The Road To Ruin

Random is, according to the staff, out by the waterfall, apparently holding a mini-court, considering the number of breakfasters who have joined him and his sons.

Folly heads in that direction, paying attention to make sure she's not interrupting some big discussion.

[If there's nobody else there when she arrives]

When she finds him, she surveys the remains of multiple breakfasts. "Interesting morning?" she asks.

The king has apparently been using the linens to write music upon. His shorthand is even worse when written on tablecloth.

"Let's see... Kidnappings, armies on the move across shadows, new nieces, Dara, two different sons trumping out of breakfast in different directions, and Hannah of the Thousand Questions for dessert. So, really, slower than normal. But it could pick up. " He looks over to her. "Already has, in fact. Why doesn't that third part have more oomf?" He points to a bit of the table covered in breadcrumbs and quarter notes.

Folly leans over his shoulder to inspect the troublesome passage. "Hmm, it calls out for a bit of a...." She picks up a fork and pushes breadcrumbs into the off-beats between some of the notes, sketching out a syncopated bass line. "Don't you think? Or some sort of tension, anyway. This other bit is nice, though." She points to a section curving around a coffeepot.

"Thanks. I started with something Ash and I did this morning, and sorta improvised. Yeah, more syncopation, sez half the rhythm section..." Random tosses her the pen as if it's a drumstick: It arches high into the morning sunlight and comes down in her hands.

She nudges the breadcrumbs out of the way and inks notes into place. "And where did your elder son trump off to, anyway?" Folly asks. "I couldn't reach him by trump."

"Brita called to report about Meg being kidnapped by Dara, and kidnapped is apparently literal, in this case. Since it had Dara and Rebma in the story, Martin decided it was a subject within his sphere of expertise and went to wherever Brita and Fiona are to investigate. He's talking to people, so either he was too busy to answer or else you tried while he was reporting back to me. I think he's heading south from where he is." Random pauses. "I have strict instructions to take care of you while he's gone."

Folly arches a dubious eyebrow. "'Take care of me'?"

Random nods. "I figured he meant 'give her musical distractions'.

"Oh, and Corwin trumped me a few moments ago. He gave me a letter for you. From Rebma." Random holds out an oilskin envelope.

"Ah. Well. Do you mind if I...?" Folly gestures to the chair next to Random, but sinks into it before he can answer. She takes the envelope and cautiously opens it facing away from her, as if she's afraid a shiver of seasnakes will spring forth as soon as the seal is broken. If nothing slithery, or bitey, or stabby emerges from the envelope, she withdraws the letter and opens it to read.

Reflexively, she reaches for Random's hand.

Random takes her hand and gets up. Like a dancer, he moves around her without moving her hand. Shorly he's behind her, perched on the low rail behind her chair. He pets her hand, rhythmically. Folly thinks he may be nervous as well.

The letter is addressed to "Lady Folly Mayhap", and is written in a thin, spidery hand. The paper still has droplets of water on it and seems to be covered in a thin wax.

Lady Folly,

While it is the custom of your home for such matters to be addressed between the male guardians of unmarried women, it is my hope that you will be amenable to a direct approach befitting women of our Kingdom and class. If not, please excuse my forwardness and pass this to your guardian.

My grandson, Duke Jerod of Rebma, brings me the glad tidings that his cousin my grandson Duke Martin of Rebma has chosen to marry you and that his father has given his blessing. As such a union has significant dynastic implications for two ancient and noble royal houses, I wish to meet you and to introduce you to the kingdom that your daughters may one day inherit.

You are invited to visit Rebma and see our fair city beneath the waves.

As we have not yet negotiated formal diplomatic ties with the newformed Kingdom of Xanadu, I have asked my friend King Corwin of Paris, brother to the King of Xanadu, to transmit this message and the return. It is quite likely that a marriage between our royal houses could lead to a more formal rapprochement between our two kingdoms and royal houses.

I look forward to your visit.

Moire,
Regina Rebma
[The Royal Seal of Rebma]

"Holy Shit!", says Random.

Folly sets the letter on the table and blots at each tiny water droplet with her napkin. She sets a spoon atop the letter to keep it from blowing away -- and then drapes the napkin over the spoon for good measure, as if concerned that even its shiny surface might betray her.

She scoots around in her chair to face Random and props one foot on the rail by his hip. She hasn't let go of his hand. "So, was that better or worse than seasnakes?" She seems undecided, herself.

Random's other hand touches Folly's foot. "It seems better so far..." he says, dubiously. "What are you going to do?"

"It's a bit of a conundrum," Folly says. "I feel certain she means me to come visit before the wedding, which in turn I was hoping to be done with before having the baby. But going to Rebma while I'm pregnant strikes me to my bones as profoundly unwise: I don't really trust Moire, and in fact I kind of hate her. And before I deal with any of it, I really need to talk to my mother, which is what I came up here to talk to you -- or actually Martin -- about: Julian has offered to go with me, and is ready to go whenever I am."

She sighs, pensively. "What sort of diplomatic relations do you want with Rebma?"

Random pets Folly's foot, absently, and ticks off points against it. "One, I want not to need to lead a vengeful army after the downstairs neighbors. Two, I don't want 'em machinatin' around here, I have family if I need that. Three, I want 'em being a valued but lesser trading partner in the process of making Xanadhavians and to a lesser extent Rebmites very rich and satisfied with their governments. And a pony. Always ask for a pony, when someone says 'what do you want?'"

"And ice cream. One can rarely go wrong with a pony and ice cream." Folly grins.

"A pony made of ice cream..."

"...but NOT ice cream made of ponies.

"I think Soren recorded the second album for Ice Cream Made of Ponies. It was sophomoric."

"So, then," grins Folly, returning to the question of Rebma, "not bestest-bosom-buddies, but we don't want to alienate them utterly, either." She pauses, and her expression grows much more serious. She looks at Random. "D'you trust Moire?"

"Like a brother." he replies, almost reflexively.

Folly smiles grimly, nods, and falls into a thoughtful silence.

After a long moment, she asks, "May I ask you sort of a dreadful personal question?"

"If it's not dreadful, can I send it back for more dreadfulness?" His smile is a little bit forced. "I can't deny you anything. Ask away."

Folly looks at him and squeezes his hand. "What was Martin's mother like?"

"OK, I said I couldn't deny you anything, so I guess that counts as fair warning. She was ... headstrong, and smart. Beautiful and driven. We got along really well, especially after I first helped her escape from Rebma.

"Then..." he shrugs. "We fought. She stormed out, and presumably went home. I figured I'd wait a bit and then go see if I could patch things up, but before that happened, she was dead and I was sentenced to death in absentia.

"I was probably a little crazy for a while after that. Not 'run naked through the woods' crazy, but not all there." He slows his breathing a bit, but clearly talking about this isn't easy for him.

"I'd pretty much found what I needed to get myself back together before I met him. My only solace is that I haven't screwed up with him as much as Moire did."

Folly listens in sympathy, and when he is done draws his hand to her lips and kisses his knuckles. "I'm so, so sorry, love."

She pets his fingers with her thumb, comfortingly, and continues: "I've suspected for a while now that she didn't really kill herself, not deliberately, anyway -- or if she did, that it didn't really have anything to do with you. Now... now I'm sure of it." She gives Random a tight, melancholy smile.

He nods. "Didn't make sense to me, either, but that's not really a point I can drive home, now. We're talking about the people who want to try Conner for murder. It's not like I can go down there and say 'excuse me, but were you lying about how your daughter died a few hundred years back'?"

Folly nods. "Everything I've heard of Moire says that she rewrites events into a plausible story to serve her own ends. I'm willing to make nice with her for the sake of Xanadu and family, but we've got to weave our own story so that no matter what happens, great or terrible, it works for us rather than for her, you know? I look at her letter, and I don't think, 'What should we do?' -- I think, 'What story do we want to tell?' And I don't know yet. Do you?"

"Oh, yeah. 'Cause I've always been so much better at planning than improvising." His face twists into a quick grimace. "My guess is that we're better off improvising, because 'A' we're better at it and two, it's our game, not hers. I'm thinkin' I'm sending you and sayin' 'you're in charge'.

"I can't send you with one of my brothers, because the Rebmans will think I don't trust you. If I send you with a sister, the Rebmans will think she's in charge, so also no.

"Which brings us to cousins and others. Who do you want to take with you?"

"I may have to think about that. My first several ideas are all sort of bad. Unless you'd loan me Soren?" Folly gives him a hopeful grin.

Random takes a breath, but lets it out when Folly continues.

"Not that it really matters, yet. I have to go talk to my mother before I can think about going anyplace else. But I should at least write back to Moire before I go. What I'd really like is to talk to Martin before I do any of it, though...."

"See, if you take Soren you need to take Ash, because otherwise he'll sulk. And if you take Ash you'll have to take Tjaden, and then you'll want Haven, who isn't even here yet, but really needs to be. " He stops. "Yes, she does. It's gotta be hell being the last member of Happenstance who hasn't disappeared. Merde. I meant to suggest that a while back. Can you get her when you go back?"

"I think you already did suggest that, love," Folly replies with a little smile. "It's on the agenda, I promise."

"Thanks. And if you can get me something so I can remember when I haven't forgotten things, that'd be great, too."

She pauses, and then fishes out her trump case, and Martin's trump. Random can tell she's not optimistic it'll work, but she tries to make contact anyway.

The card is cold, but either the distance is too great or some other factor intervenes.

Folly frowns and curses under her breath. "He's not going to be happy if I disappear again. But I suppose at least this time I'm going someplace where I should be reachable, and time runs the right way round. And I guess you've still got a trump sketch of me in the booth?"

"Yeah. I'd like an honest-to-Dworkin trump of you soon, but we've got the sketch and we've got Paige if we need a new one. Do you have a trump or a sketch if you need to move in a hurry?"

"I've got one I think will work to get me to Texorami," Folly replies, "and I've done enough preliminary sketches of Xanadu that I think I could work up a trump sketch of it, although I haven't yet. Or of you, for that matter. And besides Martin's, I've got proper trumps of Paige and Ossian. Plus whatever Julian's got in his deck. Although he may not stay with me while I go looking for Haven."

Folly grins and lays a hand on her belly. "I think eventually I'm gonna put myself on 'bedrest' and just lounge about making trumps for a month. Possibly before I come back here, so I can put off the trip to Rebma. Which reminds me, I need parchment...."

Random says "Don't forget the bon-bons. They're crucial." He looks at the table. "If I had any parchment, I'd've saved the laundry the effort of transcribing the tablecloth. We do have tablecloth, however. Any road, the best way to write to Rebma is on oilskin paper, which probably means the admiralty, or what passes for it. And contact poison that only works underwater; that's always good for a laugh."

"Yes, I'm sure Moire would be very amused," Folly says with a smirk.

She pushes herself out of her chair in preparation for the search for oilskin (preferably without the contact poison). The motion leaves her standing bare inches in front of Random, still perched on the railing. On impulse, she reaches out and touches his chin, nudging it gently upward with one finger to give herself a better view of his face. With a little smile, she regards his features as if memorizing them.

Random lifts his chin off of her outstretched finger and reaches out for her hand under his chin. He moves her hand so it's over her own lips, he raises his own index finger to his lips, then drops it.

"The bell tolls for the secret of comedy," he says to someone not present. "Who calls?"

Folly stands rigidly still, listening, hoping it's Martin.

"Right, I'll tell her where he went and send his men through to you later. How many days out of Xanadu are you? If you can convince a trump artist to start making still life with waterfall, more power to you. I can barely keep 'em from scattering as is. Although I've got one who promises to sit and paint and eat bon-bons for a month in bed. I'm expecting 23 trumps with bed hair." Random smiles at this thought.

"If you all get us a shadow path, we can rely on plain old seafarers for communications, which will be good. Give me 4 hours on the men."

Folly listens, but can't quite work out who's on the other end. "Who?" she asks quietly.

"No, thanks, Solange. Just tell him I'm utterly unsurprised that he's on a ship now. He's hard to keep off of 'em." Random reaches forward and closes the contact. It's not clear to Folly how he did that.

"Solange,'" he says, "reporting that she'd kidnapped her own father and he didn't want to be ransomed. They're sailing here from Amber. I'm to round up his Greek chorus and send it to him."

Folly's eyebrows twitch upward. "Would it be disrespectful to suggest that of all your brothers, Gerard needs a Greek chorus the least?" She smiles, a little. "Perhaps I should put out the word to them while I'm off on my quest for oilskin paper?"

He sighs. "Yeah, I guess. We're at the equivalent of the part of the evening where it's 'you go deal with Fat Jack at the door and see if he's gonna try to rip us off again while I try to get the gear to the van without being mugged', aren't we?"

He smiles. "I almost decided to roll back over the rail when you reached out for me before, but 'A', I've already jumped off this and '2', I wouldn't have been able to see the look on your face."

"Yeah, but you would've seen the look on Solange's when you had a trump conversation with her while falling off a mountain. And then she'd wonder who you were trying to invade." Folly sticks her tongue out, but her eyes are twinkling. "I s'pose this time I should just wave goodbye, safely, from right here?" She presses her thumb to her chin and waggles her fingers at him.

"Some days I think 'If I'd disobeyed Corwin and gone with him to fight Eric, it would've been enough extra to tip the scales and we'd've taken the throne, and I, being the sole survivor, would've been King of Amber...' All roads lead there, they used to say." He smiles and squints over his shoulder at the sun. "Almost time for lunch, I suppose I should go in and stop having breakfast meetings." He slips off the rail. "Let's say goodbye later. Or never. I'm King, I should have some damn privileges. I hereby decree against saying goodbye."

Folly gives him a small, knowing smile. "In that case, how 'bout... 'I'll catch you later'. So try not to jump 'til then."

Random smiles and doesn't say any more as they walk in to the castle and go their separate ways.

Your Majesty,

I thank you for your gracious invitation, and eagerly anticipate getting to know the birthplace of my betrothed, as well as you his grandmother. I am at present engaged in some pressing personal business that may detain me for some little time; but once that is concluded and proper arrangements made, I look forward to visiting you and your fair city.

I confess that my decision to marry your grandson springs from personal rather than political motivations: I love Martin, and I want to spend my life with him. But if our union reinforces cordial relations between our two realms to mutual benefit, then I welcome those consequences.

I look forward to meeting you soon.

Yours humbly,
Folly

Martin --

Much as I would like to, I can't put off talking to my mother any longer. I'm off to Texorami with Julian as my escort. I don't anticipate going anywhere I'm unreachable; trump me when you get back to Xanadu. (And in the meantime I will continue trying your trump.)

The bigger news is that I've had a letter from your grandmother: it and my response are enclosed. The gist is that she has invited me to visit Rebma. Therefore -- and I haven't actually told anyone this yet -- I intend to deliver before I return to Xanadu. I will honor your grandmother's request, but I will not risk our child to her machinations. Catch up with me as soon as you can; I want you by my side when our daughter comes into this world.

In short: Call me. I'll keep trying to call you. Be safe. I love you, I love you, I love you. Always.

Folly

She seals the note around Moire's and the parchment-written draft of her reply. Her hand shakes just a little as she addresses it.

Folly stands, notes in hand, and moves toward the door to ask the young pages for one final favor; but another thought takes her, and she returns quickly to the desk.

Dearest brother --

I hope your endeavors proceed to your satisfaction, and I apologize for interrupting them; but I find myself in a bit of a predicament, and would value your advice.

As you may have heard already, Martin and I are engaged (or married, depending whose laws you honor). I have just received a letter from Queen Moire inviting me to visit Rebma. Gerard has told me you recently spent some time in Rebma; so you may have some insight into the Queen's disposition and demeanor that I do not. Here is my dilemma:

All rulers may be expected to work for what they see to be the good and strength of their own realms. However, I have heard evidence that Moire is willing to twist the truth almost to the point of breaking in order to manipulate situations to her own advantage; and that she may then use those lies to put down her political enemies -- terminally.

Related to this: I am almost certain I know what happened to her daughter, at least in the broad strokes. I am certainer that she knows, too, and that it was not a suicide.

In light of this, and in what you have seen of Moire, do you believe it would be terminally stupid of me to venture into Rebma on her invitation? Or if I do go, what precautions do you recommend? And -- if your own business is concluded before then, would you be willing to accompany me? (I trust you above all our cousins to help me not say anything regrettable. And I have a long list of regrettable things it would be very easy for me to say to Moire.)

Be safe, be well, and know that I'm thinking of you. Love to you and Robin, and luck in your endeavors.

Folly

She seals it and addresses it to Vere c/o Gerard; then it's off to find a page to carry the letters to Random.

Once the page has his instructions and is on his way, Folly returns to the infirmary to find Julian. She has changed into Texorami-appropriate clothing -- jeans and a smock-like blouse -- and has a knapsack slung over one shoulder. She enters quietly, mindful not to disturb whatever rest Julian or his son might be taking.

If Julian was dozing before Folly arrived, he is awake by the time she's in the room. Jovian, by contrast, is apparently sedated and still strapped to the bed.

Julian comes to his feet. "Good morning, again, kinswoman. Should I presume that you're ready to depart? I've made arrangements for sedatives for Jovian, but other than that, I've done nothing. I plan to acquire any clothes and gear en route, and, of course, I have my own steed."

Folly nods. "I'm ready, yes. Your steed is in the stables?"

Julian laughs, and Jovian stirs at the sound. "No, but he'll come when I call him. Morgenstern goes where he will, and if he prefers not to be in the stable, he will not be." He moves to the foot of the bed and begins to unstrap his son.

Folly nods, pleased that he'd answered not only the question she asked, but also the one she hadn't, quite. She moves a few steps toward Jovian, staying outside strike range but near enough that she could step in quickly to help if necessary. "How may I assist you?" she asks.

"By staying out of the way of Jovian, should he waken," Julian says. He finishes unstrapping Jovian's feet from the bed and uses the same straps to bind them together, making it harder for Jovian to kick him. He repeats the procedure with Jovian's arms, binding him at the wrists.

Looking down at his son for a moment, he leaves him on the bed and moves to the window, where he puts two fingers to his lips and gives a piercing whistle out into the sky beyond. There is a power to that whistle, Folly feels, one somewhat suppressed by the nature of Xanadu, but no malice or harm to Xanadu is in it.

Then Julian moves to the bed and picks his son up in a fireman's carry. "Let us go. Morgenstern will be waiting."

Folly nods and follows Julian's lead, careful to stay a couple of paces away should Jovian awaken. "Will I need to procure my own mount? Or will Morgenstern carry multiple riders?" She feels oddly relieved that her usual horse is safe in Xanadu: she's heard stories of Morgenstern, and suspects gentle Sprite would have trouble keeping up.

"Morgenstern will carry you until we're in Shadow and I can find you a suitable mount."

Folly nods.

Together they head downstairs to the courtyard. Jovian stirs occasionally, but doesn't awaken, and by the time they're outside, Morgenstern is indeed waiting for them. Julian puts his son over the back of the saddle and then mounts up before offering Folly an arm up. He clearly means for her to sit in front of him.

Folly hesitates for the barest instant as she assesses the situation -- huge horse, mad unconscious cousin, son-of-Oberon-who-isn't-Random-or- Gerard -- but accepts the arm up. She's grateful for the assistance: she is really beginning to feel the changes in her center of mass.

When she's settled securely, she nods to Julian.

And they're off.

They head out down the mountainside. Folly has no sense that Julian is even trying to shift Shadow so near to Xanadu. The reality and solidity of the place is such that it wouldn't be worth the effort.

Since the first time Folly arrived in Xanadu, the locals have started to wear a regular path to the growing town. Julian diverges from that path partway down the mountain and heads off along the shore to the north, away from the bustle of civilization.

After a long time, when the sights and sounds and scents of the would-be city have faded, Folly can sense Julian start to shift them into Shadow.

Folly watches the landscape with interest, paying attention to the feel of things, the little hints that they are still in Random's realm even though they're far from the city.

And then the shifting starts, and she tries to pay attention to that, too, but she finds herself... distracted. She tries to ignore it.

But the nagging urge becomes more pressing with each passing moment.

"Forgive me, kinsman," she says at last, with more than a hint of embarrassment in her voice, "but may we stop for just a moment? I'm afraid I need to... relieve myself."

There's a noise that might be a sigh from Julian. "Of course. Let me help you down."

He drops off Morgenstern's back and offers her a hand to assist her dismount.

"Thanks.... Sorry.... I'll just be...." Folly gestures vaguely toward a small copse of trees perhaps a dozen yards away, and then heads quickly in that direction.

She takes care of her business quickly and efficiently, oddly grateful for the practice she'd gotten on long van-trips through the middle of nowhere. Even with the change in her center of mass, the whole process turns out to be much easier now -- due, she supposes, either to her growing facility with the talents of her blood, or to the fact that now she's completely sober.

She hurries back to Julian as soon as she's done. "Right, sorry, much better now...."

Julian helps Folly back into the saddle. "It's a good thing," he observes to no one in particular, "that we're in no particular hurry to get to your home." Then he remounts and nudges Morgenstern's side with his knee. The great horse starts moving once more.

"Why don't you tell me a bit about it, so I have some idea what to expect," he suggests, and begins the work of shifting shadow again.

Folly thinks for a moment, and then says, "Can you feel what Xanadu is trying to become? It's a lot like that, only not as real. It moves a bit faster than Morgenstern is moving now, and with a more syncopated rhythm. The sky tastes like Xanadu's sky with a thin layer of coffee and petrol. The city where I grew up" -- she holds up her left arm and taps the crease at her elbow -- "covers about the same area as Amber city and harbor and the land in between, but has three or four times as many people, and mainly motorcars instead of horses, and great square buildings as tall as the castle with balconies and terraces that look toward the sea, and shops and cottages and offices tucked between them and around the edges, and electricity to make the whole city glow blue and white and red at night when music spills out of the shopfronts and onto the street."

She holds up her arm again and taps her wrist. "To the north along the coast is Winterness, which is where my mother was born and where the forests are, maple and spruce and pine on great granite mountains that slope down to the rocky coast, and the air is crisp as spearmint and the earth smells like a thousand years of leaves."

She pauses. "Does that give you what you need to know? I could try to sing some of it for you, if you want."

"I'm afraid not," Julian says. "Unlike Random, I'm not a musician, even if I can make a passing turn at 'The Green Wedding'." I was hoping for more information about the flora and fauna, particularly the unique creatures. I suppose if where we're going is urban--where you were raised is urban--I'll have to make do without."

Folly thinks about that for a moment. "The city isn't very dense with plant life, and what does grow there is mostly transplanted from elsewhere. I can tell you that there are great tall date palms with serrated leaves and sweet yellow fruit about the size of my fist; that just south of the city there are farms with garlic and artichoke and avocado, and a bit south of that are the citrus groves; and there are fat weeds with woody stems that push their way up through the sidewalk in the spring and sprout flowers like small purple-blue daisies with ruddy brown centers. The animals, unfortunately, are the same sort you'd get in any city: pigeons and sewer-rats and--- Oh!" One of her hands flutters excitedly. "I used to notice that the squirrels and the jackdaws were just a teeny bit different in every city. Our squirrels were the reddish color of the clay water jugs in the kitchens of Castle Amber, with a streak of grey down the length of their tails and little black tufts on their ears. And the jackdaws had wings edged with a row of irridescent blue-green feathers...." She closes her eyes to picture them. "A bit more green than the lagoon at Xanadu, but not so green as the shade Caine favors in his portraits." She opens her eyes again and glances back over her shoulder at Julian. "Does that help?"

Julian nods. "Much more so than anything about music. Each of us has his--or her--own way of finding places. It's much easier to deal in your own metaphors." He frowns slightly and reaches back to touch Jovian's slumbering form. "I could never teach any of my children that, except for Robin."

"Perhaps it's not a thing that can be taught," muses Folly. "Some of us just flow like water into the spaces around other people, but others stand like the stone that dams the stream. The water can be turned to ice with the turning of a season, but to melt the stone takes ages upon ages. You know?"

There's a moment of assessing silence, and then Julian says, "I do, yes."

Folly falls silent for a moment, too. "I was very sorry to hear of your loss," she says. "Am... very sorry. I knew Adonis, a little bit. He seemed... wedded to his own metaphors, perhaps... but I liked him."

"I was thinking as much of Jovian as of Adonis. But thank you for your condolences. I suspected when his sister died that he would soon follow. It's the nature of his kind." Julian lapses into silence at that point, and the great horse beneath them snorts, as if in response to Julian's words.

Folly gives a small nod and falls into silence as well, not uncomfortably, watching the shifting landscape and feeling the changes as Julian makes them.

Julian spends several hours shifting them along at something less than a hellride pace, stopping whenever necessary to let Folly take care of the necessities of a pregnant traveler. About the time that Folly thinks they need to be done for the day, Julian stops at an inn. He negotiates for a room, and nobody seems to think it's odd that he has an unconscious fellow across his saddle.

He lets Folly and Jovian have the bed; he plans to sleep in a chair at the foot with his feet up.

Dinner will be sent up, unless Folly wants to go down and eat in the common room.

Folly does not object to these plans. She knows better than to try to argue Julian into taking the bed in her place, though she secretly thinks he needs it more than she does.

While Julian gets Jovian settled and they wait for dinner to be sent up, Folly pulls out her trump of Martin and tries again for contact.

It takes a moment to make the connection. "Yes?" Martin asks, sounding wary.

Folly smiles broadly, happy and relieved. "Martin. It's Folly. Did you get my notes?"

"Folly," Martin says, both in greeting and by way of explanation to whoever is with him. He shakes his head once in the negative to her question. "Um, no," he adds verbally. "I'm travelling and I haven't been back to Xanadu in the last couple of days. What's up?"

"Two things. One, I'm with Julian, and we're on our way to talk to my charming mother about... you know, the wedding and the baby, because I really can't put it off anymore. Two, I got a note from your charming grandmother. She's invited me to come visit her in Rebma." Folly smiles grimly. "So my going to talk to my mother suddenly seems like the safer option."

Martin frowns. "Definitely safer than Rebma. There's about to be a war down there with family on both sides, and I don't want you in the middle of it. Also, Dara's on the loose again, so tell Julian to be on the lookout for her. I'm with Lilly and we're doing some recon." He reaches out to draw Lilly into the contact.

Once alone, Lilly allows a temporary show of naivete. "I have never been on a hellride, but I'm sure you probably know that. I want to aid you in anyway possible, but I may very well need guidance." Martin is one of the few people she truly trusts. Admitting any sort of weakness, even one as obvious as this, is not easy for Lilly.

Then comes a second revelation, "I carry only one trump, that is Ossian. We will be able to contact him and use that as a backdoor if needed. Best I can do with my won resources so if we need to have more of a plan than that, now is the time to mention it."

Martin shakes his head. He's already moving down the hall with an obvious goal in mind; Lilly's warrior's stride allows her to keep up easily. "We're going for a looky-loo. We play it quiet as long as we can. When we get caught, and we will, we talk or we bust out the swords, depending on how things look. And don't worry about the hellride. I've done it before, more than once, and all you need to do is follow in my wake. My biggest question right now is whether Fiona's got horses or whether we start out in a car."

"A car?" Lilly does not expect an answer, it is just rather obvious that she only has the barest notion of what that means. "Either works for me. Best to investigate the options I suppose."

As they move along, Lilly adds,"So you expect we'll get caught. Any clue who will be doing the catching? It might be good if we an arrange to get caught on our terms. That might make a difference in negotiations. Though, to be honest, I prefer steel to words."

"It will be at Madoc. I won't take you to Borel. The stakes are too high if we're caught there. Not that things will go well for me if I'm caught at Madoc. I don't count on my luck improving where the Aisling is concerned." Martin gives Lilly a knowing look.

She nods. "Did we mention the mess with her affine? With all of the excitement concerning Meg, I think that might have been overlooked." Lilly thinks on it a moment. "If we are traveling past Ygg, it might become important. Dealing with that thing will take more then a finesse and steel."

Martin shakes his head. "If you did, I missed it. Fill me in." His voice is resigned.

Lilly's expression turns grim. "The affine, name it as you wish, passed into the service of Marius. I am unsure of the exact series of events, but for the sake of expediency, let's word it this way: Marius and the affine had a bit of a falling out with the guardian of the Weyland's tower, Hob. As you remember, I had a previous experience with Hob during our return from Chaos. He is a trickster, unpredictable. It is he who holds responsibility for the fire lilies. I have many thoughts as to why Hob was there, but I fear I would be here all day if I went into that. So for now, I am going to stay with what it relevant."

She takes a deep breath before continuing on. "Marius allowed the affine to digest the Hob and a battle of wills ensued. When all was done, the two entities had combined. I tried to reason with the creature, probably a bit of a mistake but I felt I needed to try. I could spend months second guessing my words but really what is the point of that? Chances are the thing would have arrived at the same conclusions eventually."

With a glance into the distance, Lilly hesitates just a moment before turning back to Martin. "It decided the best way to understand us, was to consume us. Naturally, I found this option unacceptable." The shadow of a grin sweeps across her face momentarily and then disappears. "We fought it, Marius, Brennan, Signy and I. My blade did little... No, that's wrong... It did nothing. I think I should be grateful, in fact, that the blade was not damaged. Only the pattern and sorcery had any sort of effect. It escaped, however, before we were able to inflict any serious damage.

"What is important to note, the thing is made of stone. Hard. Eyes and mouth could not be hurt by steel. It is swift but clumsier then I. As a creature of Chaos, it can be affected by the pattern. Be warned however, it can meld with the earth and in fact, disappear into its depths. That gives it a quick escape path."

"Great," Martin replies, sarcastically prolonging the single syllable. "So somewhere out there is a hungry, slightly hostile ex-affine that used to be a Knight of the Ruby, with all the memories of Amber that implies. What a screwup. We should have destroyed it after Aisling went south on us." He glances sidewise at Lilly, and adds hastily, "No offense."

Lilly nods. She agree with him completely. Unfortunately, the past can not be changed.

They've made their way down to what appears to be the ground level of the building, and Martin starts looking around for something. A couple of moments later, he apparently finds it, and leads them through a door. "Yeah, definitely automotive," he tells Lilly. The room is filled with strange box-like devices with wheels, made of metal and glass in dark colors. He picks one and pulls a key out of his pocket. "This ought to do it."

A moment later, he has the door open. Lilly will have to remove her swords to sit in the thing, but it looks comfortable enough otherwise. It has something like a bizarre ship's wheel in front of the other seat. "Go ahead and get comfortable. I've driven one like this before, or close enough for government work."

Lilly hesitates for just a moment before shrugging and removing her sword. She manages to make herself mostly comfortable while keeping the sword as near as possible. "I'm glad you understand this... thing. I take it, that cars are more efficient then horses? Rather like some sort of land-ship, correct?" She is interested in how the thing works but also realizes that taking Martin's concentration away from the task at hand probably will not be a good idea.

She adds one last question, "Will it be able to take us as far as we need to go?"

"Not the whole way, but I can find horses when this conks out. It's faster than a horse, but it's only good in some shadows. Land-ship isn't a bad analogy. But it's tech, not magic." Martin pauses. "At least I think it is. Who knows, with Fiona?"

"There is that," Lilly concedes. Of course, tech might as well be magic in Lilly's mind. She understand very little of both subjects.

He makes sure Lilly is seated properly and everything is tucked in before closing the door, hard, and going around to the other side of the car. After he's gotten in and strapped himself in, he produces a small key, which he sticks in the side of the wheel, and then there's a rumbling noise. The thing lurches into reverse, and Lilly feels like she's been shoved forward in her seat. Then there's turning, and Lilly feels that, and then going forward, which shoves her back in her seat.

"Hot," says Martin. "If you like this, wait until we get out on the road and I can floor it."

The initial sensations are quite jarring. Lilly is quite certain she has never been in or on anything that could move quite this fast. For some it might be frightening. For Lilly, it is simply something new. An experience unlike any other. Determined to make the best of it, she sits back and allows her body to conform to the curves of the seat. "I can't wait," she replies and though she does want to know, she manages to refrain from asking what the phrase 'floor it' means.

Martin maneuvers the vehicle out of the building and onto what looks like an open roadway of some sort between tall structures. It's nothing like Amber; these buildings are made of metal and glass rather than stone and wood. They're also significantly taller than anything in Amber other than parts of the castle.

The vehicle moves a lot faster than a horse, too. Lilly is pushed back into the seat every time Martin speeds up.

"So do we have any idea what happened to what used to be the Aisling's affine after it ate, or got eaten by, the other creature? As in, do we know whether it was able to get back to its side of the Tree?"

"We can safely assume sorcery began to damage it, causing it to retreat, hastily, into the rocky ground. Where it went from there is any one's guess," Lilly replies honestly. "I think it had taken an interest in our ways. It seemed to want to understand the notions of honor and fealty. That may mean it will not immediately return to the rock people but beyond that..." She falls silent, feeling that the point has been more then adequately made. "Somehow I expect I will be meeting that thing again."

"Oh, no doubt," Martin agrees. "I was wondering how it got to this side of the Tree in the first place. The rock thing--Hob--I mean. Obviously we know how the affine got here. And I wonder what deal Weyland had to make to get him to guard the tower."

The vehicle moves onto an elevated road of some sort, and Lilly feels herself being pressed further back into the seat.

"Weyland has ties to the Chaosian court. He was trying to arrange a marriage of some sort for Signy," Lilly offers. "That is part of the reason she decided to lay siege to his tower. I think the other parts have much to do with adolescent growing pains. I understand. There are days when I would like to prove myself to my father as well. Signy just seems to lack patience." She shrugs. Patience is not exactly a family virtue. Most of the older relatives have simply learned to put things into perspective due to their unusually long lifespans.

"She'll learn patience or die trying.

"About the marriage bargain, though--that's not good. I wonder whether the thing can get back on its own." Martin frowns. "Either we'll see it when we get to Borel or we won't. Some probabilities even I can't fix." He dismisses that worry for the nonce, concentrating on the vehicle.

Outside the windows, Lilly can see that they're on an open highway now. The car seems a little different, too--perhaps something about the shape of the windows, or the door handle, or the way the straps holding her in the seats feel.

Lilly allows an easy silence to fall between them. She shifts subtlety in her seat in an attempt to find a relaxing position. Unfortunately it is not the position that is failing her. Relaxing seldom comes easy. Now, with all the uncontrollable issues occurring all around them, it is nearly impossible.

When did life spiral out of control? Lilly knows the answer. It began when her father announced he was taking her off to war. Most fathers took their daughters to dances or parties. Coming of age was meant to be a celebration. They celebrated by commanding troops and overseeing the death of hundred. No wonder she felt so disconnected from everyone else.

Pushing those thoughts from her mind, Lilly tries to focus on the changes happening around her. She understands, in theory, what Martin is doing. Perhaps with a bit of careful observation, she can learn something. If nothing else, the concentration may allow her mind a rest from the onslaught of self-pity that is threatening to over take all good sense.

After several minutes, Lilly's curiosity begins to overshadow all other emotions. "This car can not exist in Amber," she states. If it could, reason suggests that they would have them. "Will it continue to change and degrade as we move towards places such at that?" She hopes the changes will be slow enough to allow them time to react but feels it is best to ask. Best to be prepared.

"We're not going to Amber," Martin points out. "But yeah, you're right, we'll end up in a place where it doesn't work. It's already changing a little as we go through Shadow. The tech will fail us and we'll abandon it before we get somewhere that it'll blow up on us or melt or something ridiculous. We'll find horses or the local equivalent to take us the rest of the way to Ygg."

After a moment, he says, "You got any more questions, you better ask 'em now. Once we get up to real highway speeds, I need all my attention for the road." He glances over at Lilly and grins to soften what might otherwise sound like a reprimand.

Lilly can think of only one. "What exactly is a real highway speed?" she asks with genuine interest. "Beyond that, I think I can keep my curiosity in check for the time being."

"In this baby, a couple hundred miles an hour, I'd guess. Hang on, because from here it gets interesting."

Lilly is slammed back into the seat again, and the terrain outside the windows starts to blur. Martin's face screws up a bit in concentration as colors and shapes pass by in odd combinations, with odd sparkles here and there that might be effects from them almost flying through the shadows one by two by three by many.

Martin drives like this for a while, and then the vehicle begins to slow down. "We've about hit the limits of the technology, I think. Time to find something compatible to ride on when we stop."

"And just when I was beginning to enjoy myself," Lilly smiles as she speaks. In the same moment, she decides learning to drive one of these things is definitely in her list of things to do once Dara is dead.

"By compatible, do you mean something equestrian aligned? Or do you have something else in mind?" Lilly wonders vaguely if they can control such things at these rapid speeds but refrains from voicing the question for the moment.

"Horses are fine. They're probably best, in fact. By 'compatible', I mean something that can survive in shadows we do. Not, say, riding sharks, or methane breathers." The vehicle continues to slow and Martin wheels it off the highway onto some kind of side road.

"That makes sense," Lilly agrees. Though the idea of some sort of riding shark is rather intriguing on some level. Perhaps they have those in Rebma...

"So we leave the car, track down rides, and I assume that won't be too difficult, and keeping moving forward," she says. "Sounds like a plan."

Martin grins. "Straightforward. I thought you'd like that. You up to trying for the horses, or you want me to? I can do it if you're not up for it, but eventually I'll need to faceplant and sleep. Might want to do that here, even. I can look for a hotel. Or we can camp out."

The vehicle has stopped its occasional changes of interior form.

"I could care less about accommodations. You need the sleep far more then I do. What ever works best for you." Lilly opens the car door and breathes in deeply testing the air. "You decide on that, and I will TRY for the horses. I don't have much practice, but there is only one way to rectify that." She shrugs. "And if it doesn't work, well I assume you've got my back?" Lilly is smiling now as she moves to exit the vehicle. The chance to stretch is quite welcome.

"I bet there's camping gear in the trunk of this thing," Martin says, and pops his door open. They've pulled to a halt off the road, near the edge between a field and a woodland. "Let's go look."

As predicted, there is a tent made of some strange material, and what Martin swears are sleeping bags but look more to Lilly like blankets. Between stretches and knuckle-cracks, Martin puts the tent up. It proves to be a lot larger than Lilly expected, although not in a magical way. The sleeping bags, when unfolded, are a lot fluffier than Lilly would have guessed. Apparently whatever material they're made of is highly compressible.

There's also a picnic basket, and Martin tosses her part of the contents: sandwiches wrapped up in some kind of clear fabric. He has to show her how to open the bag, but the contents prove quite tasty. Martin has the appetite of a Prince of Amber and soon the basket is empty.

"Why don't you try to rest," Lilly suggests. "I'll try for the horses first, in case it takes longer then expected. I can rest once that is taking care of and you can get all the sleep you need."

Martin nods once, abruptly.

Lilly takes a few moments to tidy up the area before heading out. In her head, she tries to remember the "rules" for shifting shadow. This is part of your birthright, she reminds herself. No different then the journey to Weyland's tower.

By the time she's done, Martin is in the tent and sleeping the sleep of the dead, or at least the hellriding.

She walks a short distance. This area, she decides, is quite rural. Chances are the tech level remains quite low. Riders, more then likely, still traverse the meadows carrying messages and good between towns and cities. Beyond that rise, just ahead, would make an excellent place for a post. There, riders could exchange worn, tired horses for fresh ones. Perhaps a few coins would be enough to convince them to sell a few. If not... well there were always alternatives. As Lilly approaches the rise, she pictures the encampment in her firmly in her mind...

Lilly moves forward, the short shadow-trip clear in her mind. At first it's difficult, but soon she settles into the rhythm of slow change and new vistas. The new changes take effect and she tries for the messenger post. As she crosses the ridge, she sees it, as she pictured. A man in leather clothes leads two horses out as another leads two in.

It's not clear, but stable is small. The man may be leading the only two fresh horses out.

Lilly does not hesitate. Her normally mild sense of self-importance erupts to encompass the entirety of her birthright. They need those horses and Lilly refuses the spend more time then necessary on this venture. A sense of higher purpose shrouds her like a cloak as she quickly makes her way to the man leading the fresh horses.

"Excuse me," Lilly calls. "I am afraid I will need to relieve you of those horses. A terrible danger lurks just beyond the horizon and I must journey to stop it." The sword maintains a vigil at her side - for the moment. Perhaps simple negotiations and a bit of coin will solve this without the need for bloodshed.

The man looks kindly. "These are the King's horses, churl, and you should put that sword down before you hurt yourself. Tell the roadhand that I said to give you food and drink, and that you may sleep in the King's stables if you need to."

He continues checking the horses' girths and saddles. They're pretty good horses.

The kind look goes almost entirely unnoticed. The words "put that sword down before you hurt yourself" unfortunately do not.

One moment Lilly is standing there looking proud, the next the sword is drawn. Her stance shifts to that of a warrior, unafraid and ready to strike down any and all who do not bend to her will. "I believe you misunderstand," she says, her voice clear and calm. "I will have those horses. You can either hand them over or I will take them by force. And I suggest you choose wisely."

"Girl, don't be ridiculous. I'm a royal messenger on a mission. Even were you to manage to steal the King's Horses, you wouldn't get very far with 'em, and the Justiciars'll hang you for stealing from the King.. " He squints at her. "Are you in some kind of trouble? Just put the sword down and tell me about it."

In addition to having bad vision, he's also noticeably slower to the left side. He'd be easy to kill.

Lilly likes a challenge. This man clearly does not qualify. Killing a near equal is one thing. Killing this man would be like taking down a trapped animal. Still, her singular objective is to obtain the horses. And right now, Lilly has neither the time not the patience for reasoned diplomacy.

She strikes out, seeking to render her opponents unconscious. Hopefully, no mortal wounds will be left. If such can not be prevented however, she will not hesitate. The quicker she can accomplish the goal of acquiring the horses, the better.

He barely has time to see her move before he's laid out flat. His hand had barely started moving towards his sword when the hilt of hers hit him in the gut. A quick elbow to the neck while he was doubled over and he's out for at least an hour.

The horse on the left whinnies.

Lilly sheaths her weapon and quickly turns her attention to the horses. She gathers their reigns, then take a moment to assess the scene. If no immediate threats present themselves, she begins the journey back to Martin. The previous path is called to mind as she leads the horses.

Lilly has no trouble finding her way back to where she left Martin. He's put up a tent in some strange lightweight material and the entrance to it is closed. There's a soft sound that might be snoring coming from within.

First things first. A moment is taken to secure the horses. It would not do to have them run off now. Then, very quietly, Lilly peeks into the tent to insure that Martin is, indeed, asleep within.

Martin is asleep in the tent, but when Lilly pushes aside the flap, the noise wakes him and he has a knife in his hand. Once he recognizes her, he relaxes. "Sorry," he says, but he doesn't sound particularly repentant.

"The apology is mine," Lilly offers not sounding particularly repentant either. If anything, his vigilance seems welcome. "Horses are here. All is well. I just wanted to make sure you were actually here." With a nod of satisfaction, she continues on. "Get some more rest." The words are a suggestion, not an order and meant with the best of intentions.

"I'll take my naps where I can get them," Martin says. "Wake me in a couple of hours if I don't get up on my own." He pulls his sleeping bag up around him again and lets the knife slide back under his pillow.

[Martin will come out in a couple of hours. Is there anything Lilly wants to do while he's napping?]

Lilly will scout the area from time to time and rest between expeditions. She will also make sure the needs to the horses are met. Mostly, she is relaxing as best she can.

As predicted, in a couple of hours, Martin is awake. He takes care of morning rituals and has a snack--apparently there was something left from the lunch in the trunk of the car--of which he offers a share to Lilly.

Then he's ready to mount up, or at least look over the horses. "Did you have any trouble getting these? What did you select for?" Martin asks as he inspects them.

"Stamina," Lilly replies before addressing the first question. "No problem, really. I suspect there is a King out there in Shadow that is not too happy but the greater good and all that." She manages the hint of a smile. Obviously she is not quite comfortable with the idea of completely disregarding others. But in times of war... one does whatever it takes. "They used these to run messages and parcels across country. I retrieved them at an outpost just as they were being saddled up for a fresh journey. They should do well.... If the shifting does not drive them mad."

"That's always the question," Martin says. "Let me fish in their gear and see if someone thought to supply them with--" His hand delves into the saddlebag and comes out with something "--yeah, these."

He tosses something to Lilly. "Blinker that one and I'll get this one. It's not a perfect solution, but it'll help if they're a bit skittish. Anything else we need before we go? We probably should clean up a bit, but I'm not worried about being traced. Fiona's people know where we're going, and if they trace me back here from Madoc or Borel, the trail will go cold at this point."

Lilly nods and does as instructed. "I am still learning the way of Pattern," she states almost unnecessarily before asking, "Why is that? Because of the use of technology or is there some other type of sorcery at work?" She continues to ready the horse for the journey as she speaks. Evidently this is Lilly's idea of small talk.

"I've been told it's harder to do a reverse trace than to follow--yes?" Martin holds up a hand to Lilly. His expression has gone distant and he doesn't seem to have addressed that last word to her.

Lilly stops what she is doing and turns her full attention to Martin. She assumes, of course, that he is answering a trump contact. After a moments, she inches closer to Martin partially to hear his end a bit better but mostly to allow for a quick reaction should the need arise. After all, this could be quite important. And quite dangerous.

"Folly," Martin says, both in greeting and by way of explanation. He shakes his head once in the negative to some question from Folly. "Um, no," he adds verbally. "I'm travelling and I haven't been back to Xanadu in the last couple of days. What's up?"

He shows no inclination to bring Lilly into the contact at this point.

Lilly relaxes... a little. Of all of their relatives, Folly would seem to pose the least danger to Martin (at least on most levels). Still, if the issues in Xanadu were more then domestic, they might still need to be on their toes.

Martin frowns. "Definitely safer than Rebma. There's about to be a war down there with family on both sides, and I don't want you in the middle of it. Also, Dara's on the loose again, so tell Julian to be on the lookout for her. I'm with Lilly and we're doing some recon." He reaches out to draw Lilly into the contact.

"Dara's on the loose," Folly repeats, probably for Julian's benefit. She lays her hand palm-up on the arm of her chair in case he wants to join the contact when he's done with Jovian. "Why don't you tell me about that first, while I figure out what I need to ask you about Rebma?"

Lilly gracefully moves into the contact as Folly is speaking. She gives a slight bow but maintains her silence. Always best to listen to as many versions of a story as possible when trying to understand the underlying truth.

Martin nods once. "Yeah. Did you meet Meg? New cousin? Apparently she was in Shadow with Ossian and Brita and Cleph and Dara showed up to grab her. Claim is, she's Dara's daughter. We don't know for sure where she went, but it would apparently be in the direction of Rebma."

Julian is still dealing with Jovian, but Folly is certain he's listening in.

Lilly watches Folly closely to gauge her reaction while attempting to keep her own expression firmly neutral. "After some discussion, it has been decided that this kidnapping, if you will, should not be allowed to stand. Several members of the family are working on ways to return Meg. However, past experience demands caution. By the time we get to her, it may be too late to help her." Folly can easily read the tone of Lilly's voice. This situation has her angry and more then a little sad.

Folly nods, her expression sympathetic. "I didn't ever meet Meg. That sounds potentially... brutally unpleasant."

She frowns thoughtfully. "Why do you think Dara is headed to Rebma? And I mean that both ways -- what evidence points there, and what do you think motivates her in that direction?"

"I don't. That's why I'm not headed that direction," Martin says, and Folly can feel his testiness. "As far as I can tell, Brita did something that indicates she was headed that way, and maybe she's chasing Merle, who was headed that way, too. There's someone else we're pretty sure is going that way, and they may be thinking he's in cahoots with Dara. Did anyone talk about Huon?"

"Huon is... the one with the gunpowder, right?" Folly said slowly, as if choosing her words carefully. She shook her head. "I had it from Gerard that he's another uncle, long thought dead, but that's all I know. And you think he's also headed for Rebma?" she repeated for Julian's benefit. "Now I'm triply glad I've found an elsewhere to be. One wonders whether Moire meant to invite me to a teaparty in a war zone."

"I can't imagine why she would have anything against you," Lilly says, managing, somehow, to let only a trace of sarcasm sound in her tone. "if you decide to visit, I would suggest doing it on your terms and no one else's." She shrugs knowing the last comment is common sense but feeling the need to say all the same.

"She probably wants you there so she can keep you from getting out with the baby." It might be deadpan cynicism on Martin's part or he might mean it. "In any case, I'm glad you're not going down there. I don't know what the deal with Huon is, but I really don't want you near the fighting, and on the off chance I'm wrong about Dara, I _really_ don't want you near her. The whole thing makes another trip to Texorami look downright appealing." He sticks out his tongue in exasperation.

"I know, love," Folly says sympathetically. "Still, I hope you'll catch up with me when you can. In my quest to avoid Rebma, I'm thinking of holing up somewhere safe for a while -- maybe not Texorami, but somewhere. Maybe spend some time painting trumps."

She does not mention the other thing she's thinking of doing while she's away. Martin will have that eventually in the notes she left for him.

Lilly nods and keeps her thoughts to herself. Carrying a child is a huge responsibility, one she never wishes to endure. The idea of holing up anywhere is almost repulsive. Still, Lilly understands. She also believes Martin will whole-heartedly agree with the idea of keeping Folly safe. Love seems to work that way.

"Somewhere _safe_," Martin agrees. "I'll be done with what I'm working on as soon as I can, and then we'll find the safest place for you, and anybody who wants to mess with you will be going through me." He doesn't list any of the relatives that might be on the list of people who might want to mess with Folly, but Folly can easily imagine a number that he might be thinking of.

Folly nods. "My sketch should be in the booth. And I'll check in again if things change drastically on this end. Or if I actually get a trump of myself finished before I hear from you."

She keeps her gaze on the trump, but lifts her chin slightly to direct her voice across the room. "Kinsman, do you have any questions or need clarification from Martin while I still have contact?"

Lilly maintains the role of observer. Some things are best not interfered with. Still, she remains patient and does seem interested when Folly calls to Julian.

In the chamber he shares with Folly, Julian looks up from feeding his semiconscious son to say, "Not now, thank you. We have matters in hand here."

Martin, like Lilly, waits for Folly to pass along Julian's reply.

"We're good," Folly says into the contact. She gives Martin and Lilly a little smile. "Be safe, both of you."

Folly lets her gaze linger fondly on Martin as they all say their goodbyes, and then closes the contact.