Lance directs Conner to the Pointoise where the Siene meets the Oise from the lowlands. Here, in a great artificial basin, Admiral L'Overture has staged a small fleet. The ships aren't ocean-going, due to the depth of the river, but they are strong fighting platforms that in less martial times carry the bulk of Paris's cargo to and from the ports of Rouen and Le Harve.
Toussaint L'Overture is a small and not particularly handsome man, but Lance vouches for him. He's blandly courteous to Conner, until Flora mentions that Conner is her nephew.
He has five ships with 20 marines each ready to go, but hasn't chosen a commander for the expedition yet. Do the royals have any preferences?
Thinking on it for a moment, Conner replies. "Whoever is most knowledgeable about the river and fighting on it. The foe we seek was said to set up an ambush with a hidden chain to scuttle a ship. I need a commander that knows this battlefield well enough to spot the unusual."
"Chains across the straights is an old trick, going back to antiquity, Your Grace. It might well've belonged to the customs house. And it might've been run-of-the-millrace piracy, if your Uncle's ship hadn't run into the chain unknowing. It's usually enough to just show the chain and the ship heaves to.
"I'd be surprised if we found anything still in place, but we might want to closely question the locals and see who helped them. Commodore Garlic will command the task force, then. He was in the Amber navy and has ship-to-ship combat experience."
"Unless my nephew wants command?," adds Flora. "He was also in the Amber Navy. Do you think five score of marines will be enough to terrorize the locals, Duke Conner?"
Toussante seems surprised by her tone, but turns to see Conner's answer. Conner suspects that they have history, or at least a clash of public postures about some issue or another.
"My apologies, I thought it was understood that I would be in overall command," Conner replies. "but it would be foolish to go on this kind of expedition without a second that knows the marines and the river. As for the number of marines," Conner turns a smile to Flora, "if you and I are not enough to strike fear in the locals I am not sure more soldiers will help."
Flora nods, graciously acquiescing. "You are the expert." Conner thinks that establishing that was point of all of this.
Toussante smiles and pretends he's not changing plans on the fly to suit the royals. "Of course, that is what I assumed as well, Your Grace. Commodore Garlic will help you with the men and specific river concerns.
"Are there special preparations you wish to make?" He looks out at the position of the sun and the level of the water on the river. "If the task force is to arrive today, you will want to leave within the hour."
"If you could scare up a mechanical clock for each ship and have it placed near the prow, that might prove useful." Conner replies. "Otherwise, I can't think of anything," Conner replies.
Toussaint frowns. "I will see what we can do. Most portable ones aren't very accurate. But we do have sextants, so we can arrange things ahead by the angle of the sun quite easily. I will send someone to fetch the best portable models which you can use if they work for you."
"I trust the navigational skills of the crew," Conner assures him. "The clocks are for a different kind of coordination if I can arrange it." Conner does not elaborate further.
Toussaint nods.
"The Commodore and his staff will review the ship task force with you, if you wish. Shall we go meet him? He is most likely aboard the Lorraine. If your foes flee to the channel, the Lorraine is the most sea-worthy of the task force. We are limited as to what vessels can come this far up the Seine."
"By all means, let us meet the Commodore," Conner agrees. "When did he enter Corwin's service?" Conner asks.
"You shall have to ask him the deals, Your Grace. I was engaged in the matters of Paris at the time."
The admiral nods, arranges for Conner's clocks to be delivered, and takes them to the largest of the ships in the staging area, and the admiral and the princess and duke are all welcomed aboard with appropriate finery. The Lorraine is well equipped, although has too shallow a draft to be a major ship-of-the-line. However, it is capable of sailing almost to Paris, as it has done.
Toussaint quickly gets to the matter at hand. "Garlic, you know of the Princess, at least by reputation." Garlic bows, again. It's not strictly necessary, but Flora seems pleased.
"The palace has taken an interest in your expedition, and this is the Duke of Conner, nephew to La Princesse, who will take personal command. He is the personal representative of the King and I understand you were both at one time in the Naval Forces of Amber."
Toussaint smiles and makes appropriate farewells, if dismissed, so that Connor can get to know his new commodore and give him any instructions before setting sail.
Conner makes the appropriate farewell gestures and allows Flora to dismiss him as Conner feels she would like to tell him to go away.
"Thank you Admiral, I shall let Lance know that you were quite... helpful. I look forward to your sailors succeeding in my mission. You may leave us." La Princesse is quite skilled at almost but not quite saying things have not gone to her wishes. It's enough to make most men wilt and many retreat in confusion. Toussaint takes the latter course.
"To correct the introduction, I am Conner, Duke of Rebma, son of Princess Fiona and once Captain of Amber's Navy under Prince Gerard," Conner explains. "There was an act of piracy just past Honfleur in which a ship carrying a delegation from Rebma under the protection of Prince Huon of Amber was wrecked and the survivors taken captive. Our objective is to find those responsible and make it clear that such actions will not be tolerated in Paris or any other Realm. Any questions?"
"Yes, Captain, I was serving under Caine, but we'd heard of your grace, especially after you returned from Rebma. We can handle scouting in force, landing, and naval combat, as long as the foe doesn't have deep-draft vessels. We can requisition more ships at Le Havre if needed, across from Honfleur....
"Do we know if the pirates have allies in the coastal villages?"
"Unknown." Conner replies. "Those attacked made mention of a cave they were taken to and we know the perpetrators, the Klybesian Order, have access to tunnels that are shadowpaths. It could have been an isolated raid from there as a forward base." Conner explains. "However, it is their standard technique to join communities as a holy order promising aid and education. I think we must assume they have done so here."
Garlic agrees.
A porter arrives with 3 'portable' clocks, which are by no means particularly portable and are probably not particularly accurate either. There's a note: "All we could get before you sail. Best of luck, Toussaint," it reads.
Around the three of them, sailors make preparations to cast off, ignoring the royalty and officers on the deck.
Conner takes a moment to synchronise the clocks as best he can and make a few marks with his ever present piece of chalk around the faces. He then has them placed on the prow of the Lorraine and on the two ships most likely to be flanking it. Conner instructs Garlic to make sail when ready.
The clocks are aboard, and synchronized, and occasionally in the way of the sailors, but not so much that they do anything about it. The rest of the squadron are open-decked steam vessels, but the Lorraine is bigger, and is barely able to fit in the river, much less the canals. Flora takes the captain's cabin and chooses to rest until they arrive.
They quickly trade the urban riverscape of Paris for rural lands, with occasional riverside industry the entire way. It would be a leisurely two day cruise for pleasure seekers, but that does not include the task force. After a stop at Rouen to add fuel for the steamers, the flotilla continues to steam downriver.
"We're headed into the lower river, Your Grace," says Commodore Garlic. "We'll arrive before sunset, but not much beforehand, given the season. How do you wish to proceed?"
"I would prefer to search in daylight rather than miss things in the dark." Conner replies. "Keeping this operation hidden seems unlikely at best so I would rather make ourselves known and see what we stir up. Where is best place to dock near our search area?"
"The Seine estuary is wide there, we can sail to the harbor at Le Havre on the left bank, and keep one ship back near Port Gerard to keep them from slipping behind us down-river."
Garlic strokes his chin, which is less impressive since he is clean-shaven. "If we could raise local troops on the right bank, it would be better to enclose our targets, of course. Unless we're concerned about locals being collaborators."
"I am concerned about collaborators but not overly so." Conner replies. "Let's dock on the right bank and see about raising local support."
Garlic nods as this plan, and proceeds to implement it.
The landing marines are greeted by the local customs warden, who passes for local government in these parts when Le Traitant or the sheriff is unavailable. He's happy to greet them and wants to know how he can assist their honors.
"We are investigating an attack on a ship from Xanadu that was attacked and sunk in this area," Conner replies. "The survivors were taken to a cave in the area and I mean to find it. We need people to bolster our search efforts. How many can you get together and how quickly?"
He hakes his head. "Terrible business that, terrible. We suspect pirates from the channel islands. Sark, perhaps, or Tatihou."
He starts as he realizes what Conner just asked him. "Me, my Lord? I am a tax collector, I can't get people to do anything, including pay the excise. The bailiff is away." He pauses (and if not interrupted) adds "We could ask for volunteers in the tavern or from the Harbormaster. They have authority."
Garlic seems impatient with the man.
"You do not wish to tax me, monsuier." Conner says without a trace of humor in his voice. "Send someone to fetch the Harbormaster," Conner instructs. "Then explain to me where the bailiff is."
Garlic turns towards Conner and interrupts. "If I may, my Lord, I will impress our needs 'pon the harbormaster. How many men do you want? The entire fleet of this town won't exceed three score, which can be added to the farmers and carters we get from the taverna." Garlic seems to put more trust in the marines than locals.
"Two score," Conner replies. "Best to leave a reserve."
"Yes, my Lord." Commodore Garlic nods and departs. Conner suspects that the Harbormaster might need persuasion and Garlic will be happy to persuade him.
Gage, the taxman, shakes his head. "Oh, no, My Lord. Perish the thought. We serve the King, and you fly his colors, so are exempt from all duties and excises and we owe you any assistance we can provide. The bailiff may be at his home at this our, or visiting relatives, He doesn't always delegates to his lieutenants, the harbormaster and me, for day-to-day management."
Conner thinks that the delegation of responsibility isn't evenly divided, and probably wisely so.
"Then send a runner to the Bailiff's home and see if he is available," Conner instructs. "Meanwhile I must inform La Princesse of the situation," Conner informs them. He strides back onto the ship towards Flora's cabin. If she has not already emerged, Conner will knock at her door. "It is Conner, my Aunt. May I come in?"
Flora says "Enter", and when Conner does, he finds Flora has a small cadre of officers from the five ships with her. They stand at attention when Conner opens the door, while Flora sits on the divan and drinks from a glass of wine. She gestures towards a cabinet of Conner wants some. She smiles. "Conner, how go the investigations? Have some wine, if you will."
Conner smiles back at her and moves to pour himself a glass of wine. He nods to the officers. "As you were." Then he turns back to Flora. "Just beginning," Conner informs her. "Commodore Garlic is recruiting more men from the port so we can spread our search more quickly over a wider area." Conner pauses to take a sip of wine. "The bailiff is currently away so we are having to deal with his subordinates." Conner puts just enough inflection in that word for Flora to hear his displeasure.
She notes it, but doesn't seem surprised. "Those who are less capable often end up farthest from the center of power." Her newfound coterie of naval officers agree. They are all stationed near Paris, of course.
"We must keep tabs on where you send the recruits. Rescuing them from whatever they stumble into may be your best clue."
"Gentlemen," she says to her gentlemen, "let us prepare for a hunt."
"Have you chosen your quarry, Aunt?" Connes replies. "I am concerned about infiltrators among the locals as well as the location of the cave."
She nods. "I have. These fine gentlemen and I are going to meet with the wives of the local gentry. We are inviting ourselves for tea. They will tell us everything we want to know."
Conner smiles. "Excellent. I wish you luck in your teacup diplomacy. I will send word if combing the coastline untangles any knots." Unless Flora has any more for him, Conner returns to the harbor to see to the organizing of the search parties.
Conner heads to the harbor. He finds the harbormaster. The harbormaster, Dale, is waiting, with a group of men and Commodore Garlic.
"Your Grace," says Garlic. "Two dozen men, with more when the fishing boats come in."
He looks at them. "Few with weapons or service. And only three who can ride."
Dale looks them over as well. She agrees with Garlic. "I can ride, Your Grace, and there are a few horses in the town, but I may be more useful to you here."
Conner asks for a map of the area and further queries Dale and Garlic about the disposition of the "forces" available. He plans out a search pattern to maximize the amount of coastline he can cover with the horsemen assigned to the areas farthest from here. Once he is sure that everyone understands their marching orders, Conner sends the men out with instructions to send back a runner if they find the cave or any other sign of the people that caused the wreck.
For himself, Conner takes a watch and prepares to use his sorcery to give his Third Eye a Bird's Eye View. If there is a shadow tunnel out there, he should be able to get some hint of it with sorcerous vision. Once more, he gazes into this mirror in search of his quarry. (Another variation on his long vision search spell, trying to overlay sorcerous vision to hopefully make a differing reality of a shadow tunnel stand out.)
Conner spends the time and casts his spell. He feels it is well crafted, and they are far enough from Paris that it is only slightly impeded by his Uncle's Pattern.
Conner finds the coast is riddled with small, shallow caves that are ideal for evading customs and perhaps some of them have been enhanced by enterprising smugglers, but it's far too many to investigate them all, and they may not all be Klybesians pretending to be smugglers.
On the other hand, Conner thinks he may have noticed where there's a natural shadow path beyond the harbor rocks, so there are entirely new seas somewhere nearby.
Conner seeks out Dale and Garlic. Assuming he finds one or both of them he asks. "Are there any shadowpaths by sea known in this area?"
Garlic nods. "Two are known, within a day's sail from Le Havre. As I recall one is west towards the Channel Isles and the other is up the coast to the north. We could send for rutters from the naval station."
"Send for them." Conner replies. "I've just seen evidence of one fairly close by and I suspect it is neither of those. It implies another avenue to explore if I'm right."
Dale looks confused. "What is a shadow-path?"
Conner takes pity on the poor harbormaster. "You can think of them as a short-cut to other seas that you aren't able to sail to without sailing those currents. More than that requires more time than I am prepared to spend on the subject."
Dale nods, but probably doesn't understand. He does know enough not to further question the Duke Conner. Garlic composes a message and tells Dale to have it couriered to the naval station at Le Havre. It will take some time to get there and back.
Once the courier is gone, Garlic turns to Conner. "Where is this path? It's not charted and may be a hazard to shipping." Garlic looks around. "I can take The Lorrainne and scout for it. Her crew is seasoned enough to traverse shadow."
Conner grabs a nearby map of the area and shows Garlic where on the map he found the Shadowpath. "Do you have a second that you trust to coordinate the ground search? Because I want to scout this with you." Conner replies. "I had been going on the assumption that our pirates had taken away their captives via a land based shadowpath. This discovery makes fleeing by sea the most likely option."
Garlic doesn't hesitate. "Captain Grant from the Gazelle can take it. He's ex-Amber navy. Served under Caine, but isn't particularly political." Garlic looks up.
"We should wait for first light before setting out, though. Sailing around unmarked rocks with a shadow path in the mix in the dark would be one way of sending the crew to Lir."
"First light then." Conner agrees. Conner finds a place to rest until it is time to leave.
Conner sleeps in a cabin aboard the Lorraine; the gentle rocking of the tides reminds him of sleeping in Rebma. The Princess is not back from her mission by first light. It seems her visit has turned into a formal overnight stay.
Garlic and the Lorraine pull smartly out from the dock slightly before first light, to take advantage of the tide. The weather is fair for this time of year, and the sun warms the sea and the sailors nicely.
It's a quick trip to the rocks on the chart, and there is evidence that something has crashed upon them in the past.
Conner thinks it's an excellent place for a shadow path, if someone was trying to keep shipping away from it.
"Shall I lower a boat, Your Grace?"
"Proceed, Commodore." Conner nods his agreement. "Send a party to take sounding and chart the current." Conner calls for a spyglass and takes a closer look where the evidence of a crash was. If needed, Conner will use the spyglass as prop and work a minor magic to enhance his own eyes to search the area.
Conner sees wreckage and it's quite different from the materials used to make ships like the Lorraine. And it looks to be a steamer, not a sailing vessel. It likely came from the far side of the Shadow Path.
Conner looks at wreckage while sifting through his memories. Does it match what he remembers of the steamers of the Land of Peace?
The boat crew heads out, rowing strongly, and Conner can hear the bosun calling out soundings. It looks like this is a shadow path that is tidally safe, which is to say that it's safe at high tide.
As the wreckage attests, it might be hard to tell that, coming in the opposite direction.
"His majesty should have a light erected on that rock," says Commodore Garlic.
"Or a naval base on the shoe, depending on what is on the other side of this path." Conner replies. "Proceed when ready, Garlic. Let's see where this leads."
"Aye, Admiral." He nods to a junior officer, who begins barking commands. The ship moves smartly to port, following the longboat.
"Steady on, Mister Casement," he says to the helmsman. "If you lose your nerve, we'll join that wreck."
The helmsman nods, and keeps the course. At one point Garlic puts his hand on the young man's shoulder.
The shadow path approaches, and the rocks just beyond it. The mate pulls all the men from the rigging and issues lines. Some of the men brace for impact.
Garlic laughs. "They're not used to Amber's Navy. Good men, though, to drive straight at a rock on just our word."
Conner smiles at that. Best they learn now before the real troubles start.
The ship hits the dark patch on the water and rolls forward, and when it rolls back, the sky is different. There is no rock, and the tides are higher. The weather is worse here; colder and choppy and the water is a deeper blue. It's night in this shadow, with a full moon.
There is a small island chain to the north, and deep sea all around. "Land Ho!" shouts the lookout, as if it weren't obvious.
There's a port on the main island. And some sort of naval skirmish happening there.
Garlic calls for his spyglass, and a bosun goes to fetch it from his dayroom.
Conner turns his enhanced vision towards the port and the naval skirmish looking for any flags, insignias or known faces on the decks to give him a clue who the combatants are.
There are five ships. Four ships pursing a smaller craft, which is nimble, but definitely has a smaller crew. Conner's quick take is that the first ship hit the port and did some damage (and started some fires), and then the enemy squadron came in to engage her.
The squadron is wind-powered, as is the smaller ship. They're flying flags, but not of any nation Conner recognizes.
The smaller single ship is flying the Naval Jack of Amber, the Red Unicorn, and Prince Bleys' personal colors.
Garlic gets his spyglass, looks, and swears as only an old Amber Navy man can. He turns to Conner for orders.
"If Prince Bleys gets upset that we ruined his fun, I will take full responsibility." Conner assures him with a grin. "Take us into the battle, Commodore!"
As they move to engage the enemy ships, Conner takes a moment to note the direction of the wind and then a full minute to gather his power. Once he is ready, Conner conjures a cloud of burning hot embers to rain down upon the lead ship chasing Bleys's flagship. The main goal is to destroy the sails and rigging and drive the crew to seek cover from the stinging cloud.
Garlic makes sure to run out the colors, including Conner's Admiral's flag.
Conner rains hot death upon the lead ship, igniting small fires and causing the crew to run for cover. One extremely lucky strike temporarily clears the helm, leaving the ship to drift off with the currents, with her sheets and sails holed and tattered. The crew are busy fighting the fire and the ship stops being the lead persuer.
Bleys' ship comes about and heads towards The Lorrainne.
"Gunships," Garlic says. "But not very big guns. We'd best look out for crossing maneuvers and chainshot in our sails.
"Oh, and I think we've been spotted." Indeed one of the following ships seems to be angled more to intercept Conner's flagship.
"Get ready to bring our own guns to bear. If I can arrange it, it will be more like target practice than battle." Conner draws forth the Eye of Rebma to use as a prop and once more takes a minute to gather and focus his mind. A lifetime ago, Conner used the principle of space to turn the body of a water golem into a fine mist by increasing the space between the atoms. Focusing on the intercepting ship, Conner uses the same principle to turn as much of the hull along the waterline to sawdust as he can.
The ship is larger than the water golem, but Conner has time before the ships close to use his skills. In a way that is almost the opposite of Brennan shrinking his stony longboat to make it go faster, Conner concentrates on changing the space between the ship's boards to make it no longer a ship.
It is a difficult, but eventually it looks as if the enemy ship has been hit by a remarkably well-placed cannon shot, although no shot was fired. The boards that were near the place Conner enspelled explode outwards as the side loses structural integrity.
Wooden ships in an age of gunpowder are no strangers to unexpected explosions, but Conner's attack is particularly effective, as the natives have no effective way to patch it. Additionally, the efforts to repair the hull slow the maneuverability of the ship. But it's not out of the fight yet.
"We're lining up for a raking shot, Admiral. Prince Bleys is coming about to circle behind their flagship. He's holding fire. He may want to board. Shall I ready for boarding action?"
"Aye, Commodore." Conner replies. "Your marines could use some exercise too. Gunners, ready to fire on my command." Conner belts out.
Garlic nods again to his officers and the marines begin preparing for a boarding action.
Conner enters almost a Zen state of analysis, calculating the best angle of fire and taking into account the crest and fall of the choppy seas. When the moment is right, he gives the order. "Fire!"
The damaged lead ship is trying to come about, but between the tattered sails and being hulled at the waterline, it's not really more than target practice. The Lorrainne's guns are less-capable than a full-fledged first-rate ship-of-the-line would be, but they are more than adequate to prevent their opponent from making repairs or getting away. The ship is sinking, and her crew are taking to boats or, for the less lucky ones, swimming.
The enemies' tactics were to break into pairs, with one pair for each ship. Bleys is cutting between his two 'pursuers', while Conner eliminated one of his. The ship that had been headed towards the Lorrainne seems to be trying to turn and help outnumber Bleys.
The Lorraine turns towards where the enemy is trying to outmaneuver Uncle Bleys. It will take a few minutes to get into range to do anything.
Conner strides to the front of the ship where the clock he had placed aboard sits. Gathering his energies once more he winds the clock faster and faster with the intention of speeding up the actions of the sailors on the Lorraine. He orders the helmsman to take them in range of the ship that turned to flee them. With their enhanced speed to fire and load, Conner directs a withering barrage of shot at that vessel.
The vessel is an easy target, and this fourth unanswered blow is the last one. A shot finds the powder magazine and the aft section of the ship explodes with a satisfying flash and boom. The crew of the Lorrainne cheer.
Meanwhile, to the north, Bleys's ship is closing with the enemy's flagship. The other ship has unfavorable winds and can't get to Bleys before Bleys will reach the flagship. And the third vessel is quite a distance to the fight.
"Definitely a boarding action." Once the first enemy is dispatched, Garlic orders his crew to come about, and they head for the flagship.
Conner releases the threads of his sorcery and time returns to normal on the Lorraine. "Good lads. First round is on me!" Conner calls out in satisfaction. Conner takes his place with the boarding party and prepares to lead them onto the flagship once they are in position.
The crew cheers, and anticipates the drinking/bonuses/stories they'll have to tell back in Paris.
The Lorraine closes with the enemy and Bleys has managed to delay arriving until he can maneuver to cause the other two vessels to join. "I'd like a squad of marines to stay behind in case we get boarded from the other ships," requests Commodore Garlic. Its a fair concern.
"Aye, Commodore," Conner agrees.
Either way, he has the port side cannons manned and ready to fire at approaching enemies while Conner and his troops prepare to board the enemy from the starboard.
The marines throw grappling lines aboard the enemy as Bleys and crew are doing the same from the far side.
Bleys, sword in hand, swings from the rigging of his ship onto the mast of the enemy. He stands on the yardarm like Douglas Fairbanks and salutes Conner when he catches his eye.
Meanwhile Conner has sailors to fight.
Conner returns Bleys' salute and then turns his attention to the battle. Conner intends to take down those with firearms near him swiftly. He is not expecting a duel. He moves from man to man dodging their attacks and seeking to disable or kill with single strikes. He tries to keep his eye on the wider battle lest he need to dodge pistol shot.
Bleys cuts the mainsail loose and slides down a stay to the mizzenmast. He drops a number of blocks on the heads of sailors, and then slides down the rigging to the helm. He clears that area with dispatch and heads into the cabins under the poop deck.
Meanwhile Conner's marines are being pressed hard, but the Corsairs are no match for Parisian marines and Conner of Amber. Bleys's crew is also fighting, and it's somewhat difficult to make sure that the Parisians don't fight them, but the Corsairs are at least distinctive. Still, care has to be taken.
Garlic keeps the remaining ships from closing and boarding the Lorrainne, and when it's obvious how the fight is going, the other two ships disappear into the smoke and evening light.
It's a long fight, bug before the sun actually disappears below the horizon, the remaining corsairs surrender. A woman with her arm in a sling comes up to him. "Hello, and thanks for the rescue. I'm Grade, first mate of The Surprise, I assume you are friends of our Captain?"
"I'm his nephew, Conner. And a friend as well." Conner clarifies with a smile. "These men are of Corwin's Paris. Where exactly are we and who were we fighting?"
Grade nods, politely. "No idea where we are, the Captain navigates his way. Corsairs out of the Northern Expanse of Avalon. The Captain has been trying to draw out their Admiral, so he can find out why he isn't dead and fix the problem, but the man has been elusive. The Captain is probably reading the logs below. He gets distracted sometimes. We should let him know we've cleared the deck."
"Yes, let's do that." Conner agrees. He strides towards where he last saw Bleys in search of his Uncle.
Conner and Grade move into the Captain's cabin under the poop deck. There are a few unconscious sailors or otherwise unmoving sailors and at least two who are cowering in a corner together. There's also a woman tied to a chair, with a rag in her mouth. Bleys looks up and Grade says "Your nephew, Captain."
Bleys looks up. "Ah, Conner! What great fortune to come across your ship in these waters. What brings you to Shadow Tortuga?"
"A newly discovered shadowpath near Honfluer in Paris." Conner replies. "I was investigating the area where Huon's ship was ambushed and found it." Conner looks about the room to see if any of Bleys's guests react to that. "Grade tells me you are hunting an Admiral and that these Corsairs have been bothering Avalon." Conner hopes Bleys will pick up the narrative from there.
Bleys nods. "Oh, yes, the ambush, I heard about that. Dworkin brought some of your new cousins from it by a few hours ago. There's another shadow path near here, allegedly, which I want to follow. It may connect the dots between the prison shadow and the ambush."
He looks over at his captives. "These fellows have been supplying the Corsairs of Avalon's northern fringe. It's not enough to annoy your uncle, who feels the same way about provoking a war that Gerard does about provoking a bar fight."
"Ah yes, the 'keeps things from getting boring' approach. I remember it well." Conner rubs his jaw. "Tracking the monks activities is why I'm here so I'd be happy to sail on with you. I'm sure Corwin won't mind me borrowing his Navy for a little longer." Conner grins. "I should check in with my findings though. May I borrow a Trump of Flora?"
Bleys nods, reaching into his pocket, and pulling out the pouch with his cards. He rapidly shuffles it in one hand without looking at it and hands Conner a trump, face down.
"Grade, what's the state of things topside?"
Grade starts giving Bleys a report while Conner calls Flora.
Conner flips the card to see his Aunt's portrait and then concentrates upon it. Assuming he gets an answer, "It's Conner Aunt Flora. I've made a discovery."
"Conner, how pleasant to hear from you by your sorceries. I was just discussing matters related to the local smugglers and the newcomers with our hosts. What have you discovered?"
She frowns. "I so hope it's not something... disappointing about the locals. We're getting along so well...."
The tone in her voice is remarkable.
"I am not sure how it connects to the locals yet." Conner replies. "I discovered a shadowpath by sea. Commodore Garlic and I took the Lorraine through and ran into Bleys and a small naval skirmish. He's been tracking shadowpaths that we think the monks are using. It is my intention to take the Lorraine and join him."
"I'm sure we'll get to the bottom of that shortly. My hosts are ever so eager to be on the right side of the Royal family. I have things well in hand here. Please report back when you're done with your investigations." She smiles, and it isn't quite the friendly gesture that Flora's smile usually is.
"I'm sure we're all eager to put this unfortunate incident behind us. Good hunting, nephew."
"Thank you, my Aunt. I look forward to hearing what you have ensnared on my return." Conner passes his hand over the card to end the connection. "Ready when you are, Uncle."
Bleys looks over and nods. "And how is my sister?," he asks, but doesn't wait for an answer. "I think Paris was a by-product, as much of a surprise to them as to Corwin. I've found some traces of maps, and I think we may want to track down both ends. I'd like to catch them coming and going, as it were. Do you have a preference, of vessel or destination?"
"I will stay with the Lorraine and her crew." Conner replies. "As for destination, do these maps give any hint as to what can be found in either direction?" He asks.
Bleys nods. "It looks like this is a stop on the route. A sort of Dark Circle. Or maybe this is Paris' Golden Circle, in nascent form. I wonder if Xanadu has one as well. If this map is correct, one end leads to Avalon, perhaps with intervening stops, and the other end of this is Flora's shadow."
Conner hums thoughtfully. "I'll take the trail towards Avalon. I'd like to see how the Maghee are settling into the Silver Towers."
Bleys raises his eyebrows. "Well then, be on the lookout for someone who looks like Montage of Rebma. Do you need any supplies? Or powder? We've kept this one from blowing so far.
"And we'll be off for New York and Flora's shadow."
"I suspect they've been there for quite a while, and I would like to know more details." The grin from Grade makes Conner think the questioning won't involve gentle persuasion.
"I shall send over our quartermaster to supply the Lorraine. We planned only a short excursion when we left," Conner agrees. "This Admiral has proved most illusive I'm told. I wish us both good hunting."
Grade nods. "Very good, my Lord. We shall use the prize ship's goods first of all."
Conner bids his Uncle farewell and goes to see to his ship and crew. He briefs Garlic on their new mission and sees to the wounds of any of his sailors that have not received it. Then he gives orders to set sail for the location of the next shadowpath.
Grade hands the charts to Conner, "since we're just a hop away." He also arranges for the quartermasters and both crews to restock the Lorraine, although he works through Garlic out of courtesy. He also makes sure to send some very nice provisions over, "Complements of the Surprise". The Lorraine turns to port and the Surprise turns to Starboard, and the remains of the Marlinspike turn to the sea floor. Bleys, or perhaps Grade, has mercy on the captives, and they are set out in longboats for the remaining ships of this place to pick up. From his quarterdeck, with the setting sun spectacularly at his back, Bleys salutes Conner as he sails into the west.
Last modified: 7 January 2022