Conner rallies the swift, who come to him and are looking for orders. Conner spots Captain Carver swimming madly, without a shark back across the lines.
"You four, capture that man and bring him to me." Conner points at the fleeing Carver. "Send a runner to the mages on the hill. Have them announce to the battlefield that Huon is fled and his second captured. Order Huon's troops to surrender. Tell them those that lay down arms will be spared and returned to their homes. Those that don't will be killed on sight."
"Send word to the commanders confirming those orders. The priority is to clear the field and secure Rebma. Don't chase down the fleeing unless they present a clear danger if allowed to regroup." Conner instructs. "Teukros, watch over me. I need to check in with the city." Conner dearly wants to use the Eye to discover what has happened to the missing Jerod, Khela and Huon but he must conserve his energies. A Trump call should not tax him though. He hopes. Conner draws out Llewella's card and concentrates.
Llewella answers quickly. "Yes?" She seems to be looking over Conner's shoulder. Behind him, the tritons are continuing to fight those still on the field, but the front line has buckled and pressed away from him.
"The battle is won, my Aunt, but there are still grave matters to address." Conner begins. "Huon somehow smuggled what he called a blood bomb into Rebma's Pattern chamber. We sent Brennan there to stop it and as we still breathe I presume him successful for the moment. I would investigate the state of things as soon as possible."
Conner waits for her to react to that news before dropping the larger bomb on her. "Now to the other grave matter. Khela, Jerod and Huon have disappeared from the battlefield. They were fighting each other then there was a rainbow flash like a Trump contact but all of them disappeared and I know not where." Conner leaves it there. Any suggestions he would make require energies he may not have.
"Part of the castle fell in during the earthquake, the tower with the family quarters. We're dealing with the rubble. At least we have Rebmans mobilized to fight already, so they're dealing with debris.
"I hesitate to call her now. Do you need help on the field?"
"Not at the present time." Conner replies. "Without Huon to lead them and lacking the magisharks to blunt the Tritons, his forces are on the brink of routing. I have offered mercy to those that lay down their arms. Many of the forces are from a shadow that a new cousin Meg called home for many years before Huon co-opted it." Conner explains. "As a courtesy to her, I am sparing who I can. I will call again if there is any more news." Unless his Aunt has more to say, Conner will nod his farewell and pass his hand over the card.
Conner looks the battlefield over. Provided the battle does not need his personal attention, Conner has the following on his to do list. If Huon's second has been captured by the Tritons, then questioning him is the first priority. If he is not yet in custody, then Conner will risk using the Eye to scry upon Huon.
The tritons are capturing as many humans as they can, but don't have that one, yet. He doesn't have a distinctive face.
Conner takes out the Eye and stares into it. He sees a clearing on an outcropping of a hill. On one side he sees his cousins, Jerod, Brennan, Khela, and Robin, charging at Huon. In the middle he sees a military outfit, armed with firearms. Behind them, he sees a row of vehicles. The soldiers attempt to fire at Jerod and Brennan and fail for some reason.
Conner continues to watch the struggle in frustration.
The tritons bring him a man in the captain's jacket. It is, as Conner can plainly tell, not Carper.
Conner shakes his head in exasperation. "The Captain is a clever one I see. I shall deal with him in a moment." Conner returns his attention to the mirror. The view of falling down the cliff was impressive for a moment but Conner is glad of the distraction to turn away before impact. Now though, he returns his gaze to the mirror to see what befell Huon. The spell to bring his voice to those chasing Huon tingles on the edge of his lips should it be clear they need his guidance.
Huon is on the far side of the cliff, 30 or 40 feet up in a tree. He's climbing stealthily along a branch towards the far wall. Far below him, Conner sees the search party. Bleys has traded his horse for something more suited for climbing.
Conner gathers the last of his strength and concentrates on the image in the mirror. The Eye transmits the image of the far off place to here. Conner now wills it help carry his voice to where Huon hides. He holds the mirror like a microphone and calls with the full strength of his herald's lungs. "He's here, Bleys! In the tree on the far side!" Conner does not risk saying more in his enervated state and lets the Sorcery drop after his warning.
Conner does this and waits. Around him the battle rages. A triton, perhaps Teukeros, asks if wants water or perhaps tea?
A slightly clumsy nudge makes itself felt in Conner's mind. The feel of it is not familiar to Conner.
Conner gets so few Trump calls that blocking it didn't even occur to him despite his desire to track Huon. It is up to them now. Conner ceases his scrying and opens to the contact.
"Who calls?" Conner asks.
"Margaret -- Meg Carper," is the reply. "The Regent is here with me; if you've news for him, I will be pleased to pass it -- but I've questions of my own, if this be a time convenient."
Conner runs a hand through his hair. "The battle does not press on my position at present so I've some time to talk." Conner reflexively smiles at his cousin but the result is weak at best. "Ask your questions. I suspect once I pass my news the Regent will wish to speak with me for more details and your questions will never be asked."
"I seek two of my sons who fought in this battle on the side of Huon," says Meg, with economy. "Hugh and Quinn Carper. Is there any word of them, or any way I might find them myself?"
Conner nods as his assumption is confirmed. "The battle is still ongoing, cousin. It will be sometime before a battlefield census could be taken. I have given orders that those of Huon's army that surrender are to be captured and treated fairly. As I did not have descriptions or even names, it was the best I could do to try and safeguard your sons." Conner informs Meg. "Would you have any influence over the troops from Abford, Meg? The sooner I can get them to lay down their arms, the better it will be for us all, I think."
"I might," she says thoughtfully. "I am willing to essay a peace, leastaways. I am ill-equipped for a battlefield; would there be one to shield me?"
"I can assign you a bodyguard." Conner assures Meg. "I would not be sending you into the thick of the fighting in any case. There are groups of Abford soldiers that have already surrendered. You could search them for your sons while assuring them of our good intent."
Hope and fear war in her weary face. "Please you, I will come now, if I may -- but you will perhaps wish to speak to the Regent first?" She holds out her hand to Gerard, without breaking contact with the trump.
Gerard takes her hand and appears in the contact. "Conner, what news hae ye for the King? A quick report o'the state o' battle, perhaps?"
"The battle is all but won," Conner reports, "but that is the least of my news. Jerod and Khela were doing battle with Huon when by means unknown but Trump related all three of them disappeared from Rebma. After seeing to the battle I performed a scrying. Huon has obtained Khela's Pattern blade. The Trump apparently took them to Amber because Robin, Caine, Bleys, Khela, Brennan, and Jerod are in hot pursuit of him through the close shadows of Amber and Arden. I last saw them in a great ravine that should not be on Kolvir's slopes or Arden's woods." Conner concludes.
"Good enow. I'll report to the King at once." And Gerard releases Meg's hand and drops out of the contact.
"My heartfelt thanks for your aid, my lord Regent," Meg says to Gerard, not betraying any of her apprehension at what an all-but-won battle means for her sons, before stretching out her hand to Conner. "Pray you, cousin, of your kindness bring me through."
"Prepare yourself cousin." Conner warns. "You will be appearing underwater but it is perfectly breathable. That is a gift the Pattern of Rebma provides. Just breathe normally." Conner clasps her hand and pulls her through. "Welcome to Rebma, Meg."
Meg is momentarily disoriented -- every sense tells her she ought to be drowning -- but after the first startled gasp she can loose her clutch on Conner's hand. "Gramercy for the warning, Lord Conner," she says, a little shamefacedly, "and I rejoice that you live still."
The hues about them are rather too reminiscent of Chaos for Meg to find them entirely comfortable; nor is the battle-stench helped by the sour smell of undersea. At least Meg was able to plait and tie up her hair in Texorami, so that it is not an impediment here.
What did her quiet Abford countrymen make of this place? What will those still in Abford make of their tales? If any of them yet live, of course... Meg sighs. "I believe there is a task for me?"
"An opportunity at the very least, cousin." Conner replies. "Let us see how the battlefield stands and where the prisoners of wars are currently located." Before that, Conner turns his attention to the soldier in Captain's clothing that has been waiting. "I don't suppose this man is known to you. I gave orders for Huon's second to be captured but he cleverly swapped his uniform with another and gave his persurers the slip."
Meg needs only a glance. "Devon Sawyer, that is," she says severely, "and what his wife Rose does without him I am sure I do not know." She turns away from the prisoner without another word. "Huon's second is from Abford, then, but not known prisoner? Have you his name?"
Sawyer looks down, not meeting Meg's gaze.
"Huon never gave it," Conner replies. "but here is his description." Conner then proceeds to describe Captain Carper in great detail. "Does that sound familiar to you?"
Meg's expression is quite singular, and does not bode well for Huon. "It sounds decidedly like my son Hugh," she says. "I hope he acquitted himself as honourably as the occasion allowed."
"He stood his ground in the face of superior foes until his leader fled the field." Conner replies. "Then he retreated back behind his own lines and fooled his pursuers. Or to put it another way, he was alive and among allies not minutes ago. Let us check among the troops that have surrendered to see if he or your other son are among them."
"By all means," says Meg. "Pray lead on, Lord Conner. The sooner this is resolved, the sooner I can be out of your way." And the sooner she could rest...
Conner calls for two members of the Swift to come as bodyguard and Conner takes Meg to survey the battlefield. The first priority is for Meg to look over the prisoners of war. The second is to see if there are any pockets of fighting that Conner should help personally crush.
The fighting is over. Jerod's commander from Rebma wants to know where Jerod is. And Khela.
Considering the appearance of the Swift, Meg concerns herself less about her own outlandish garb; it helps that Conner did not even blink at it. She greets as many of her countrymen by name as possible, asking them for news of Hugh and Quinn, reassuring them as best she can without making promises she has no stature to keep. If she must, she refers them to Conner.
Hugh and Quinn were with them, and were officers. Most of the officers weren't captured, and the brothers probably escaped into the countryside.
She most specifically does not promise that they can be taken home to Abford. She is of two minds about that: their absence will be felt, to be sure, and if Huon could simply walk in and appropriate a significant fraction of the masculine population of Abford, how can Abford defend itself without men who know firsthand the hollowness and fatuity of Huon's promises?
Yet what will become of her Abford, the safe and quiet haven where she spent her childhood, should such strangeness return to it?
The place must change, either way. Already Meg grieves for her home... but her grief does not tell her what she ought to choose for it. She listens carefully to her countrymen, watches their faces, tries to ferret out what they think of their sojourn with Huon... what they think of Abford, now.
Mostly what Meg can discern from any individual is a certain amount of shock that they lost, relief that they (personally) lived, and sadness for the losses in the battle.
Such perfect little soldiers they are already, Meg thinks to herself, with a sourness born of exhaustion and the weight of her dilemma. She does not trouble to keep any kind of roster of the dead or the living; that will do for later, and if they are not bound for Abford and home, how much does it matter, anyway? Huon will throw them into battle after battle until they are all dead. Even should Huon not reclaim them, will Conner and Huon's other enemies do any better by them, really?
She hates this place. There is no sense in it, no stillness, no reason. She despises her countrymen for fools. Her wide mouth turns down at the corners, and not even the water about them can smooth out the worry-lines in her forehead.
"Pray you, Lord Conner," she asks politely once they have made their rounds of the prisoners, "what are the odds my sons went with Huon, wherever he has gone?" And with this Jerod and this Khela in pursuit... Meg is far from sanguine about their chances; they are her sons, but not of her blood, and she recognizes how much that matters.
"No chance." Conner says simply. "The type of travel they used was like the Trump you stepped through. It is not a method of travel conducive to taking others with you and in any case Huon was fleeing alone when I saw him in my mirror." Conner cocks his head to one side and looks at Meg thoughtfully. "How strong is your will, cousin? Have you a talent for concentrating upon a hard subject for a long period?"
"Under normal circumstances I would say yes," she says, equally thoughtful, "but the standard by which I am judged has changed, has not it? I must say that I do not know, then. My will was not strong enough to escape Dara's duress, but I did survive it, and that by concentrating on the small scraps of seemliness I had about me. If that suffices, what would you have me do?"
Conner reaches into an inside pocket of his uniform and removes from it an ornate hand mirror. "This device is a scrying mirror. It allows the user to see people from far away provided you have a clear mental image of the one you wish to find. Though the principles that underlie it are far different, using it is much like a Trump. Picture the image of the one you wish to see, focus that image on the mirror, and where they are now should appear in the mirror." Conner explains. "Would you like to try to use it to find your sons?"
"This is just my day to be overwhelmed by kindness," says Meg, and though her voice trembles a little, her hands as she accepts the mirror do not. She sinks into a profound curtsey before her cousin, holding the mirror in both hands over her heart. "My deepest thanks to you."
She does realise, with the part of her head that quietly ruled her household and much of Abford while hardly seeming to, that more than kindness governs his decision: he cannot wish to leave a centre of resistance behind, and she can find it for him. Still, if he is the one who defeats it, perhaps her boys will live...
Meg stands in Conner's lee, that the shifting currents may disturb her study less, and gazes into the well-made mirror.
Meg stares and stares, and sees nothing for a while, but buttressed by Conner's tale and her own experience with the magic playing cards, she perseveres. It is a thing she is good at. After long moments of nothing, suddenly there is something. Neither a trick of the light nor a reflection, she looks on and sees the two men, her boys.
They are surrounded by inky blackness, as if inside a cloud or fog. However, Meg gets the impression that they are moving.
She tries not to blink lest she lose the image, despite a salt sting in her eyes that is not the sea.
Meg learns one of the truth's of Rebma. Underwater, no one can see you cry.
"I see them, but I cannot see where they are," she tells Conner, unsure whether he can share the mirror's vision. "A dark place -- no moon, no stars, no -- a cave undersea, perchance? Or a murk, a fog, if such things come here? They are moving; it is no prison, at least... I cannot tell if any other be with them."
Conner steps to Meg's side and peers into the mirror. "Odd. I can think of no caves that they should have been able to reach in a such a short amount of time." Conner steels his will and works a small sorcery to carry their voices to those depicted in the mirror and return theirs in return. "Speak to them." Conner murmurs to Meg. "They will hear."
Meg loses no time complying. "Hugh? Quinn? It's your stepmother, on the field with the commander of the defending force. Can you return here for a parley? I believe safe-conduct can be arranged." Her voice holds neither praise nor blame, only urgent concern.
The lads turn in place, and it appears that they are swimming inside some sort of cloud of ink. It swirls about them like a darker version of the blood that swirled in the water during the battle. They turn and stop, and the cloud moves past them. They seem to be swimming back, but it's not clear where they are.
If many of them have used this octopoid escape mechanism, then the cleanup from this battle may take a long time.
"Well," she remarks to Conner without looking away from the mirror. "I believe that marks the first time Quinn Carper has ever taken my word for its worth." But her voice is fond, and no little relieved. "How shall we find them? Should not word be given of their coming, so they are not mistakenly harmed?"
Perhaps they can still hear her and perhaps not, but if they can, they will know she is looking to their welfare, even in this bizarre and unsavory place.
Conner nods. "My troops have standing orders to capture any that approach with peaceful intent. Still, better safe than sorry." Conner turns to one of the Swift and shows him the two men in the mirror. "These men are Hugh and Quinn Carper, officer's of Huon's trooped invited by me to parley. They are under my protection and not to be harmed. Bring word to our troops tracking down the straggers that they are to be escorted to us when they arrive."
Conner turns back to the image in the mirror to watch their approach. "The curious question is where they hope to retreat to. Gateway presumably or possibly Paris. I do wish I could see more detail through the Eye but it seems to be designed for personal spying rather than general scrying. Nothing to do now but wait for their arrival."
The wait is not long and shortly the two men are brought before Conner and Meg. They are neither bound nor held, although they couldn't escape from the Tritons if they tried. They stop when they see Meg.
"Mother?" asks Quinn, as if he doesn't believe what he sees.
They are men, they are men grown -- Meg cannot run to them, throw her arms around them, weep the relieved tears that still prick at her eyes; it would utterly ruin their earned stature, any esteem that Lord Conner might yet have for them. "Quinn, Hugh," she acknowledges quietly. "I am heart-glad that you live."
She turns to Conner. "My lord and cousin," she says formally, "may I present my stepsons, Hugh and Quinn Carper." She gestures subtly so that Conner knows which is which. "My sons, this is my cousin, Lord Conner, who has of his great courtesy aided me in searching for you, and granted you safe-conduct here."
She has no right to so much as plead for their lives. Instead, she leaves Conner's side to stand with her boys, a hand on each shoulder; it is all the gesture she can think of to make.
Two arms snake behind her back, as if unsure if she is really real but nonetheless quite relieved by her presence.
Conner nods to them both in greeting. "Good day to you sons of my cousin. I wish we were meeting under more pleasant circumstances, but Uncle Huon's machinations have made that impossible." Conner smiles at them. "I wish to negotiate the surrender of Huon's remaining troops. Do you have the authority to parley with me to this end?"
The men bow, clumsily. They are not yet used to Rebma's environs, but they have the poise to answer his questions.
Hugh speaks first. "No, My Lord. Only the Lord Protector has such authority. The officers are dispersing and going to ground, as we were ordered to do if the Protector disappeared. "
"The men fear being eaten by giant fish-men," Quinn adds helpfully.
"The Tritons dietary habits need not concern your men," Conner smiles. "All those that have asked for mercy have been granted. You can question those we hold if you like." Conner offers with a wave of his hand. "I do hope your officers are well provisioned. I suspect they are in for a long wait."
"I've a feeling they weren't provisioned at all," says Meg with a scowl for Huon. "He has little enough care for his armies; like as not he told them to go to ground so that you would waste time chasing them. No, Lord Conner, I daresay you might do better to put out bait for them -- food caches, small scout bands that look to be easily plundered. 'Tis dangerous to eat strange fish, after all; they'll be wanting something more sure."
The prisoners are silent.
Conner nods thoughtfully. "Well that is a concern for the future. For now, the battle is done. Cousin Meg, these are your people. What do you suggest be done with those that have surrendered. Is Abford still home for them?
Hugh and Quinn, their arms around Meg's back, can feel her sturdy body sag. "My heart greatly wishes me to say a mighty yea to that," she says, "but in truth, my lord and cousin, I do not know. These men left home and family and honest labor to follow the like of Huon, and now they have seen and done such things as would change my poor homeland forever, like as not for the worse.
"Yet by their absence also Abford must be changed -- for all I know fall into penury and want, or be conquered by fire and sword -- and so you see how terrible is this choice I must make. What say you to it? I would have your counsel, even before I ask these two young makeshifts what they wish." She pinches her sons' shoulders, not hard.
Conner shrugs eloquently. "That would depend on the current state of things in Abford. Shadow time is a funny thing. They could return to find months or years more than they thought have passed. We know from experience how hard that can be to adjust to. But so would starting a life anew. Still the choice must be made. I doubt whoever would ferry these men back out into Shadow would care to make more than one trip."
"So they cannot go home even should they wish it..." Meg says softly, glad for her boys' indubitably solid presence. "It is but fitting; even so... a retribution so harsh I would quail at it."
She makes herself stand up straight. "What awaits them should they not return to Abford?"
They stiffen, but don't reply.
"That depends on the Queen." Conner replies. "After all, the damage done has been against her people. However, I suspect the view that the people of Abford were dupes of Huon would be a widely accepted one. Under normal circumstances, I would say that one of the other Pattern realms, that is Xanadu or Paris, would take them in. Both are growing realms that are accepting those that would swear fealty to them. With Huon's taint on them though, it might be a hard sell. The other option would be finding a new home for them somewhere in shadow. It is within our abilities to find a place like enough to their home that they could make a new life there."
Meg nods thoughtfully at intervals while Conner speaks. "Gramercy, my lord and cousin; much more is clear to me now. I believe that it is meet that those who followed Huon stand before the Queen for judgment." She aims her next words like an arrow at her sons. "I would in no way hinder that, even if I could -- call that Abford's judgment, insofar as I have power to deliver such, for Abford as well they have thoughtlessly harmed, and why should Abford then protect them?"
Her voice softens. "Yet if the Queen be merciful, I would give them their choice of the paths available, and whatever I must do to make those choices real, I will do. Does that suffice, for now, my lord?"
"Your wishes are noticed cousin and as one of our Blood with a tie to the people of Abford, we shall strive to honor them." Conner promises. "At the very least, I will keep you informed of any decisions. So that now leaves you two, Masters Hugh and Quinn." Conner takes a moment to meet the gazes of both before continuing.
Meg looses her sons' shoulders to curtsey silently to Conner.
"You may not have the authority to speak for her men but your destinies are in your own hands." Conner smiles at them. "If you wish to stay here under the protection of your mother and myself, you are welcome to do so. You will be treated well and can look over the welfare of your people that have surrendered. However, if you wish to go to ground and await your Lord Protector, I will not prevent you from leaving. But know that I will not show you any special favor a second time if that is your choice. What say you?" Conner asks.
Neither by word nor gesture does Meg offer them guidance. They are men grown; the choice must be theirs.
Quinn looks at his brother. "My Lord, we surrender and will stay under those terms. The Lord Protector could raise another army in Renady easily, but the honest answer is that we were a mercenary force and having been broken, will not fight on out of loyalty. Not most of us."
Meg's brows knit at that last phrase, but she knows Conner will have heard it too, and forbears to remark upon it. Instead, she says, "Mayhap, my lord and cousin, of your great kindness you could find a quiet corner for the three of us. They have had a battle this day, even as you have, my lord, and I -- I have fled from strait durance, given my word to a rencontre with it, produced a meal for my rescuers from next to nothing, pleaded with a king and his regent and his general, and endured every sort of terror for my sons, all of this in at last count four strange realms!"
The obligations that kept Meg on her dogged path so long have been fulfilled, allowing long-deferred misgivings and weariness to make themselves felt. "It has been quite a day, my lord," she concludes softly, "and if my sons can be convinced to guard their old stepmother's rest, I should very much like to take it, if that is a possible thing." She would not ask this if Conner's army looked like marching, but appearances are to the contrary, to Meg's eye.
Conner nods. "Quite understandable. The most I can offer you is the comfort of my tent. The city is still in a state of war and may not be ready to offer proper hospitality just yet. If you like, I can inquire of the Princess Llewella to see if she would receive you and your sons."
"If that be the simplest way to dispose of us, by all means; but your courtesy and kindness have been so exemplary already that I hesitate to trespass further upon them, my lord. Wherever you can stow us, so it be moderately safe, will be just fine."
Meg offers Conner his mirror back.
Conner accepts the mirror and holds it close. Conner calls over one of the Swift. "Escort these three to my tent and allow them to rest within. Stay to guard their slumber and attend to their needs. Rest well Cousin. Should there be further news I will inform you."
Once they are gone, Conner returns his attention to he battlefield. He wants to get the prisoners of war safely stowed with enough troops stationed to make sure they don't wander off. The rest he wants to get organized for the march to the city.
"Gramercy, Lord Conner. There is little enough I can return you for your great kindness, but this at least I may promise: to sing your praises to any of our family who will hear me." She curtseys to him one last time and follows Conner's adjutant.
Hugh and Quinn come into the tent before their mother and go over to the far side of a portable heat source.
"So," says Hugh. "Didn't expect to see you here, with them."
"Not at all," adds Quinn. "Since we thought you were dead."
"Not dead, only... departed," says Meg wryly. "I am not the one who left home and inheritance for -- what? Wealth? Glory? Well." She glances about her at the borrowed haven, needing to say no more.
Quinn looks at her. "After the Protector came, things changed. I could show you, but Renady is different."
Hugh adds, "You weren't there. It's different. We're civilizing the world."
"He told you that, did he?" Meg asks rhetorically (and with no little sharpness of tone). "You have changed Renady, indeed you have: by leaving it, if naught else. Civilized it? It was civilized ere ever Huon set foot there."
With a sigh, she steps toward a low table to disburden herself of her faithful kitchen knife. "It is changed, and cannot be un-changed," she says, half to herself. "And should any of us return to it, we only change it again... and I am but the cuckoo's chick; what right have I to claim the nest?"
She seats herself neatly on the floor by the table, and invites her sons to do likewise. "How came you to believe I was dead?"
Hugh looks grim. "Lots of people were dead in the invasion. Quinn was almost one of them."
Quinn nods. "Yes, but the Protector's forces took care of me, and they offered me a chance to get ahead. The Renaidic League is a good place to be from in the new world, Mother."
"And that makes all well, does it, Quintilian Carper? You shame your honored father's memory with such selfish talk." Goddess preserve them all from such featherwits as her second son. Meg looks to Hugh. "I am sorry that we were severed one from another, Hugh; sorrier still that like enough we shall be again. Still, I will see you safe, if I can and if you will have it so."
Her look invites him to tell her what he wants from his life.
"Are you returning to Abford, Mother? The Protector is well-loved there. If we are to take you home, it would be wise to be circumspect about this battle," Quinn asks.
Meg flinches. Poor Abford, in such hands... "Should I return to Abford," she murmurs, "it will be to remove every last jot and tittle of the self-styled Protector therefrom... I do not know, Quinn dear. It may be that Abford was conquered owing to my presence there. Should I return, worse yet could come of it. In especial since I am not yet ready to tangle with one such as Huon."
Her face is a study. "I don't know, Quinn. I don't know what I ought do, past seeing you lads through this."
Hugh reaches out to her. "Two things need to be done, Mother. First someone needs to negotiate with these foreigners for the freedom of our captives and take them home, if possible. Second, someone must tell the King what happened here, and prepare him against Huon's return. I can speak to the Green people, but I cannot get back without the Protector."
Meg takes her son's hand in both of hers. "Not so hasty, Hugh Carper," she chides him, though in a gentler fashion than she had Quinn. "You scamper ahead of events, and yet further ahead of me. Our countrymen I indeed mean to speak for, but I mince no more words with you than did Lord Conner: Huon invaded this place, and he abandoned you and our other countrymen to suffer for it." She directs a grim glance toward Quinn, whose uncritical admiration for the Protector mislikes her in the extreme. "Like enough I can do but little for you. You must be strong, Hugh, and you too, Quinn."
Her hands tighten on Hugh's nearly to the pain-point, before she consciously loosens them. "Which King is this you speak of," she asks, "and with precision, now, who be these Green people? And to whom is your allegiance now given?"
Hugh looks at her as if she'd stepped in from the past. "King Maximillian of the Renaidic League, Mother. But our allegiance is given to Peter. He's the one who has arrangements with the Renadians."
Meg shakes her head. "You are a prisoner of war, my son; you will send no message to your King this night, nor your brother. I have gone surety for your good behavior. Kindly give me no cause to regret it." Weary though she is, Margaret Carper's words are well-wrought steel.
Quinn looks at the tent opening. "Those Green people. I mean, not all of them are green, but some of 'em are, as is their Queen."
Meg nods. "I will do what I can for you, as I promised. I see little reason they would wish to keep our people here, as ill-suited to the environs as we be, and I pray the good Goddess they are not such as to slay captives out of hand. I shall seek to take you home, or as near home as may be. As for Peter..." She shakes her head again. Her eldest faces a heavy reckoning, if once Meg lays eyes on him, for following foolish Renady to Huon. How much blood washes through Peter Carper's hands, while Peter Carper sits safe in Abford?
Her sons nod. They look like their father as they do. Hugh says "We will honor your safeguard, Mother."
"Thank you, Hugh." She lays one hand on Hugh's shoulder, and stretches out the other to pat Quinn's cheek.
Quinn looks at her. "If it can be arranged, we would like to be with the men. We could do some good there."
"Laudable." It is indeed laudable, this sense of duty, so Meg swallows her pique that they should wish to leave her, after the distance she has come in search of them. Margaret Carper is no Dara, to bind her children to her. "I shall see what may be done."
The sole saving grace of water is that it does buoy one's tired muscles, Meg thinks as she goes to the opening of the tent to discuss matters with whoever may be available to do so.
The soldiers are quick to point her in the direction of General Conner and Duke Jerod, but they want to know what to do with the two prisoners.
"They wish to share their fellows' lodging this night," Meg reports factually, without notable emotion. "If you would be so kind as to have them escorted thence, I shall not need to disturb the general and the duke."
A more senior soldier comes up to Meg. "Pardon, My Lady, but our orders were to take them to the General's tent and allow them to rest within. I have no authority to mix them with the prisoners. Until we have new orders, we may not do as you wish."
Indeed, Meg can see the difficulty; she is quite convinced her lads -- her grown sons; why does she still think of them as children? -- will stir up no unrest, but how can anyone else be sure of it?
Not wishing to interrupt a tete-a-tete between a general and a duke, she is about to go back in and tell Hugh and Quinn to settle themselves for the night when she sees Conner's balance fail him. Concerned for him, she tells the senior soldier, "Very well; leave them be for now. Pray you excuse me; I must go see to my cousin."
Without awaiting their response, as their form of address indicates that she at least is no prisoner, Meg hastens toward Conner and Jerod at a respectable though far from headlong pace.
Jerod sifts out his trumps, pulling Llewella's from the pack. "Should Huon cross my path, I will deal with him." he says [to Khela] flatly, the tone suggesting a permanent end to such a meeting. "In the interim, I must find my sister's murderer, should such be the nature of her death." as he begins to concentrate, reaching for the contact. He extends his arm a bit, gesturing for Khela to enter the process.
"Aunt...we need to come through."
Llewella smiles, and reaches out. "Then come to me." She reaches out and brings them through. She is on the walls of the city of Rebma, looking out at the battle on the plains and back at the forces in reserve behind the walls.
Khela cleans dragon viscera off of herself. "I'm so glad to be back in Rebman waters, Mother. Victory in the field, but Huon, who threatened to kill every man, woman, and Triton living in Rebma, fled. We pursued to Amber and beyond."
Llewella nods. "His plans were thwarted, thank Lir. Our family is always at the most dangerous when outnumbered and threatened."
"Yes. I need to address the city. But there's one thing first." She turns to Jerod and seems somehow more regal than she did moments ago. "Duke Jerod, your services this day have been invaluable to Rebma and to me. I have heard that you do not seek honors or titles, but you have earned such without the seeking. If you will not accept such, I will not offer, but it is deserved. What say you?"
Jerod is also picking off pieces of dragon guts as he scans the surroundings, thankful to be home once more even under these circumstances, taking in the battlefield for evaluation as to the extent of the victory that is being claimed. He turns slightly to take in Khela's words, not being so unkind as to ignore her during what is certainly a formal occasion, if not well attended.
"I am a Prince of Amber." he says simply, making no attempt to dismiss or deny her regal behaviour. "We both know what that means. If you believe there is a title or honour greater than that, then I would never be so rude as to decline to consider it."
He gives Khela a moment to consider his words but turns his attention to Llewella. "Do we have status reports on our forces and the enemy's? Are they captured, or in retreat?"
Llewella points at certain areas of the battlefield. "That concentration is captured enemies, mostly soldiers and some scouts. Others have fled, and we'll be some days or weeks collecting them. Some may find isolated hiding holes and be out there for some time. I suspect that they will wait for a long time if they're waiting for Huon's armed return."
Jerod nods, considering options for the future.
Khela points to another concentration. "They're coming back in." The troops seem to be forming to march to the city.
Khela turns to Jerod. "Honor is a thing I can neither give nor take away from you, but I can recognize it. I would not want your men to think I had not recognized their commander's valor or that I had slighted their own service. Do you plan to stay long in Rebma? I do not have to knight you on the literal field of battle."
"Long enough to take care of a few things family related and personal. I must then depart for my sister's funeral and the future." Jerod says. "The role of Guard Commander was a temporary one under Moire and I will not be able to continue to fulfill for the future under the current circumstances. I will be resigning command to my executive officer once the situation has stabilized. He'll retain the post until a replacement is decided upon by the Crown."
Khela nods. "I would value your advice on a permanent replacement."
Llewella gets a familiar, faraway look in her eyes. "She stands beside me, Conner, with Jerod. Would you speak to her?"
She pauses, and says "Khela, Jerod, would you join us?" She holds out her hand and Khela reaches to take it.
Jerod returns the nod. "Drusus." he says simply, before reaching out for the link.
The battle is over, and the pockets of resistance are gone. Jerod's second is an officer of the City Guard, and offers to help organize a march to the city. He asks if there has been word from the City, and he would like to see the Queen.
"So would I." Conner murmurs under his breath, "The latest news of the city had it handling the aftermath of the quake with admirable alacrity. I shall inquire further and inform the Queen of your wish for an audience." With that, Conner takes out his trump of Llewella and concentrates upon it.
"It is Conner, my Aunt. Any news of Khela?" Conner asks.
"She stands beside me, Conner, with Jerod. Would you speak to her?"
"I would my Aunt." Conner nods. "There are many here that wish to know what has become of their Queen. I am only the one with the best means to find out. Jerod's troops also ask after the fate of their commander." He adds.
She pauses, and says "Khela, Jerod, would you join us?" A moment later Khela is in the contact. She does not seem badly wounded, and is carrying the green sword at her side.
Jerod enters the contact a moment later. He's not wounded, at least not visibly, though the evidence of a different battle is clearly evident.
He nods a greeting to his cousin. "General."
"Your Grace." Conner nods in response. "I've got nervous commanders here who would to know where there leaders went but first tell me of Huon. I had to cease my scrying shortly after calling my warning. What happened?"
Khela nods and touches the sword at her side. "We are hale and safe and have chased Huon to the gates of Amber and into the depths of shadow. He is no immediate threat to Rebma, and his plans have been thwarted on and off the field, but he escaped from a half-dozen of us and may re-arm and return to trouble us in the future. Rebman soldiers all have much to be proud of this day, and those who died are honored for their sacrifice."
Conner's smile slips as Khela reveals that Huon escaped. A dozen questions, all variants of 'How could you let that happen?', spring to mind but Conner does not voice them. "Indeed, much of import has transpired this day." Conner feels little pride in today's work but soldiers on. "As you can see I have granted quarter to those that asked for it. Our new cousin Meg claimed the shadow Huon took his troops from. I had intended to return them there, but I would not return seasoned troops to our enemy. Meg is here in camp and secured the surrender of her sons who were officers in Huon's army. She asks to be kept informed of our decisions regarding her countrymen."
"We have made none, and will not without consulting our court. This need deliberation. Given that one of the rationales behind my personal war with Moire was that she took prisoners in a war and made them slaves for generations, that is not an option, although we may find a period of rebuilding the city they half-knocked down to be just ."
Llewella looks as if she wouldn't mind enslaving them, but says nothing.
Conner nods at the thought.
"If it is possible, I'd say you should split the troops. Leave some in the field to secure the borders and march the rest, with their prisoners, into the city.
"I will address them again when they are within the walls.
"Jerod, are your men fit for the field work? It is important but may be fruitless. Ideally, that would be under subcommanders, because I wish to meet Drusus myself."
"They have spent the last couple of months performing independent operations." Jerod says. "I will need to verify their losses first before advising if they are ready."
Conner nods at Khela's instructions. "We will be spread a little thin but I do not expect much resistance from the remnants of Huon's forces. I shall arrange it. Will either of you be coming through?" He asks.
"I will be." Jerod says.
Khela nods. "Jerod can go, I am needed here. Jerod, please send Drusus to me, and I would appreciate a word before you leave, if you are not pressed for time."
Jerod nods and appears ready to come through, but holds off for a moment as a thought filters in, part of an old plan sifting its way through the layers of data being processed.
"I just thought of something, per our recent conversation." he says, looking at Khela. "There is something that might be suitable. I need to go for a walk." and he leans forward just slightly. "Downstairs."
He leaves Khela with that thought and reaches out for Conner to go through and the work that remains to be done.
Khela smiles. "We shall see you both back in Rebma, cousins." Llewella closes the connection.
Last modified: 22 September 2009