The Second Week

It is late in the evening, the 14th of Archer. The silver fullness of the moon is hovering not far above the sea's edge in the distant east

The family in residence, such as they are, have retired. Down in the kitchens, everything is long since scrubbed and in place for the morrow's breakfast and homes or below-stairs quarters are long returned-to. Floors are long since swept, candles replaced in their glasses. The castle's well-oiled human machine is at low idle; the night guard walks its precise patterns, precisely timed.

And one whose timing is even more precise lets the guard pass down the hall beyond Cambina's door, around the next corner, before emerging from the service stairs and raising a wherhide-gauntleted fist, poised to knock lightly on her door.

Cambina opens the door before Jovian's fist can descend to strike it. She is garbed all in black, as is her wont, but the trousers look more like a pair of Jerod's castoffs than her usual divided skirt. She touches her finger to her lips, smiling, and comes into the hall to join him. The well-oiled door closes quietly behind them.

From her garb, Jovian can see she is ready for what comes next.

The drgonrider smiles back with a nod, highly amused, and leads the soothsayer back to the servants' stairwell. "Canareth's watching the guard shift outside," he murmurs. "We'll leave through the kitchens."

At the bottom of the stairs he stops, holding up a warding hand, and seems to count to himself for about 37 excruciating seconds. "Now," he breathes, opening the door and slipping into the hall behind the retreating footfalls of the castle guard that just turned the corner.

Cambina clearly knows her way around the back stairwells and servants' passages; she is silent as the grave in her movements. One might think she'd had her own adventures sneaking around the castle during her years in residence.

Well, no kidding. Jove took the lead that far only because he's the one with the timing....

His tread is silent but casual, taking stealthy bravado as far as picking up a penny-loaf of bread from a basket and an apple from a barrel as they drift like ghosts through the kitchens. //Are we clear, Canareth?// he double checks as they reach the service entrance.

//No. The sentry has not moved.//

//Shards. They must have changed the shifts when Aisling went missing.//

Jovian shifts his focus, then, summmoning the image of a second-story window that faces upslope toward the landing ledge - one not visible from any door. //We're coming out that window. Meet us there.//

"Change of plans," he whispers to Cambina. "The sentry hasn't shifted like he was supposed to. We'll have to go out a window - second floor, six feet wide, green curtains. You know the one?"

In the moonlight, Jovian sees her nod.

Cambina whispers back to him. "If you'd asked me, I'd've told you about this change yesterday. One of the guards is 'sick'. Hung-over, really. And so they're on a short rotation. However, while there'll be a dragon sighting in the daybook, they won't bring the matter up with you unless you raise the question. Princes have prerogatives to pretend they are being circumspect."

"I kind of had a lot on my mind the past couple days," Jovian responds with a faint aroma of irony, but lets it go.

Cambina, who can scent irony at twenty paces and forge it into rapier wit, ignores the faint hint of it in Jovian's tone and goes about her business.

He lets her lead through the less familiar sections, until they come to the window in a sitting room less used than most in shades of green and gold - Paige would probably find it pleasing if she were in the mood to sit in peace. He throws the window open before a great bronze reptilian neck outstretched to within a few feet, gleaming faintly in the rising moon. Out to the ledge, and with a long step he is astride and reaching back toward the window and Cambina.

"Your chariot awaits," Jovian grins.

Cambina returns his smile and steps out the window to Canareth. She is a touch unsteady in mounting, or perhaps that's merely Jovian's impression of it. Soon she is settled comfortably in front of him, and the two of them are ready to fly.

"Have you flown before?" Jovian asks quietly as Canareth turns, then gears his pre-flight what-to-expect patter to her answer. Shortly they are aloft and headed for Kolvir's peak in the cool silver bath of the full moon a bit more than a hand's width above the horizon.

"Not like this," Cambina says, but doesn't elaborate.

Jovian files that for future reference and gives the pre-flight rap for first-timers.

"I've only seen Tir from a distance," he says as the stone steps come into view, "and that just a couple times. You'll have to do the shifting."

As if she didn't know that already.

"All right," she says. "Let's go."

At Jovian's command, Canareth takes wing toward Tir na Nog'th. The dragon and his riders slice through the night sky, silent except for the beating of his wings. The temperature around them grows cold, and Cambina and Jovian huddle a little closer for warmth against the chill air.

Though Jovian can tell Cambina is doing something, he cannot tell whether they are getting any closer to the city that lies between them and the hanging silver orb.

He watches what she's doing very carefully, trying to pick up on the nuances, the subtle changes she's working - bringing his own sense of the Pattern to his conscious awareness, but passively, to observe at that working level, scent the changes in the air, feel them on the wind as well as seeing them.

The changes are there in the wind; Jovian senses them in his bones. They're easier to feel than to see, but that doesn't surprise Jovian somehow. He's not quite sure what she's shifting for, really.

After about an hour, Cambina suddenly says, "It's no good. I can't do it."

"Well, Faranth shat a brick," Jovian grumbles. "Rude of the place to play hard to get. Is it something about starting from Amber, do you think, or is Tir na Nog'th itself resisting being found?" His tone of voice admits any number of third options.

"I keep feeling like I'm close, but I can tell I'm not there. It's like listening to an instrument that's slightly off-key."

Cambina frowns. "Maybe if we tried from somewhere else--Paris, maybe, or that shadow of Reid's ..." she trails off. "I don't know. This ought to work."

Jovian can see that her grip on the flying strap is white-knuckled.

"Paris is too far to cover tonight. How far off is the place Reid found?"

"I'm not sure I could find it from the air," Cambina responds, "and it would probably be a trip of several days, just getting there."

"...And died of a square tailfork," the wingleader mutters, finishing his earlier curse. "Well, if there's anywhere else you'd like to go, there's no point wasting good flying weather."

"No," Cambina says, her head turning to track the silver orb as Canareth makes a lazy half-circle, awaiting Jovian's decision on the next destination. "There's no point."

She looks down at her hands. Jovian can feel the tension in her body; he's sure she's scowling. "Why?" she finally says. "I want to know why. Whether there's a reason, or whether it was just all bad luck."

//We're going to circle back, Canareth, but make it a nice wide circle with a good view of the city. Loop out over the water and back.// He draws a map in his mind's eye for emphasis, charting a course that includes the view Ossian liked so much.

Canareth begins flying the course that Jovian has laid out for him. The view really is quite spectacular, particularly in the light of the full moon.

"There was a sense, really, in which Oberon was Amber, wasn't there?" Jovian considers aloud. "I wonder how much that was true - and how much Amber was Oberon."

Something in Cambina's posture changes, "It will be again, after he returns," she says, in an odd voice.

"Healed, or started over, do you suppose? Starting over might be easier," he reflects as casually as he can, with as much pretense that this is a normal conversation as someone with his fire specialisation can manage.

Cambina relaxes, probably involuntarily, then stiffens and shakes her head, as if to clear it. "We've practically done that already. Even with the castle. You didn't see what the family tower looked like the day after the Sundering."

"And really only from a distance before then," Jovian shrugs behind her. "I hope he doesn't get too peeved that we've changed things around some," he tries tentatively, unsure Cambina will remember what just transpired.

"Well, if Random wants it some other way, he should have been here to approve the sketches. You should have seen the plans I had to veto. Mostly Ossian's work, but some by people who should have known better--" and she trails off, perhaps realizing that something is wrong from Jovian's posture.

"Mm, quite," Jovian says slightly more than half-heartedly. "Though he may want to see some of the rejects, just for weirdness' sake." He shrugs again, rather determined to carry on like nothing unusual happened.

She knows. And he knows she knows.

"Maybe. He might laugh at them. He's like that, you know." And Cambina lapses into silence, watching the city below from dragonback.

Jovian starts to say something and stops. He starts to say something else and stops.

"Look, Cambina," he finally starts aloud. "I'm sorry. I probably handled that poorly. I'd like very much to have you for a friend, and I guess that means I'd better learn how to handle moments like that without upsetting us both. What do you want me to do?" For all the bluntness of it, there's no exasperation there, and no doubt from his tone that he's sincere in trying to reach out.

"I want it not to happen," Cambina says with exasperation.

"I don't think there's any right way to handle it, Jovian," she adds after a moment, sounding a touch conciliatory.

He nods, quietly fending off a growing sense of resignation to the truth that he probably won't ever understand fully. "Should I just carry on as if it didn't happen, then, pick up the dropped strand?"

"I don't know. I suppose it depends on what I said. Sometimes I say things that frighten people. If I predict any deaths, you probably need to tell me about that." Cambina shifts uncomfortably.

"How about returns from the dead?" he asks with some trepidation, but nowhere near enough to mean Brand.

Cambina's head whips around far enough that she can look at Jovian. "Don't say that. Don't ever say that."

Jovian's eyes harden for a fraction of an instant at the aggressiveness of her response, but he suppresses the reaction quickly. "You said Oberon was coming back," he reports, unflinching.

Cambina relaxes slightly, but not completely. It's clear to Jovian that Oberon was not who she was thinking of. "That's crazy," she says. "Wasn't there a funeral? Did you see his--his body?"

"Yes, there was a funeral," he confirms. "Mad hunchback driving the wagon into the Nighted Citadel. Dragon flying the coffin into the Abyss. But, put it that way...the coffin was closed. You don't suppose the old bastard pulled a Caine...?"

Cambina scowls. "I wouldn't put it past him. Do you know how he came back here? In disguise as one of Corwin's right-hand men, without Corwin knowing."

After a moment, she adds, "Martin worked with him, and he sounded very sure when the Sundering happened that Oberon was going to die. But that was based on what Oberon told him. It would be one hell of a setup."

"It would have to be - good enough to fool the Unicorn." Jovian falls silent then, perhaps considering just how hard that would have to be.

Cambina's expression grows strained. "Unless the Unicorn was in on it too."

Jovian is behind her, so she can't see his pained expression as he falls silent.

Upon receiving notice that he & Brennan will be trumping out shortly, Reid grabs a parchment and quill and hastily write a summary of the Hargar'el investigation status for the Queen. (The Queen's secretary may be amused to note that the parchment he reached for is, in fact, a musical score, apparently unfinished. At least he uses ink rather than blood to scratch his thoughts...)

Majesty. On the matter of Hargar'el little has changed. To the best of our knowledge he remains dead, and we still unable to determine the individual(s) responsible for that putting him in such a condition. Receiving further scrutiny will be Thalia, who has departed Amber under Land of Peace sails and perhaps Fiona's pocketbook, and Hargar'el's business associates -- namely his brother and nephew.

Ossian and Lilly remain on the case. As do I, despite my departure momentarily. I regret our failure to resolve this matter more speedily, but do assure you that in due time the scales of justice shall be balanced again.

I do not know what awaits me when I arrive at Clarissa's domain -- the last time I ventured so far into Chaos, it was a few thousand years before I was able to return. I am hoping for better luck this time around. At the same time, I wouldn't want anyone to wait up for me.

Yours, Reid

Since we're in summary mode, and on Reid time to boot, can we posit that in the day or two before this happens Jovian is actually able to catch up with Reid? He wishes to discuss obtaining a Trump sketch of Robin, since he's been working on (at least) one already.

[Sure. In summary Reid began work on a trump of Robin for the castle's Trump-booth. He could conceivably have the current state of such placed in the chamber before leaving. Being sensitive to Robin's unease with the idea of trumps, he wouldn't feel comfortable handing it off to someone if such a request were made, but you can summarize the extent of Jovian's interest.]

[OK. In summary, Jovian mentions that he and Robin had discussed exchanging sketches; that he's gotten one Ossian did of him down to Arden to be delivered to her; and that he understands Reid's discomfort and is actually pleased at the consideration shown. When the opportunity arises, Jovian will ask Robin to be in touch with Reid directly about it, but the Unicorn knows when that may be, with how things are brewing in Arden. Jovian seems concerned, even worried, but suppresses most signs of impatience at being put off. He's more or less satisfied, though, knowing the Trump-booth entry will be there while Reid is gone.]

Several days after Lady Harmony Vesper's visit (Lucas calculates to a nicety a period of time long enough to infuriate her but not long enough to cause her to pay another visit to express her displeasure in person), Lady Hardwind receives a sympathetically couched invitation to tea with Lucas and Solace in their private apartments at the Castle.

When she arrives, she will find them in a prettily furnished drawing room, decorated in delicate pastels with fine furniture in the style of Louis Quinze on Shadow Earth. Hope is playing a building game on the heathrug, while Phillippe is crawling on his own momentous exploration, watched by his parents. At Lady Hardwind's arrival, a signal brings Nanny Starch to remove the children (after Hope has demonstrated her manners by curtseying to the visitor, and the children have been duly admired) and also brings Gaston to serve the tea.

Aunt Felicity, for so she has long encouraged her niece's cousins to call her, is always pleased to see the children, and of course Solace and Lucas too. She is gravely charming to Hope, and seems almost sad to see the children hustled out by Nanny Starch.

After condolences have been made, Lucas keeps the conversation light and pleasant until Gaston has withdrawn. Queries about his health (and his ear) are politely but firmly deflected. It is only as they finish the first cup of tea and reach their scond cucumber sandwiches (white bread; the crusts removed - the trick is in grinding a small amount of the right sort of pepper onto the cucumber) that Lucas turns to more weighty matters.

It is then that he says sympathetically, "I understand that there are some difficulties about your late husband's estate. Might I be able to help in any way?"

Aunt Felicity smiles sadly at Lucas. "You're very kind to offer, but I'm not sure what there is to be done. The paperwork is a mess, and we're straightening it out as best we can. My late husband's affairs were not in as good order as I thought, and I knew there was less money than some people believed. The economy these last few years--but you know all of that."

She pauses and adds, "Opal is a lovely girl, of course, and very devoted to her father. But I think she'd rather think that someone influenced him to do something foolish than believe that he let his finances go to ruin."

Although Felicity may be glossing things politely, she is quite sincere.

Lucas nods gravely and sympathetically. "Sometimes those not directly involved cannot see the pressures that can be placed on one who is at the centre of things," he says. "We are so sorry that you have all this worry in addition to what must be your natural feelings at this sad time, Aunt Felicity.

"Perhaps I could help ... I don't pretend to be able to work miracles, but perhaps I could help bring the papers into some sort off order."

He smiles at her. "And really, you would be doing me a service by giving me something practical to do. Solace will tell you that I am proving a fractious convalescent. Some light paperwork of this kind would be exactly the sort of stimulus my doctor has ordered. And when one's doctor is my Uncle Gerard - well, refusing to follow his instructions is positively foolhardy."

Felicity smiles. "It's not done to turn down Gerard, of course."

"Of course not," says Solace. "And my dear Lucas will be ever so much better with something to occupy his mind." She stretches out her hand and places it on Felicity's. "You were such a good friend to me when I first came to the castle, Aunt Felicity. Please let Lucas repay you in some small measure for your kindness."

Felicity hesitates, but she takes Solace's hand in hers and nods. "I suppose it would be easier if someone from outside looks at the accounts. But Lucas, please don't overexert yourself. I don't want to slow your recovery."

"No, no," agrees Lucas languidly. "I shall be careful. Not that I could be anything other with my wife, my mother and my doctor all taking such pains to help me recover." He gives the smile to be expected of a delicate invalid. "And Gaston will be there to ensure I don't over-exert myself."

The lugubrious manservant looks more than usually pained as he offers around the sachertorte.

"Perhaps I could meet with your man of business tomorrow?" Lucas suggests.

"Yes, yes--I'll send him up," says Felicity. "What time would be most convenient for you."

Solace smiles and pats Felicity's hand.

"Shall we say mid-morning?" suggests Lucas, appearing to give this matter some thought. "Not so soon after breakfast as to find me en dishabilli, but not so close to lunch that the combination of solid figures and liquid refreshment might give me indigestion.

Felicity smiles at Lucas' description of the morning hours. "I'll talk to him this afternoon."

"But now, Aunt Felicity, won't you tell me what you think of this chocolate cake? Just the merest sliver for me, Solace darling. I have to watch my figure, you know. So many others do - and it must not be possible for them to detect a certain embonpoint on the Lucan silhouette."

Solace slices the cake: a small, but not so small as all that, piece for Lucas, and similar-sized servings for herself and Felicity.

Felicity samples several bites of the cake. "Excellent," she pronounces it. "But I expect nothing else where you have influence in the kitchen, Lucas. When I have straightened all this out, you shall have to recommend me a new cook."

"I shall be delighted," says Lucas. "You will have to tell me some of your favourite dishes, so that I may match the man with the meals he is expected to produce. And then make sure he is capable of adding the soupcon of unpredicatability that is the secret of a good kitchen. Unless the soupcon contains offal. Or blow torches."

The conversation meanders around cooking, the difficulty of finding and affording good servants, and a variety of other topics. Eventually the tea is over, and Solace sees Felicity out.

[Ossian's actions over the next couple weeks include....]

Court Valeria (If she is interested, of course. He will keep things discreet for the present.)

Valeria is quite amenable to a discreet courtship. Ossian feels she is very much used to being in charge in romantic matters, and finds Amber men's aggressiveness somewhat amusing (not Ossian's, though).

Paint Trump sketches of Jovian.

Per discussion with Mark, this is quite doable.

Paint Trumps of himself. (Lower priority than the Jovian sketches. The Trumps of himself are pretty much fills upt the time he doesn't spend on the other things on this list

How many does he want to make? (We'll do one draw, so all at once, please.)

Oh. Ossian wants to make a lot of them, but he'll do them in batches of five. (Maybe if the draw is very good he might start at another batch but not finish it before the Xanadu people arrive?)

Sadly it wasn't. You can have 5 by the time the Xanadu people arrive.

Some weeks after the coronation Ossian gives Jovian the three Trump sketches he requested. Sadly Ossian has no Trump of himself to give to Jovian at this point.

Ossian will socialize with the nobles during the upcoming weeks. This is Harga'rel business really. Ossian will try to meet people from the major noble houses, and probe gently for what they know about the murder. He will not request meetings saying he wants to discuss the murder, rather he tries talking to people at parties, or make up reasons to meet. Ossian will be considerably more restrictive in what he tells the nobles of the investigation than he has been to Valeria.

Everyone wants to talk about the murders, especially if they get the idea that you're involved. Lots of people have theories, generally involving why people they don't particularly care for are likely suspects.

Almost everyone. "The friends of the redheads" are pretty quiet. They're nice enough, but they've been on the 'minority citizen' list for long enough to not really want too much attention. They'll talk to you because of Paige's party, though.

This needs a summary thread. Specify who you want to talk to, or at least describe them.

Ossian will talk to a lot of people, and get the responses above, I guess. More specifically he will talk to :

Kaliq, because he knows many of the ambassadors

Bethany LeClair, because Ossian knows her well. (So he is more likely to see through her, he hopes.)

Kaliq and Bethany don't seem to know anything exciting. Kaliq says everyone is fascinated. Even his mistress wants to know every detail he hears...

Sir Cotton, retired ambassador to Gateway. Cotton is almost blind; his eyesight was damaged in an accident in Gateway, which ultimately led to his retirement some 50 years back. Nowadays Sir Cotton is one of Amber's most prominent music-lovers, and is seen in the audience of most of the best musical events in the city. He still keeps up with the current politics, old habits die hard.

Sir Cotton thinks it's too public for a Gatwegan, who could just as easily have sent a demon servant in the middle of the night and done him in in his own bed. Sir Cotton is full of sanguinary tales of unspeakable vengeance unleashed on those who crossed a Gatwegan sorceress. He once heard of a thief who was caught trying to steal a regeneration spell from a sorceress and the thief's family kept being sent body parts in case they wanted to ransom him. They received over 30 ears, 75 fingers, 12 hands, scores of toes, a box with 500 teeth in it, and an large collection of noses. No, Sir Cotton is sure this isn't their style. Sir Cotton thinks his brother gained the most, and so he probably did it.

Would Viscountess Wonder serve as a representative for the redhead supporters?

She would certainly think so. She's concerned that one of her friends might get blamed because they're convenient targets. Not that anyone picking a fight with them would find them unable to fight back, of course.

What is the weather like these days?

Spring is in the air. Still some chance of a late freeze, but it would be an unusual event.

After finishing the conversation with Lilly, Marius will be headed towards the Naval, not actually intending on going inside, but mostly looking around at the city. He's keeping his ears and eyes open, and will end up going towards the marketplaces, intending on looking for something that says quite clearly, "souvenir of Amber" without, well, a literal and obvious engraving.

In a curio shop Marius finds a panel of purplish wood carved into a low relief. The image is from the battle at the edge of Chaos, and it shows a twisted version of Brand standing on a hill throwing bolts of lightning and directing huge demons at an army that looks suspiciously little and furry. The shopkeeper says he got it from a man who was with the army, who said he got it from one of the mercenaries.

From there, he's going to go looking for Caine.

[His intention is to ask Caine some questions in regards to Deirdre. He's hoping to pick up some leads and have some questions answered that he's too uncomfortable asking Corwin.]

[We can do this in summary, via IM, or even on private to accommodate the upcoming return of the Randomites.]

Caine is at the Naval.

After that, he will check in with his Knights, and let them know the up-and-up.

[Novak]
Like, "Keep your heads down," and all that?

"Keep your heads down, your ears perked, and your eyes open," yeah. To hear what they have to say, and to let them know that things may be getting More Complicated.

He will also pay a courtesy visit to Vialle in the morning to inquire of her dreaming, and ask if there is any mission he might be uniquely and specifically suited for that she would like to appoint him. If not, he will begin inquiring based on his discussion with Caine.

Should he pass Jovian in a hall, crowded street, or otherwise, he will merely offer a bland smile and a nod of recognition. Should he pass Brennan, he'll offer the opportunity to accept being further berated. Other family or nobility will be noted on a case-by-case basis. (Although he's kind of keeping an eye out for Ossian as well.)

Otherwise, he'll be keeping a low profile, not making trouble, and not overtly kicking things to make sure they're not Aisling.

I expect Brennan has mostly gotten that out of his system.

Actually, should they cross, Brennan would probably want to talk anyway. I understand that the GMs want threads cut so we can move forward, and you're going to be out of town. If it's possible and desireable to play through it when you get back, cool.

If not, maybe we can take it as read that Brennan and Marius get together, and Marius discovers that in principle Brennan doesn't disagree with him too terribly much. But his timing was terrible.

(Or a summary. Or something. I'm easy.)

Marius might find Ossian in a corridor in front of a mirror that distorts the image somewhat. Ossian is sketching while watching himself in the mirror, sometimes turning, or moving closer to the mirror.

[Do you want a Marius/Ossian thread, Meera? I am pretty short on thread right now and could use one until the Xanadu people arrive. Otherwise I'll just summarize.]

With Reid gone Ossian will report his findings in the Harga'rel matter to the Queen, and to Lilly, if she is present. This is what he reports:

* There are lots of rumours going around.
* Valeria thinks she or Thalia will be framed for the murder.
* Many think the murder is uncharacteristic of the Gatwegians.
* Is anyone researching Demond Hargar'el's brother? Everyone suspects him.
* Harga'rel seems to have had a love affair with Thalia. Further investigation in that direction should probably be discreet.

Over a friendly tea, Vialle tells Ossian that she is having Sir Archer look into Harga'rel's brother and nephew, on Reid's recommendation.

[OOC: the recommendation that someone look into it--nobody who knows them both would think Reid would suggest Sir Archer.]

For the moment Lilly is going to let that one go. Later she may take the obvious questions up with Archer.

"Oh. He's certainly full of surprises, cousin Reid. Archer doesn't know Reid recommended him, does he?" Ossian says, sounding amused.

"No," says Vialle. "Reid didn't recommend him per se, but he is the appropriate authority." She inclines her head at Ossian.

"That's a pity. I do like surprises." Ossian answers happily.

How would Ossian and Lilly suggest she go about checking into the love affair between Harga'rel and Thalia?

Heh. This is Lilly. Unless Ossian intervenes the conversation would begin, "I believe we should check into the rumored love affair between Harga'rel and Thalia. There may be facts there that are of importance." No one ever said she was tactful.

"I think the affair took place back in Rebma, so there should not be much to find here. It's more a motive than a clue, I think. But it wouldn't hurt to see what the servants in the Harga'rel houshold has to say."

"Are you sure there was an affair? Thalia has always seemed very devoted to Conner, and she to him, by all accounts," says Vialle.

Lilly shrugs seemingly unconcerned with the fact the Queen can not see the reaction. "Our sources have pointed us in that direction. It is worth looking into for a number of reasons. First is the obvious, that there may be motive there somewhere. Second is to see if someone is indeed misleading us in that direction for a purpose. It could be that someone is trying to cover up something or place blame where it does not belong."

Vialle smiles. "Yes, that must be it. Lilly, you're very smart. I'm so glad I thought to ask you to help me with this investigation. You, too, Ossian. What should we do next?"

"I don't think I can get much more about the eventual affair from my sources," Ossian says. "What about yours? I guess we could track down Thalia, but that takes a lot of effort."

Vialle cocks her head at Lilly to see what her answer is.

Sometimes it is good that the queen is blind. She can not see the way Lilly is examining the floor with uncertainty etched on her face. It was completely at odds with the confidence that was prominent in her voice, "I will ask around. If someone meant for us to find something they won't have hidden the clues too deeply." For now she planned on just leaving it at that. Once she figured out who to ask she would let Ossian know.

An ironic smile flickers over Ossian's face, then he looks straight at Lilly, with a wry expression //This is getting out of hands.// "Very good. We will have to meet again soon to see what we and Archer can dig up." The word "we" has an odd weight on it.

"I will trust the matter to you two, then. Thank you, both of you." Vialle takes Ossian's hand with one hand and Lilly's with the other and squeezes them lightly.

Ossian's mouth twitches just a little but he stays quiet.

"You are welcome your majesty," Lilly says almost automatically. Jade had always taught her to accept thanks graciously. She gives Ossian a look that definitely says she may want to discuss this with him in the future. Indeed she was planning the next meeting concerning the Haga'rel investigation to happen without the queen.

Vialle turns the topic to lighter fare, such as the naming of her ladies-in-waiting. She has a list of ladies whom she would like to honor. Some of the non-family names, such as Lady Hardwind, mean little to Lilly as of yet. Ossian is undoubtedly relieved to hear that Lady Vesper is not on the list ...

Ossian: If you want time to tag along with and observe Jovian toward producing the Trumps, he'll be working a bit on the ground in the coming weeks; apparently he's got a fair bit of provisioning to do. (He'll welcome any assistance Ossian offers in the way of knowing who to scr^H^H^H contact to obtain what he needs.) He's been keeping close-mouthed about where his dragons and riders are, but it's clear he's pulling supplies together for them, including a stock of medicinals generous enough to take as a warning. If it's sitting time you need as well, he can find a few hours here and there for that as well. And if you do any stages of the drawing in his presence, beyond the rough figure studies he's already seen, he'll want to watch - he's fascinated by the process.

Ossian certainly wants to tag along least now and then (he also needs some sitting time.) He also gladly helps Jovian finding what he needs. Ossian knows a lot of merchants and the like from his time running the harbour with Vere.

He's grateful for the help, although when he's not fully immersed in a task he does seem preoccupied. Troubled, even.

And if Jovian is interested in the paintings Ossian is more than happy to show him. On the first occasion Ossian works on at least ten different sketches of Jovian. The number dwindles down to five at the last sitting. Ossian does not work very systematically; he puts the different elements on the sketches in different order for different sketches. (On one he might start with details like Jovian's eyes and mouth, on another with profile or shadowing) In the end the five skethces, of which Jovian gets three, look rather different from each other, even if all without doubt show Jovian.

Jovian is certainly intrigued, and he'll ask appropriate questions at various stages [which we can gloss over because player just has no brain for these things right now]. He shows much the same interest in both technical and philosophical aspects that he demonstrated earlier in the process.

He accepts the three sketches with gratitude and a promise of more flying time when both he and Ossian are free.

[Jovian will] also be flying a great deal. He makes no secret of his purpose: he's scouting Amber's land mass, exclusive of Arden, out to the Here-Be-Dragons range where it starts taking concentration not to slip into Shadow. Likewise to seaward, he'll be surveying islands that share what, shadow-wise, might be thought of as Earth-Prime with Amber. While he may secondarily be contributing quite some to the art and science of cartography, his goal is to find a suitable encampment for the wings in a location comfortably away from Arden. He spends quite a lot of his time at this. Certain people will likely notice that this means he spends quite a lot of his time alone, with only Canareth's company.

[Id est, anyone who wants some face time with Jovian, speak now or forever hold your arse.]

When next he has a quiet moment alone, quite possibly during a break in his scouting flights, he Trumps his father in order to pass two of [Ossian's] sketches through.

Julian accepts them with thanks and updates Jovian on the progress of the war. It's intermittent skirmishing; occasionally the Ranger win a few, occasionally they lose a few. Occasionally Arcadia kidnaps one or two, all of whom Julian suspects are scions of Daeon.

Robin has entered the Deep Green with a picked band to find one of the lost Rangers.