Folly curses under her breath in obvious worry. "Garrett, call Paige. They're not in the room, and the connection's weak. Syd---" She holds out her hand. "Come look."
Syd's hand is in hers almost as soon as she has the words out. He whistles low and long. "Paige didn't do that with the bunnygun and it doesn't look like Edan's signature style. So if they're not in the room, then it's probably safe to go." He speaks up, "Ash, Daniels, it's probably dangerous. Wanna back out?"
"And let you two have all the fun? Bite me?"
"If that's the way you want it, Your Lordship."
"Send us first. We won't leave the room." Soren takes Random's hand. "Looks like what your kid did to me in my own studio, except with a potted plant."
Ash says "This is that guy? The guy who played on those tapes? Cool, I wanna meet him. I owe him big for Happenstance's biggest posthumous record ever."
Random looks at Folly and says "when you're ready."
Garrett pulls out the trump of Paige and concentrates.
In a moment, a quizzical expression comes over his face, replaced quickly by the intense calm brought on by crisis. "Paige, Folly's having trouble holding a connection on the room. Where are you two?" the others hear him ask.
Folly stares into [her own] trump connection, takes a deep breath, and another one... and shakes her head.
"I can't," she says. "If we're up against that kind of--- It's too risky. I can't go." Her grip tightens around Syd's hand. "And I don't think you should, either."
Random pouts, visibly.
While keeping his concentration on the Paige's trump, Garrett calls over his shoulder to the room in general, "Paige says they're in the hall about fifty yards away from the room. There's someone with them. Martin's gone toward the labs. You all wanna keep trying that trump, or go direct to Paige?"
"Well, apparently we're not doing what I want. Tell Paige to call Martin and see if he's reachable from that side, and then bring'em back alive, toot suite." Random keeps hold of Folly's hand and moves his head around somewhat, as if trying to see more through the trump.
Garrett, therefore, is the first to notice that Vialle is standing in the open doorway.
At Random's words, Folly relaxes visibly. "I know it's no fun, love," she says, "but sometimes the wisest action is inaction." Her thumb caresses the back of his hand, soothingly.
Garrett shoots a quick glance at the queen, but quickly returns his full attention to the trump. "Your Majesty," he nods a cursory greeting, then to Paige, he says, "Paige, we've got a problem here. The King says to try Martin's trump from your side and bring him back here. I'll close this contact when you're ready."
Random's hand tenses in Folly's. "Alright, we're not going anywhere, unless they need help. Who's got a smoke?"
"Random?" says Vialle, "what's the matter?"
He lets go of Folly's hand and runs his fingers through his hair. "Maybe nothing. We're trying to get hold of Martin."
Garrett, still concentrating, reaches into his pocket and hands Random's trump through the connection. He can't react to the queen's presence without losing his concentration, so he doesn't.
At the sudden loss of warmth and pressure, Folly's fingers flex and twitch idly. She's still holding the trump contact open if she can, peering into it for any sign of life.
It takes her several seconds, therefore, to realize that she just flashed an old band sign: "no groupies". She winces and flushes deep crimson, hoping nobody else noticed.
Looking puzzled, Garrett mutters, "But I don't have a..." Then he lets out a snort of self-deprecating laughter as he puts Paige's trump away and rejoins the group.
Ash starts to say something and Soren interrupts him. "Is the King needed elsewhere, your majesty? I'm afraid that Ash, Garrett, Folly and I have been monopolizing him."
The Queen shakes her head, "Not if he's doing something important. People are talking because he sent for the Lord Mayor and you, Soren. If everything is well, I should assure them that it is. They're not yet used to the comings and goings of the king the way Amber was."
Random says "They need to get used to me calling the guys when I feel like it. This can be a lesson to them."
Vialle counters, a bit defensively, "Master Bulwark has come up. I didn't know what to tell him about why you sent for them when he mentioned it--didn't even know that you had, in fact--so I came to be sure that nothing was wrong. Perhaps you should see him before he returns to the city? He had business with some of the royal artisans, so I don't think he's gone yet."
Random nods. "Yeah, good idea. I'll give him the royal stink-eye. Folly, can you all handle things here? Don't go travelling without me."
Folly nods. Her cheeks are still a bit flushed. "I promise," she says. "Come back when you can."
Vialle sighs, but lets Random take her arm and lead her out.
During the conversation, Garrett moves over beside Folly. After his father leaves with the queen, he touches her on the shoulder protectively. "Are you all right?" he asks, his voice filled with concern.
Folly nods, but she looks like she might burst into tears at any moment. "I'm sure it's just these stupid hor---" She sniffles a little and rubs at her eyes.
It only takes her a moment to recover her composure. She checks to make sure the door is closed and then regards her companions with a tight smile. "Okay, raise your hand if you haven't figured out yet that I'm pregnant."
"Woo hoo!" shouts Ash, at the top of his lungs.
Soren smiles. "It's a good thing the tracking room is soundproofed."
Ash smiles. "Spoilsport. Open that door and I'll do it again. Hey, Folly, 'Ash' is a great name. I recommend it."
Folly laughs, suddenly much more at ease, and lays a hand on her belly. "I'll keep that in mind. I'm sure she'd love it."
Garrett turns to Ash and smiles. "I don't think we've met. It's Ash, I take it? I'm Garrett, son of Random or Syd or whatever the heck you call him." Brennan would have his head for being so informal, but it seems appropriate in present company.
Ash grabs his wrist and pumps his arm. "Nice to meetcha, kiddo. Syd's told me about you, but I haven't seen you around. I'm mostly in town or here."
"Oh, forgive me," Folly says, and nods contritely at Garrett. "I'd assumed you'd met when he got here."
Ash shrugs. "Dunno why we didn't. Paths never crossed, somehow."
She settles herself into the nearest beanbag chair and gestures to the others to make themselves comfortable. "How long have you been here?" she asks Ash. To Garrett and Soren, she adds, "And how long have I been gone? What's today's date -- do we even have dates here yet? What've I missed?" Perhaps realizing she's babbling, she gives them all a wry, sheepish smile. "I'm sorry, my husband is apparently off committing violence for reasons I don't understand, and it's your jobs to keep me from freaking out about it, okay?"
Garrett double-takes. "Husband?! Since when?" Incredulous, he awaits her explanation.
She blushes and stammers, giving Garrett the impression that the word just sort of slipped out.
"He's good at violence. Maybe he just needed to keep his hand in." Soren smiles. "Ash and T showed up under the the full moon about a month ago. It's the 24th of Scales in the Sixth Year of Queen Vialle's Reign."
Garrett's eyebrows raise as he does the mental math. They skipped Tower completely and were almost at the end of Scales. At the end of Harp, he'll turn nineteen. A little smile crosses his face. At this rate, he'll be thirty in no time.
"Tjaden's here?!" Folly asks excitedly, the little matter of how long she's been gone momentarily forgotten.
Ash nods. "Freakiest thing. We were going up to Adler to see Gish, we got lost and the car died in the rain. I thought we were in a cult horror musical for a bit. So, we walked to the nearest castle and Syd was king and named me Lord Mayor."
"And made you wear fishnets?" Folly prompts with a grin. "You'd look fab in them. And have, as I recall."
Ash looks at the others. "And how was your day?"
"That story's not as strange as it seems, I reckon," Garrett says, deciding he likes this guy. "A lot of people have been showing up with similar ones. So... you know Folly from her home shadow?" he asks politely.
"Ash is in the band," Folly nods, and smiles affectionately. "Guitarist."
She folds her arms and looks at Ash mock-sternly. "And by the way, what's with all the bloody politics? Didn't you used to be an anarchist?"
Ash shrugged. "How different is that from King Syd the First?"
Soren looks over at Ash. "Just King Syd. Not 'the first'."
Ash looks confused. "He's not the first? He said he was."
Soren looks put upon. "He is, but you don't call him that until there's another one, like if he's dead and the new King is also Syd. Random."
Ash looks back for a moment. "Right, I'll make a mental note. Anyway, I've heard 'And That's How I Disappeared into Fantasyland' from Syd, 'And That's How I Disappeared into Fantasyland' from Daniels, and 'Folly Disappeared into Fantasyland and Then Went To Fantasy Grad School But She'll Be Back for Fantasy Spring Break Real Soon' from both of them. It's a great story, I never get tired of it. How about you tell my your version, and I'll tell you where Happenstance charted with the Swansong record that we made after Daniels disappeared."
Garrett chuckles at the notion that, by their definitions, he's been in Fantasyland all along.
Folly takes a deep breath. "Right. So, remember that night I said 'I'm leaving with this cute guy I've never met before' and then never came back? That was Martin. Syd's son. He took me back to Amber -- that's the city where Syd's father used to rule -- via trump. Have you seen trumps yet? They, by the way, are part of what I went off to Fantasy Grad School for: they're sort of like... very artistic card-sized cell phones that you can travel through as well as talk through. Anyway, so we trumped back to Amber, and at that very moment part of the universe went kind of skew, and the trumps stopped working, and part of the castle fell on our uncle Gerard who was supposed to be running things while all of his brothers and sisters were off on the other side of the universe fighting a war, and it didn't kill him but it injured him really badly, so all of the rest of us who were even sort of vaguely related to him banded together to help rebuild and run the city for like five years -- which I think was like nine years for you guys, because time doesn't always run the same way everywhere -- and I couldn't call or write or anything to let you all know that I was okay, although I did sometimes write letters to Soren and then set them on fire -- sorry if I gave you nightmares or anything, sweetie -- and then the war was over and Syd came home, and he'd got himself made king by a mythical beastie who apparently also is his grandmother..."
Garrett raises a surprised eyebrow at this.
"...and oh, yeah, as you probably noticed he was also married, which... well, anyway, he got himself coronated -- and if Soren hasn't played you the song yet you should totally bug him to, it's almost exactly like being there except without the pointy magic cards and the carnage -- and immediately afterward he sent me and Martin off to get Soren, which we did, and then because we were killing time I decided we should go talk to my mother, which... okay, yeah, speaking of nightmares, but to make a long story short I'm apparently related to this family on her side and I haven't quite worked out what to do about that yet... anyway, then Syd called and we all came back to this shiny new castle which had just spontaneously appeared after he carved a magic squiggle in a rock. And then I walked on his squiggle, which, wow, doesn't THAT sound like a euphemism, but it's actually the way we... I don't know, unleash our special family 'my great-granddad is a genius crazy-person and my great-grandmum is a unicorn' powers or whatever, and I told him I was in love with Martin, and he basically said 'well, I'm not gonna tell you not to be, but just don't get pregnant, okay?' which is all well and good except that we'd already accidentally got ourselves blessed by our now-deceased cousin who unbeknownst to us was actually a fertility god. So, um... oops. Instantaneously. And we were just at a hospital verifying the 'oops' before coming back here when all hell broke loose, which I think brings us up to now." Folly blinks and looks at Ash eagerly. "So where'd we chart?"
Garrett stares at Folly wide-eyed, stunned and fascinated by the rapid-fire barrage of words.
Ash looks like he's considering not saying for a moment, then gives in quickly. "Swansong went to Number 6 on the album charts, and had 4 Top 5 singles. The real buzz came when we announced 'The Swansong Sessions'. People really want to hear you all talk. I hope Dante can deal with it now that Tjaden and I have disappeared, too." He grins. "Oh, and your mom helped with the publicity. Unintentionally."
Folly's brows lift and draw together. "Do I want to know?"
Ash opens his mouth...
Before Ash can answer, she shakes her head and covers her face with her hands. "No... no, I really don't, do I?" With a rueful smile, she rubs the worry-lines out of her forehead and lets her hands drop limply back into her lap.
And Ash closes his mouth and shrugs. Soren mouths "told you so" without speaking aloud.
Paige nods at the girl and raises a cupped hand to her ear, like she's activating a listening to an earpiece.
"This is Sommers. Go ahead, Ace of Trump," she says loud enough for Edan to hear.
She sees Garrett on the other end of the connection, looking at her quizzically. "Paige, Folly's having trouble holding a connection on the room. Where are you two?" he asks, his voice calmly intense.
She's crouched in a hallway with flashing red lights, one arm behind a piece of furniture, the other hand cupping her ear as if it were hard to hear him. "We're in the hall, about fifty yards from the origin of the disturbance. We've located one survivor. Target's proceded toward the labs. Does the other team need support?"
While keeping his concentration on Paige's trump, Garrett calls over his shoulder to relay her message. "Paige says they're in the hall about fifty yards away from the room. There's someone with them. Martin's gone toward the labs. You all wanna keep trying that trump, or go direct to Paige?" He meets Paige's gaze as he waits for the response from his side.
Paige turns her attention to the girl again. "You stay right where you are, ma'am and we'll send someone to escort you to safety, alright?"
Obviously speaking again to the radio, she inches back around the desk. "My partner has a lock on the subject, turning back might interrupt that," she offers. "If you're sending support direct, you're going to have to wait for a better LZ."
The girl watches Paige silently, too terrified to interfere.
There's a pause as Garrett listens to instructions from his father, who does not sound pleased, if Paige can hear anything over the sirens. He glances away briefly, then returns his gaze to Paige. "Your Majesty," he nods a cursory greeting to someone beyond Paige's view, then says, "Paige, we've got a problem here. The King says to try Martin's trump from your side and bring him back here. I'll close this contact when you're ready."
Edan still doesn't see anything, but his experience as a raider tells him something is going on. This is going on too long without anyone trying to do anything. If someone is loose doing the kind of damage Martin seems to have done, they have to be planning something to stop him. Or perhaps they already are.
"Understood," Paige says. She nods to her brother, indicating that he should take up the trail again, expecting that it will lead down the hallway with the signs toward the laboratories.
As she follows, she continues talking across the Trump. "You or the guys not following happen to have a Trump I can use to get back? Your Father's perhaps?"
Garrett, still concentrating, reaches into his pocket and hands Random's trump through the connection to Paige.
Paige can't move quickly and keep the trump connection. There are alarms blaring, and the emergency lights are on. She can hold the trump connection through all that, but it's slow going.
Paige accepts something through the contact and smiles. "Gotta go save your niece's father. Back soon," and with that she lets go of the contact.
"This is not right," Edan says, loud enough for Paige to hear. "We need to be moving. It is too quiet here."
Edan smells it first: something sickly sweet in the air being forced through the building. Something sickly-sweet and *wrong*. He doesn't know what it is, but he's heard of such weapons being used by the people of the cities before, and in the worst cases they can kill or leave a man maimed in the lungs.
Edan's attention is bound up in following the heat trail, and he'll need more of it than he currently has to spare to make any kind of response to the smell.
Paige notes Edan's pause and draws her Trump deck, locating Martin by touch almost and placing Random just below. "I'm going to try to contact him," she comments as she begins concentrating on the Trump.
"Wait," Edan says quickly. "There is something... some foul air or mist, it's coming through this building." He looks up and around. "I can air it out... but I will have to drop my spell. If you take the time on that Trump, the mist may have you."
Paige nods and stops the contact, keeping the card in place, but putting the deck in her pocket.
Paige can smell something sickly sweet now, too. It's some kind of gas. Probably not tear gas, because she doesn't have the urge to choke or cry. It seems more likely to be something that will knock her and Edan out.
Edan, with his lead time, has spotted where it's coming from. It seems to be a little colder than the rest of the air in the room, and is being pushed through what is obviously the ventilation system. It's more complicated by far than any he's seen in the Land of Peace, even in the cities, and perhaps even more complex than the one in Xanadu, which is equally unobtrusive, but has not yet gassed any visitors in his presence.
Paige efficiently unwraps the sash at her waist and makes for the closest sink or water fountain, soaking the cloth before wraping it about her nose and mouth. A temporary measure to be sure but if it gains them enough time for her to keep watch while he does that sorcerer thing...
There is a sink in an examining room near the station.
[What about the girl?]
Paige told her to stay down. If the gas is cooler than the surrounding air it'll settle and she'll be out quick. She's of the opinion that if her opponents are capable, they're using something they think will be strong enough to work on Martin. Following that line of reasoning, the girl will be out quick and safer that way.
Edan nods at her actions. "Stay low," he says. "And we will move at what speed we can. We are in a box... if or when I have to, I will drop the trail and try to furnish some ventilation."
Thus armed against the gas, Edan and Paige move forward, following the heat trail. As the gas settles from the top of the room, they notice their eyes are stinging a little, and Edan can tell it's interfering with the heat trail. While the masks help, eventually they will fail and Paige and Edan will be breathing the stuff.
They go through two sets of double-doors following the heat trail. There are a few more bodies, all with severely damaged and missing equipment. Edan, with his heat-vision, sees it more as a variation of temperature than anything else, but Paige sees it clearly. Someone starts to come around a hallway corner, but before much more than the head comes around, the figure retreats.
Paige can tell he has a gas mask on.
Paige wants that mask, but there are other ways to ensure clean air for a moment. "Opposition around the corner," she says into her brother's ear. "Let's try the Trump from in here," she jerks the sword toward the nearest door that should have windows, her pistol never deviating from the hallway corner.
"Drop the trail and watch the door," she suggests. "Either we get him via Trump, or we're going to have to aquire a few of security's gas masks, and that means fighting." She puts three quick rounds into the window at chest height before setting it and the dao on the bed. Picking up the ubiquitous hospital chair, she swings it with all her strength, holding the back and getting as much momentum and leverage as she can.
Meanwhile, Edan gets the door closed and, reluctantly, stops concentrating on his spell. Instead, he takes a position near the door, and now has a sword in each hand. He doesn't flinch when Paige fires at the window.
"They'll be coming soon," she says over the klaxons. She draws the two important cards from her deck, Martin and Random, Martin still on top. She hesitates only long enough to regain the sword before concentrating...
Martin is blocking the trump. She can try to break through, but it will take some time.
"It is a certainty," Edan replies, low enough not to interfere with Paige's concentration. He moves so that he can glance between the door and the window; if he can jam a chair under the doorknob, he'll do that too. Positioned to handle a rush on the door, if he sees someone taking aim at Paige he'll turn and try to get his sister out of the way instead.
Edan and Paige are in a narrow examining room of some sort. There's an examining table, a couple of chairs, and cabinets with a sink. A vent in the ceiling is slowly dropping gas on them. A now-broken window takes up about half the width of the room, extending from floor to ceiling.
Edan takes one of the chairs and props it under the door handle. [Note: it's a disability-friendly handle, not a knob.] To effectively cover the door and the window, he pushes the examining table back against the wall and stands against it, ready to fire at either entrance.
Outside in the hall, Edan thinks he can hear movement.
"Stop blocking me, asshole," Paige mutters under her breath as she concentrates further. He gets to the count of 11, just to be perverse, or until Edan declares his need for support, or the gas gets to her, or... well any other number of things interrupt, y'know?
[ooc: does the broken window look like it's offsetting the gas any?]
[Yes, some. But outside air is getting in and it's not very nice.]
Edan, having mental flashbacks of multiple enemies attacking him from several directions, starting with Bleys, exhales and relaxes. From his stance, he looks all the world as if he were about to start into a dance.
"Any moment now," he says to Paige.
There's a push against the door, and the door rattles against the chair, hard.
Martin answers the trump, finally. The word "What?" is muffled through the gas mask he's wearing--stolen from one of the guards he killed, no doubt--but Paige can hear it clearly in his mind. He's furious, but the emotion is somehow muted through the trump, like it's been suppressed somehow. She hasn't seen him like this in years.
Through the trump, Paige can see he's in an office somewhere, probably elsewhere in the building. He's got what looks like a watch in front of him on a desk and he appears to be working on it with a glasses screwdriver.
Paige's own voice is muffled by her own scarf but not as much as his, while seeming just as clear, she hopes. She starts to try testing her own reactions and how the gas has effected them and shakes it off just as quickly. "We're here by Royal Command to extracate your ass. Based on the fact that you seem fine and aren't running home to F.. your Father, implies you've some objection to that idea."
"Pull me and Edan through quick, before these assholes in the hall decide the door has to die, and we'll support whatever play you're making," Paige offers loud enough that Edan should be able to hear her over the alarms. She extends a hand from where she's crouched behind the bed toward her brother. It happens to be the one holding the sword, but she extends the ring and pinky fingers toward him, beckoning.
Edan knows that what he'd do next with that door is spray this room with bullets through it. He thinks he's got a decent shot at burning whoever's behind that door blind, but it's not 100%. If the force out there is significant, more than one or two, he and Paige need to get out of here either way.
A little subtlety is in order. Edan sheaths both of his curved swords, and takes Paige's hand in his. If there is time, he will work on a spell; if successful, words will char themselves into the far side of the door from himself, so that they can be read from the hallway.
They will read, in Thari, 'A word to the wise- the bomb I planted in that hallway will explode in just a few seconds.'
[This is trivial to do instantaneously at your competence level. I don't even have to draw a card because you can't botch it.]
There's a flash of fire as Edan speaks a word and makes a gesture. Then his hand is in Paige's and Paige's is in Martin's and they're through into the room he's in. It's still the same building; alarms and klaxons are still going off. Where Martin is appears to Paige to be some kind of computer room. Its purpose isn't immediately evident to Edan but it's not a lab or an examining room. It's also wired with what Paige recognizes as plastic explosives.
There is a dead man right under Martin's feet. The watch probably belongs to him.
Martin is a fellow of just under average height. Most of his face is hidden under a gas mask. He's dressed in local fashions and armed with weapons clearly taken from the guards they've encountered. He gives Edan a quizzical look as if trying to figure out who he is, but apparently being with Paige is enough to get him a pass for now.
Then he turns to Paige and says, "Where's my wife?"
Paige starts and stops her answer several times behind the scarf. When words finally pass the cloth, their tone matches the narrowed jade eyes. "Safe with her ex in Xanadu."
The gas mask dips once, but there's no verbal response.
Edan glances around the room, noting where bundles are strapped or taped, does some quick mental calculations, and looks fascinated. He sniffs at one and gently pokes at the clay with a finger.
"This material is explosive, yes?" he asks. "Like dynamite that can be shaped. Yes... I see it is placed for maximum effect... it should be a most gratifying explosion." He turns to regard Martin with alien- looking eyes. "And there is some property of that watch that acts as a fuse? Or were you merely wanting a timer? If this material can be ignited with heat, if the flash point is not too low, there might be an easier way."
"Prince Martin, my brother, Edan of the Da'ar Esh Salaam," she introduces. "Edan's a sorcerer, but you've probably deduced that."
Martin nods once, abruptly, again. His answer is to Edan, though. "I was going to set a timer and leave enough time to get out physically in case I needed it. I'll cover by giving them some time to evacuate the patients."
Edan drops his gaze, puts his palm against his chest, and bows.
As he speaks, Martin is finishing whatever he was doing with the watch and then he closes it. "Paige, get us a line to someone who can bring us out. Edan, can you blow a hole in that window?" He gestures across the room, where Edan and Paige can see the skyline of Tyrell City above the fog.
"Of course," Edan says. Having succeeded in the rare occurence of noticing the nonverbal byplay between the two, he moves off to examine the window more closely.
The window here is made of some technologically advanced material. Edan would probably do better melting it or superheating it somehow than trying to blow a hole in it or break it the way they did with the window in the examining room. This area appears to be significantly more secure than the patient zone where Edan and Paige came in.
"Not unlike the sculpting of glass," Edan says, and starts into another spell. His hands glow with a golden light, the occasional wispy flame licking upward in the air. Placing his palms against the window, he is immediately assaulted with the scorched plastic smell of burning polymers.
He tries to melt a large circle swath around the window, letting the heat settle and the material bubble when he needs to. When he finally steps back, satisfied, he'll convert his turn into a wheel kick to bash the central part of the window outward.
Edan knocks a section out of the center of the window with his kick. More alarms and klaxons go off, but it sounds like they're leaving anyway.
Paige finds her deck again, easily enough as she still hasn't replaced Martin's card. She shifts her sword to the left hand which holds the single card which then goes to the top of the deck in her right. As she turns it over and holds it in the left again to leave her right free, there's the card that Garrett had provided her. Paige starts concentrating on her Uncle Random's countenance.
Random comes into focus quickly.
"Hope I'm not interrupting anything," Paige mutters with a smile, fairly certain that the alarms will muffle it from Martin.
"No, no, chatting with Jerod. This and that, here and there, the utility value of a really good set of diplomats, that kind of thing." Random's speech is broad and slow, and Paige can see a grin on his face. "Do you need help, or a ride out? Did you find Martin?"
"The latter and yes. He seems wonderfully put out that we're here and wanted to know how his wife is," she answers. "His words, not mine."
Random smiles and nods, once. Paige can tell he's amused. "I see. Well, she's in the studio with her band. It's a pity Soren hasn't made a working recorder, yet. Hey! Remind me to ask you about intellectual property laws when you get back. I have some Kingly Thoughts."
Meanwhile, Martin is talking into some sort of device, probably in the headset with the gas mask. "Hello, this is your mad bomber what bombs at midnight. You have ten minutes to evacuate this building on my mark or you're going to have holes in it." He taps the watch twice. "Mark."
He rips the mask off. "Paige, Edan, let's go."
"But apparently he's ready to check in himself, if you're ready to bring us home," she says to the card even as she extends a hand toward the men.
Edan moves back and takes one of Paige's hands. His own hand is its normal warmth, no worse for wear from the spell.
Martin flings the headgear, including what was apparently a communications headset, out of the window, through Edan's hole. Then he moves to join Paige and Edan.
Random reaches out and takes her hand, pulling the three through into Xanadu.
The morning following Jerod's conversation with Brennan, he attends to breakfast and goodbyes with his sister and Corwin, attending to see if there are any messages that they would like delivered when he gets to Xanadu.
If Corwin has the documentation prepared then he will pick it up then, otherwise he will be sure to stop off prior to going to Rebma.
Then he collects his gear, picks a quiet study room adjacent to the royal library and pulls out Random's trump, concentrating on the scarecrow image, wondering what kind of world he has created for himself and the rest of the universe.
After an odd pause wherein Jerod is sure he's connected but during which he cannot see or hear anything, Random comes into focus quickly. "Jerod, how good of you to call. To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"
Jerod takes note of the calling verification procedure that his majesty has in place before proceeding.
"Hello Uncle...I was just wondering if you were in your new home and if it was safe to come through. Last time we called you were a little busy and then I got busy and then I had to miss a funeral. That pretty much sucked."
"You can give your condolences to Julian and his kids when next you see them. Sure, come through." He holds out his hand.
[Assuming Jerod comes through.]
The assumption proves correct.
The King is in an office overlooking the waterfall. It's a bit loud, but not too bad. The King is at his desk, and Vialle is there and another man whom Jerod does not know.
"We can discuss this further at a later time, " Random says. "I need to speak to my nephew." The man bows to the queen, who does not notice, and then in the direction of Random and Jerod. He exits hastily in some apparent conclusion.
Jerod looks at the man directly, though not in a way which would be considered threatening. He registers the man's face and general appearance for future reference.
"Thanks for the rescue," says Random, grinning.
"Ah...that's what I'm here for, your majesty. No matter how dangerous or difficult the situation, if you need a meeting interrupted, I'm your guy. Boorish behaviour for all occasions. Large parties will require a reservation however." Jerod says with a slight grin. He takes a moment to drop the satchel bag with all the various messages Jerod has been retaining onto the King's desk and turns slightly towards Vialle.
"Your majesty, once again it is agreeable to attend upon you." he says, giving her the opportunity to reply before continuing with Random.
"Welcome to Xanadu, Jerod," Vialle says warmly. She reaches out to touch Jerod's hand if his voice puts him close enough by that she can do so easily.
He makes sure he is in the area long enough to allow her to do so.
"Corwin sends greetings. I left him with my sister and Brennan. The pair of them will probably be remaining there for a short time before coming here next." and he points to the bag. "Those are for you."
Random doesn't look at the bag. "Thanks. If they're not urgent, I'll get to them later. To what do we owe the sudden pleasure of your company?"
"They're from the bureaucracy in Rebma and Gateway." Jerod says, his tone sufficiently dry enough to indicate that he deems them to be dealt with at the king's pace, whatever that might be.
Random nods.
"As for the sudden pleasure of my company, ah, well that covers such a wide range of things. There are matters to discuss with Martin, assuming he's around, regarding Rebma. There's matters to discuss concerning Amber, so that would be you I think." he says with a slight smile. "There are matters of pathways to be laid. I wanted to test my skill so Corwin has one now to Gateway."
Random blinks.
"There's Julian and the Dragon, oh, and Brennan says hi and says I should give you some information about that, assuming you don't have it already. There's Llewella's daughter Khela and the Rebma situation, assuming you don't know about that either." Jerod pointedly does not look at Vialle when he says this.
Random looks away from Vialle, who does not notice.
"There's a small quest to Gateway concerning Rebma origins that beckons, and mysterious news concerning Weyland. Plus there's a small bit that I would like to discuss with you that I've already run past Corwin with concerning kingdoms with Patterns and the need for communication. And shall we not forget the opportunity to explore a brand new kingdom which is never a bad thing to do. So much to do, so little time."
At this point, Jerod stops and looks out to where the waterfall would be located, curious as to what's outside but not enough yet to start moving around and away from the majestic pair (that would be rude even by family standards). Then he looks back at Random. "So, where should we start?" he asks pleasantly. "You wouldn't happen to have any decent scotch would you? And a place to rest this?" motioning to the spear.
Random holds up a finger, lays it along side of his nose, then points to the bar and holds up 2 fingers.
He speaks, louder than he had been speaking previously. "No, no, chatting with Jerod. This and that, here and there, the utility value of a really good set of diplomats, that kind of thing." Random's speech is broad and slow, and Jerod can see a grin on his face. "Do you need help, or a ride out? Did you find Martin?"
Jerod goes off to collect the scotch, keeping his ears open to the one side of Random's trump call. He pours two glasses of scotch, using Gerard size fingers for his markers and if Vialle has shown any interest (she has said nothing yet), then he will collect something for her as well before returning. He is curious as to why Martin would need finding. The question concerning help also does not escape his attention.
Random smiles and nods, once. "I see. Well, she's in the studio with her band. It's a pity Soren hasn't made a working recorder, yet. Hey! Remind me to ask you about intellectual property laws when you get back. I have some Kingly Thoughts."
[Jerod] finds a place to lean the spear, though it remains close by.
Random reaches out and two of Jerod's cousins arrive in a coruscating rainbow flash. Jerod sees Paige and Martin with an unknown man wearing a turban and clothes typical of the Land of Peace. He's armed, as are Jerod's cousins.
The office they arrive in is untidy, with papers across several surfaces. Jerod, Random, and Vialle are in the office.
"Ah," Edan says softly to Paige as they arrive. "Success." He makes an eloquent head bow, eyes downcast, at Random.
Paige seems non-plussed by the King's presence and kisses her brother on the cheek. "You can come on any of my misadventures you want from here on out."
"Thank you both," says Random.
Paige shrugs with a good-natured smile. "It's not like he needed us."
As they step through, Jerod makes a note of the environment in which they would appear to be coming from, specifically from the costume styles they are wearing. Martin gets more of the attention since he's more likely, like Jerod, to automatically adjust his clothing to suit the Shadow he is in. The presence of firearms provides additional details.
"Martin." he says, once the rainbow effect fades, offering a hand clasp. "It's been too long."
Martin accepts the clasp, and nods, once. Something about the way he moves, the way he looks at the room, the way he holds himself: they tell Jerod Martin's fresh from a live-fire zone. His garb is synthetic fabrics, with very clean lines, and all dark.
Jerod holds the clasp from his friend for just a moment longer, the way they would finish sparring matches in what now seems like the good old days...just long enough to impart the message that it's over, and he's still alive.
Martin hangs on for a moment with surprising strength before relinquishing Jerod's hand.
Then Jerod is satisfied...the message got through.
"Jerod, this is my brother, Edan," Paige introduces walking him over to Eric's son.
"Both of you got a snootful of that gas," Martin says to Paige and Edan. "You should get checked out."
Edan looks for a second as if he were about to protest, but nods instead. "It shall be as you say," he says.
Vialle cocks her head, listening to the byplay in the room, sorting out who's present now based on the footstep and the voices. "I'll send for a physician, or send to the infirmary to expect--two? Three? Are you wounded, Martin?
Martin glances over at her and says, "I'm fine. All I need is to see Folly."
Random says "She's in the studio, but I'd sorta like to know what was happening that needed such a strong response. Let's get her up here and all relax over cocktails, assuming we can stand down?" The last is pitched as a question for Martin.
Martin nods once, abruptly.
"I'll be fine, thank you, Your Highness," Paige replies to Vialle. "But if it'll make people feel better, I'll take myself and Edan by the infirmary after cocktails."
"If you're sure," Vialle says, and moves to the door, where she speaks to someone outside, presumably sending to the studio and for cocktails.
It is assumed by this point that the clasp has ended, and Jerod has also been sifting the words back and forth, plus the non-verbal component replies...enough to know that unless he gets ordered out, cocktails doesn't sound all that bad.
So, while letting dad & son work out the details getting girlfriend up from the studio and begin dealing with what needs dealing with, Jerod now turns his attention to Paige and her brother, his attention clear enough that he is doing so.
Folly takes a deep breath and turns to Garrett. "So. You asked me a question. I think the answer is, 'that sort of depends on your father', y'know?" Her smile grows wistful, and she folds her hands protectively across her belly. She suddenly looks very tired.
He nods. "As long as you invite me to the wedding when the time comes," Garrett says with a smirk. "I am the uncle, you know." He notes her weariness and adds, more tenderly, "Can I get you anything, Folly? Drink? Pillow? Shoulder to cry on?"
Ash has wandered over to another part of the studio and from the darkness come an acoustic variant on the opening bass line to 'Find Me Gone'. Soren looks over his shoulder at his ex-bandmate.
Folly lifts her head and stares, not so much at Ash as in his general direction. Tiny beads of wetness glisten in her lashes as she listens. Languidly, she lifts one hand and points into the dimness at that end of the studio.
It takes Garrett a moment to realize she's answering his question.
She stands and extends a hand to him like some fey being offering to lead him into another realm. She still looks tired, but the music has brought a peaceful smile to her face, as if she suddenly feels better prepared to cope with the chaos.
Garrett looks down at her hand shyly. This world - music - is a realm where he has always felt out of place. He had drummed with Folly and Hannah once and listened in while his father played with Soren, but in truth, he has always felt like an outsider. Until now. He takes Folly's hand gently, gulping with nervous anticipation, as he accepts her invitation into her world.
Soren is on his feet as well, behind Folly. This was a set-opener for years, and Ash can vamp on it for minutes until everyone is ready. In the dim light, Folly can feel the beat in her breastbone. The glow from sound gear and the heat of the stage are missing. There are a variety of instruments to hand.
Garrett feels Folly's thumb pulsing softly against the back of his hand, keeping time with the bass line, as if to transmit the rhythm directly into his very blood and bones. She leads Garrett through the studio, pausing every now and then to consider possible instruments. When they find a nice-looking djembe, she looks up at him with a quirked eyebrow and a gentle, encouraging smile.
Garrett's eyes widen in the darkness of the studio; the rhythm enters him as a vine winds around decaying stone, filling every crack in his soul with with buds ready to take root. He releases Folly's hand and takes the drum from her, leaning against the wall in the darkness. The rhythm she prompted flows from his fingers, solid and firm on the head of the drum. He closes his eyes and lets the music take him.
Garrett plays the rhythm, and feels the music, or more precisely the music Ash is making, lead him places. There are some obvious places for him to put in his parts and some places where Ash is leading and he's supporting. The major impression Garrett gets is that Ash is very, very good and perfectly happy to let Garrett find his place in the rhythm section.
Soren smiles. "I was a drummer, mostly, before I started gigging with Syd. And after, too, but not so much." He picks up a guitar, and starts playing. He looks at Folly in the dimness. Folly can tell he's waiting to see if she's going to play the lead or if he should take it. It's almost as if the notes are asking.
Folly peers back at him through half-closed eyes. She has kicked off her boots and is swaying and bouncing slightly on the balls of her bare feet, her hands twining through the air like serpents in that half-dancing, half-conducting way she's always had, feeling the music and letting it move her.
A sudden spark glints in her eye; she smiles and snakes an index finger toward Soren: he's taking the lead guitar line, because she's had an idea. She pads softly across the darkened studio and returns a moment later with a cello and a chair. Perching, she puts bow to strings and coaxes out a low tone, mellow and sweet. Soren and Ash can hear echoes of the old piano line hidden in her lilting dissonances.
Ash shifts up an octave, giving her more freedom in the lower registers.
It had always been such a great opener: depending on how they played it, the song could come across as an edgy break-up letter or an empowering first-day-of-the-rest-of-our-lives anthem, but either way it could get a crowd up and moving, blood and fists pumping to the beat.
They wind up and slowly crescendo through the long intro, her cello line weaving and snaking its way around the stronger guitar line, the pulse of the bass and the drum supporting them. As they reach the opening verse, Folly lets the cello line trail off. She takes a deep breath and sings:
Your heart has turned to stone
Bound up in chains of duty to a fate you do not own
There is no answer on your phone
Can you hear the distant singing that is calling you home?You're left behind and blinded, fighting shadows in the dark
But in the night this light will guide you, this love will be your spark
Ash and Soren trade a solo back and forth here, with openings for both Garrett and Folly if they want to jump in.
Don't wanna wake to find you gone,
Gotta walk this road together, gonna face this life as one
No matter what you've done
You know this promise is forever and our love will carry on
They are not the usual words, but they are just as heartfelt. Folly projects them into the darkness, up to the rafters, and halfway across the universe.
Garrett's eyes remain closed as he allows the words and music to envelop him like a warm cloak on a winter's day. He feels like a child opening the door to a new world - one of pure sound. Vision means nothing here, only the melody and the beat. To the others, his rhythm lacks the flourishes of his father's, but it is steady - forceful, strong, and relentless, prodding the leads to higher heights.
"Whew!," says Soren. "That was a hoot. And way too sloppy to put on stage, let alone on tape. Maybe third set, when it's down to the drunks." He starts giving notes. "Ash, nice work on the bridge, but just because you have a steady drummer doesn't mean you have to go crazy. Garrett, eyes open. The Band is a collective noun, not an assemblage of individuals."
"Yes, sir," Garrett replies automatically, Soren's manner reminding him of Pastern, the old horsemaster.
"Folly, I love the lyrics, can we make the second key change a whole step higher?"
Folly seems lost in thought for a moment, but then her shoulders relax, almost as if she'd just breathed a sigh of relief. She looks at Soren and nods. "Yeah. I hear it. That could definitely work, and check you out with all the producing and stuff!" She's grinning. As she sets the cello aside, she catches Garrett's eye, smiles, and mouths _You did good_.
He grins back at her in thanks.
Ash burps, loudly. The echoes hang in the tracking room for seconds. Then he starts playing "I Fought the Law."
Still smiling, Folly sticks the tip of her tongue out between her teeth. "Anarchist," she teases affectionately. Then she's up and looking for another instrument, pausing to plant a sloppy kiss on Ash's cheek as she walks past.
Ash wiggles his eyebrows and changes keys.
Soren picks up a banjo, tries it for a chorus, then puts it down. He settles on an octave mandolin.
She finds a guitar, and on her way back to join the others, stops next to Garrett. In a low, relieved voice, she says, "He's gonna be okay. I can feel it in my gut. Were you s'posed to trump Paige again to get them out of there?"
"She has Father's trump," he answers, "but I should try her again in case she's someplace where she can't use it." He moves off into a spot with better light and concentrates on Paige's trump.
Folly, her own punk roots squarely in the 'nonconformist' camp, slings the guitar strap over her shoulder and adds a flamenco-style line, just to see how it would sound. She grins at her bandmates, but she's clearly keeping Garrett in her peripheral vision.
Ash adds the melody to 'Stairway to Amber' to the chorus. He makes it work, even without Garrett's drumming to anchor the rhythm line.
Folly laughs and pumps her head enthusiastically to the beat.
After a moment, Folly hears Garrett say into the Trump, "Hey. Are you all right?" Then his eyes widen. "Are you back?" he asks, surprised. A tentative grin begins on his face.
Hearing that, Folly finishes off her guitar line with a flourish and looks eagerly at Garrett.
Garrett's grin widens as he listens to a voice only he can hear. "All right. Hold on," he says. Then he shouts over his shoulder to be heard above the music, "Folly! Show's over. Your husband awaits." Garrett is grinning widely as he holds out a hand to her to pass her through the trump.
Even in her excitement, by long-ingrained habit Folly unslings the guitar and sets it carefully back on its stand before rushing over to Garrett. "Sorry, guys, gotta run," she calls over her shoulder to her bandmates. Then her hand is in Garrett's, and she's biting her lip in anticipation.
Garrett passes Folly through to Paige and then steps through himself.
Random begins talking quietly to Martin as Jerod moves off to join Paige and Edan.
"Hello Paige. Interesting meeting you here, but not unpleasant. I have something for you from Brennan." he says. "I can drop it for you at your convenience."
Paige has an incoming trump contact.
Paige smiles and nods thanks as she holds up a hand, forestalling more comments. "Yes?" she asks as she gets that far-away look again.
And while she's dealing with that, Jerod looks over at Edan, recognizing enough of the culture to know the required greeting (the advantages, once again, of a well rounded education).
"As sala'amu alaikum, Edan ibn Bleys." Jerod's pronunciation, while it is slightly accented, is exact.
Edan smiles. "Walaikum as sala'am, wa rahmatullahi," he replies, and does the eloquent bow. "I fear that my knowledge of family is still somewhat... piecemeal. We are cousins, yes?"
"Assuming my identification of your lineage is correct, then it would be so." Jerod says.
"It is so," Edan agrees. "I am suprised and pleased at the number of relatives I have met who are familiar with my homeland... the coastal areas, anyway. I had thought my father had placed me quite far away from the influence of family."
"I have found the influence of our family frequently has very few limits." Jerod says. "Myself and another came across your father's former staging area during the Regency during trade travel."
"Just got here," Paige says to the air before her, asking, "Is Folly with you? I think Martin wants to see her and the King wants to debrief up here."
Edan inclines his head slightly and smiles again; whether it is from recognition of the gist of Paige's conversation, or appreciation of the casual use of Trumps, is uncertain.
Jerod's attention shifts just slightly with the trump, and other, conversations around them. "We can expect guests shortly. I'd recommend getting a comfortable chair."
Last modified: 24 May 2006