Aisling and Reid end a dance close enough to each other.  The moth makes her way over, with a slight bow, "Lord Harlequin, your handling of these traditional dances is refreshing..."  She grins.
            Dance, talk, it's all fine by her.

Reid arches an eyebrow. "There are few in our generation who practice such traditions, much less recognize them. Forgotten diversions from forgotten times. But tell me of your own schooling? How is it that you come to know the ways of old? Or is it just that my ways are different enough from current standard that they are recognizable by those departures?"

"I regret that it is mainly the second," the moth gives him regretful answer, then quirks her head a bit, a thought occurring, "Though it occurs to me that between the two of us, we could put together a sort of 'phylogeny of dance', as it has diverged in Amber and in one of the Courts...  With enough experimentation, of course."  She's grinning brightly, laughter in her eyes.

"All dances lead to Amber. Or something along those lines," Reid chuckles.

"Do all dances come from Chaos?"  Aisling muses, and then smiles. 

"There are times that I suspect they do." He returns her smile. Looking at the more formal dances around the room, he concludes, "But perhaps this is not one of those times."

"Have you ever been there, my lord?"

"Chaos? I've been close, I think. The field where my father died was far removed from most shadows I'd previously experienced. I had no cause to venture further once I found his grave, and the journey back took significantly longer than I had anticipated." As always, Reid is pensive about the duration of his absence.
            Turning the subject around he asks, "What about you? Were you born there? Or closer to here but with chaos in your blood?"

Since this does not appear to be migrating towards an offer to dance, Aisling has set the conversation to migrating away from the dance floor, towards the finger food area.  She speaks quietly, "I think I was created in the Court farthest from....  Closest to Amber of any.  But as for the chaos, it is my understanding that chaos is the basic state, and it is the t-aste (clearly at the last moment one "t" word was swapped for another) of Order that is shaded over it."

"I don't doubt that a bit. But I do find your juxtaposition a tad confusing. Which is it? Farthest from? or Closest to? It is seldom both. At least, not now days. Perhaps again soon. If you are saying that you were conceived in this castle, then that is only slightly novel, given Oberon's habit of straying from the royal bedchamber. On the other hand, if you are saying that the Courts of Chaos and Amber are one in the same, I suspect such statements would annoy those other than yourself who have walked from one to the other." Reid doesn't mean this as an attack, but he doesn't seem too willing to get philosophical on the matter either, at the moment.

Aisling looks thoroughly bewildered.  "I don't /think/-- I'm pretty sure King Oberon had no part in my creation..."  She trails off, looking somewhat appalled.

"You can never be sure now days..." Reid replies amusedly.

The moth's lips twist wryly, "And what about your own parents?  What were they like?"

"Sometimes I felt like I had three of them. My father and his twin brother were inseparable. I think at times my mother felt like she was missing out on his affection, but she never made a show of it. She taught me art and the finer points of education, while my father's wild passion for music also seems to have rubbed off on me.
            "He was boisterous -- always playing at the pubs. I'm sure as a toddler I spent many an evening significantly past my bedtime under the tables at various bars while the musicians called out one tune after another until they ran out of notes. Mother would scold him for keeping me out so late, but he always shrugged it off," Reid recalls.
            "Finndo didn't seem to have my father's musical ear, but he was out nonetheless. Usually chasing some bar wench and drinking up a good time. I think he gambled too, but the matter was never discussed openly, and I was too young to recognize such things."

Aisling is thinking, wow, that would be really neat.  She's kind of happy by proxy, listening to him reminisce, and prompts him further, "Was Benedict young, then, too?  Did you learn arms and music together?"

Reid considers, "Benedict was older, certainly. I like to say that he got his strength in part because he had those two as older brothers picking on him. He trained me a bit... I got almost all of my foundation in defense from him, but it was never a subject I fully devoted my attention to. I know he wasn't happy when I went off seeking my father's grave... half way to Chaos and traveling alone. Of course, he was probably right, as I spent who knows how long trying to find my way back."

"So he was wise even then," Aisling says with a small smile.  "It is odd to think of him as a young man...  Who taught Benedict the sword?  Or was that long before your time?"

"I think he learned a fair amount from his brothers at first. I imagine he studied with every master he could find to learn the full encyclopedia of techniques and strategies that he now knows." Reid replies.

"Did you study with Oberon's Court Artist, Dworkin?  He was at Oberon's funeral..." Aisling asks and offers, somewhat curious.

"I was one of Master Dworkin's students, yes. It is good to know that he is still breathing. I suppose that makes him only the second person from my youth who has weathered the years betwixt then and now. My study with him was cut short by my impatience to find my father. It would be good to see the old artist again, though. Perhaps our paths will re-cross yet." Reid ponders.

Aisling smiles a bit, pleased to have brought good news.  "I did not speak with him myself, but I noted that the others of the Knights of the Ruby, save of course for Sir Marius, did.  As did also many of your aunts and uncles; 'twas Dworkin who watched over those paying their respects to King Oberon's casket."  She looks solemn again.

"I recognize your grief for the loss of the old king, but cannot share in it." Reid seems sincere in his apology. "Directly or indirectly he caused my father's death. While I know that  such treachery is to be expected within the family, and often even forgiven, I have no cause to celebrate his memory. Perhaps if I had seen him before his death I could have set aside old grudges, but such reconciliation has been thwarted by the timing of my return from my own banishment."

Aisling frowns.  "I do not think such treachery is to be expected," she murmurs.

"Well, from the tales I've heard I think there's definitely precedent... Brand was killed by family for betraying family (dragging Deirdre with him); Corwin & Bleys would have taken Eric, and Eric did nasty things to Corwin; Finndo and Osric were betrayed by Oberon, and there may be reason to suspect his hand in Moins' death. Those are just the ones I've heard about... The body count may be low considering the centuries they span, but I think there is something to be learned from history if one has enough perspective. Then again, maybe it's a cynical curse of having lived so long myself." Reid smiles sadly, clearly willing to allow that perhaps he is wrong, if it will put Aisling at ease.

"I do not know all of the circumstances surrounding the casting of Prince Brand from the light, but of the other actions of your uncles that you mention, none seem to me to be betrayals of each other."  Aisling regards him, and then changes the subject, "But it is exceedingly rare for me to get a chance to dance, and I have thus set my mind with joy to fill these hours thusly..."

"Then dance it shall be." Reid sets down his drink and offers his hand, and away they go...

Aisling smiles warmly at him.

It seems reasonable that, after Brennan has danced a bit with Cambina, spoken with Bleys, and danced a bit more; and after Random has taken Lilly for a spin around the floor as well; that Brennan would ask her for a dance as well.
            It's amazing how gracefully they can move, and keep all those damned blades from banging against each other and getting in the way, I'd bet.  And I bet they get a *really* wide clearance on the floor.
            "Enjoying the evening, Dame Dragon?"

"So far it has been agreeable. Of course that is causing me no end of worry. Sooner or later I know something needs to happen to keep this coronation from being too perfect." Thankfully Brennan has spent enough time with Lilly to know that despite the straight delivery the comment is being made (mostly) in jest.
 
"Evening ain't over yet," he drawls.  "Give it time."  A mischievous glint appears in his eye.  "For instance, Daeon's not here yet."

Lilly's eyes reflect that glint straight back to Brennan. "Hmmm... true enough. After the outfit he wore on our last outing I can only imagine what he might come up with for an event such as this."

Brennan shudders visibly.  Perhaps even exaggeratedly.
            "The mind scarcely has the courage to boggle," he says.

Brennan thinks he hears a sound comes from Lilly that sounds rather suspiciously like laughter. And it was rather girlish laughter at that. Perhaps it was some trick of the ballroom. Or maybe, just maybe, her stoicism was beginning to give way.
            "It is perhaps a good thing Vialle is blind. One could only imagine her expression if he were to enter the ball sky clad. Half the people here would be wisely running in fear I am sure."

"Doesn't matter.  She'd know.  Somehow, she'd just... know," Brennan says.  On a more serious note, though, he continues, "Sooner or later, someone has to bite the bullet and see where those flowers lead," he says.  "Since it doesn't look like it's on anyone else's To-Do List, that leaves us."
            'Us' in this context is pretty obviously the set of people with ruby decoder rings.

"I see onto serious business are we? All right." Lilly takes a moment to pull forth the proper information from her mind. "Those flowers are in some way my responsibility. They were born through my actions after all. So if no one else is willing then I shall go." Lilly's delivery is calm, even, very matter of fact. Obviously she has given this some thought.

Brennan has the grace not to shrug while dancing with his cousin.
            "I didn't want to get into the whole thing, actually.  Just wanted to mention it, with the intent of rounding the bunch of us up at a more appropriate time.  Perhaps before we're all assigned new tasks by Random.  Better to get forgiveness than permission, after all."
            There's still a glint in his eyes-- just a different one, now.

"Agreed. And even if Random does not shuffle the deck, his Queen might. It will be interesting to she how she will handle her time in regency. From what I understand the politic climate in which she was raised is far different from the one here in Amber."

"Yeah.  I've been trying not to think about that, but you're probably right.  All the more reason to come to our collective decision and implement it, before we're told not to."

Lilly answers with a very slight nod. She does not want to interfere with the dance after all.

Having injected the one bit business business he wanted to get across, Brennan is happy to go back to lighter conversation if Lilly is.

Perhaps surprisingly Lilly seems content to revert to small talk. Her smile seems to be showing itself quite a bit more tonight then usually. If Brennan listens closely enough he might even hear her laugh once again.

"How are your duties with the Queen finding you?  For that matter, how is the Queen?  I haven't really had the chance to talk with her."
            For Brennan that's small talk.  It's pretty obvious from tone and body language that he's not pressing for any particular information, just making conversation.

"It is not an all together boring job. And it gives me time to pursue other interests. Which is something I am grateful for. It is also something of a learning opportunity, Vialle and I are far different people with far different concerns. That's not always a bad thing though. I'm certain you can understand that." Evidently Lilly is feeling down right chatty tonight. Or maybe her attempts at small talk merely lead to rambling.

"Actually, that's a job I'd really want to be boring.  I take it she's not fighting you or making the job more difficult than it needs to be?"

"No. She has been most cooperative. It will be interesting to see if that changes once she is the Regent."

"I've been trying to forget about that.  Which is very difficult, since I'm also trying to figure out what motivated that at the same time.  I do wish His Majesty would deign to inform his Knights Commander about his plans.  They might be able to help him."

Lilly finds her smile once more. Sometimes it was good to not be the only properly paranoid person in Amber.

"But, all the better reason to get done what we need to get done.  And leave enough here to assist in what needs assisting, if possible.  Still, from what little I've seen of her, she may be more reasonable than Random in that regard."

"That would depend. If Vialle believes it is for your best interest she will aid you in every way possible. However, I have the distinct feeling that if she feels you may be hurt or endangered or in any way compromised by a particular action she will do all she can to ensure your well being. I suppose many would consider those to be good qualities."

Brennan's lips never move, but Lilly can imagine him stage-muttering, "I'm not one of 'em," with great accuracy.

"But you and I are in our own ways both warriors. We know danger and hardship can not and should not always be avoided. Still I may be wrong and things may go smoothly."

"Well, we'll just have to make things go smoothly.  That's what we're here, for right?"  He gives a bright grin more Bleysian than he realizes.  "So it must apply to us, too!" 

In a more serious mode, he adds, "So much of managing up the chain of command is in the Fourth Rule.  We better be careful-- one day the Knights are going to be using that tactic on us."

The mischievous glint makes another appearance in Lilly's eyes. "I remember Jade would complain when I was a child that the worst thing about raising an intelligent child was the constant danger of being out smarted. We just need to insure we never name a knight who is smarter then I am. That should take care of things."

"Not even if you meant smarter-alecked...."

There is a smile in Lilly's expression even if it is absent from her lips.  Then without much notice, there is a slight change of subject. "I do have more to deal with then just the King and his Queen. I suspect my father has plans for me as well. He can be like that sometimes. It seems I may have to take up juggling."

"There does seem to be quite a lot of that going around," Brennan says with an understated scowl of sympathy.  "It's a condition from which I find myself blissfully exempt.  So far."  He looks as though he'd knock on wood if there were any in reach, and it wouldn't disrupt the flow of the dance.  "If you should find that becoming a problem, let me know.  I don't know what I could do, exactly, but something might present itself."

"I'll keep that in mind." Obviously Lilly has absolutely no idea what good it would do either but for the moment she is willing to keep an open mind. At the very least Brennan could serve in the capacity of friendship. Every needed a shoulder to lean on now and again.

Then, on related serious note, touching on prior business, "I should note, their Royal Highnesses aren't the only ones I haven't bothered to ask or inform, yet."  By sheer happenstance, a white-garbed, winged Masquerader happens to be in Lilly's field of view when Brennan says that.

"Ah." Lilly stiffens slightly. Uncle Julian still managed to make her uncomfortable. Her almost killing his son had gotten their relationship off to something of a bad start. "It is still possible that he has a few of the answers we seek. He is not however exactly forthcoming with his knowledge though I've noticed."

The Fox gives his vulpine grin.  "Partly covered, cousin.  That base is partly covered already.  His other son is a partner in crime, remember."

Lilly nods and agrees.

Any cousins monitoring the actions of the red-haired contingent note at some point after the king and queen's dance that Conner is approached by the tall gentleman dressed in greens and browns and sporting a large battle axe across his back and a smaller war hammer at his side.  The gentleman's tan mask is decorated with blue war paint and covers most of his face.  His brown hair is drawn back in a simple queue so as not to detract from the mask.  The gentleman offers a drink to Conner and the two proceed to walk around the ball room, talking.
            For those nearby, the following snippets of conversation can be heard...

The gentleman makes several comments on the array of interesting costumes and notes, "Your dragon is of a style unknown to me.  It is most intriguing."
             The Viking lord continues, "I was speaking with the Emerald Lady Sorceress earlier in the evening about the patterns of life. What advice would the Noble Dragon have in pursuing life's little patterns?"
            "To keep one's eyes sharp and one's mind focused on the goal." Conner replies.
            "Sound advice for any situation, Lord Dragon." The Viking pauses to sip his drink and then continues, "I am not sure when the Lady Sorceress plans on leaving for the pattern dance or even how long it would take. Would you be going with us or need assistance here from would-be dragon slayers?"
            "As yet I am undecided."  Conner replies sipping his drink.  "On the one hand, such a dance is a unique experience not to be missed and yet I cannot help thinking that with so many going it would be wiser to watch things here."
            "But if there is any...difficulty here, would it not be better to be with the group?"   
            "That all depends on who goes and who stays."  Conner smiles.

"Any in particular you would... dance with?"            

"I have always been one to stick with my family."  Conner replies.

"Except tonight you have also chosen to be more gregarious and spread your smile around to others outside of the Family." The Viking smiles softly. "Not that it isn't your normal disposition. Who is the young Lady I have seen you with this eve?"

"My Lady Sphinx?"  Conner chuckles.  "That is Thalia of Gateway.  During our mutual exile in Rebma we found we enjoyed each other's company and still do."  He smiles.

The Viking appears to bristle protectively for a moment and almost growls, "Are you handfasted?"

"Ask me that question in a calmer manner and you might get an answer."  Conner replies with a mild tone of reproach.

The Viking looks over the crowd and Conner can hear a woosh of deep breathing. "I apologize, Lord Dragon. I would not want anyone trifling with your affections."

Conner nods.  "Understood.  As it is, she does not.  I could not have made my escape from Rebma without her.  More than most I trust her."

"Then I will trust her." the Viking says in Brita's voice.  Switching back to the gruff voice, the Viking continues "If she helped you take flight, I could see why you might wish to remain to help protect her from deep water..."

Conner nods.  "She is a strong swimmer and has a gift for knowing the prevailing currents."  He comments.  "If I do choose to leave, I won't worry too much."

"I will make sure to contact you before we leave or when I get a more definitive schedule. I hope the rest of your evening is enjoyable." and with that[assuming no further input from Conner], the Viking bows and takes his leave.

Some few dances after the pavane, Ossian approaches Paige. He bows and offers his arm "Would a dragon descend to dance with a poor desert dweller?"

"Poor in wealth or poor in spirit, my good nomad?" Paige asks, her answer obviously a yes, as she begins to walk toward the floor with him.

"Poor in colour, I guess." Ossian muses "Though I always match my dance partners, who tend to be more colorful."

Paige chuckles softly, "I've always found you rather colorful, Sir Wanderer."

"I will take that as a compliment."

Paige smiles, letting him know it was meant as such.

"Are we enjoying ouselves this evening?"

Paige's slight hesitation is hidden by her turn to step into line for the next dance. "It's the Royal Order of the Day, isn't it? How could I do any less for the Crown?"

"That is an order not necessarily easily followed. Depends on other people..." Ossian trails off for a second when the dance doesn't allow him to face Paige. "But then most people find it wise to be nice to a dragon, I guess?"

"I assume your evening is going well? You seem to have your share of partners this evening," she comments.

"Oh, it's been even better than I expected. There are pleasant surprises to be found in this room."
            "Speaking of dance partners, how are your two companions doing? The red dragon and the hawk, I mean?"

"Well, last I saw them. Which I must admit has been over an hour now," she answers as the figures allow. "Last I saw Ying she was tripping the light fantastic with Sir Fox," Paige comments conspiratorially. "Which I think is a wonderful pairing. Perhaps he can cure some of her social hesitation and she some of his cynicism."

"Oh. Hopefully they don't dull each other down in the process. As it is their personalities add new shades to the court."

"There's more brightness in Lilly than she knows and most expect," Paige suggests.

"I will take your word for it. Dragon's don't lie, do they?" he offers as a jest.  "There is a fire in her, I've noted. Still, I haven't noted any brightness.  I will keep my eyes open for it."

"Doesn't the sun light your desert as well as warm it, my nomad?" she asks rhetorically.

"It does." Ossian says "But all fire isn't visible."

"The hawk was stolen from my clutches during a dance earlier and to be honest, I haven't seen him since. A winged god saw fit to chastise me for discussing family matters with the raptor," she explains, now scanning the room for Merlin as the dance allows.

"The winged god? What about the devil? It can't easy with both of them involved?" there is compassion in Ossian's voice.

"I think that, not for the first time in my life, the devil's on my side," Paige chuckles warmly. She seems genuinely touched by Ossian's concern.
            "And it wasn't any conversation about a clutch of eggs, but about a broken artifact, that raised the god's ire." She shrugs as much as the dance allows without being obvious. "Perhaps I was corrected for good reason, but it still stings."
            "And what of your evening, my dashing nomad? What have you gleaned from this night of revelry to fuel your creations on the morrow?"

"The Huntress," Ossian says with a slight dreaming voice "watch her dance!  She shows much more of her true self in the dance than I have ever seen from her elsewhere. And she has been hiding a lot!"

"I wish I might know many of my cousins better than I do," she agrees. "For instance, in your travels of Shadow, have you ever been to Uxmal?"

Ossian's eyes narrow for a moment.  "No, I don't think so. Can't be sure of course. I was taken through a lot of places when I was a kid. I might have been there while I was asleep. Why do you ask about that place?"

"I uncovered a Trump of it. Seems it's where Brennan was raised," she says noncommittally.

"Brand left a Trump of Uxmal?" Ossian asks.

"I'd be careful of that name here, good nomad," she warns. "But it was indeed found in the green rider's rooms shortly after the Sundering."

Ossian shrugs. He obviously does not think a name can be particularly dangerous.

Paige's eyes move to non-family members dancing nearby.

"What do you know of that Shadow?" she asks quietly.

"Very little. It's supposed to be dangerous. Now I am more or less convinced that it is." Ossian answers in a hushed voice. "I have some stuff, maybe I should show it to you, and to the fox. Nothing we should talk about here."

Paige nods.

"Have you been there?"

"No, in fact I had never hear the name until earlier today," Paige says. "My teacher instructed me in a place he called Vastmark."

"Vastmark? It feels familiar. What is it like?"

"A great valley of clansmen and nomads. Very self-sufficient, one might call it almost simple. But in that simplicity, some of the most complex people I've ever met," Paige smiles, "Outside of family that is."

Ossian nods.  "I think we passed through that place a few times."

"I can only think that his fascination with character studies there was helping him create a Trump of a nephew he had never met."

"Ah. You are probably right about that one." Ossian says "Who was it he hadn't met?"

Paige goggles for a moment before nodding toward Martin, "The dark swan."

"Ok. I didn't know that..." Ossian nods and then continues quietly "Anyways, I think we might want to check Uxmal. That Trump, was it hidden somewhere? I mean it's very possible he wanted someone to find it."

"I had to do some digging to find it," Paige says. "Reynard has it for the moment," indicating cousin Brennan.

"Reyn... " Ossian looks confusd for a second. "ah."

"What would we be checking Uxmal for, nomad?"

"Well, if I'm right... that is if the Trump was left behind for someone to find"  Ossian says "then there is something to be found there. Maybe a trap, maybe something else. And there is the stuff I have.
            "The Devil seems to think that some of the green rider's plans are still hanging on despite the originators' death."

Paige nods, "It's not unlikely, but such concerns are the reason I had hoped my foxy cousin might accompany me there."

"Are you planning to go there soon?"

"It depends on the Sultan's plans for me during the Regency. I find it doubtful, unless something comes up," she concludes.

"But you intend to go there at some point?"

Paige nods.

"I'd like to accompany you there" Ossian whispers.
            "Think about it." he adds before Paige can answer.

"What stuff do you have?" she asks quietly.

"I have some papers written in the language of Uxmal. Fiona thinks they cover something metaphysical, but couldn't tell for sure." Ossian answers "I found them among the remains of Brand's room.
            "I don't know who wrote them."

"Again it seems that such questions lead us to Maestro's son."

"Yes. Heh. My relationship with the fox is not exactly relaxed. I might need a mediator." Ossian shrugs "The presence of a dragon would help."

"Ah, haven't you heard? Do not meddle in the affairs of dragons..." she begins with a smile.
            "But, no matter. I'll talk to him for you later. Of course, my relationship isn't ideal, either," Paige explains. "I think he's uncomfortable around anyone who didn't paint his father the villain. In fact it surprises me how well he gets along with my own father."

Ossian nods. "I don't blame him. Our tutor was obviously not the nicest father."

Having wandered back in from the garden – yet again – Robin looks around the Grande Hall, her eyes not fixing on anything in particular, perhaps still a little overwhelmed and over-stimulated.
            With a ruffling of her shoulders, she takes herself once again to the side room cum bar.  There she gets herself a gin in a decent-sized glass (not quite a pint) and another drink that she has to describe to the bartender by scent and taste, having only had it once before.  In a certain cousin's room.
            These she carries with her back out into the main room and casually strolls with natural grace Reid-ward.

Reid has half a glass and is vaguely trying to be discrete about watching the musicians play. He's not very successful, as it's pretty obvious what he's up to. He awakens himself from his thoughts as Robin approaches.

Robin takes in Reid's glass and the former direction of his attention, and rolls her eyes at herself.  Here she was trying to be polite, and what she achieves is redundant and disturbing.  A rueful chuckle shakes her frame, somehow that seems apropos for her. 
            But she's determined not to hide in the wings anymore, so the girl holds out the glass that matches the drink Reid made for her just the other day.  "I, uh, wanted to repay you for your help.  I passed my test."  She smiles uncertainly, feeling more than a little awkward.

Reid smiles, downs the rest of his drink and accepts the glass she offers.
            "Congratulations. As a teacher, I always take pride when my pupils perform well. Was there a reward for your success? Or was the success its own reward?"

Robin cocks a very Julianic eyebrow at hearing herself referred to as Reid's pupil.  Thoughts dance behind her green eyes, but she decides to let it slide.  Prickly, prickly Robin, calm down.
            "There was a reward."  The girl chuckles.  "My father didn't think I was slacking.  Always a good thing."  She grins.

"Indeed. One's bond with a father is valuable," Reid agrees.  "And otherwise? Are you adjusting to the size and scope of either the family or the castle itself? It can be a bit much if you're not used to it," he confides.

"Tell me." Robin chuckles, though there's a edge of hysteria in her laughter.  Then she quickly gets it under control.  "I don't know if I'll ever adjust, Reid.  But maybe, maybe I can adapt.  It's all... a bit much for this forest girl."
            She flaps her hand toward the Grande Hall, the swirling currents of plots and politicking, the leviathans of her kin cruising through the lesser sharks and barracudas leaving wakes and eddies within the enormous echoing and stone-captured space.
            "Verde!" Robin swears quietly under her breath as her perceptions play another one of those games with her.  And she takes a quick slug from the glass in her hand.

Reid sees the apprehension. "I'm guessing that soon enough we'll be off again, scattered to the four winds. Do you traverse shadow yet? Or have you not walked the Pattern?"

Robin nods distractedly, then consciously breaks away from the scene before her to turn back to Reid with a embarrassed smile for letting her attention wander.  "Uh... Oh, yes.  I get around a little in Shadow.  I'm not a big trip-taker or anything.  But yes, I'm initiated."

"Well then, for your sake, let's hope you don't have to endure the castle for too much longer." Reid suggests sympathetically.

Robin looks up at him with big green eyes, which then drop bashfully.  "Thank you, Reid."
            Deliberately, though not without some tensing, Robin turns her back on the political feeding frenzy out on the dance floor to look at the orchestra.  When she speaks again, her voice is small and hesitant.  "Reid?  Do you ever worry that the Amber you left... isn't the one you returned to?  I mean, in more than the metaphorical / time's passed sense?"

Reid takes the matter fairly seriously. "I have my suspicions that there is a place for us that is MORE like home than where we currently stand. I haven't been able to prove it, and it's a matter of metaphysics that I'm not as well versed in. I have been to a nearby shadow that felt more right, but there was no castle... and no pattern, so I'm not sure what it was."

The girl cocks her head, a surprised chirrup escaping her.  Her green eyes dart sideways to the teacher, then back to the orchestra.  A quick series of thoughts dance through Robin's mind, evidenced by a series of head twitches accompanied by the brief fluttering of her free hand.
            Still looking at the orchestra, Robin sighs.  Reid... scarily ancient, and yet an outsider like herself.  Not one of the leviathans behind her.  The girl speaks again in a *very* quiet tone of voice.
            "I... I think I've been there.  Painted.  No sound except for the water."  She waves her hand absentmindedly by her ear.  "But... waiting, hesitant first breath before the anthem peals.
            "And the way I got there.  It *should* have brought me *Home.*" Robin is very definite on that point. 
            "And..." the girl's voice drops to a whisper, a breath that is quickly swirled away and diffused into the air of the ballroom.  Reverence is in her tone even as Robin does her best to make sure her next statement has no life at all beyond the two of them, "I saw the Unicorn there."

Reid nods knowingly. "I did not see her, but I felt her gaze. Brita and I found that place on our way here. I, too, thought it was home. So, at least two of us have found it independently, while not seeking it directly.
            "I have shown it to Cambina and Paige. I also tend to wonder if some of our missing citizens may be finding natural paths there through Arden. That is something I'd like to investigate... Perhaps with your father's permission and the approval of the king, I could request your aid in that area. Brita has not walked the path, so while I am comfortable with her handling some of Arden's affairs, I feel you could be more valuable in this task. If, that is, it is something you yourself are interested in pursuing?"

"The paths in Arden *are* shifting.  But I don't think they are leading There."  Robin's green eyes dart up to Reid's.  "There were no people in That Place, Reid.  I looked.  No sound of ax, no rising smoke.  The only life beyond the green was one small creature that I created.  Oh, and a solitary footprint in a most... singular place."
            "And though I really *would* be interested in pursuing this, I... investigation in Arden will be difficult in the near future.  Neither Brita nor myself will be available.  For a while.  Uh, neither will Arden."

Reid looks mildly surprised. "I'm usually fairly good at seeing the big picture, but I'm afraid I'll need a little bit more information on that..."

The Huntress shifts uncomfortably as a lifetime's training in not talking wars the new glasnost.
            "Listen, Reid.  It's not my tale to tell, so I... can't.  I just can't."  She shakes her head as she looks over to the man, her eyes sad.  Training has won out.
            "I'll understand if you don't want to tell me about this citizen leak.  But I'd appreciate it if you did anyway.  I may not be able to do anything about it.  But on the other hand, if there's something going on in Arden," the girl chuckles grimly, "I'd like to know before it becomes critical.  Or fatal."

"Oh, it came fairly close last week... I went to investigate with a friend. We came across some citizens on the move. The person leading them wandered off, then came back after dark to ambush the lot of us. I could only handle one before having to trump out. I took a prisoner though, and have gotten a little bit of intelligence. Just not enough..." Reid replies.

"Some citizens.  On the move through... Arden?  And they were led into an ambush?"  Robin has dropped the pretense of watching the orchestra and turned to face Reid.  She's being very, very careful to make sure that she understands.  In the depths of her eyes, a cold fire is starting to smolder.

"Yes, there is evil lurking in Arden. Though if the forest is not going to be around much longer, that might negate the need for investigation." Reid suggests, only half jokingly.

"Arden is eternal."  The Ranger wishes she could make that statement stronger, but lately her ideas on what is eternal have been... changed.  It *used* to be a maxim, now it's merely a matter of belief and hope.  She smiles to Reid.  "She will be around.  She just won't be as... accessible."
            "And Brita and I will be within the inaccessibility.  Anything you can bring yourself to tell us, Reid, would be helpful."

Reid ticks off a few items on his fingers...
            "The man I have in custody is called Turf. He says he worked for Girth. Girth pays his other bandits, so Turf suspects the captives are sold."
            2: "Many of the attackers were on horseback. So they've got the facilities and funding to keep such. That may limit where they could be based."
            3: "There were men-at-arms following the wave of horsemen. I think the leader, or someone relatively high up has some military training... I'm sure they all have experience with that mode of attack from going after other citizens, so the operation has seen some practice. Still, someone had to come up with the methodology in the first place. So I'm thinking someone with military training. Perhaps even someone of rank if they can lead such a troupe effectively."
            4: "When we were left, we were off the trails by a ways. I could probably get you close to where we departed, but it might take a little bit of searching to find the place of the actual attack if you wanted to track them. We were probably a decent distance down a stable shadow path before the strike itself, but I might be able to give you a starting point. I could at least get you as close as the nearest point in Arden proper."
            Reid sighs. "I think that's all of the detail I can muster for now. My prisoner may know a bit more, location-wise, or might be able to provide some further description. He's, um, recovering right now but might be available for further questioning in a couple of days."

The Huntress' cold, green eyes have narrowed to slits of demon-fire within the blackness of her face paint.  An unconscious and sub-vocal growl rumbles in her throat.
            "I won't have days to wait.  But if you can describe the path and the ambush spot, I can find it."  No uncertainty about that at all.  "Military action.  Human poaching.  In Arden." 
            Robin is quivering she's so mad.  An actual snarl rips out of the girl.  Followed by an explosion of gin and glass shards as the frail vessel in her right hand finds itself unable to cope with the Ranger's clenching fist.

Reid is not surprised by the burst of emotion and making no big deal of it, offers Robin a handkerchief to soak up any spilled gin or blood if she wishes.

Robin looks around, surprised.  Something's changed.
            When Reid offers his handkerchief, the girl finally figures it out.  "Oh! Uh, thank you."  Ducking her head, she accepts the handkerchief with embarrassment.  There's not much blood, but a fair amount of gin.  Robin pats at herself, as though she's done this before.
            Then the girl carefully squats, and cupping the handkerchief in one hand begins to pick up the pieces of glass from the floor around herself. 

Reid then proceeds to describe the locations involved in the best detail his artistic memory can muster.

The girl nods as she works.  "Yep.  I know where to start looking."  She's trying hard to keep the anger down.

"I do recommend you bring a family member or two. I do not doubt you could handle a dozen or more by yourself, but we really don't know how many soldiers they might have..."

Robin looks up at Reid.  And stands back up with a sigh.  "Yeah.  Okay.  Dad'll need to know anyway.  He probably won't be as liquid in his reaction.  But I'm sure he'll want a piece too."  The Huntress is transmuting her anger to a rather grim humor.  Arden's soil will be drinking blood before too long.
            "Thank you.  I appreciate it."  The Huntress smiles to the Harlequin, unfortunately it's not too pretty a smile.  That changes in a flash to concern.  "Oh!  You said you Trumped out.  Your friend?  Did they get out too?"

"Yes, I was able to bring her through with me, escaping any serious injury." Reid reassures. "But speaking of Trumps, please accept one of mine. If you find out anything urgent, or need reinforcements, you need but ask." Reid offers a singular card from the pouch at his belt.

"Reid!" Robin's breath goes in with startled gasp.  The girl looks at the card in the Harlequin's hand warily, almost as if he were offering her a frog.  In fact, Robin would be a *lot* less hesitant if Reid *did* offer a frog.  "Uh..." She presses her lips together as she thinks.  She's been outed, she's Family now, Family deals with these things.
            "O-okay.  Thank you."  The Huntress looks up into Reid's masked face with questioning eyes as she tentatively takes the card.

As she accepts the card, Reid takes the moment of exchange to get the glass filled handkerchief back from her. Some minor slight-of-hand might have her believing that he returned the cloth, glass, gin and all back into the pouch with his other cards. He didn't, but it's a clever misdirection.

Robin barely notices the pass off of the handkerchief.  But as Reid does his misdirection thing, the Ranger lets her attention be snagged momentarily by a particularly pretty arpeggio from the orchestra.  The universe hates it when you watch.

"Now, with that out of the way, would you like a dance?"

"But I have to..." The Huntress' voice trails off as she notices the page, done up in his Oriental uniform, approaching with an armful of towels.
            "Thank you.  Sorry about that." She murmurs to the boy.
            Then turns back to Reid.  Green eyes look at Reid.  There's questioning in there as Robin tries to figure out if there's some kind of social debt implied or being called on.  Damn castle!  For a moment, she runs her and Reid's conversation back through her mind.  But in the end, she can't decide.  And it comes down to does she want to dance with Reid?
            "I... don't know any of these dances.  But if you can stand me trodding on your toes, I think I'd like that."  Robin smiles bashfully.

Reid returns the smile. "My feet have walked a thousand shadows. I suspect I will survive."

The Huntress chuckles warmly.  Gently she places her hand on Reid's arm.  It's okay, she's done this twice before.  Successfully.  And Reid is scary by what he is, not by what he's done.  That's unfair to the man, and not a behavior that Robin wants to see in herself.

With that, he leads her onto the floor.
            As a dancer, Reid is a strong lead in the traditional dances. Someone watching without the enhanced perception held by family members would think Robin's dancing was effortless. He takes care to steer her through all the simple moves, and dances around her in such a way as to make her look stunning. All the while, he tries to ease her mind so she can actually enjoy the movement without having to stress over where she's going or what she's doing.

Once Robin's on the floor, music and regular movement swirling around her once again, her smile begins to brighten.  Though, like a nervous hawk, she's not easy to lead at first, tending to resist almost automatically. 
            She keeps her eyes on Reid, patient teacher that he is, and it takes the Huntress a moment to realize that teaching is exactly what is going on.  When she does, a chirruping laugh escapes her.  And she relaxes – being taught, not being directed.  Okay, she can do that.
            With the realization and the laugh, Robin's dancing changes entirely.  From an awkward savage to a force of the wild, the Huntress emerges once again as a natural power.  Even when standing in place, Robin is not still.  The music moves through her body and out her swaying limbs in an expression of freedom in even this most constrained of dances.
            This energy, this wildness is directed toward her stately and noble partner – painting the Harlequin in the colors of stewardship, dignity, husbandry and worth.