Cyan ponders her drink and awaits Donovan's answers, while she continues to communicate over the bridging.  Politricks.  I have little time for them, I fear.  I am justly wary of them, but if I spent my life trying to account for each and every possibility, I would never act.  I will take your advice, Roman, and find a way with which to aid Beldrin that leaves - hopefully - no finger pointed back at us, or Amber.

Berd, for his part, is conveyed out through the door by Trista - he looks longingly back at the food with wide, sparkling eyes.

Indeed, Trista.  Beldrin must be assisted, for many reasons.  The group at the docks splits apart?  Curious.  Surprised when the woman leaves for a moment, she turns to stare at her departing back...then nods, slowly.  <blue>Please summon us, should something demand assistance.</blue

Trista, outside the inn, moves back to the main street, and turns right, back up the hill, towards the market place.  Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbles across the sky, like the wheels of a tumbril on a cobbled street.

Back at the inn, the sailors are growing a little louder now, as the finish their meal, and settle for drinking instead.  Their words are, for the most part, in some tongue, far removed from the dialects of Thari generally spoken around the Golden Circle and, indeed, across most of the Myriad Worlds.

Eventually they start singing, but not too loudly, some song that they all seem to know, which starts slowly and speeds up, the incomprehensible words accompanied by faster and faster sequences of complex hand movements, some of which are a little too comprehensible...   Eventually one makes a mistake on the rapid, somewhat vulgar, motions, and the others fall into gales of laughter...

Donovan looks to his new guests apologetically, "Would yer want me to ask 'em ter quieten down?"

The song begins again, slowly at first...

"No, Donovan, leave them be; let them have their fun."

James reaches down.  By some quirk of happenstance - Pattern - some customer has dropped their coin purse between the bar and a stool.  James retrieves it.  He pulls several coins out and places them on the bar.

"Let them have what they want.  I remember some of the hardships of war - and the pleasure of fresh food after months of rations."

James takes a small risk touching the Pattern this close to Amber, but feels strongly enough to chance it.  A supply of local coin may be needed soon regardless.

I have no love for politics either, but if we need to find this traitor that is what awaits us.  I'm afraid that short of a palanquet I'll struggle to find Beldrin.  With only a description I'm more likely to lead us to some bystander who just happens to look similar.  The same goes for Lexy both...pre-date my involvement.

As to the assasination, I assumed that the shapeshifter was killer and substitute alike.  James tone betrays some uncertainty and ambivalence.  He isn't sure of Beldrin's importance yet.

Cyan nods at James' thoughts, both on the matter of the sailors and of Beldrin.  She considers the purse he picks up fortuitous, before remembering who sits before her.  Laconic James - scion of Amber, immortal shifter of worlds.  Sometimes it's easy to forget, just as it's simple to forget that the comparatively pedestrian-appearing Roman is a Lord of Chaos.

I believed the same - the shapeshifter slew the Prince, took his place.  I still remember Berd's vision of its 'eggs'.  So many of them....

Berd could call to Lexy, as could I, if only I had my palanqueti.  But they, along with my equipment, are gone.  Berd knows Lexy, but she might well be shielding herself, as she has done in the past.  As for Beldrin...Berd searches for him as well.

I believe your talents will be called upon, James, when we greet your Uncle.  *weariness*  I doubt he will be predisposed to listen to one as young as myself.  Especially since I am not a citizen of Amber.  You, on the other hand, are not only of his land, but of his blood.  I understand that the Royalty of Amber look upon each other with suspicion, but a crisis looms - one would think they would band together against a common threat.

Donovan breaks into an even broader smile at James' offer.  "That's very kind o' yer, Sir.  I'm sure it'll be gratefully accepted."

He makes his way around to the other table, and starts collecting the empty dishes, as the sailors continue their game.  He says something, quietly, when they reach one of the drinking pauses, and all heads turn, their eyes locked on James.

As he takes the empties through into the other room, one of the sailors gets up and walks across to the group.  He bobs his head to the women present, then turns his attention to the men, as he speaks, haltingly, "What one of you... were most... kind... enough to be maked... ah... buying... of drinkings for me and my mates?"

It’s a new skill Trista develops; keeping track of various conversations at the same time. But she does so with only a little inner confusion.

Her voice stretches out across the bridging. “I go to seek Beldrin, hopefully with Berd’s guidance. We have met… an old friend of yours: Devlin. We are currently in the Market Square with him.

Short and sweet and to the point. Trista requires movement, not talk. And this is her way to assist Cyan’s current quest.

Cyan perks up, he amethyst eyes glittering.  "Devlin?" she whispers, raising an eyebrow toward James.  Then she swings her legs off the stool and stands.  "Thank you, Donovan.  Should we be staying in this city, I will certainly return here for the night.  But I regret," she continues, capturing the innkeeper's hand warmly and clasping it between both of her own, "that I must step out for a time.  I am to meet an old friend."  She digs out some coin of her own - thank you, Berd... - and places them upon the bar with a wink.

"Save three rooms for us tonight - should we not return, the gold is yours."

She shoots a quick look to James, then Roman, and Chance (and any others in the room, of course, who may or may not have spoken up yet!), then nods toward the door.  Her thoughts echo through Berd's bridging with the others as she does.

I come, Trista.  Gentlemen, I fear the time for action draws near; Beldrin's life hangs in the balance.  For whatever the reason one chooses - information, compassion, alliances - I believe we must succor him.

His time is close, and I believe he is held by bonds stronger than iron.  If we are to save him, it must begin now.

With that, she moves from the bar.

Roman shakes his head and sighs.  If the Amberite Prince wishes the man saved - and not simply silenced then at least we might hope for thanks from that quarter  Trying to make the best of it.
The thought that the only way to stop the finger of suspicion pointing to Amber is to point it somewhere else, goes unspoken.

Thunder echoes through the inn, rattling the glasses on the shelves behind the counter, and the sailors turn their eyes to the ceiling, and make signs to ward the spirits of the storm.  The man who had approached the group at the counter, lays a hand on Cyan's shoulder...

"Wait, Lass.  If you must be make to out now, be take this with."

He reaches to his neck and lifts a length of cord from it, before holding it out to the bard.  There os a bunch of what look to be gull feathers attached to it, and several small blue beads, each with a tiny white mark upon it.  "For luck, if you understanding me.  One of your... people was buying drinkings for me and my mates.  I will not seeing you goes out in storm with no... charm."

James raises his hand, palm out, to shoulder height, which serves to draw attention if nothing else.  He felt a bit awkward about the attention given to his gift and so had hesitated to reveal himself.  Now, though, he is smiling, pleased by the result.

"That was me.  But the gift of your charm to the lady is better than any thanks you could give me.  It seems we have to leave for now.  May you have good winds and fair sailing."

With that James moves to follow Cyan.

A fine point, Roman.  If the Prince wishes him saved, then we do ourselves a favour.  If he wishes him silenced...I care not a whit.

Cyan pauses at the door.  That lightning...it seemed a touch too strong.  And then the man intercepts her, and she raises an eyebrow at the hand on her shoulder, so near the ugly weapon she carries upon her back.  But there is no threat here, and Cyan turns to the sailor with a questioning expression.  Her topaz eyes wide, she takes the necklace.  "This is beautiful," the bard whispers, then turns to offer it to James.  "But it was James who-"

James, it seems, has other ideas.  She holds the gift for a long moment, debates disagreement...but she owes James.  She owes him a great deal.  With a small bow, Cyan slides the lovely, primal charm over her head, and settles it at her neck.  "My thanks," she whispers to the man, clasping his hand.  "Clear skies for your journeys."

Then James moves up, and she turns to clasp his shoulder.  It's like gripping oak, but she squeezes anyway, staring directly into his eyes, a small smile on her lips.  "And my thanks to you, James."  For so many things, not the least of which was faith.

"Gentlemen?"  A question to those who will accompany, and a farewell to those who remain.  And then out the door into the wind and thunder.

As Cyan, and those who would follow her, step out into the storm, Donovan calls after them, "Mind 'ow yer go.  The weather's not bein' too gentle out there terday."

Meredith, almost unnoticed while all of the group had been present, steps out from the shadows behind the door, and approaches the counter.  "If you're not too busy, might I ask you some questions?"


Making their way through the street, which is clearing rapidly in the face of the storm, the rest of the group from the inn make their way back to the marketplace, where they soon spot Trista and Berd, and a man, dressed in shades of darkness, who is all too familiar to some of them, discussing something with one of the men who is working on the gallows.


OOC: Those of you who have followed Cyan should now move to Part 59d - The death tree

Donovan looks up from his quiet conversation with Meredith as his recently departed customers return.

"Back so soon?  Weather's too mis'rable, I 'xpect.  Still, yer'll al'ays get a warm welcome 'ere at the Blue Rose.  If yer goin' ter get wet, then it's better that yer only get wet on the inside's what I say."

"Same again, all 'round, is it?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:28, Mon 21 May 2007.

Devlin moves into the common room first. A drink... The reply outside was only meant for those that might be listening, as he knew Cyan's words were.

Now confronted with the innkeeper he realizes how long it's been since he's had a drink and that it suddenly sounds like a very good idea...

Turning toward Cyan and the others behind him, Devlin notices that Trista has not joined them inside. The man knows that with Berd on her shoulder there isn't really a need for her to be there, but he is disappointed nevertheless. He manages to not let his disappointment show, something else that he has gotten better at in the time since he last saw this group.

...A drink, and a strong one, might taste good, but then again might not be a good idea right now. "Anything will be good" he says to Cyan, since she was the one that offered.

Short and simple comments, he wonders if he's that unused to being with people  for just a moment and lets it pass. Part of him wants nothing more than to relax, let this be an emotional reunion but again that part of him is suppressed as he looks around the inn, discovers the place that is furthest from everyone else in the room, and heads in that direction.

Devlin takes a seat that places his back against a wall and calmly waits for the others to join him.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:56, Tue 22 May 2007.

Trista hears the downpour before she sees it or feels it. Her eyes spring open and a smile catches her features, a surprisingly joyful smile at the rain flooding the streets. She cants her head and eyes Berd, “Now if only I had been standing two feet out, you would have gotten your sudden deluge on me.”


The woman toes off her boots and slips off her socks. The socks tuck inside and the boots set against the wall where, hopefully, they will remain dry. Her backpack also finds itself on the ground, against the wall. There’s nothing valuable in the thing, so she doesn’t worry over leaving it unattended.

The blade remains strapped to her thigh.


Trista looks to the brilliant eyes of the small dragon sitting in the rain, “Well then, we’ll see how much you like being wet.” With two steps of her bare feet, the woman stands in the rain. Her face lifts with open mouth to catch the water. Arms stretch high and wide and then in one motion, she’s running down the street and to the left, decidedly in a different direction from the Market Square.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:06, Tue 22 May 2007.

"Same again, most certainly.  And for my friend."  Cyan waves outside, where the downpour continues.  "Apparantly the weather turned to the worse."  She shrugs, a 'what-can-you-do' smile on her face.

Inside, her stomach is knotted like a sailor's rope.

They don't have much time.  Devlin's plan best work, or...well, that leaves the alternative of power use.  And this close to Amber, she imagines it would garner them a great deal of attention.

Her thoughts open up over the bridging.  And so, Devlin.  You have a plan - will you not share it with us, that we may debate it endlessly?  *amusement*  No.  None of that, no more.  We have little time, and I am weary of committees.  Should it be sound, I would say to put it into action immediately.

She looks down at her hands as they tug a chair out from a table, then rise to give a friendly wave toward the sailors.  Cyan needs to move, needs to do.  She lost two years of life to the Archons, and desires nothing more than to regain that time.  From them, if necessary.

Berd, on the sigh, blows a long, fork-tongued raspberry at Trista.  The rain, falling down upon him, evapourates into steam as it strikes.


The little drake launches himself from the sign and glides through the rain after the running woman.  Behind them, a pair of tiny faerie begin to fly a patrol pattern about the backpack.

When the group is settled Devlin looks at each of them, his head tilted to the side in that odd way he has, collecting his thoughts. He takes a sip of the drink that arrives and says aloud, "It is good to see you again, especially you Cyan. I apologize for not staying longer after, well..." he shrugs.

"Berd tells me that it has only been a short time since you have seen me. It would seem that my road here was a bit longer."

Then through the link he explains his plan as quickly as he can.

"This is what I have in mind:

"There is a major in the guard that is out of town and not expected to return until tomorrow. I can impersonate him, I believe well enough to get into the dungeon of the castle to see Beldrin.

"Cyan, Berd says that you do not want to allow this man to be hanged, so I'm assuming that we'll be trying to free him and not just get in to talk.

"I need an excuse for why this Major, his name is Bers, why he has returned early and why he needs to get in to see Beldrin. Trista, ..." Devlin turns to look briefly at the door and then turns back to Cyan, "...or Cyan, this is where you come in. The story will be that someone killed your family. This major Bers heard the story while out of town and investigated. He believes that Beldrin is responsible. You will be there to identify him as the killer."

Devlin stops briefly here to look around at those assemble to judge the reactions to his plan thus far, but he only stops briefly before continuing.

"There is a tower at the north end of castle's courtyard. We can gain access to the dungeon there and be less conspicuous then trying to enter the castle itself.

"But there are things that I will need help with. The first is more information.

"Cyan, Berd tells me that Beldrin is tattooed. Are these tattoos visible to the casual observer? Or does he usually keep them hidden?" he asks her, but does not stop; He wants to finish before he gives anyone a chance to interrupt.

"And I will need help getting out. While I can get in and bring someone with me, I have no idea how we will get Beldrin out of his cell or the Dungeon once we get there. We can figure out how to get him out of the cell when the time comes, but out of the castle... that we need to have a plan for before we go in.

"Berd, if you go in with us can you do that traveling trick to get us out once we've located him?

"As I said before, we need to do this quickly, now, while we have the opportunity. There is no time to figure out every detail before hand.

"Any ideas?" and then he finally stops his mental comments, waiting to see what they have to say. But it is obvious from his manner that he is impatient and wants to be moving already.

Devlin knows that if Cyan and the others did not show up when they did, Trista, Berd and himself would likely already be entering the dungeon and he'd figure things out as he went. Not likely a good idea since he really has no idea how to get a comatose Beldrin out of the dungeon. He cannot draw people through shadow the way others can. One of the reasons he travels alone most of the time. It would seem that his way of moving between worlds was a unique gift...

Once again aloud he says, "When I departed I spent some time following what was left of..." His head tilts to the side as the looks at Cyan. There is a smile before he continues, "... the General’s army."
This message was last edited by the player at 22:39, Wed 23 May 2007.

Roman uses the bridging to offer his thoughts on the plan "Any use of power, will draw suspicion towards Amber - and draw suspicion from the Amberites.  If not for that I would suggest use of the Trumps, which some here call palenquet.  Perhaps best would be if Cyan were to go, to draw a palenquet of Beldrin and rescue him by that means after we have left the city, if that can be arranged.  Or at least on a ship about to set sail."

"I hope that this major is not likely to return before we can leave."

It feels good to have someone with whom to banter once again; odd that it should be a small dragon found by happenstance. Perhaps Devlin was right; there is no such thing as coincidence. Perhaps Trista had been drawn to Charyk to meet Berd and the others. Either way, she felt laughter nipping at her throat, along with the shards of rain.


Her mind stays with the bridging as both Cyan and Devlin speak. The woman is also not one for endless planning and so she nods as she runs with Cyan’s wishes to be brief.

The man explains and it hits home. If Trista should go, she would not have to act the part of having her family killed; she’s been there. She still feels the sting of death, but allows the water to flow those unproductive emotions away to concentrate on what all has to say.

After Roman finishes, she adds a brief thought, He will die at sunrise. There’s little time. I am with Cyan in my wish to keep him from that death. He is also being either drugged or magically bound; it’s doubtful he could respond to a Trump calling. If he is magically bound, we need a way to deal with that. That’s all she has for now, her mind begins to explore possibilities for Beldrin’s extrication. She waits to hear from Berd and his methods of travel.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:36, Thu 24 May 2007.

Roman shoots a reply back "Which is it ?  Drugs or magic ?  It matters greatly to any plan"

"Indeed, not so long for us.  I can see it has been longer for you."

Cyan listens to the plan as she sits, keeping expression from her face.  Simple, which was good - simple was best, when encountering unknowns.  She glances to James, wondering what he thought of it - level-headed, James seemed better than she at discerning flaws in strategy.

But Devlin's spoken words throw her, completely; the colour drains from her face, and she looks down at the table.  Outside, flitting from sign to sign, Berd pauses for an angry hiss, and brief anger vibrates through the bridging  "What," Cyan asks quietly, her jade eyes dull, "did you discover?"

You...are correct, Devlin.  I wish to succor Beldrin, not garner information.  The plan seems sound enough, and Berd informs me he is more than capable of removing us from the cell once we have the man.  Transporting us there and away might gather more attention.

Though in truth, I am poor with deception.  In warfare, certainly.  In personal business...I am an actress, but on stage.  Is there another who might be better for this circumstance?  You mentioned Trista.

Beldrin is tattooed, and there, Roman, is why we cannot simply create a palanquet.  The drawings on his skin perform much the same function - if he cannot utilize them, he likely cannot latch onto my call.

Berd...can break magic.  Whether he can break this magic remains to be seen.  I would rather someone with a more solid method of doing so accompany Devlin.  Are you capable of such things, Roman?

Berd continues to 'keep up' with Trista, flitting ahead, waiting, watching her pass, then repeating.  Flight makes certain things so much easier, though the woman is very quick.

"There are any number of ways that would prevent him utilising his tatoos while allowing him to receive.  It requires greater concentration - and sight of the Trump - to invoke it.  And if they are using drugs we may have an opportunity shortly before his execution."  A note of disgust enters his "voice" "It makes for a poor spectacle if the criminal is drugged to the point of stupefaction"

"Shifting through Shadow often cancels local magics.  I have no other means at my disposal that I would trust.  Maybe the touch of the Logrus would disrupt the magic here, but there is no way to tell and even if it did it is likely to be...obvious.

Devlin sees Cyan's reaction to his spoken words and he is immediately sorry for how he chose to speak. He moves the upper part of his body closer to her and says quietly, "I did not mean to upset you, and I apologize if I did so. Please know that I hold no blame with you for things past." Then his voice drops to a whisper, "Let us forget about those things we cannot change."

From what I have seen of Trista, it would be best if she accompanied me. There is something... He suddenly breaks off that thought, almost forgetting that she was with them, in mind if not in body.

...It really needs to be someone that can play the part. I doubt that the male members of this group could fill that role. No offense, but the best choice, that would raise the smallest doubt would be a girl.

Sitting back again he says aloud, "The army scattered, most of the officers are dead, many just slipped away, or become bandits. Some tried to find their way home and some just settled where they were. They are not really of any concern.

"As for their Masters...", the emphasis on the word can only mean the Archons, "... they are too busy fighting among themselves to worry about what happened to the army. And likely too busy with that to pay much attention to this group, at least for the moment."

We do not have the luxury of waiting until the morning. If I am to use this majors appearance it must be before he is expected back and that means now.

Devlin shakes his head and it is not clear if it is about what he'd said verbally or mentally. To himself he thinks that there are still some that will debate until it is too late to act, as it was when he first met them.

I can get us in and Berd says that he can get all of us out. Beldrin's condition will matter little if this is the case.

Trista, Berd, are you ready to go?

While Devlin's patience has grown, it is still short. For him it is past time to react. They need the cover of this storm and it is not likely to last forever. Cyan believes this person must be saved, and with what is at stake, in the end, means that risks must be taken.

Devlin picks up his drink and downs what is left of it. We will contact you shortly and let you know how we fair.

Then he stands, preparing to leave and says, "But I must leave you now as I have an urgent appointment. I will return here later if this is where I can find you. We still have much to catch up on."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:34, Thu 24 May 2007.

She doesn’t know the answers to Roman’s questions, and so she remains silent. In the end, it would seem Berd can break the magic as well as remove them. If it simply mundane drugs then the little dragon should still be able to remove him with Devlin and Trista’s help.

The woman’s eyes keep to the road before her, though she’s certainly aware of Berd’s flitting from sign to sign.


Following the conversation, Trista halts her forward momentum and turns around to head back to the Inn. Her feet splash in cold puddles more quickly. We will be at the Inn in a moment.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:33, Thu 24 May 2007.

Cyan waits for their chosen drinks to arrive at the table, while continuing the conversation in silence with the others.  She remains silent after Devlin's earlier comment.

My main concern with the palanquet is that while it may work, it may not.  And for a fully-functional card, it will take me a solid twelve hours of work.  Should it fail, we will have little time to put another plan into action.

But you make a good point regarding the possibility of it functioning, Roman.  A good general...keeps at least one plan in reserve.  I will commence work on a palanquet once Berd summons sufficient implements to carry out the craft.

I know little of the Logrus - are there risks using it so close to Amber?

She glances up at Devlin, offers him a wan smile and a small nod of the head.  The shock is wearing off, now.  With half an ear, she listens to the discussion of the disposition of the Army, and part of her mourns the loss.  All of those people, torn from their worlds and dragged on her say-so into wars not of their making.  Then abandoned.

A poor, poor general she has been to them.

But it is welcome news regarding the Archons themselves, in any case.  Fighting among themselves.  Perhaps it is too much to hope for that her former liege has fallen.  <i>No.  That one is a survivor, and a powerful one at that.

Devlin, it appears, has made his decision.  Cyan closes her eyes - apparantly the die is cast.  Only physical means will restrain Devlin now, should she so desire (and in truth, she does not).  It is one of the man's great strengths, and in turn, a great weakness, much as all strengths and weaknesses are flip sides of the same coin.

"Good day, sir."  Cyan rises.  "I trust your appointment will go well."

Trust.  Trust Devlin.  Trust all of them to carry out whatever tasks they see fit.  Trust is something the Archons do not have.  It is the questors' greatest weapon against them, in fact.

Outside, Berd sits on a sign, watching as Trista pauses.


Then the little drake begins the flight back toward the inn, following the running woman.