Trista remained with the group at the Inn, entering that building behind the others. In her travels, she had been to many Inns such as this, though certainly this one maintained a warmth above many others. It was one of the pleasures of World Walking; participating in lands out of time and so alien to her own.

Trista remains back, eyes roaming over the room and toward the door. This place holds special significance to Cyan, and Trista will not be the one to interrupt. The Innkeeper finds Cyan, and warm greetings are exchanged. Good, Cyan needs positive experiences.

The woman waits to see what comes of Cyan’s invitation to talk with Donovan. Perhaps Trista will join them or possibly walk back outside to keep an eye on both groups at once. Then again, the sailors could have information...
This message was lightly edited by the player at 22:14, Mon 23 Apr 2007.

Roman sees no gain in drawing attention to himself yet.   Not until there is a question worth asking, so he restricts himself to a non-commital noise, acknowledging the innkeeper's greeting.  Let the others take the lead, for now.

"Well... it's been a strange time, and no mistakin'" the innkeeper says, answering Cyan, while setting glasses out on the counter.

"The treaty were signed, and all, spite o' what 'appened.  So now we's got a trade agreement with Amber, though events delayed it a mite.  Them same events led ter some trouble in town, as yer may recall.  Things settled again, but there were odd days when things'd flare up again, an' times were a tad 'ard, which is why I've no brandy."

"Last two months it's been quiet, mind.  Though I reckon we's seen more warships from Amber than merchantmen, and whenever one o' those comes in, folks start ter get a bit... excited.  That's why it's so quiet in 'ere terday.  There's an Amber warship in, and a lot o' people are stayin' 'way from the docks."

He smiles, and starts pouring drinks as people order them.

"Yer friend were 'ere 'bout a fortnight ago, Miss.  The other young lass who played some tunes with yer, that day when yer first came 'ere.  I wondered if yer'd be in yerself."

Roman says nothing but racks his brain for memories Friend ? Does this place match her pictures ?  Her descriptions of her travels ?  If only I'd paid more attention

Cyan moves up and leans against the counter, interested in hearing what Donovan has to say.  Berd hops from her shoulder, floats up to the rafters.  From there, he runs along them for a short distance, much like a cat or rat, and then silently descends to lightly land on Trista's shoulder.

"I remember much of that," Cyan returns quietly.  Her sapphire eyes are dark, brooding.  "At least you have had quiet, here, and the Blue Rose has survived.  A pity about the brandy...I shall have whatever you reccomend."  She traces her finger through a drop of water on the bar, making an empty symbol with it for an instant before wiping the wet away.

"And the trade agreement went through.  That, in itself, is a relief."  Her eyes rise to the innkeeper.  "Is there royalty in the city at the momement?"  Then her brow furrows at his continued explanation.  "Lexy?  Here?"  She straightens, and Berd glances over with glittering eyes.  "Did she stay long, say aught of where she travelled next?"

James relaxes at the exchange between Cyan and Donovan.  All is well, it seems, barring the lack of brandy.  He crosses from the door to the bar and stands there for a moment apparently lost in thought.

"A wine please.  Red.  I don't know the local varieties so I'll take your recommendation as well."

James' ears perk up at the mention of Lexy.  He'd never met Lexy of course but it was strange that she had been here so recently.  And he seemed to recall Roman mentioning the name.

"No, Miss.  She stayed one night, then took a ship ter somewhere, though she didn't let on where." the innkeeper says, as he pours drinks.

"If yer'll excuse me, just a moment.  Them lads's been waiting' fer a bit o' dessert, an' it'll be 'bout ready now."

With a quick nod, he dashes out through the door, presumably into a kitchen.  The sound of clattering metal echoes back into the bar, and the group of seamen immediately become more alert again, glancing towards the door where Donavon vanished.  One or two actually get up from their seets, craning their necks to peer through opening, and there is much laughter, and slapping of backs.

A few minutes later, Donovan reappears, carrying a large tray bearing a stack of several small plates, and two large baking dishes.  "'Ere yer go, lads.  Sorry yer 'ad ter wait fer 'em."  The sailors themselves don't seem to be at all concerned about the supposed delay, but are instead happy to get their food.

Donovan returns to the bar, and half whispers, "So much excitement over a bit of apple pie.  Still, they said they've not 'ad any in a while, so I s'pose it's ter be expected."  He pauses, and collects his thoughts, "What were I sayin?  Oh, yes, Amber... "

"One o' them Princes's 'ere, in Cadiniagart, I means, not in the Blue Rose.  Can't recall 'is name, somethin' outlandish what starts with a 'C', I think.  Sailed in day 'fore yesterday, 'e did.  Official proclamation is that it's ter settle the last details o' the treaty.  'Twixt you'n'me, though, I reckon as it's got more ter do with that man o' theirs turnin' out ter be the one what attacked our king.  An' a spy, ter boot."

What happened here?

Talk of treaties, war, memories; had Cardiniagart been at war with Amber? And they survived… if that’s the case, there’s much more to learn of this city. By all accounts, whatever happened here, it’s in the past. Amber now parks warships of another ilk. Perhaps the Archons have already reached its mythic shores.

Trista’s eyes follow Berd’s inarguably ‘cute’ movements as he floats up, scuttles across, and drops down on her shoulder. “Hey, Little Wing,” her voice is quiet for just him.


Her eyes shift to take in the Chaosist, curious if he knows this Lexy of which Cyan and Donovan speak. James moves to the bar and orders a wine. Trista knows little of the finer alcohols. When she drinks, she drinks, Whiskey most often. Otherwise, she generally sticks to water and juice.

The silent woman continues her vigil by the door, her ears open and her mind absorbing the newest information concerning one of the Family in Cardiniagart at the moment. A contact, perhaps?

Cyan frowns in consternation, glances back toward the others.  Here, then gone.  Wouldn't say where.  It makes no sense unless...

Two possibilities leap to mind.  The first is that she's following them.  Hunting them, or shadowing them.  Trying to catch up, perhaps.  Time works oddly in the Myriad Worlds - perhaps her power touched on where they had been in an investigation close to Amber (daring, that), and Lexy headed off to find them, starting in the most obvious place.  The other possibility....

She came here looking for something, and possibly found it.

The Enemy has touched this place twice.  It is a gateway to Amber.  Did Lexy find something they left in the past?  Did she discover something they planned for now, or the future?

Impossible to say.  It could be either.  Both.  Neither.

Then Donovan returns, and Cyan listens attentively.  One of the royalty...wait, what was that?  "Your pardon, Donovan, but...of what do you speak?  What man of theirs?  What treason?"

Now worried, she looks back at James, flicks a glance to Roman, arches an eyebrow at Trista and Berd by the door.  This is...serious business.  She has a sudden, worried inkling that she knows the identity of the man for whom the gibbet is planned.

Roman catches Cyan's glance.   This is more important to her than Lexy.  Unfortunately.  But why ?  It is an embarrassment to the Amberites that their man is caught.  But naught else is surprising.  Or likely to be of concern in the war against the Seraphim.

Too little information.  It is best to continue to watch and listen.  Wait for the right time.

"Well, it seems that Amber had a man livin' 'ere, fer a couple o' years.  Jus' ter keep an eye out, they reckon, in case any o' their own folk got in trouble 'ere.  It turns out as 'e might've been spyin' fer them too."

Donovan shakes his head, "There were nearly more trouble over that, but Amber sent some diplomats, an' everybody were so desperate fer the treaty ter go through, that things've been sorted out without so much trouble this time.  I 'eard from one o' the Watch terday that the spy were also likely an assassin."

"Anyways, they's tried ter get their man back, but 'e's ter be 'anged, in the mornin', or so we've been told."

Roman leans forward with a quiet warning.  "We're not here to get involved with local politics."
Out of the corner of his eye, he watches the sailors, to see how they react to the bartender's words.

Not a good situation, and Cyan has a bad feeling she knows who is up for the gibbet.  "I see; unfortunate for him," she says, nodding sagely and shifting away from that line of discussion.  Externally.  Internally, she rapidly exchanges informtion with Berd, who settles down on Trista's shoulder.  His eyes flicker and dance like candleflames in a breeze.

At Roman's warning, she glances back to him, lifts an eyebrow, and offers a sleepy smile in return.  It isn't meant to fool anyone.

"So, many things have transpired here since I last stepped into your Inn," she continues, and at that moment Berd's presence becomes apparant to any of the Questors in the Blue Rose - he hovers at the edges of their psychic defenses, not testing them, and offers a link to a newly formed bridging.  "I'm pleased to see that at least this Inn was spared the destruction.  Have you heard aught about wars?  We have travelled through many places to arrive here, and it seems that everywhere we go, there is conflict."

"Wars?  Aye, yer might say that." Donovan replies, with a rueful smile.  "I sees a lot o' sailors in 'ere, even with the recent difficulties.  Most o' them's got some tale o' trouble in foreign parts.  Take them lads... "

He indicates the group who sit laughing and joking, quietly, as they savour their apple pie, "Seems that, where they come from, there's been a war goin' on fer the las' year an' a half, or so.  Some time las' summer, some bugger, beggin' yer pardon ladies and gents, fired their city's orchards and fields, and most o' the food stores, in the middle of a hot dry spell.  That's why they'd not 'ad apples in a bit."

"They's been tradin' like crazy fer grain an' veggies... but some folk've started bumpin' the prices up, jus' fer them, so all their money goes on cheap, simple stuff, an' things like apples, an' pears, are right out o' the question."

He shakes his head, and sighs, "It's a shame... they're good lads."

Roman accepts the bridging, and wonders about wars. Has the fall of Charyk echoed across Shadow ?  Or is it the Archons' Shadows cast across the many worlds ?  Or is it an echo of the conflcit still to come ?  The ways of Shadow are strange.

James stands silent, happy to let Cyan ask the questions and willing to wait for Donovan to spare the attention for their drinks.  In the bard's absence, James had acted as spokeman for the group from time to time, but it wasn't a role he particularly coveted.

He was curious, however, to know why the accused assassin was still associated with Amber so long after the treaty was concluded, so he accepts Berd's bridging with alacrity, hopeful that the others have some insights to share.

She hears Cyan and Donovan clearly from her post a few paces away, but the words Roman speaks to the Bard go unheard. Trista’s not concerned, she will hear what she hears.

Though Berd settles on her shoulder, she senses the dragon’s divided attentions. Glancing at him, she marvels at the eyes burning bright. He and Cyan make a pair with their ever-changing eyes. She’s not surprised when Berd offers a bridging for the group, though whether it extends to those at the docks is unknown. She accepts it, much more settled with this type of communication than yesterday.


While Donovan goes on about the sailors – no wonder they’re so exited for apple pie – Trista’s eyes float about the room, always checking the doorways. She realizes Cyan carries the burden of information gathering and wishes she could contribute. Unfortunately, she feels like a kindergartener in high school and so keeps to absorbing what is said.

The bridging opens to all those here, at the Blue Rose...for now.  Perhaps more will be added later, but Cyan works by the 'fight your fight' principle - they're busy, and this isn't urgent.  Yet.

Her psychic voice comes clearly over the bridging.  Beldrin was a man who claimed to work for Prince Caine of Amber.  I am somewhat concerned that this man, this assassin, might be he.  He certainly was a spy, and connected with Amber - and carried a palanquet of Prince Caine.  He slew Cylla, the bearer of the 'cube' that allowed the Archons to catalogue world after world...at least, that is the assumed purpose.  Berd, can you recall the images upon the cube, and try to trace a path through the Myriad Worlds?

Beldrin had a palanquet tattooed into his forearm.  I wonder how they hold him?  Perhaps...no, I hope they did not 'remove' it.

If it is Beldrin, I must succor him.  Berd searches this world even now for his spirit.

A series of images follow - memories of Beldrin*.

"Poor fellows," she replies aloud, though quietly.  "War makes victims of us all, and there is more than enough of that in the Worlds."

* OOC - for more information, please reference Chapter 6 - The Cube, for a taste of 'President's Choice - Memories of Beldrin'.

Donovan continues taking orders, pouring drinks, and pushing them across the counter to their respective owners, while keeping up a quiet conversation with Cyan,  "Aye, poor fellers is right enough.  One o' them told me as 'ow 'is 'ome town were burned ter the ground by an invadin' army, afore their own boys managed to push 'em back.  I'm tellin' yer now, I've been 'ere more years'n I care ter 'member, an'there's always been tales o' wars... but lately there's been a lot more goin' on."

"It doesn't seem to me that you owe this man, who might even be guilty.  Even if he told the truth about working for Caine, Caine could be the traitor.  I would rather try to find where Lexy went.  That would be less risky, and I do have a duty to try...
This message was last edited by the player at 18:33, Mon 07 May 2007.

Donovan finishes pouring the drinks, and asks, "So... is there anythin' else I can get fer anyone.  Perhaps a bite ter eat?  Oh, an' will yer be wantin' rooms ternight?  It shouldn't be a problem... as yer can see, I'm none too busy terday."

As the bridging forms, Trista moves further away from Donovan and Cyan and closer to the door, peeking out down the docks. After a moment of hearing the voices within her mind, she responds in kind. We have yet to claim a ship so I see no problems with searching for this Beldrin. If the questors who have come before feel an obligation to the man, then they must do what they can in the time given to us. I will help, though I don’t know what I can do just yet.

Many images from the Cube, they traveled far. The Archons are our first worry, as far as I can see. But each path put before us must be considered in the grand scheme; perhaps even finding Beldrin will aid us in our ultimate goals.

Perhaps.

Somewhat distracted, Cyan examines her cup to see what Donovan has poured for her.  "An invading army?  What sort of army would this be?"  She doesn't think the Army of the End of Time reached anywhere near this close to Amber, but the Myriad Worlds are an odd place, with 'tunnels' under and over to provide shortcuts where none should exist.  "But yes...there has been a terrible upswell of war."  She remains uncertain of how much she should tell Donovan.

"As for food, should you have a small plate of vegetables and fruit, that will be sufficient for me."  Berd, upon Trista's shoulder, let's out a disgusted huff.  "For lodging?  I know not - my associates seek a ship at the moment, and will return to us their opinions shortly."

Within, her mind races.  Berd has located Beldrin, and it is as Cyan feared.  Trista has summed up my position eloquently.  And there is more - the situation here was much in flux, when last we walked this land.  Their royalty had been replaced by a shapeshifter.  Was this man, in truth, an assassin?  Is it the death of that royalty of which they speak?  Or another?  And was this one another shifter, or something worse?

I must know.

Donovan does not appear to know to where Lexy left.  Perhaps you might discern this by methods arcane?  I certainly understand your duty - it is, in part, duty that drives me to assist Beldrin.  Which I most certainly shall.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:09, Thu 10 May 2007.

[OOC Anyone got a reference to the local royalty being replaced by a shapeshifter ?  I don't remember that]

Over the bridging, thoughts flow. I smell politics in this execution.  It can be a deadly game - the more so when you know neither the players nor the rules.  Be careful.

For myself, I will stick to mundane means.  The talents I have offer little help in this matter and  I do not wish to be identified in this place.  Not by suspicious locals let alone the Amberites.

Through the door, a long way off, Trista sees Morgan leaving the docks with Banglen-Yp in tow. Perhaps they’ve procured the shift, after all. The woman lets the door softly swing shut as she turns into the room once again. As the silent conversation continues, her eyes drift from person to person.

In years past, she would have seen James’ need for a drink and gone behind the bar herself to grab a bottle, leaving a goodly tip for the ‘keeper. Or sat with the rowdy posse of sailors, drinking them under the table. But now she watches, silently.

Berd has already broken through some of the woman’s barriers, subtly and kindly enough to have almost gone unnoticed by Trista. She’s emotionally linked to him, now. Perhaps it’s just a matter of time before she finds connections with others, as well.

Meanwhile, decisions are being made. Decisions wrapped in uncertainty. But what world is certain in these times? Amber? Hardly.

Shifters… seem to be everywhere. Of course, including with us. The thoughts flow but without emotion attached; she shows no signs of her distrust of shape-shifters. As for your former companion, Lexy, if there is a way I can assist with finding her, I will. Beldrin seems to be here, though. With Berd’s help, perhaps we’ll know our next step.

Morgan and Banglen-Yp have left the group on the docs. I do not know yet if we have a ship.


Trista’s a woman who does not fidget; she has great control over her own body. But in minute ways, her body tenses as her eyes leave off their roaming and stare at a place far removed from reality. I’ll be back. Within a heartbeat, she’s outside, eyes darting to find the way to the center of the market place.

To the gallows.