Folly reached the foot of the road down from the castle, following the path she walked up with Syd in their decidedly-not-camouflagued red capes.
The town lay below her. The square where they'd watched Edan's performance ahead, the city hall (where Ash lived) and the docks beyond it. In between were market stalls and shops for craftsmen. There was a new ship unloading on the docks. Folly couldn't see from here whose flag it flew. Longshore workers were making the most of the day's warmth, such as it was.
To the north (up the coast), were more tightly packed dwellings and the businesses that lived off them. That's where Hannah's clinic was, and the places where people who'd just arrived had set up camp, and the caves that people who had nothing were sheltering in.
To the south were more well off quarters, leading eventually to Edan's guards and their camp and beyond that to the place that Robin and Vere were making plans to homestead on.
Midwinter was a lean time, even in a growing port town. People stayed home and worked on indoor projects. At least until they wanted to go to the bars.
That much seemed a lot like Texorami.
Folly will quietly encourage the midwinter traditions of music, jollity, and -- especially -- sharing food and gifts, especially with the less fortunate. In the young, growing city full of opportunity there may not be many who are truly destitute, but better to establish the traditions now so there's a strong foundation if and when they need it. She'll spend quite a bit of time in town, checking in with those from her Army of Good Works who've made it to Xanadu and establishing new connections. (And singing lots of silly songs with children, which helps ease the ache of missing her daughter, a little.) She also is eager to establish (or re-establish) good relations with the castle staff, many of whom she already knew in Amber. In the spirit of the holiday, she arranges for small gifts of appreciation for them -- including silly hats for all the pages who want them, to wear on the day itself.
She would like to arrange in particular to talk to Ember, if she's available; and, separately, to Max.
It's about as she expected. Some people moved work over from her Army to work together in Xanadu, some gave up, some new folks are there — all the normal items in a volunteer organization dedicated to charity. Hannah's clinic is a strong nexus for people trying to make a difference. And there are people who are trying to take advantage of the destitute, either legally or illegally.
Ember is away, visiting her mother for the holidays. Her mother is in Xanadu proper, but Folly will have to go seek her out at her home. What does Folly want to say to her?
Folly primarily wants to check on Ember's well-being, and gently mentions she understands Vialle has recently been... not her usual self... in ways that have been hard on those closest to her. Folly will also answer any questions Ember has to the best of her abilities.
Ember is wary, because the person whose mention most upset Vialle was Folly. She doesn't want to be retaliated on from either side and while she liked her position at court, she also isn't interested in going into exile or to the block with the Queen.
She'd like to know how to survive in the new era. She also wonders if there might be a pension from the crown for her past services.
Folly is upfront with Ember about the fact that things are still... the word she chooses is "unsettled"... regarding Vialle, but promises to do her best to protect Ember from retaliation on either side, and to recommend a pension for her service.
Ember thanks her, but it's easy to tell that she doesn't believe it yet.
As for surviving in the new era: Folly probes gently to determine the extent to which Ember means that literally or figuratively (expecting it's a heavy mix of both).
Ember will never, ever say that being too friendly to Folly might set her up for a bad experience if Vialle regains the throne, but it's implied. She's walking a fine line of loyalty, and certainly doesn't want to alienate Folly, in case Vialle is gone for good. It's definitely a mixed bag. She's not afraid that Folly will have her harmed, but she does worry that Folly would have different favorites who would put her position at risk. While Ember does not have children, she does have a sister who she supports whose husband died in the war.
It is probably evident to Ember that Folly has a lot of sympathy for her situation and genuine care for her well-being. Even though she sometimes couldn't resist tweaking Vialle a bit, she has always liked and respected Ember.
Ember's mother, Lady Burn, is unwell, and Ember's siblings are glad to have her back to care for her. After her years of dedicated service in Amber and Xanadu, she wants to take some time before returning to court life.
Folly agrees this is a good plan (for a variety of reasons, not all of which she says out loud). She encourages Ember to send word to Gilt Winter in the meantime if she has need of anything the castle folk might help with, or if and when she's ready to return. She does not explicitly say that this will give her a somewhat more politically neutral point of contact than reaching out to Folly directly, but Ember probably intuits it. Folly does say that Ember has been a faithful and valued member of the household and still has friends in the castle, regardless of how the dust settles. She also lets Ember know about Hannah's clinic, if she's not already aware, if she has need of medicinal herbs or other things to help Lady Burn.
Ember seems reluctant to be seen using the charity hospital, because she is, by the standards of those who use it, rich. Which wouldn't take much.
When she returns to the castle she lets both Gilt and Random know about the conversation, and recommends a pension (or possibly hazard pay for what she's had to endure recently).
Random suggests they could create an endowment for The Happenstance Home for Displaced Persons in Texorami and send Lady Burn and Ember there to run it in retirement.
He's not entirely against the idea of establishing a secret embassy, disguised as some sort of charity thing.
Gilt allows as how he can make sure that they two ladies are taken care of, discreetly.
Max is available, either at or not-at the castle. He's sorta confused because Vialle arranged things for the pages' education, and it hasn't stopped, but they don't know what's happening now.
Folly invites Max for an informal tea one afternoon, with plenty of sandwiches and other snacks. When he shares the pages' confusion over what's happening with their education, she tells him, "There are some things we don't really know yet, either, about what's happening with Vialle, but we'll make sure your education is continued. What sorts of things are you learning?"
It's a mix of training with knights to possibly become squires in the morning and courtly arts in the afternoons. He's studying philosophers right now, and finding it heavy going. Sometimes he wishes the great philosophers were alive to explain it to him. Or to be stabbed when he's feeling stabby.
There aren't that many pages of noble descent, and he's the only one of royal descendant. Gilt has also arranged literacy classes, since neither the knights nor the Queen thought to do so.
Court classes are haphazard now, and the tutors don't always show up. He studies anyway, because if he returns early, his mamma puts him to work.
As for knight school, the knights are all agitated about the Queen. The new knights with the capes aren't but they in turn sorta scare the old ones. Some of those knights wonder if they're going to be replaced by swarthy foreigners. They're also concerned about Prince Martin leaving and Prince Garrett getting ready to leave.
"Is Queen Vialle a traitor? My Mum says 'stick with those as who the King favors'."
"Honestly?" Folly says, "we don't really know the whole story of what happened with Vialle, and it may be quite some time before we do -- if we ever do. For now, we're just doing our best to make sure the realm stays safe and people here are well-cared for."
Another page shows up with a note for Folly from Gilt Winter. It advises that the Queen Vialle is coming into harbor, with Martin's pennant flying.
Folly smiles as she reads the note, and does a quick mental calculation of how much time she has before her husband and daughter make it up to the castle. To Max, she says, "Speaking of knights, I understand you've expressed interest in possibly following that path. But, you know, we've got some knightly orders that are less... martial... than what you might normally think of. If that sounds interesting to you, I suspect you've got some skills that would be very useful in a role like that. Less sword-swinging, more watching and listening and figuring out where the problems are and trying to fix them before they get to the sword-swinging stage." Knowing the 'less swords' part might have limited appeal to a young boy, she grins and adds, "But not no sword-swinging. Even I have to practice that to keep my form up in case I ever need it."
Some time later, another page arrives with the news that Martin and Lark have arrived in the castle and are in Gerard's quarters.
Folly thanks the page and makes her way in that direction.
Edan arrives at the stables to find his horse being groomed by Donovan, one of the chief grooms.
Aramsham is tolerating it, and it's clear that Donovan knows how to deal with horses that are difficult.
"Your highness, I'm glad you came. He doesn't want me to check his hooves. Can you be persuasive?"
Apparently he knows how to deal with Princes as well.
"I actually had something like that in mind anyway. Would you stoke up the forge for me?" He grabs a knife and rasp and nippers.
Edan considers himself an average farrier at best, but Aramsham is an exception; he knows his horse's hooves like he knows his own hands, every bump and ridge, every crevice and soft spot. He also knows his horse trusts him better than anyone else, foul attitude notwithstanding, and the stallion was past due for this.
Within minutes he has Aramsham munching on an apple, a leg propped up, the shoe off and the hoof cleaned and trimmed, the leg inspected. Edan had been worried about Aramsham being stabled longer than he was used to, but obviously there has been care and exercise and a clean stall, from the hoof growth and lack of thrush. Edan is pleased by this.
He takes the best shoes Donovan has to offer, and the best hoof paint as well. It takes a little while to get the shoes beaten to just the right shape, but at least he knows exactly what he wants them to look like. He repeats this with the next leg, then the next, then the next; two hours later Edan is sweaty and disheveled and dirty, but the hooves look perfect and that makes it all worthwhile.
With profuse thanks, Edan saddles his horse and rides down the mountain and into the city. His aim is to inspect the Lamp and solve any problems he might encounter.
The ride down is uneventful, although Aramsham would prefer to be on less steep roads to stretch his legs out. The town is in a midwinter's lull. Edan sees guards working on the defenses, which are not nearly as strong as Amber's were. People are inside where it's warm.
His knights and followers from The Land of Peace were definitely not used to this weather, but at least it isn't one of Amber's blizzards.
The knights are happy to see Edan, several have red cloaks, which the King has had sent to the Order of the Lamp to wear when on royal business or attending the King. Michelle has organized a space for them, and things are generally rough-hewn, but working towards better order.
Michelle has a request from the King, via Gilt Winter, to have an honor guard of 2-4 Lamps at the castle when the King is in residence, if the order is not on campaign. She's set up a rotation. There are 4 at the castle now.
The knights will train, and take regular assignments working for the King. Some of the younger knights do not understand how a King can be so unserious. Some of the leaders tell them not to let all their surface impressions to color their judgement.
As far as Hannah and the baby are concerned, Edan attended the Bleys school of child-rearing, so he is woefully unprepared for anything complicated. He is simply there as often as he can be, to learn what he needs to and be present for the rest.
The Order should have the basic construction done by now according to their original plans. Edan will be there to troubleshoot and handle personnel issues and do advanced training. His answer regarding Random is that the king selects serious and capable folk so that he can be irreverent.
The army in Broceliande gets some advanced training too, as here Edan can use Sorcery. He goes over the 'run and gun' approach the Klybesians would likely adopt, as well as the time tricks they would see from the Moonriders. And how to counter each.
After a little thought, Edan is not at all sure that the assumptions made in this exploding city are correct at all. So, he sets out to confirm them.
First, his office at the Order becomes papered in maps. Maps of the city, of the harbor, of the lagoon and mountain and all that is known beyond: the Nader Expanse, the Timpani Cliffs, the Rosinpast Forest, the Verduistering Sea.
By making requests and by reviewing reports, Edan verifies that the following is accurate:
1.The city is policed internally by the City Watch, and shipping traffic is covered by the Harbormaster. Both entities have a large amount of ex-Amber personnel and protocol, so they generally know what they're doing.
2.There is a Sheriff, probably appointed by Ash, who heads the Watch and handles local law enforcement in and around the city. Punishment for crimes is handled by a court system similar to Amber.
It's not that formal, yet. Ash is the commander of the watch, but he has several deputies who are really running things. Viper is probably closest to being in charge. He came from Amber, but somewhere else before that. It's unclear how he ended up in Ash's service.
3.Ash himself is not military or ex-military, so city planning is heavy on city services and not so much on defense. In fact, the speed of growth makes Xanadu the Nashville for which all others are but shadows.
Ash's goals are to make sure nobody starves and everyone has the opportunity to work, without robbing each other too much.
4.There are several armies and Rangers and at least two Knight Orders in Broceliande, the most likely approach for invaders, but few people have any effing idea what's out there in the other directions. 'Here there be monsters' are on the maps.
Broceliande is like Arden, but more remote and since it is on the plateau above the city, less accessible. Paige would be happy to meet with Edan to discuss it, but her Rangers (and they are all under her, nominally, as Warden of Broceliande) are spread thin and haven't covered more than a small fraction of the forest, and that's before it trails off into a dozen nearby forest shadows.
5.If the Order of the Card has knights or really any military presence at all, they're at the Castle doing their duty to protect the king.
Of the two orders senior to Edan's Lamp, Ruby was the military one, and was mostly seen as an honor for fighting in Chaos. Some people compare it to a drinking club, and it does have a Hall that is similar to a private club. It's quite possible that that's where Marius went first when he stormed out of the gazebo meeting.
Card is made up of cousins who served in Amber when Gerard was Regent, and Martin was in charge of it, as Edan recalls. It didn't quite take in all of the Regency Council, for reasons that aren't totally clear. Folly is the only member of Card in Xanadu at the moment (Martin and Solange are abroad; the other two members were Lucas and Cambina).
A good start is exploration. Since Abd-Al Malik and Khulum are better at traveling and mapping, they are tasked with scheduling and leading patrols out to the north and west and south. This is an excellent opportunity for the Lamp to practice the training they've been given, so a third of the knights are rotated into this task at any given time.
Haytham is an excellent judge of character from his time as a jurist, and Skander amongst the toughest of the Lamp, so Edan tasks them with the concept of establishing a local militia. He needs Haytham to determine ability and motivation. He wants Skander to train them. Perhaps a quarter of the militia hopefuls, the younger and tougher ones, will be trained as 'minuteman' elites with the fastest response time; but all of them are being trained to defend their homes and city. Edan will assist with this when other duties don't pull him away.
If there's not already routes to channel and funnel invaders in Xanadu, and exit routes for citizens into safe places in the forest during a fight or natural disaster, Edan designs them. Bleys taught him how to do this, so they are "matchless in their guile."
Edan can work on those plans. Viper and his men are happy to help. They are not warriors, but they do seem willing to pitch in as "minutemen". They think the caves are good, because nobody's going to climb a mountain trail for an hour to escape. They would like to know where the attacks are likely to come from.
"I don't know yet. We're finding that out. There is much that needs to be scouted." Which caves are they talking about? If it coincides with where Edan guesses the Pattern lies (since Xanadu has a lot of congruity with Amber, he's guessing a similar location), this is a fabulously bad idea.
Assuming that the Lamp is here to 1. Protect the city and castle and 2. Counter specialized troops such as the Moonriders and 3. Help keep the King’s Peace, Edan heads to Ash’s residence to see if there are any problems in the city that he or his knights can help smooth over or investigate.
Ash and his assistant Viper eventually are available at a time convenient to Edan and they meet at the Lord Mayor's house. Ash is genuinely happy to have the offer of help and has a number of tasks that he could use assistance with.
The people would be more comfortable if there was a concerted effort to scout the lands around Xanadu, North, South, and West. The Rangers have Brocelienade covered, but it would be nice to know there wasn’t a nearby Moonrider camp.
There are people in Amber who can't come via ship or Trump, and if Edan wanted to work with caravans from Amber, there is work to be done there.
The city has already sprouted a disreputable element that is taking advantage of some of the newcomers. The low-level stuff is annoying, but it's possible that there's more to it, or it's more organized, than Viper's men have discovered to date. That could be looked into.
There have been a number of requests to start a city militia. Ash knows nothing about starting a city militia.
There are rumors that a ship in the harbor is smuggling contraband. Normally it would be fine, but the question is if they are working with the enemies of Xanadu.
Sir Archer Halfhand of Amber's Watch wants help tracking down fugitives who came to Xanadu.
There will come a time where an Order of knights will have no choice in sticking their fingers in the Watch's or the Harbormaster's business, but it doesn't immediately have to happen. Given that the city and surrounding area looks a whole lot like places in the Dar-es Salaam, Edan points towards two items: scouting the area away from Broceliande, and the idea of a local militia.
This not only gives a better idea of some unexplored territory, but also gives the Lamp a chance to better integrate with city society.
http://whiterose.org/hoc/documents/map_xanadu.html.
The City never sleeps, not truly.
Even beyond midnight, restless phantoms and angels shift through shadow and light.
Back amongst the night and neon, one such phantom finds itself above the streets. Lost, even though it knows the path it treads.
Tricksey ignores the void beneath her, cat-feet carrying her over the ruin's metallic skeleton. Carrying her home through its plastic skin and bamboo ligaments. She knows the building's secret ways, scared paths. Places the foxes and bully-bois dare not walk. Instinctive, familiar. She needs that familiarity.
She scuttles up a lone fire escape, cresting the rooftop. The Rookery. Her home once. Yet, after meeting her kin--her blood?--she feels like a stranger here.
After parting ways with them, she'd gone to collect some of Bailey's things. Now, she needs to collect her own. Tyrell, it seems, would soon be behind her. Kalifornia calls. Her family calls. The Crow Girl wonders which would accept her.
The Rookery stirs; the rooftop sanctuary sensing her approach. Sec-cams watch her with invisible eyes, recognizing her ID. With a soft crime, a door slides open, letting her inside the apartment. Once inside, she busies herself, showers away the tunnels, changes her look. Finding normalcy, even though that's gone forever.
Finally, she sits down in front of her rig--a collective of mainframes and interlinked bots. For the final time, she checks her messages. Looking for her own, the one she sent from the Pyramid. If it even survived the interruption.
There's an incomplete, corrupt file that will take some effort to recover, and probably more computing power than she has currently got on-line. But it's not a total loss, which was what she feared.
As she goes through her messages, Tricksey texts on her burner phone, sending out the all-clear to Brita, Conner, and Fletcher. They seemed to adapt well to the tech she'd given them, despite their apparent reliance on pointy-metal-things and esoterics. She adds in the GPS coords, so they can find their way through the city's multiple levels from wherever they might be. Finally, she sends out their images to her fledglings -- street rats and taggers -- who pay homage to her. They can guide her cousins here, if necessary.
As far as Tricksey can tell, no one is looking for her, specifically. It looks like this new person had the ability to order them to release all prisoners and the lack of concern for consequences to actually do it. It's all over the news, and there are plenty of rumors. One is that they're shutting down the hospital. Another is that they're preparing for a war, and they're sending the prisoners to fight. None of them make sense.
Some of the released prisoners have been in the cells for a decade. No one has invaded her lair, but there are a lot of people who don’t have things worked out. People who never expected to see their first spouse alive again.
Some of them are people who really shouldn’t have been let out of the cells.
It's going to be a rough night.
Stretching like a stroked cat, Tricksey leans back in her chair. "Stupid Foxes!" Knowing she'll need help, she sends out the call through the Sub-Net, requesting access to some server time. It'll cost her more than the usual Kibble, but it's worth the price. She wants to impress her new - bloodkin?
The servers spin up, although demand-based pricing is in effect and power and routine maintenance are in short supply. Tricksey sets various jobs running and can look back at the results later.
The releases both thrill and trouble her. A Crow Girl never judges, but some of these bullybois could do some damage. Time to head that off.
She leans forward again, fingers dancing over the keys. She sorts through the undesirables, looking for records and rap-sheets. Any that might have a grudge or cause trouble get flagged and tagged. She sends their bios out to the local sniffers. Maybe mitigate the damage.
Tricksey sends out her information-- the police are overwhelmed, dealing with everything from opportunistic violence and theft to panicked calls for help and/or protection. Lots of people are heads-down tonight, just trying to make it to the morning.
Some people do rise to the occasion. There's a soup kitchen to feed people. And a bunch of people who are protecting the soup kitchen.
The hospital isn't closed, but it's not exactly open for normal operations, either.
Tricksey rubs the bridge of her nose; a long night for the Crow Girl. She reroutes some pilfered creds to the soup kitchen, help take some of the strain off. She does the same for other groups and gangs that'll likely be dealing with this influx of people. The corps won't miss them and she doesn't need them. Not as much as she did before.
She gets up to make coffee, and feels a strain on her heart when she discovers Bailey's cup on the shelf. She holds it for a moment, feeding upon the memories left in the ceramics. The touch of her fingers. The softness of her lips. The hint of warm joy. All lingering behind like an unfinished letter.
She wonders what her lover is doing. Where she is. WHO she's become. Would she even be alive when she gets back to this Earth...place. The Bloodkin might know more. They talked in foxy riddles. But seemed...somewhat genuine.
After filling Bailey's cup, Tricksey settles back down in front of her rig and goes back to work. Using the phones' GPS, she pings the trio. Reminding them that they have a safe roost, even in this city's growing madness.
Tricksey works until dawn, or what used to be called dawn before they ruined the atmosphere. They sky gets lighter, marginally, through the clouds, and some places in the shadows of buildings see more illumination than usual. It's not pretty, sunrise in Tyrell, but it is familiar.
The news feed lights up. The priests who make up the ownership of the hospital are giving it as a gift to the city. They're seen shaking hands with the mayor, who looks mightily confused.
Abel is not amongst them.
Tricksey gets occasional texts from Conner throughout the night. He sent several ruffians accosting the soup kitchen to go seek medical attention while setting up a makeshift clinic in the soup kitchen to provide it to those behaving themselves. He arrives at Tricksey's bolthole around dawn. Conner has lost his suit jacket somewhere so the jade-hued sword at his belt is quite obvious. His shirt sleeves are rolled up and there are bloodstains here and there though none of it seems to be his.
"Morning Crow Girl." Conner's smile has the brightness that the morning sky lacks. "Interesting night on your end?"
Tricksey bonelessly leans back in her chair, looking at Conner upside-down. She is dressed in an old netrunner's jumpsuit; its tightly fitting duraweave hugging her like a crimson shadow. She's put a bulky t-shirt on top of this, from the band, Decomposition Rodeo.
"Ohayō gozaimasu, Connor-sama. Refresh," She points to the coffee-maker. "Cups on shelf. Cream in cooler."
She continues watching him from her odd position, "Tricksey managing. Conner helping? Your blood?"
"Others' blood." Conner clarifies. "I convinced some thugs that threatening the soup kitchen was bad for their health." Conner pours himself a cup of coffee and adds a healthy glug of cream. "Then I set up a makeshift clinic for the hungry wounded." He takes a sip of the coffee. "Any other excitement in the city?"
"Servers overloaded," Tricksey pouts. "Hard to move data. May be lost." She sighs, "For City, Crow Girl shift money. Help released. Helped families. But many foxes and few Crows. Thank you, Connor-sama. You go Crow work."
She slides out of the chair, moving to fetch another cup of coffee. "Feel torn. People free. But not know why taken."
With birdlike movements, she moves to a perch atop one of the numerous couches decorating the studio. After a sip from her cup, "Explain. What monks want? Why blood-kin fight them? Crow Girl thinks blood. But not explain all things. Like stairways to other worlds."
"Well, it's a long story but I will try to give you the brief version." Conner replies. He moves to one of the other couches and sits down. "If there is already a link between worlds, what we call a shadowpath, then anyone can walk from one world to another. My family, our family," Conner corrects himself, "don't need those paths to walk between worlds. Once we have survived the most difficult trial you are likely to face, we have the power to walk between the worlds freely. We also have some ability to manipulate those worlds in ways big and small." Conner holds up his hands to show they are empty and that there can't be anything up his rolled up sleeves. He then reaches under a couch cushion and withdraws a state of the art tablet computer that Tricksey knows wasn't there before.
Tricksey sees a tablet that shouldn't be where it was, but might plausibly have been there, if someone else came to her nest while she was in Ossining with Bailey. It would be useful for the CPUs, at least.
She considers this for a moment. But having witnessed Fletcher's 'magic,' spontaneous CPUs doesn't seem too far-fetched. Her fingers steeple under her chin, watching the shiny with corvid yearning as Conner continues.
"Only members of the Family can harness this power and it is tied to our bloodline." Conner goes on. "If you are too distantly related, then you are unable to wield these abilities. Even some who should have been strong by blood were somehow ill suited for the trial." Conner's face clouds with a memory and his hand drops to the hilt of sword for reassurance. "The monks are trying to determine by means scientific and sorcerous to determine what is special about our blood. We presume their aim is to harness that knowledge to give themselves that ability to obtain these same powers or perhaps to find some weakness in us that they can exploit. They have kidnapped several members of our bloodline who were unaware that they were Family but somehow the monks figured it out. They have also either killed one of our eldest cousins or desecrated his body after death to take their precious samples. Brother Abel claims it is a rogue group of monks doing this and he does not condone their actions. Even if that is true, it does not make the rest of the monks a benign influence."
Tricksey cocks her head, "So Family come here and Earth to stop Monks. Tricksey understands. Foxes shouldn't have such things. Too much power. Why not trust Abel. Too much fox in him."
Her head cocks to the other side, pausing. Then her eyes ignite, sparkling. "If Tricksey have this power. She find Bailey in Earth without Shadowpath? And make shinies?"
"Yes." Conner answers simply. "But it comes with rules and conditions and enemies of the Family like the monks. You will need to convince a king or queen of our family realms to let you try. It would help if we had some idea of your parentage. Brita's nose is good enough for most but we do like to pin down what branch of the family tree you perch on."
Tricksey blinks. Blinks again. "Kings? Queens? Is autocracy?" She raises her chin, smirking regally. "Duchess Tricksey. Viscountess Tricksey. Crow Girl the Third and one-half." She snickers, splaying out along the couch's headrest. "Need tiara, yes? Frillies and servants."
Another pause, then a serious look at Conner. "Will Tricksey get sword?! Want sword." She jabs at the air, one-two-three. "Sticky, stabby Tricksey."
Conner chuckles. "Yes, you can have a sword and training in how to use it." Conner smiles. "As for tiaras and frillies, that is up to you. You've met my sister and while she can certainly turn heads in a designer dress when she wants, you are far more likely to find her in practical clothing to explore dangerous forests or sail the shadow seas. Eventually you will have the time to explore any subject you wish. With everything going on right now, we have to go with a crash course in things that might you survive and make sense of the whole Family role."
"Brita pretty. Smart. Tricksey like. Same for Conner," she pronounces. "Fletcher. Maybe. Too much fox under smile."
Tricksey turns over, balanced perfectly on the couch's worn headrest, as she looks at Conner. Grim. Harsh eyes. Crow's eyes. Her change in demeanor as sharp as knives. "Not just Monks, yes?" she asks. "More enemies on horizon. Foxes nipping at heels. Before Crow Girl join. She need know what she agrees to. Crow Girls do right thing. But not clip wings."
There is a brief, aborted ring from Conner's phone. After a few minutes it rings again.
Assuming Conner answers, he hears "Brother Conner? ...What? ...oh ...Brother Conner? I am With Bridge. They Say They are One of Cousin Tricksey's Chicks. We are... Up High? I was Searching for Purity to see If I could Clarify this Shadow. Where are You?”
Conner holds up a hand in apology to Tricksey and answers the phone. "I am with Tricksey in her nest. You are most welcome to join us."
Tricksey raises a brow and then smiles. She gets down from the couch. "I make tea," she announces.
"It May Take a Bit. Chick Bridge has Told me Cousin Tricksey's Roost is Far Down from our Current Location. I Will See if there is Something I Can Do to Speed Up." Brita's voice is a little muffled with wind noises as if she is moving. There is a rustling as she handles the phone. "There are Three Pack-a-Monster Stops Nearby. We Will Collect the Lightening Llama and Then See if we Can Join My Brother." The last does not seem to be directed at Conner.
Brita disconnects the phone with a brief "See You Soon" to Conner. She and Bridge do a quick Llama recovery at a local hot spot (mine is Pink with Purple Stripes and Creates Lightning Shocks when you Rub its Fur the Right Way!). She assures Bridge she can reach her brother, quickly.
Brita starts to Part the Veil that, but recalls her mother saying that Parting the Veil can damage the universe or the shadow that it's in; and Fletcher's review did show that the fabric of Shadow Tyrell is already unstable. It occurs to her that it might be better and safer for the Shadow to use her Trump of Conner as a shortcut instead.
Brita pushes gently on the Shadow but draws back as she realizes the parting will just make things worse. She draws out her Trumps and pulls up Conner, concentrating on his image as she recalls his tinny voice through the phone so she has a slight wistful smile on her face when the connection comes through.
Conner can feel the contact open.
Conner accepts the contact and smiles when he sees Brita on the other end. He offers his hand. "Coming through? Or is there something you do not want overheard?" Conner thinks at Brita.
"Coming Through," Brita says as she reaches for Conner's hand. She is on a balcony somewhere in true sun. "I Am Trying to Find a Way to Right This Shadow, but it is Difficult," she says as she fluoresces into existence in Tricksey's nest.
Tricksey is returning with a Japanese tea set, pausing as Brita comes into existence in the middle of her eccentrically decorated home. It's a cultural mishmash of trinkets and shinies, laced with wires and computers. Yet functional and strangely comforting. A line of birds has formed along the foggy windows, as if drawn to the activity.
She sets the set down and proceeds to make tea. "Welcome, Brita-san. Sit. Drink. Have noodles, if hungry. Biscuits, if not."
With a wave of her hand, "Also clothes. If wet. Need change? Both Conner and Brita. Tricksey has many things."
Conner shakes his head no at the offer of new clothes and settles back into the couch. "We were just discussing what it means to be Family," Conner explains. "And what the Monks mean to us."
Brita has a biscuit already in her mouth and a bowl of noodles in hand. She swallows and notes to Tricksey, "As Goddess of Clear Waters from My Shadow Asgard, I do Not Need to Worry about Being Wet." She smooths her now free right hand over her damp braid and jacket and she appears to be perfectly dry and clean. There is a small ball of dirty colored ice in her hand. "Is there a Place to Dispose of This? I Would have Misted it, But I Understand Water Vapor and Computers do Not Mix Well."
Brita then responds to Conner's inputs. "The monks Are Troublesome. Cousin Able does Not Appear to be the Source of Our Troubles with them. Do You Think He would Direct Us to monk chew?"
Tricksey watches with bright eyes, wrinkling her nose. She cocks her head to the left. To the right. Then back to center. Picking up a metal container, she holds it out to Brita. "Put here. Will dump later." A sly smile. "Too beautiful for kappa. Must be Suijin Child. Crow Girl like."
After setting the container aside, Tricksey returns to her roost atop the couch's headrest. "Data corrupt. Bandwidth slowed. Meantime, blow up monks? Like others who come to Tyrell? And Earth? Will Tricksey get sword? Pokey-pokey foxy monks."
Brita points at Conner's sword. "You Do Not Want That Type of Blade -- the Constraints to Someone So Free would be Untenable, But we Could Get you a Normal Sword. However, Your Talents Might lie Best in Sneaky, Subtle Attacks that Trip Up their Foxy Paws through All of Shadow."
"Sword Tricksey. Stabby foxes," Tricksey purrs, tasting the words. She likes their flavor.
"Moreover, what we've learned here might change things." Conner adds. "Our King should be informed of the presence of Able and his threat before we proceed."
Tricksey sits up, leaning forward with avian interest. "King? You call him? He choose what to do with foxes?"
Brita notes to Conner, "I do Not Have a Trump of Our Uncle. I Have a Sketch of Cousin Folly who is Most Likely to Be in Reality Xanadu. I could Ask Her to have King-Uncle Random Contact Us."
Conner nods. "That sounds like our best bet."
Brita pulls out a small pack of cards from a hidden pocket and quickly selects one. She leans it towards Tricksey so she can see it is a small painting of a young woman with dark hair and an elfin smile. Then Brita turns her attention back to the card, concentrating on her cousin.
Tricksey presses forward, eyes bright. She hasn't a clue why her so-called-blood would use a playing card to contact someone, but she's seen several miracles tonight. "Sim Card?" she asks softly, not wishing to interrupt the call.
There is no answer. Folly is busy or perhaps asleep.
Brita frowns, "Our Cousin does Not Answer. Perhaps she is Busy." She responds to Tricksey's question, "It is More of a Window or Door." She fans out some of her cards for Tricksey to see, pointing to Conner's image. "It is How I Came Here."
Tricksey cocks her head, examining the cards. Their design. Their contents. "Cards fold space?" she asks, lightly touching one - if allowed. "So much magick. Specific to world? Or person?" She looks up, "This also in Blood? Crow Girl learn?"
Brita hands Tricksey Conner's Trump to examine. "Concentrate on My Brother's Image and We'll See."
Tricksey carefully takes the card, flips it over, examining it.
The card deck is strange, and more complex than most people or corvids. The deck is cold to her fingertips, like an unexpectedly deep pond. She looks at the people depicted on the cards. The trumps are men and women in fancy historical cosplay outfits. None look like the stories of her father, but that doesn't mean he isn't amongst them. They look like powerful people who do large things. More like lions than foxes.
Trying to use 'The Touch' feels like drinking from a firehose, but Tricksey does get some surface impressions. Strong emotions are the easiest to pick out—rage and fear come through clearly, but it's unclear whose. Tricksey gets the uneasy impression that the cards are acting like a mirror, somehow, and those impressions were directed to her personally.
Tricksey flinches back from this deluge of information and emotion, trying to hone it down into something comprehensible. She cocks her head back and forth, nose curled up in animal suspicion. "Weird," she announces.
The overwhelming impression of the cards is one of a decision point. The top card when she looks at the deck is called the fool, and if the cards are, indeed, using The Touch on her, than it seems a warning to Triicksy of the dangers of isolation. Whatever is sending her a message, it's not a subtle one.
"Weirder," Tricksey adds. "Strange cards. Talking cards. But thoughtful. Crow Girl not sure if likes."
And then she does as Brita requested, concentrating on Conner's image.
Conner feels the touch of the Trump.
Conner moves so that the background behind him is non-descript wall and accepts the call. "Who calls?"
Tricksey's face lights up, holding the card closer to her face, as if it is a cellphone screen. "Tricksey! Can you hear me now? Can you hear me now?!" This she chimes aloud, not realizing she can speak with her thoughts. Not that she would anyway.
"I can hear you fine," Conner thinks at her. "The communication is mental. As long as you hold the call, you will be able to hear me." The echo that Tricksey might expect talking to someone on a device who is in the same room is absent and if she turns to look, she can confirm that Conner's lips do not move.
Tricksey glances over at Brita and then back to Conner. She thinks "Very clever. Strange. So many magics. Crow Girl must think on these things."
She flips the card over, speaking aloud. "These can speak through distances? If cousin. Is one of Tricksey?"
"There is Not One of You, but If You Allow, I can Make One." Brita notes. "It Takes Time and Knowledge of the Person to Instill the Essential Link into a Trump. I Could do a Quicker Sketch, but it Would Not be as Durable. If you Would Like Either, I can Begin by sketching you." Brita pulls out a small sketchbook already partially filled with images of various people which she shows to Tricksey.
Tricksey flops down beside Brita, still holding the connection to Conner. "Is why so many emotions in cards?" she asks of them both. "Too many to hear. But felt. Not all pleasant."
She cocks her head and then runs her free hand through her hair, making it billow. "Yes. But remember. Get Crow Girl's good side."
To Conner, she adds silently "Can refuse card? If so. How?"
Brita smiles slightly at Tricksey's antics and starts to do some quick sketches of her in preparation for a Trump.
"The cards capture our true essence. That brings a lot of emotions with it." Conner replies. "You can block a trump contact by focusing on ignoring it and you can end the call by releasing your attention on the call and passing your hand over the card."
Tricksey considers this for a moment, her thumb playing over the card. It'd be rude to press further with the Touch. And Crow Girls weren't rude. Curious. Inquiring. But not rude. "And you pull people through card? Like wormhole?" she thinks to Conner.
Still maintaining her amazing pose, she glances at Brita. "You not only artist, yes? This blood trait? Or taught?"
"It is Taught, but Some have an Affinity for the Skill which May Come from Specific Blood Traits," Brita says as she continues to sketch. She smiles slightly, "You can Also Relax, Cousin. My Sketching is to Help Me Capture You -- Your Vibrancy and Life -- Into the Image. Interacting with You Naturally is Best to Accomplish That."
Tricksey nods to this, smiling softly. "Sound like omamori. Mother made them. For family. For crows. For papa. Tricksey never learn. She like papa. But wish to know more. If can learn, she will."
In answer to Tricksey's question, Conner reaches out his hand. "Try it and see. Take my hand."
Curious, Tricksey does exactly that, reaching out and trying to take Conner's hand.
Conner takes Tricksey's hand in a firm grip and pulls. "Step towards me." He instructs.
Tricksey does so, gently taking his hand. Her grip belies the immense strength there, juxtaposed against her waifish appearance. When she steps forward and appears opposite Conner, she blinks once. Blinks twice. And then, in pure elation, performs some odd celebratory dance, akin to a magpie in a blender. "Again! Again!"
By the time Tricksey has reformed next to Connor, Brita has shifted to get a view of her from across the room. She continues sketching as she watches Tricksey's interaction with her brother. "Tell Us about Your Papa," Brita encourages.
The dervish spinning stops. Warmth floods her cheeks, as Tricksey hops over to rejoin Brita. "Tricksey was chick. Not see much. But remember. He dark. Bright eyes. Brighter smile. But also love. Love too much? Felt it in things he held. The Touch spoke. But Tricksey too young to understand. Emotions tough."
She quirks a smile, "But understand why mama lay with him. And why she cry when not return."
Conner hums. "I've similar stories from other cousins. Not enough of a description to place him of course. Well, that's nothing new either." Conner shrugs. "So, we are back to where we go from here. I don't know that we are done here. I have a ship of Parisian saliors I should really check in on, and Tricksey should really have a chat with the King."
"Bright Eyes and Brighter Smile Could be You, Brother." Brita teases with a sly smile. "Still, we can Show Cousin Tricksey Images of the Uncles to See If She Remembers. Which King are you Suggesting? Uncle Corwin or Uncle Random?"
Tricksey glances between the two, mildly confused, yet infinitely excited. "Meet Kings? Tricksey want one who give her sword." She jabs at the air again in quick succession, making her way toward the computer rig. "Ho! Ha ha! Guard. Turn. Parry. Dodge. Spin. Ha! Thrust. Sproing!"
She flumps into the chair, spinning, spinning, until finally settling in the forward position. "If leaving, Tricksey need prep-time. Has dishes spinning. Want them to keep spinning. City hungry. Hurt people, if Crow Girl let it. And keep eye on Monks. Not trust Abel." With a single gesture, a dozen monitors blaze to life, sparkling with data feeds, new reports, questionable anime, and several interfaces. She grabs and pokes at the air, working through the rig's transparent display. Music fills the air as she works, punctuated by her own rhythmic, "Unce, unce, unce..."
A thought strikes Tricksey and she leans back in her chair, "Meeting King. Should Crow Girl dress up?"
Brita gives a bark of laughter. "Depends on The King." She glances at Conner with a raised brow. "For the King of Paris, I Would wear Something Formal but Not Revealing. For the King of Xanadu, One Can be More Informal... Comfortable Clothing, Perhaps with a Quirky Band Name Prominently displayed."
Tricksey fires off her cornucopia of instructions to the 'Net and gets up. She prances over to her wardrobe and begins rummaging through the plethora of clothes. Much of it is dark, leathery, and questionable in appropriateness and fashionable merit. Stockings, straps, a revealing blouse, and shorter skirt take shape. At least, there's a stylish tie... a vexing concession on her part.
"Yes?" she asks, looking at Conner.
Conner takes in Tricksey's look and turns to Brita. "Random definitely. If we get her within range of Aunt Flora, she'll be forcibly made over."
Tricksey puts her hands on her hips, pouting. "She has no taste? Crow Girl no like already."
Her head leans back, as she taps her chin in exaggerated thought. "If there King Random. Is also Queen Specific?"
Conner chuckles and if Tricksey is watching close she might catch the shift in his smile. "In another time, that would be a joke I'd enjoy sharing with His Majesty." Conner sobers. "There is a Queen Vialle and that situation is complicated to say the least. The Queen is currently possessed by an enemy of the Family both in the supernatural sense and the fact she was kidnapped. Rectifying that is on the to do list, but the one who has her is mighty indeed. This is why I am hunting monks and another missing Queen."
Tricksey wrinkles her nose. "That very specific. Sad for King. Crow Girl help. No like Ikiry&omacron;. Bad spirits. She hit them for you."
She pauses at his other admission. "Another? You lose Queens alot? Are they like keys?"
"Well, a lot of things fall through the cracks during an invasion and civil war." Conner shrugs. "I'll happily tell you the full story later."
Trciksey grins brightly, "Like stories. Crow Girl collect them." She points to herself. "City's memory."
Brita has pulled out a new card from her stack -- this one of a road leading to a castle built into a cliff with a waterfall cascading beside it -- and hands it to Conner with a "All I Have is a Place Trump of Reality Xanadu. Would you Want to Go There or Remain Here to Continue to Address our new Cousin Abel?" She has flipped to a new page in her sketchbook and continues to quickly sketch this new look of Tricksey's while she talks.
Ever the stylish corvid, Tricksey resumes her fashionable pose for Brita - somewhere between regality and circus act. Bending paranormally back, she retains her gaze on Connor, "If stay. Crow Girl has nests through City. Connor may use. And Fletcher. Tricksey like him. Even if little stiff. She make sure you both safe here. And have noodles."
Like a ballerina in her music box, Tricksey rotates around to look at Brita. "Pretty Brita take Tricksey to King Arbitrary?" She bats her dark eyelashes, hopeful.
Brita smiles wide at Tricksey's antics. "I Can." She notes to Conner. "If We Wished to Continue Here, I Could Return to Reality Xanadu with Cousin Tricksey to Introduce Her to Uncle Unpredictable and Then Return to Aid You."
Tricksey gives a happy giggle. "Yes! Queenly Brita wise. Knows things Crow Girl wants learn." The smile quirks up. "And want see Tricksey card."
Conner nods his assent. "I look forward to hearing all of the new nicknames Tricksey will bestow on our Family." He chuckles. "We'll figure out how to proceed once His Majesty is apprised of the situation."
Tricksey spins again, deft and swift. Returning to a more presentable stance. "Tricksey talk to Non-specific King. Then help Brita and Connor. Whatever need. She give. Blood is bond. Family is all.
"Help find Queen. Crow Girls good at finding lost things."
Brita retrieves the Trump of Conner from Tricksey and stores it back in her small set which disappears into an inner pocket of her green dress (because - pockets!). She hands the Place Trump of Xanadu to Conner. "If You Would hand us Through, You can Keep That Trump Until we Return."
Conner nods and concentrates upon the Trump. Provided it opens as intended, Conner will pass Tricksey and Brita through.
Last modified: 3 June 2023