one," he replies, before the wall of magma gushes up and out between them. Edan himself is running straight for the afrit.

Edan sees the rider pull out a small hand-crossbow and start to point it at Edan's no-longer-disguised chest. He actually manages to fire the bolt before the rising magma engulfs it. The rider is gone a moment later. Completely and messily burned by the molten stone, he leaves behind nothing more than the stench of burnt flesh.

The afrit turns as Edan appraches. He seems both angry and territorial.

This part was dangerous, too, but at least Edan had done something like this before. Even afriti can work together. Sometimes.

He takes but a moment to review the High Speech, then speaks in a voice that sounds like the roar of a bonfire. "Well met, brother. You have been called here, too? Let us work together, so that we may finish quickly and return to home and warmth."

"Brother! The Usurper is immanentizing! We will fight her together!"

From the field below the Moonriders are shouting. "The Queen! The Queen!"

Edan would have slapped his forehead, if he dared. Thanks for the heads-up, Father. To the afrit he says, "I... am not yet prepared. And I was to assist with the immanence. Go ahead, and I will be there to fight the Queen apace."

"I fight! If I perish, have my name sung from each of the five-and-twenty gates at Sunrise, Brother!"

The afrit turns and heads directly towards--something.

The Great Lord Bleys says that now is the time for departing, says Kyauta.

"I would sing them myself, Brother. Fight well!"

Unless something stops him, Edan will Part the Veil and go back to where he and Bleys met after the Fight With Four Riders.

It is difficult to Part the Veil, as if the wavering time affect of the Riders or the presence of the Queen does something to his abilities, but it succeeds. Edan arrives, still smoldering, at the remnants of a campfire that is in the same state. Bleys is kneeling before it, shovelling dirt onto wayward embers.

His father turns to him and his teeth glint in the firelight. "How did you do?"

Edan pantomimes unfolding something, at least until his wrapped package really appears. "A sextant, something of power," he says. "And the servants of the Riders, one had something to say about their masters. Something about Razor-of-Justice was at the Ending... and talked to something about the Way being opened, and how that made it hard to close. He presses the search for gateways, and the Marshall prepares in case he succeeds. Does any of that make sense to you?"

Bleys looks over at the package that Edan produces. "Good work that. Some of that makes sense now and some will later, I presume. Razor of Justice was at father's funeral, where he could have talked to many somethings. I believe that we learned that the moonriders are planning to retake Tir-na Nog'th, but that's no surprise. That they are building a way to get there? That's what I expected to find. And that they seem to have achieved theosis back there, which is the part that seems worrying. Anything else?"

Edan grins, a show of teeth. "I learned many things, though you probably already know them. This place is at the forefront of their search. The Moonriders use servants, much as the Altamareans do. They use trade and profit. Enough profit can buy their way to become a Rider. They are subject to visual illusion. The servants can choose who to serve, under the Marshall and the Queen. They care for their animals. They have honor, and strong emotion. They also have uncomfortably quick reflexes, which may be related to Time. Some are very good swordsmen, to hold their own against me. Fire is effective, if they are not prepared. Extrapolating... the Marshall is the military ruler, as the Queen seems to be their spiritual leader as well as their liege. I think we could slay riders until their bodies are in heaps and the sun falls from the sky, but they will never stop until the two are defeated. She is their heart. He is their mind."

Bleys nods. "Poetic, but not inaccurate. Given what you know of them, what approaches could you take to defeat them before they ever reach the battlefield?"

Edan ponders. "They still have to communicate, whether in person or through magic. They still personally visit places to inspire or react to changes in circumstances. One could interrupt their communications." Another pause. "And we... those of us who have walked the Patterns, I mean... we still control Shadow. They still must find paths through it. Those of us who are savvy enough and have the strength and the will could lead their searchers into traps, get them lost, and tie up their efforts."

Bleys frowns and strokes his chin. "Yes, but let's save that for a bit. Their magic is time based. Once they know about it, they can tell their earlier selves. Any traps we come up with may be turned into counter traps.

"I'd rather convince them not to fight. I've yet to solve that one. My second best plan is to convince them not to be so good at it."

"Arrive at a political solution? Or deter them in a military sense?" Edan asks.

Bleys nods. "While I don't see a political solution, that's the general idea. What I was suggesting was that in war the victorious strategist only seeks battle after the victory has been won."

"Well," Edan says, "to convince them not to support the Queen, that's going to be quite a trick. You heard the outcry when she appeared on the field, or at least I assume she appeared. I didn't wait to see. To lose morale, either she or the Marshall will have to lose big. And they'll have to lose publicly. And at the same time, I assume you won't want a repeat of Jones Falls. Maybe if it seemed that some of the Riders were attacking others, and it suddenly seemed as if the Queen and the Marshall opposed each other for some..." He breaks off. "Or even better. What's worse than taking something away from someone? Give them back that something... but broken."

Bleys snorts. "We could do that merely by getting out of their way. It's certainly the easiest plan to implement. Is that what you had in mind?"

"Yes. No. Arrgh." Edan slides the heels of his hands over his eyes. "Use this sextant to lead them to a trap, I thought. Or find out how it works and do the same thing if there's more than one sextant. Lead the Riders to a false Tir, one with a broken Pattern, let them be disheartened and cause dissension before we drive them away. But that's not going to work. There's too many unanswered questions. What, exactly, are they triangulating their position against? Wouldn't it logically be Tir-na Nog'th? The Pattern in Tir? But then, why would they need to do that? If they had a hand in Cambina's death, then they've already been there. And if they didn't, then what happened up there?" He pulls his face away from his hands, picks up the sextant. "Before I could make any plan along those lines, I'd need to find out just where this is leading them. For that matter, hasn't anyone sorcerously regressed Vialle's memories back to the attack so we can know what happened?"

"It's likely no one has done it because sorcerous memory regression isn't a well-respected investigatory technique in Amber-descended populations and might well involve significant danger to the person and reputation of the sorcerer. It might do additional damage, or it might attract the attention of something which we would not wish to have follow us home."

Bleys looks hard at the sextant. "They haven't reached Tir. We'd know. You'd know. There would be an army in Xanadu protecting the city and castle. " He waits. "Not just 'nearly an army'."

"Ah," Edan says, and turns the sextant over in his hands, like he's deciding what to do with it. "I don't see why that original thought wouldn't work, then. We just have to figure out how this functions. Then, finally, we'll have an advantage. No longer will the Moonrider van be just some amorphous threat outside our control. We'll know where they are and where they're going. We will see movement and purpose. We can lead them where we wan... er, I am sorry. I do not remember such a turn of phrase being said by anyone. 'Nearly an army'?"

Bleys nods. "If I recall who is up there now, it's Paige's Rangers, Vere's people, who are made up of three armies, Daeon's Arcadians, and Hannah's Ponca. Might be some of Margrathea's city-folks as well. What do you think Random is doing putting that many groups of martial shadowdwellers close to the steps?"

"Honestly?" Edan smiles a little, still looking at the sextant. "My thoughts were more political, and a little more sinister. Like China often did in the shadow you took me to. Bring everyone in, assimilate them, keep them at arm's length from the throne and away from political power... then simply wait. In a generation or two, they're Xandhavians, not foreigners. I don't see where there would be nearly enough..." His voice trails off. "Unless they're shock troops to delay invaders until the real army comes. Say, for instance, Caine in Amber raising a huge garrison he's not telling anyone about."

Bleys looks dismissive. "Caine is a Navy man. All problems are resolved by spying or seapower. It limits him. No, if that were the case, one would want a brother or two with the ability to quickly raise a large army from shadow, perhaps one who was owed favors by significant military powers." He looks up. "Oddly, Random's decree of 'no standing armies in his cities' is the right choice. He, or Martin, or I, or Corwin, Benedict, you, or half your cousins could raise an army in short order. At least one.

"I think you're right about Random's plans, by the way. But don't ever assume he is doing anything for a single reason. He plays the fool to distract, and it's a fine strategy."

"Of course," Edan says. "I... don't know what you have planned. Will you be helping me with this item? Or do you want to meet up later and I'll fill you in on it's workings?"

Bleys looks back at the horizon, where smoke indicates where the Moonrider camp is.

"The thing about plans to defeat Moonriders is that there's a single chance for them to be effective. They bend time. Things work well against them if you have surprise, and it's painful to retroactively lose it.

"What is best against Moonriders is to prepare contingencies, and only use them in times of need. They are vulnerable to that kind of action." He pauses, then adds an afterthought:

"Conveniently for me, that is one of my preferred methods of operation."

"Fair enough," Edan says. "I could come up with a few ideas, then, and get back with you to see what you think. Or if it would interfere with anything you're doing."

Bleys shakes his head. "It would interfere with what you're doing. No man needs to know another's last line of defense. If you need a few days in shadow to arrange things now would be a fine time. I have more to do, but some of it will be routine. They may spend some fruitless time looking for two men. Still, expect them to eventually decide they have to do something about us."

"All right." Edan hefts the sextant. "Do you think this is the only one, or one of many? If it's the only one, they'll want it and I'll have to pretend to fight hard to keep it. If it's not the only one, I'll have to monkey directly with the math and how they triangulate to lead them astray. I'm guessing it's the latter, though this may well be the prize they got from Madoc's Race."

Bleys shrugs. "Either might work. If there are others, perhaps the principle of similarity can be used to make this one find its brothers."

He looks back at the horizon. "But you remind me. They will be looking for this one. It might be wise to put the kind of distances they cannot readily travel between us and them. I have an Amber trump, if we have no other destination in mind."

Edan nods. "That sounds acceptable." He gathers his things and waits for the Trump.

Bleys trumps the two of them to Amber's castle gates. "Well, that was interesting. They seem more ... effective than they used to be. Your help was appreciated, by the way. Judging by the angle of the sun, I think that Amber's kitchens are about to provide me with breakfast, and possibly some kitchen gossip. What's next for you?"

"Xanadu," Edan says, after he nods to show appreciation for the compliments. "I still need to speak with Random about a deck of Trumps. Then off into Shadow to find the best place to do some research. I am thinking that the Moonriders will have trouble tracking down their trinket, as long as I keep it hidden in Space rather than Time." He frowns, then. "Did you hear what the first Rider said? I was not his to kill. Chases has laid a claim on me with Kyauta. But is it as her enemy?" He looks to Bleys. "Is there some Gheneshi or Altamarean ritual that I am missing here?"

Bleys shrugs. "Little is known of the homes and hearths of the Moonriders. You may be one of the first to meet one of their women and known it for sure. They are an androgynous group, for the most part."

Bleys waves to the guards, and indicates that he'd like to be admitted to the castle. While that is being arranged, he turns and looks down the hill. "You may want to take Ossian's large trump to get to Xanadu. I'd be interested in hearing if there are any particular characteristics to such a large and heavily used trump."

Edan's eyebrows climb skyward. "You haven't tried it yet? Yes, I'll go that way. Give my regards to the Family that are still here, would you? I'll catch up with you later."

Bleys nods and grins. "Sometimes I find things out by asking others to try them. I shall pass your regards to Caine and anyone else in residence. Don't hesitate to call if you need to."