Tricksey spends the following morning doting over Bailey, saying her 'goodbyes' as many times as she can. The final one hurts terribly. She dimly remembers her father's shape disappearing, a casual wave of his hand, that quirky spring in his step. Seeing her lover and friend disappear feels like this too. Traitorous whispers tell her that this is the last time. She burns the memories into herself, burying them deep inside. She will not forget.
She spends the remaining day finalizing their life here, shifting funds into various accounts, and automating her invisible business. Rent paid for a year, saving funds set, and scrip following Bailey as she needs it. At least, if time works differently, Tricksey can return to a comfortable life. And Bailey can start her own.
In the evening, she collects her things and heads out the door. Her departure doesn't go unnoticed; a raucous cawing follows her from the rooftops. She vaguely waves to her feathered cousins, "Go find someone else to feed you!"
Armed and dressed in the old guard's uniform, the Crow Girl heads back up to the hospital. She cases the estate long enough to confirm that she'll be alone... only then heading inside and to the Door to Tyrell.
Tricksey heads down the tunnel, through the abandoned, burned lab, and off towards the hospital. Tricksey notes signs of a running battle down here. Whoever shot up the foyer got down here, too. Serves the monks right for being troublesome. Hopefully they won't mistake her for a guard, if she runs into them.
The trip back is remarkably dull, and the tunnel is completely devoid of shinies. There's too much time to think and not enough to distract her from doing so.
Tricksey gets to the door where they found the explosions. She has that feathers-at-the-back-of-her-neck riling thing, as if someone is following her.
If she's lucky, Bailey just couldn't stand to be away from her.
She doesn't feel lucky.
Sly foxes. Waited for her to come back. Tricksey looks for shadows. She likes the shadows. And heights.
She's shaken tails before, and tries to do so now. The instant she thinks she's broken line of sight, she deftly climbs up the tunnel's mechanical sidings. There's usually enough space and dark to hide up above. And few foxes look up when their nose is down.
Tricksey waits. Ready to pounce. Or put a round in the fox's noggin.
This door is probably the last one before the corridor changes from the stone "early dungeon chic" style that led out from the lab to a style that has mechanical sidings. It's still a long way to the hospital.
Tricksey is up above the path she'd been walking and she waits, and it seems like a long time, but that may be just waiting in the dark. Someone is coming. Tricksey waits until they get reasonably close and she can see them. It's a monk or a guard, but in any case a man. He has a flashlight, and he's swinging it from side to side. This one isn't hunting. He's patrolling.
Or he's bait.
Tricksey goes very still. She watches and waits. Waits and watches. Until he's passed her. If no other sounds warned her. She makes her move.
All sneaky-sneaky, she slides down from her position. Closing the distance.
When close enough, she grabs him from behind, stifling any cries until she has full control of him.
Tricksey slides silently down, closes the distance before the guard notices, and has him in a hold in a trice.
He's not from Tyrell, or at least not equipped like he's from Tyrell. No badge, no flashlight, no radio, no gun. He does have a sword, but it's sheathed at his side.
A sword?! This is most peculiar, indeed, and gives her pause. Such an archastic weapon didn't seem right in Tyrell's land of gauss pistols and electric blades. This, above all else, prevents her from turning his head around like a pickle jar top.
"I move hand now. You shout. I break neck. You touch sword. I break neck. You fight. I hurt very badly. Then break neck. Savvy?"
Maintaining her grip, she moves her hand so he can speak. "Who you? Why here? Why should I not kill?"
The guard grovels. "Please don't kill me, I'm just a guard! I won't tell anyone you were here! There's not supposed to be anyone in these tunnels!"
Tricksey tightens her grip, "Then why you..." she begins. But her question is cut short by a miracle.
There's a sudden bright light, like a coruscating rainbow with no obvious source. As Tricksey (and the guard) blink reflexively, a man steps out of the light and into the corridor. He, too, has a sword.
The tunnel is not as empty as Fletcher had expected. He's facing two people. One at the back has the one in the front in some kind of hold. It doesn't look like a friendly encounter.
Fletcher is a tall man, somewhat over six feet tall and is wearing a suit that somehow manages to be both elegant and dated. His age could be anywhere from very early middle age to early middle age. Faces the combatants. His blue eyes are clear and alert. In his left hand he holds a polished and worn longsword that is clearly of some age. He gestures with it casually as he speaks. The +weight of the sword does not make his gestures clumsy at all.
"Ah, splendid! You look like just the one I'm looking for. Do you have time for a quick chat?"
Judging by her position behind the guard, Tricksey is a taller, lanky woman. Midnight hair with a shock of snow white frames her pale face. Black eyeshadow darkens her steely eyes, which narrow at the stranger's confusing words. She appears to be wearing a guard's uniform, but from the fit, it's likely not tailored to her. Some kind of pistol clings to her hip.
She blinks. Then blinks again. Then leans forward and whispers in the guard's ear. "Shhhhhh..." She tightens her grip, robbing the groveling man of his consciousness, but not his life. She gently allows him to slip to the ground, propping him up so he doesn't accidentally drown himself. When he comes to, he'll have a massive headache and a story to tell.
Tricksey quirks her head, eyes studying Fletcher with avian interest, "You look for Tricksey? She listening. You bring noodles?"
Fletcher grins. "My name is Fletcher. There are probably some noodles tucked away around here for an emergency... Let's see." He looks around and uses the Pattern to increase the probably of Udon to something approaching reasonable. While doing this he feels for how disrupted this shadow may have been by recent manipulations. With Udon procured, he offers some to Tricksey. "There's only enough for you and me. Are there any others around like him?" He asks, gesturing to the resting guard.
It seems remarkably normal for a shadow. Either it's been a long time since it's been perturbed or Fletcher is far from any source of pattern stress.
Tricksey cocks her head with avian curiosity. She's seen miracles a few times recently, but spontaneous noodles is a new one. She leans forward, taking the food. "You not Fox are you? Tricksey not like Foxes. Even if have noodles."
She tastes them. And nods in acceptance. "Not know if more like him. Monks have many goons. Not like Tricksey in special tunnel. It goes places. Broken places." A thought strikes her and a brow quirks. "You blow up Monks?"
Fletcher winces slightly. "I certainly want to stop them, but I'd like to be able to ask them a few questions about where I can find their bosses. I don't want to break any places unless I really have to. Have you seen where the tunnel goes?"
Tricksey slurps some noodles, looking around. She nods to Fletcher's question. "Yes."
She waits a moment before realizing she should expand. She gestures with the noodle bowl. "That tunnel go to archology." Then the other way, "That tunnel lead to another world. Just returned. Tricksey want to learn about Monks. So can make Bailey safe."
Fletcher sees a need to establish a frame of reference. “The archology was that way you say?” He gestures accordingly. “Do you know what’s going on there now? Who is Bailey? (Is Bailey down here in the tunnel somewhere?) Where did that guard come from?”
Tricksey sets her finished noodles aside. And then she flutters her hands in front of her, "Too many questions. You sound like Fox. Crow Girl thought Sparkly Fetch have answers."
She turns around, and then point the way she came. "Tunnel to Other Place that way. So, archaeology must be this way. But look... different now. Guard work for Monk. Tricksey thinks. Could come from either direction. Tricksey make Monks very angry when here. Tried steal information on research. Tricksey and Bailey escape in tunnels. Find door to Other Place. Monks there too. But lab all boomed."
Tricksey frowns, meeting Fletcher's gaze. "Bailey Tricksey's nest mate. Was." A pained pause. "She stay in Other Place. Go to Cal-E-forn-E-A." She pronounces the latter with some reverence.
Now that she's had a chance to talk to Fletcher for a minute, Tricksey can sense that he's like nobody she can remember encountering before, certainly not as an adult. He's deep, and broad, in ways that other people aren't. There are legends of him that follow in his wake.
Fletcher is old and deeply experienced with the Pattern, and has just walked the Pattern of Xanadu. Now that he's had a chance to stand and talk with Tricksey, he has the sense that she is more Real than anything around them.
Fletcher makes conversation while considering this information. "Yes, I have a lot of questions. Maybe we can find some answers. So the arcology.... Is that the 'hospital' where the monks were keeping people locked up for experiments? The place that got hit with a snowstorm? Some of the monks got away from there. Were you locked up there too?"
Tricksey cocks her head. "There two places. Hospital in snow. And Archology. Tunnel runs between them. Tricksey thinks. Both attacked. Was that you?"
She crouches precariously on a utility pipe. "No. People Tricksey protects taken. She look. Find Monks and research. Then captured. Escaped. Found other world. Now return. And meet you."
Fletcher look at Tricksey balanced on the pipe. "Are your people free now? I was at the hospital chasing the monks, but there were others there too. They are my cousins. I haven't seen the arcology yet. Did the others already attack it? Are your people from one of these places?"
"They street people. Never found. Presume dead," Tricksey says, frowning. "Very sad."
She cocks her head, "Family? Like mafia? Must like explosives. Much fire. But not thorough. Clever monks rebuilding."
With a tap of her chin, "Maybe go back to Tyrell? Tricksey download materials. Maybe got through. But guard shot deck. Rude."
Fletcher shrugs. "What's Tyrell? Is it far from here?" He looks at the unconscious guard. "I don't know if we should just leave him here. Where did he come from?"
Tricksey notes her question went unanswered, so returns the shrug, "Probably works for Monks. Patrolling. Probably upset about Crow Girl down here. Leave. Or kill. Tricksey leaves to Fletcher."
She hops down and starts walking in the direction the guard was originally going. "Come, come. Tyrell easier to see than say."
Fletcher sighs. He's loathe to leave the guard behind, but follows along behind Tricksey anyway, alert for watchers and danger as always.
Tricksey leads the way towards the city. Fletcher thinks he's walking along a natural shadow path, altough he's never head of one in an underground catacomb system. Maybe it's recently created, but the lessons he got from his father on the things would suggest that it's at best temporary and at worst likely to drift. It's also true that walking a natural shadow path makes it more permanent, so perhaps the guard is not just for guarding.
Tricksey leads on, and eventually comes to a recently bricked up wall. It wasn't like this when she came down, but that's been quite a while.
There's an access hatch to the sewers here, and a ladder going upwards. It might be Tyrell.
Probably is, if the smell through the sewer door means anything.
Tricksey pauses, "This new. Not like these foxy things. Crow Girl likes familiar things." She wrinkles her nose, "Smells familiar."
She lightly runs her fingers over the brick, leaning close. "You new," she whispers to the stone. "Did the foxes make you? Why you here? What you protecting?""
She leans against the brick, finding the underlying impressions upon it, and is immediately overwhelmed by anger. Whoever laid these bricks was furious at... something. If there's more, it's drowned out in the echos of rage.
Might be the one who she hit, or the woman whose identity she stole, or maybe just someone who didn't want to put up a brick wall by the smelly sewers. But it doesn't seem like the kind of anger a person gets over.
Following along behind, Fletcher looks around at the wall, ladder, and hatch. "Is the wall going to be a problem?" he asks. Fletcher feels around with sense of shadow paths, testing a theory. He 'looks' to see whether the wall was meant to cut off an part of the shadow path that would continue on past the wall.
"Wall angry," Tricksey says. "New, but soon old hate. Think Tricksey upset someone. Crow girls like that." She shrugs.
"Could break it, if want." It's then she noticed Fletcher doing... something. She cocks her head, eyes sparkling with interest.
"You touched by Crow too? Yokai? Onibi?" She lightly pokes Fletcher's arm, assuring herself that he's corporeal.
Fletcher is indeed corporeal.
Fletcher thinks the shadow path terminates on the side of the wall they are on, quite close to the wall, as if the wall is meant to block things out of shadow from coming in, or stop things lost in shadow from coming back (such as himself or Tricksey).
He notices that there are blaze-marks on the corridor about where the shadow path starts. Before there was a wall, that was probably how they knew they were about to leave Tyrell.
Fletcher look at Tricksey. "I don't know what you mean by Crow. Or Onibi, come to think of it. What's that all about?"
Tricksey regards Fletcher with confusion and sadness. As one might gaze upon a child that's eaten dryer sheets for the third time.
She points to herself, "Crow Girl." She points to him, "Uses Foxy tricks. Like onibi. Ghost." A roll of her shoulders, "You set out of air. But know little."
Tricksey turns back to the wall and gives it a hefty kick at a weak point. Testing how securely the mortar has set.
The mortar hasn't had a lot of time to set, but the wall was well built. Tricksey thinks she could knock it over with some dedicated kicking. Fletcher knows he could knock it down as well. Although a prybar would do a more efficient job of it.
Fletcher mutters, "I'm sure there must be something around here. All sorts of things wind up in these tunnels." As he looks around the tunnel, and goes poking around the edges of things. While doing this he concentrates on the Pattern and influences the probably that there is a pry bar, piece of rebar, or some other thing that can be used as a makeshift prybar.
Tricksey stops her kicking, long enough to watch Fletcher doing his search. "That wise," she says, and joins in the hunt.
There's a crowbar leaning against the wall and Fletcher finds it easily.
Tricksey can feel that something happened--not magic, but something--when Fletcher does whatever he did (which wasn't evident from any physical gesture on Fletcher's part).
Fletcher picks up the crowbar and hefts in one hand. "This should do." He strides back to the back and applies it to the structurally important points in the wall in earnest.
To Tricksey he adds, "If they're trying to close down a stretch of tunnel, they probably either want to keep something out or keep something in. Be ready just in case."
Tricksey pauses, tilting her head at an avian angle, "You do something. Familiar things. Tricksey curious. Will learn."
She steps outside of his swing, not wishing to get hit by accident or hurt by flying debris. "Best hurry. Monks upset. They not patient lot."
Indeed, she glances down the tunnels to make sure the noise they're making hasn't drawn attention.
The wall, howe'er well made it might have been, is not up to the challenge of Fletcher with a crowbar.
Through the breach Fletcher made, he can see into the corridor. It's not very well lit, but it's lit better than the tunnel on this side of the wall.
Fletcher and Tricksey can both see the red lights that indicate that the new section has working security cameras.
There's no one in the corridor beyond, but there is a ladder leading up.
Tricksey shakes her head, "Bad. Too many foxes watching. They shoot crow-girls. And oni."
She looks at Fletcher, "You not bullet-proof?"
She returns her gaze to the corridor, "Not have agent. Otherwise hack. We dare. Or leave?"
"I try to avoid being shot whenever possible. What do you mean by 'agent?' What kind of guns are we talking about?" Fletcher ponders how new construction is often done by the lowest bidder, and sometimes cheap work in underground wiring conduits winds up with leaks in the waterproofing, either from cheap materials, rodents, accidents, or earth shifting. Wireless signals are also notoriously unreliable in underground tunnels and would have to rely on repeaters that depend on wiring. And all those things require power, which means power lines that could get crossed with network cables if there was any kind of damage or water infiltration. Cascading failures and glitches are not uncommon. Fletcher extends his Pattern-infused will to make such things much more common in the immediate vicinity.
Possible to Probable to Common. This is a SRE's nightmare. The red light goes on and off and starts blinking. A few seconds later the pattern repeats.
Fletcher looks at Tricksey. "It looks like their security system is having problems," he says. "Now would be a good time to tell me about their guns and what you think they’re going to do next."
Tricksey shows off the pistols she's carrying, "Standard Steyr Pflager Katsumata Series-D. Fires .44 Special. High penetration. Other foxes use D5 Sidewinder. Smart weapon. Semi-auto. Slug or flechette."
She shrugs her shoulders, "They take people. They rebuilding. Think your friends hurt them. But not enough."
"I don't suppose you have a spare pistol I could borrow, do you? I'm all for pressing on but how many of them do you think you could handle? Semi-automatics do jam sometimes, and if we can get in close fast enough we could do it."
"Only stole one," Tricksey admits. She cocks her head, "We fight foxes? Can leave tunnel. Go to rookery. See if data got out. Crow girl download. But then bullets and glass."
"You shoot. Tricksey knife." She tosses the heavy pistol over to Fletcher. "Why Fletcher hate Monks? Crow girl has reasons. What yours?"
Fletcher checks out the gun, readying it and tucking it into his belt where he can get to it with his left hand, keeping his sword in his right hand.
"I can't quite believe my cousins are letting them rebuild without a reason. They tend to be less... forgiving than I might be. We may not have to fight if we can convince them it would be a bad idea. You lost people that you want back, right? I don't particularly hate these monks, but they've stepped out of line and done some pretty bad things to members of my family. I'd like to find out more about what exactly they think they're doing. If we see guards, they're probably just people doing their jobs, but if it comes down to them or us, I choose us. By now they must have noticed the security is down. Let's find a good spot to encounter them. Looks like there's a bit of cover up ahead."
Tricksey nods firmly. "Family important. Help Fletcher help family. And stop monks tasking Tricksey's flock. Fox keep information. Tricksey may know codes, if not changed yet. Not sure how long Tricksey in the world of snow and hospitals."
She proceeds down the revealed corridor, following his lead. "Is Family like you?" she asks. "You all come from other places? Other worlds?" Her eyes sparkle with corvid interest, as if this question is old and well-trodden.
"My family comes from all over the place. You get that with parents that travel between worlds. Sometimes people lose track. Most of them can learn how to travel between worlds, eventually. That’s one of the reasons the monks are interested in us."
As they delve deeper into the complex, she starts looking for an access panel or maintenance terminal; something she can hack into to get a better understanding of what's coming their way. "If Foxes too much, we run. Have hideyholes in the City. And noodles. We recoup. Rethink."
Fletcher nods as he keeps watch down the tunnel. "OK, if it gets messy I'll follow your exit. All I've done so far is some property damage so we might be able to talk to them. I don't even know if this is part of the main group or some offshoot. But I'm not going to let them surround us, or even flank us. Start planning different fallback routes." Fletcher concentrates on the Pattern, extending his awareness, looking for anything unseen in their surroundings that might present a problem.
Fletcher can sense that, strangely, there is a HUGE source of Order nearby and it drowns out anything else he's trying to do. Not as bad as if he were trying to do it in a Pattern realm, but whatever it is is big enough that it can't be a single person or single member of the family.
Tricksey instinctively shivers, although she couldn't say why. Maybe it's her attunement to the Song of Stone and Steel. Maybe it's something far older that speaks to the blood. She remains silent, watchinging Fletcher with confusion and interest. Finally, she turns away and marks one of the pipes with a felt pen - a hold over from her tagger's kit. After traveling to other worlds down here, she'll wants to be able to retrace her tracks. Done, she nods to Fletcher to lead the way.
"Remember to aim between armor," she says. "Their ballistic plating can't cover the joints."
There is the sound of footsteps, multiple footsteps, coming down the corridor.
Fletcher whispers to Tricksey, "I think my other relatives might still be in the area."
Tricksey nods, whispering, "They help soon? About to get loud."
From his position of cover, Fletcher then calls out in the direction of the approaching footsteps, "I would like to speak to the person in charge here."
"Who are you?" a metallic voice--Tricksey thinks they've got face masks as part of their riot armor and the mask is what makes it sound that way--asks Fletcher.
Both of them recognize the sounds of guns being readied.
Tricksey curls back into the shadows, letting Fletcher deal with the men. She watches the direction they came, making sure they're not about to be caught in a crossfire. "Crow Girl hopes Fletcher know what he doing," she whispers.
Fletcher responds to the query, "I'm Sir Fletcher of Amber. If you need more of an explanation than that it means you should stay put and call your supervisor." Fletcher starts to imagine all the ways that semiautomatic weapons might experience difficulties in this environment, and pushes on the probabilities just in case.
"Wait," the voice returns.
More squawking in the distance; apparently someone took the suggestion of talking to their supervisor seriously.
Then: "Someone will be coming to speak to you. Stay where you are."
Tricksey stares at Fletcher, brow quirked. After being shot at, beaten, and generally annoyed by these guards in the past, this makes no sense to the Crow Girl.
"What are you? How you do that?" she whispers.
A few minutes pass, and then there's another crackly message: "Brother Able is on his way to speak to you."
A few minutes after that, the corridor lights right themselves. Fletcher doesn't need to sense specially to know that someone has reasserted probability with Pattern.
Tricksey can tell what whatever is coming is like a big wolf or something. Maybe a bear or a mountain cat. Predatory. It makes the little ones nervous.
A voice comes from the shadows, a new one, clear and unmediated by electronics. "Sir Fletcher of Amber, will you parlay with me? I am Able of the line of Oberon and your kinsman."
Tricksey looks at Fletcher. "That mean something?" She leans tighter to the wall. Whatever is going on here confounds her. And Crow Girls do not like being out of touch from the world around them.
To Tricksey, Fletcher says quietly, "It means we talk instead of fighting. Maybe we can make a deal. But be ready."
Fletcher calls out down the tunnel, "I will parlay with you, and would bring one other interested party to the parlay."
Tricksey wrinkles her nose, "You like crazy person, Fletcher." A sly grin and shrug follow. "But Crow Girl likes you. She rarely wrong."
With a nod, she signals her consent and readiness for whatever is to follow.
There is only a moment of hesitation, then Able calls back, "Is this person family, or will we parlay under public rules?"
Fletcher is caught off guard by the question, and his desire to wait for a more appropriate time wars with his desire for an honest parlay. "My companion's exact status in that regard is in question though she is not familiar with either standard. For now let's operate under an understanding of family."
Tricksey raises a brow, and then points to herself. "You talk about Crow Girl? Tricksey has high standards."
"Fair enough," Able says, and steps into the light. He's armored properly by Fletcher's lights, and armed with a heavy old-style blade, one that has seen use and repair. His surcoat is red with a unicorn rampant device. "Come forward and let's speak. Which of the orders were you knighted in?"
To Tricksey, this Able is, not unlike Fletcher, old and deep. A subject of legends in his own right. He doesn't properly belong in the city, but he doesn't not-belong either. Rather, he's too big to belong to one place. If this is what she's been fighting, it's not a surprise she's having a hard time.
Tricksey snorts, sizing the man up. Too many hinky things going on today. She doesn't like it. But Crow Girls adapt. She studies him for weaknesses, in case she needs to break something off him and beat him to death with it.
His weaknesses are nontrivial. She might tear something off him and beat him to death with it, but he might do the same to her.
She stays beside Fletcher, looking to him for the next move. "This normal for you?"
Fletcher shrugs. To Tricksey he whispers. "I think this is some new kind of normal for my family. And I think you might be related to it all somehow but we don't have time to dig into right now. Stick close."
Fletcher steps into Able's view and approaches. "I am a Knight Commander of the Order of the Unicorn. What is your standing, if any, in the Court of Amber and line of Oberon?"
Tricksey sniffs the air like an animal, curious and feral. And then she follows Fletcher, walking at his side.
After his pronouncement, she does an exaggerated bow and flourish and finger-waggle. "Tricksey. Crow-girl."
Able does not look impressed with Tricksey, but he doesn't say anything to her. He addresses himself to Fletcher, instead.
"I was a templar of the Order of the Unicorn until Oberon dissolved the templars and exiled them. He was my grandfather, through my father's lawful marriage, but he exiled me all the same, and the story as I understand it is that Grandfather turned on my father and punished him for refusing to disown me," Able says. "I know that he's dead, though, and one of his younger sons took his place, and that Amber of old has fallen."
Able doesn't sound very sorry about that.
At Able's words, the expression that Fletcher allows to cross his face tells of a host of questions. But these grandchildren of Oberon have more recent business to discuss. Still, Fletcher studies Able's features though he doubts family resemblance will tell him anything conclusive. Fletcher nods, "Yes, it is as you describe. King Random has gathered his court in Xanadu. By the time you must have been a templar I had probably already been away from Amber for some time on other business. Nodding in Tricksey's direction, Fletcher continues, "I hear some of our other cousins have already visited to pay their respects. I suspect they may already have touched upon some of the business that has led me here, but duty requires I inquire regardless. Additionally, my companion has reported that various people have been taken from her homeland and she has an interest in seeing them returned. This area was reputed to be under the control of the Klybesian Order. Are you affiliated with them then?" Fletcher asks if he already knows the answer but wants to be polite.
All these weird words mean nothing to Tricksey. She starts tuning out until she realizes she's being mentioned.
Tricksey nods, "Monks take street people. My people. No like that. Makes Crow Girl angry. The Pyramid holding them still. Experiments."
She looks beyond Able, seeing if any of his associates are acting out of line. And then back to Able again. "Why you take?"
"When Klybus took the Order out of Amber, I joined him, and I now hold the title of Turcopolier, in charge of military matters. I'm not involved in the doctrinal and political disputes between the Patriarch and the Pontifex over the succession. And I didn't come here to take people. I came here because someone--" and Able looks at Fletcher as if he expects Fletcher to know who this was "--severely damaged our facility here, killing a lot of people, not just members of the Order and our lay companions, but those we serve, in the process. I oversaw the rebuilding of the hospital and the hardening of the defenses.
"But," and here Able looks downright annoyed, "you're not the first person who has said something to me tonight about people being taken. Or even killed. That's not who we're supposed to be. I know Brother Hannibal, whom you may know as Doctor Chew, has been active here. He has a genetics sequencing project that he's been working on for decades. Centuries. I told him if people volunteered for his work--I did, a long time ago--that was fine. But if he's kidnapping people and murdering them, he's no longer under my protection. When you lay hands on him, you may take him to Amber for whatever royal justice his crimes are deemed to merit."
Tricksey shrugs, "Tricksey no kill. Only embarrass. Only steal. Try to find people. Only found data. But foxes shoot it. Very rude. Came back to find people. Collect data. Crow Girl fFind you and Fletcher, instead.
"Other hospital destroyed too. But monks rebuilding. They soon steal people there too? In the world of New York?" Her eyes narrow, "Tricksey would be upset, if so.'
Tricksey pauses and then rubs her chin thoughtfully, "Is New York part of Amber?" This is asked to both men, since they seem to know more of this hinkey business.
"No. New York is not part of Amber." Able sounds almost confused by the question. "And I don't know what's going on in whichever Shadow New York is in."
Fletcher sighs. "I haven't mapped out the exact layout. The tunnels run together closely. New York is where there was a hospital. Has more than one hospital been hit recently? Some of our cousins may have been excessive in response to some some of Chew's work."
Tricksey glances between the two, and then folds her arms. "Crow Girl want to know more about Shadows when done here." She cocks her head, "And Family. Are we Family? Is why we talk rather than ultraviolence?"
A soft tap of her foot. "And when Trickey'chicks released? No more experiments. Fletcher's cousins not only ones short-tempered."
Able doesn't look particularly impressed by Tricksey's threats, either.
"If Chew and his minions are killing people, they probably deserved most of whatever happened to them. I do not want to go to war with Amber, and certainly not over him," Able says. "There is an event above. I should reappear at some point, but I think we have much to discuss." He side-eyes Tricksey in a way that suggests he's not entirely sure about her. "And you may want to speak to our cousins who are here, and get the girl somewhere safe while I ask some questions of our local brethren."
Fletcher asks, "Oh, are more relatives still nearby? Yes, I do suppose I should confer with them if you don't mind pausing our discussion. Who's here?"
Tricksey side-eyes Able right back, almost comically so. "Crow Girl watching," she says. "You help. But talk like Fox."
She glances at Fletcher. "We go. Meet cousins? And noodles?" She taps her chin sagely. "Meetings better with noodles."
"Conner and Brita, who were previously unknown to me personally, though I have heard of him through his dealings with the Order in the past. Let's go up and we'll find a cloak to cover your armor until you don't need it any more. And a coat for the lady." He looks at Tricksey. "If you're looking for someone particular, I need names.”
In quick succession, Tricksey rattles off the half dozen names of the homeless swept up in the Company Raids. Street names she's burned into her memory, as they are her flock, the broken and brittle people that seek her help. "Tricksey doubt they have SINs. Tell them Crow Girl sent you. They speak after that." She narrows her eyes, "If can still speak."
Able says "I will."
Someone brings down a cloak that covers Fletcher's armor and a coat for Tricksey. They are ushered up through a back elevator and hustled into a waiting car, and Able instructs the driver to take them to the nearest noodle shop.
They don't have very far to go; the noodle shop is down the road and the driver lets them off as instructed.
Fletcher climbs out of the limousine first, standing tall and covered with a great coat that he's acquired along the way, but a long sword is still a difficult accessory to hide. He looks at the noodle shop, quickly spotting Brita and Conner. He waves in greeting, and points in their direction for the benefit of his companion. To Tricksey he says, "Those are my cousins Conner and Brita. They may be your cousins as well, but that's one of several things we need to talk about when we're not in the middle of things. It looks like they've arranged some sort of truce with Able and we'd better get that figured out first.” He's stands ready to accompany Tricksey into the shop. Whoever's coat this is probably left some money in a pocket that Fletcher can use to acquire noodles.
Fletcher will note a waiter bringing a large order of noodles and other steaming bowls to Brita and Conner's table as though they knew to expect more guests. Conner waves back and beckons them over to join them.
Tricksey looks at Fletcher, confused. "Cousins? Not look like crows. So kami? Fletcher definitely yokai." She nods to herself, as if cementing this certification in her head. "Tricksey like him. Probably like maybe-cousins too."
At Conner's wave, she smiles. "They welcome. And have noodles." So said, she strolls up to the pair's table, bold as brass.
She thrusts her hand out at Conner, "Tricksey. Crow girl."
Conner grasps her hand and shakes it firmly. "Conner, and I've been described as tricksy a time or two myself." Conner grins at her. "This is my sister, Brita. Please, join us."
Tricksey returns the firm shake; a climber's hand. "Connor. Brita. Think I like. Plus you have noodles."
Brita smiles wide at Tricksey, giving her a little salute with her chopsticks. Her smile is definitely like Conner's although maybe not as brilliant as she is still munching noodles. She is fairly slender and appears like she would be tall if standing. She is incongruously wearing a flowing, floor length dress that looks like liquid emerald. Her red hair is piled on top of her head with braids in a coronet Tricksey might spot one tiny wisp of blond woven in the array. Her green eyes match the color of the dress perfectly.
As with Fletcher and Able, Tricksey can tell these two are legendary figures, but smaller, or younger, perhaps, than the other two. Brita has a greater legend about her than Conner, but the blade Conner carries is a legend in its own right.
To Brita, Tricksey smells like family. It takes her a moment to realize it with the delicious food smells, but Tricksey definitely smells familiar.
Brita, having finished her Large bowl of noodles, starts to push it aside when she pauses and looks a little startled. She leans towards Tricksey and takes a deep breath. Then her smile blooms again across her face. "Welcome, Cousin... Cousins," she nods to include Fletcher. "We Seem to be Finding Many New Kin in This Shadow. Cousin Crow Girl, Are You as The Tengu I heard of when I Studied with Master Nguyen?"
Tricksey cocks her head, regarding Brita with wide, curious eyes. She leans forward in kind, narrowing her gaze. "Sie no noyōnimieru prêtresse," she says in City-Speak, warily. But Brita's smile infects her, a radiant grin rising up. She hurried sits down beside the woman, continuing to stare abashedly. "You think Tricksey cousin? Why? Not know Nguyen. But Mother Tengu. Father Kamaitachi." She snatches up some chopsticks, breaking them apart. "Or Tricksey thinks. Long time. Was tiny crow."
(Loose translation: You don't look like a monk; Kamaitachi = 'sickle-weasel,' a type of air yokai)
Fletcher sits down and pulls up a plate. "My cousins and I are used to finding long-lost relatives in the strangest of places. But right now we're waiting for Able to deal with something urgent. We just had the pleasure of being introduced. Can you bring us up to speed on what Able's deal is? I've been able to deduce that he is at least younger than our aunt Deirdre."
Brita adds in response to Tricksey, "I Inherited my Blood Sense from My Garndma Grid. As One of Shadow Asgard's Jutenheim Giants, She Could Scent the Blood Differences from a League Away." She turns to Fletcher. "Cousin Able was Banished in The Time of Grandda Oberon. He Says he Works to Prevent Our Kin from Pillaging Shadows and is Separate from the monk-doctor chew."
Tricksey listens, eyes bright with corvid interest. At the end, she taps her chopsticks together, satisfied. "We talk more. You have Crow Wisdom, Tricksey thinks. And she want know more about Places That Are Between Places."
She tucks into her ramen, greedily consuming the noodles, pausing only to add some chili oil. But she's definitely still listening, studying, reflecting. Trying to determine her place amongst these stranglings.
Fletcher considers. "Banishment is not something done lightly. Any idea what Grandad's reason was? What's your take on Able? He may be opposed to Chew, but he's still got something going on and commands armed forces across shadows. I don't suppose he outlined his specific ancestry?" The question is asked as if Fletcher has a particular answer in mind.
Brita shakes her head as she slurps up the last of her noodles. "No, and I Can Only Sense His Kinship to Order," she responds to the last question first. "He Seemed Sincere in His Disparagement of chew's actions Against Us. If His Banishment was Long Enough Ago that None of Us Recall, He Would have been Of An Era of Our Uncles that was Full of Conflict and Distrust. Building an Army to Oppose what He Sees as Willful Destruction of Shadow Realms might be Understandable."
Conner swallows his current bite of noodles. "Able was naturally reticent about why he was banished." Conner remarks. "Clearly something happened in Amber history that caused religious orders such as the Paresh and the Klybesians to fall out of royal favor and it was serious enough to lead to death and banishment." Conner deftly picks up a dumpling with his chopsticks. "The more immediate question is what do we do with this information? Able seems strangely unconcerned about the Family knowing his location and felt secure enough in his position to threaten us. Do we really buy that Chew is a rogue and the rest of the order benevolent?" Conner's snort gives away his answer to that question. "Have you examined this shadow with Pattern yet Fletcher?" Conner asks. "Metaphysically speaking, it seems barely held together with spit and baling wire."
"I haven't had time for an in-depth examination of this shadow, Conner. We've only just arrived, and to be honest my cursory examination upon arrival might have been clouded by the presence of so many of us. I can take a few minutes to check now but I hoped you and Brita might have found something to inform my examination. Able's assertion that he is not allied with 'Chew' is supported by interviews with our prisoner back in Xanadu. I think the term 'heresy' was used to describe Chew's opponents. Brita is right that at some point various religious orders fell our of Grand-Dad's favor. The duty of the Defender of the Faith was to help keep religious groups within the bounds of acceptable behavior in Amber, and it was relatively easy to do because of Amber's prosperity and the political stability Grand-Dad provided. Some time after I went abroad things became more tense. I suspect they became enmeshed in politics more than philosophy. The Paresh, for example, were affiliated with one of Amber's former Queens. I'm not sure what exactly Klybus may have done after I fell out of touch with him, but that is when Able claims to have known him. If he is a cousin he may be descended from Caine, Corwin, or Eric. Possibly through Osric or Finndo though the timing doesn't sound right for that. Tricksey was looking for some people who went missing into this area, and I would like to resolve that issue and it may tell us more about what sort of person Able is. I'd like to put together a few more details before we hand this off for Random to chew on and spit out longer-term royal policy. And then I'd like to sort out why I get the feeling the Tricksey is also related to our family. Do you have any more information on any of that? Do we need to work about an incoming military strike from more cousins in the near-term? If not I can try examining this world as Conner suggested." Fletcher scans the noodle bar and laments the lack of hard liquor.
Conner shrugs. "Brita's nose says she's Family and she hasn't been wrong yet," Conner says matter-of-factly. "So far as I know none of the rest of us are heading here though the moment Edan hears we've met the Turcoplier I suspect the entire Order of the Lamp will be on its way. As for the Shadow, you will find that it is a nexus of many shadowpaths and one of them is funneling hot weather into this shadow. Whoever has manipulated this shadow was not very gentle and there are places where it is worn very thin. We had considered trying to undo it or modify it ourselves but there is the risk that the whole thing would collapse like a house of cards." Conner grins. "I would welcome another opinion."
Brita nods as Conner begins and notes when he is finished speaking, "Cousin Tricksey is Kin." She cants her head, thinking. "I am Not Sure if I Could Detect if Cousin Abel was More Directly in My Line through Great-Great-Grandfather-Uncle Finndo, But he is Definitely Of Our Blood."
Tricksey hears her name mentioned and glances up from her noodles. "Looking for Crow Friends. Monks take them off street. Do experiments. Tricksey not like. Would have burned tower down. But find Earth. And protecting Bailey. So left Tyrell. Stayed. Stole money. Left Bailey in Earth. Came back to help. Found Fletcher."
She pops a piece of chāshū into her mouth, talking around it. "If Brita-miko say am cousin, Tricksey believe. Will help. But no like Able."
"Fortunately, liking Able is not a requirement." Conner chuckles. "So you found your way to Earth. I presume you found a shadowpath from here. There is one by sea too. I was tracing that back towards Avalon when I stumbled upon here."
Tricksey raises a brow, "Shadowpath? Tricksey find ladder. And hatch. Started here. Led to burned-out Earth hospital." She stirs some hot sauce into her ramen. "Tried to buy hospital. But ran out of time. Monks probably own it now. Bailey still there. In Callie-Forn-E-Ah."
She cocks her head, "Is that your magic? Shadowpaths?"
"Some Shadow Paths are more Natural Magic, But We Can Make them As Well," Brita says to Tricksey. "That is Not the Only Ability of Our Family, However. You Will Learn." She turns to Fletcher and Conner. "We Cannot let Cousin Tricksey's Friends remain in the monk's Custody if they are Experimenting on Them. Or Even if they Are Not. Cousin Able did Not Seem to Agree with the Experimentation led by chew. Could He get Her Friends Released?"
"If it got us out of his shadow, he might be willing. Especially if you ask him." Conner replies to Brita. "Though from the conversation Able had with them, he may be looking into it already. One wonders how much collateral damage Able would accept in pursuit of Chew."
Tricksey watches Brita with increasing curiosity. A soft smile grows. "Tricksey likes Brita. Crow Girl wants to know more. Will listen to Wise Owl."
She slurps some more noodles before casually adding, "If Able not help, Tricksey go back. Toss Chew out window. Tall window. Foxes not fly. They plummet."
Fletcher nods. "Either way we're going to have to deal with Chew eventually. Right now I'm going to check this place out as Conner suggest." Fletcher leans back in his chair and concentrate on bringing the Pattern into his mind and augmenting his perception of this world, its underlying connections and framework.
Fletcher closes his eyes and concentrates on the pattern. Conner’s description is apt; this is a damaged shadow. Father and Grandfather always advised walking softly in shadow, which was not something they ever did, because it could be damaged. This is a nexus of natural shadow paths, which is getting smothered in cross-shadow pollution. Shadow paths had been lain to this shadow, some natural, some not-so-much. And one that goes nowhere, and is letting nowhere in. That’s a problem and will unravel the entire place eventually. Or maybe sooner. These people are living on the side of a smoking volcano.
Tricksey feels something that makes the hairs on the back of her neck rise. These people have something, some puzzle or secret, that Tricksey feels like she should be able to solve, but can’t quite get her claws around. It's intriguing.
Fletcher sighs. "Well this place is a mess. It looks like a neighboring world collapsed and the void is tearing things apart. I wonder if Able's done anything about it yet. Are we supposed to just hang out here until he sends for us? Should we trump someone and let them know what's what?"
Brita has finally slowed down on noodle consumption. "We Should Alert Someone we are Here. I think it May be Best to Wait for the Event to Wind Down Before we Recontact Cousin Able. We can Ask if He would Like Assistance in Detangling This Shadow and About Cousin Tricksey's Friends."
Tricksey glances up. "Crow Girl has roost. Maybe-Cousins can stay. Has manga. And pillows. And roof. She take you there."
She stirs the noodles. "Can all see if Tricksey downloaded foxy secrets. Before bullet. And lots of glass." She slurps up strings of ramen and then adds, "May not work. May not help. But can try. And at least you have place to rest head. Tricksey good hostess. Even have tea."
As the group continues their meal and conversation, the news screens around the noodle shop light up with a new piece of information. The hospital arcology has released all prisoners arrested under the their civilian protective authority as a celebration of their anniversary and the opening of the new facility.
It's clear from the report that the release was unexpected and the news media has arrived at the last minute. Blinking prisoners are greeted and asked for their response. Nobody seems to know why this is happening. As the media gather, street medics and the like start showing up: black bloc folks whom Tricksey might know if she saw them without their masks. They offer to provide shelter and food to the released detainees.
Last modified: 23 October 2022