As Brennan and Cambina continue to dance, "I did notice Martin.  I thought he was trying to convince everyone else that it was all under control.  I hope he's not convincing himself.  I hope he knows enough to bend and accept help when he needs it, too."

She laughs.  "He's a lot like Bleys.  Not that he would admit it."

Yes," he quips, "But is it Martin who won't admit it?  Or Bleys?"

"Fallacy of the excluded third.  It's both."

"Only excluded for the purpose of a quick shot."

At some point, they are sure to see Vere and Vesper gliding across the ballroom floor, as well.  Brennan gives that a tilt-headed glance for all the world just like a Fox staring into a grammophone.  "Well that was... odd.  Our dear Ghost is behaving badly, isn't he?"
            Not that the Fox, of all people, thinks that's a problem.  The snicker would make that clear to anyone who missed the smirk.

"Yes, he's full of pepper.  She'll turn that to her advantage, though, once she has time to think it through.  She gets 'Supporting the Queen', 'supporting her daughter', and 'member of the royal family' out of it.  Look at who she's on the floor with, family and Gatwegian sorceresses. She's an opportunist; she knows when to change horses.  If the rest of it hadn't happened that night, it would have been her masterstroke, too..."

Brennan seems about to reply with another wisecrack, then parses the tense on that last sentence and reconsiders.  And waits until he thinks it's passed, then, "So, I'm not sure if this is a delicate subject or a clumsy question, but forgive me regardless:  How would you like me to react when your verb tense slips like that?"
            When in doubt, try directness.

She stiffens, slightly.  "Jerod usually acts like he's bringing me out a trance.  Usually, I have no idea what I've said.  What did I say?"

He gives her hand a squeeze that he hopes to be reassuring, comforting, or both, as he leads her to a less florishy set of steps where conversation will be easier.
            "Well, that doesn't sound very pleasant," he says.  "I think you were alluding to something important that happened-- or will happen--tonight.  But that isn't really the point.  This is:  There's probably a place somewhere between treating you like fine crystal, and callous indifference.  I thought I might do less damage asking, then thrashing my way to an answer."
            Implicit in the conversation is that Brennan will continue to see enough of Cambina in the future for this to matter.

"He doesn't mean any harm.  It's sweet in a stupid little brother way, really.  From my point of view, there's a fine line between acting like fine crystal and being a danger to myself and others.  The line isn't that fine, actually.  The only one of my aunts who ever struck a balance was also the brains behind a near-successful coup.  There aren't a lot of positive role-models for Royal Women."  She is smiling, but it's a gallows humor.

Actually, Brennan's ambiguity covered both Jerod's reaction, and the business of not even realizing when she's done it.
            "There's a reason she's my favorite aunt."  A moment later he realizes just how bad that might sound out of context-- or even in-- and he's grateful that the waltz is private.  
            "Let's try that again-- I admire her intelligence and determination."

Cambina smiles, "She's mine as well, although I suspect I'll never be as confident as she is."

"Give it time," he says.  "You remind me of her, in some ways."
            After a bit, semi-random thoughts collide in his mind, and he asks, "Did you know Deirdre well?  I only met her the once, briefly."

Cambina sighs softly.  It is clear to Brennan that Deirdre was not Cambina's favorite aunt.  "I would not say I knew her well.  She had a certain ruthlessness that kept her from being kind to Eric's daughter.  I admired the skill with which she kept both Eric and Corwin balanced.  It was a centuries long dance of manipulation.  I have often wondered if she didn't help push them into their conflict.  And I completely understand why all of her sisters hated her."

Brennan blinks a moment in surprise.  Not disbelief, merely surprise.  "I only had a few moments to form an opinion," he says, "And you make me think she got a much different reaction from men, than from women. I think her death hit Marius very hard, though."

She nods, failing to comment on the obviousness.  "It's hard for me to like someone who almost killed me because it furthered her plans.  She drugged me and left me in her bed to confuse her guardians.  I don't begrudge her her escape from Father, but it was through no kindness of hers that I survived it.  No mortal would have.  I am rather sure she didn't care, or assumed she could talk her way out of father's bad graces later."

"Yeah," he says, "that'd do it," without any of the flippancy of tone that the flat text might otherwise imply.  For obvious reasons.  "I guess that balances the strength of character in Gerard and King Random that brings such warmth and admiration from us.  I barely know Gerard, but I can see the respect from our cousins who remained in Amber.  Then again, maybe it's a reaction-- they are the youngest of our uncles."

She seems happy enough to change the subject.  "Hmm.  Ultimogeniture because only the youngest of them are sufficiently human to relate to us? It's an interesting theory.  Certainly my father saw much more than most people and had trouble explaining to them all the connections and leaps he took to determine what was the best path for their lives.  Should we prescribe a few centuries of amnesia every few centuries to allow ourselves to become reacquainted with uncertainty and humanity?  A harsh prescription, that."

"It can become difficult to relate to people with so much less life experience, in cultures where no one attains that much life experience.  Despite the Brands of the family, it draws me to the City, where I'm still a young man.  Well, young-ish," he says, recalling a much earlier conversation about why Brennan was staying in Amber.
            "But I wasn't thinking of age just eroding compassion.  I was thinking that the younger of our aunts and uncles also grew up surrounded by vastly older, sometimes cruel, family members.  I wouldn't want to bet on it in a poker game, but there might be some sympathy there.  Maybe the prescription is to know life somewhere other than the top for a while, whatever the means."

Cambina nods, clearly considering the theory.
            "And yet, for each cluster of them, was it not the case?  Faella's children were children in the glowering age of the Cymnean Princes, Clarissa's lot were children in the face of Deirdre and Caine and Corwin and, Unicorn help them, Father.  And then you're into the younger elders of your thesis.  Should we then hope for sympathy from all our elders? That seems over-optimistic.  But I don't think we need to worry about a life of limitless success and challenge-free arrogance for them or for us in the foreseeable future."

"Well, it's hard to say.  Particularly for me.  But given the perversity of human nature, I wouldn't expect sympathy all the way up, I'd just expect slightly more on the way down.  The youngest of the older generation had more opportunity to be made pawns of their elders, because there were more of their elders.  And it's modulated by individual temperaments, of course," he adds, before she asks.  "It's probably a bit academic, since I'm not about to put any of them to the question on the subject."
            He considers.  "Well, not tonight."

Cambina snorts.  "It sounds like what Father classified as 'questions you are frequently better off not asking.'  Not that that would've stopped him of course.  He was a strong believer in rules.  For others."

The Fox smiles.  He can appreciate that reaction on several levels.  "I thought more in terms of choosing the right time and place.  Tonight, for instance, they all seem sober enough to remember tomorrow."

Cambina snorts out a small laugh.  "That is not always the ideal criterion upon which to decide to start a conversation.  And I think some of our Uncles are on a pace that will make them wish they could forget tonight, tomorrow.  Not that anyone here will, afterwards."

On that note, Brennan, who had been enjoying his dance and his partner, collects a touch more seriousness about himself.
            When the music for the first waltz is leading toward a conclusion, Brennan again leans down, and keeps a perfectly gentlemanly smile on his face:
            "Cambina," he says, signaling that it's important and not just part of the dance, "Can you please keep that beautiful smile at your lips?"
            Assuming she nods and does so, he continues, "Brita tells Fiona and I that there is... an unlicensed Chaosi present.  Fiona believes her, so I believe her, but we don't know who or why.  We don't want to start a panic, but a few more people need to know."
            He notes the change of partners between Vialle and Fiona.  
            "Random and Vialle must know by now.  Your brother will be informed ASAP.  I'm going to tell Lilly, and then try to find Fiona again.  Can you tell Martin and anyone else you deem appropriate?"

"Of course," Cambina says, without changing her expression, as if it were an everyday thing for a Chaosite to secretly invade the coronation masquerade of the King of Amber.

And somehow, Brennan's really not surprised.  At all.

Robin moves purposely around the crowd toward the garden doors, time for a walk, a brisk walk.  She catches a glimpse of quickly moving russet, framed for a briefly in the open glass doors.  As her green eyes watch, it's a moment before Fox and Moon join her relatives on the still mostly empty dance floor.  The Huntress can't - and doesn't want to - stop the warm smile that crosses her lips.
            Then the Grey moves.  The girl cocks her head with a curious croon as she tracks him across the floor to his desti... his prey!  A snort of laughter is followed by the clap of her hand over the girl's mouth.  Robin turns her back briefly to the floor as her shoulders shake and her eyes dance in merriment.
            Verde!  He's good, he's soooo good at this.  A flush of warmth flows through the girl.  Followed by a thoughtfulness.  This... this is his world.  Robin turns back to the floor, her brow furrowed contemplatively.
            A flash of white in the doorway attracts her attention, her father re-entering with some guy in a Viking costume... something about the way he walks.  Robin cocks her head in curiosity.  But from the angle of her father's shoulders... the Ranger drifts over but keeps well out of earshot and non-intrusively from lines of sight until the end of the waltz.
            As her father and the Viking end their conversation though, and the Viking departs, the girl scoots over to Prince Julian before she loses him again in the crush of people.
            "Sir?  When will we be leaving for Arden?"  Robin bites her lip unconsciously as she waits for the answer.

"Tomorrow or the next day, depending on how business in Amber goes," Julian replies. "I know you are anxious to be home, so we shall not tarry a moment longer than necessary."

"Oh, *thank* you, sir."  Robin breathes out a sigh of real relief.  In the lines of her shoulders, in the shifting of her feet, in the fluttering of her hands, the girl is definitely getting over-stimulated by the crowds and the noise and the smell and the colors and, and, and.
            "Jovian, Kourin and Vere asked me to go flying with them tomorrow half a watch before noon.  And I haven't been able to get with Solange in all this..." Robin waves a hand at the swirling sea of people.  "And Reid said something that might be real bad.  And... Dad?  Can we go somewhere more private?" _More quiet_ "Please?"  Robin rubs her furrowed brow between her eyes.

Robin knows that she has Julian's attention, but he also has an eye on the conversation between Paige, Jerod, and whoever that Viking that Robin's been seeing with hanging around family members this evening is. He is frowning slightly.
            "We will find Solange together, if you like. I believe I saw her waltzing with your cousin Marius a moment ago." Julian watches Jerod and the Viking screen Paige as she does--something. "But just now, let us see what has flushed our flock of red-headed quail."

Immediately, Robin's mind is off her own issues.  She stops fluttering, shifting and crooning nervously instantaneously.  The Ranger doesn't change her position but turns her head slightly so that the bevy is in her rather acute peripheral vision.

Inwardly, Vere is busy calculating his next move.  Originally, he had planned on moving from this dance to one of the other ladies on his list of people he wished to speak with tonight, but in the process of spotting their locations as the waltz ended he's also spotted some intriguing, and potentially worrying, trends in their behaviour and groupings, and he suspects joining any of them would bring unwelcomed attention to them.
            He bows over Lady Vesper's hand, brushing it with his lips through the gauze covering his face, and thanks her once again, before straightening, offering a bow to her companions, and departing.  He takes the opportunity of turning to scan the room, confirming that, yes, he did spot Robin  conversing with her father, and noting the main focus of Julian's attention.  Curiouser and curiouser.
            Making a rapid decision, Vere heads back towards Gerard.  It's the most expected thing he would do, and right now he suspects that behaving normally is a good thing.  And from his vantage behind Gerard he has a fairly good view of the main hall, and perhaps he can begin to put the pieces together and determine just what is going on out there.

As Brennan and Cambina are leaving the dance floor, they find that Martin, with Folly in casual tow, is heading in their general direction.

Brennan slows down enough to let them catch up.  It's a change of plans, but perhaps a necessary one.   He gestures discretely and move the conversation to one of the nooks-- one with a good view of the scene, if possible.

If he can catch Lilly's eye and attract her, so much the better.

Folly smiles a greeting at Brennan and Cambina as she and Martin fall into step beside them.  Her attention seems at least partially elsewhere, though, as if she's keeping track of something out of the corner of her eye -- a process made more challenging, and thus less subtle, by her mask.

Brennan is probably as distracted as Folly is-- but he manages a polite nod and a smile back.
            When the four are all together, he gives a quick glance around the room, recalculates, and replans on the fly.  This time, the plan isn't even going to survive contact with the allies.
            He gives Cambina a shrug that might be an apology for rampant improvisation.

Martin shakes his head subtly to Brennan's gesture towards one of the exits from the Hall.

The mask hides much of Brennan's expression, but the tilt of his head implies, "Have it your way-- next time you'll listen to me."

Cambina glances at Folly, as if divining her intention by something in her bemasked face, and shoots Martin an exasperated look.
            Under his mask, Martin's jaw tightens slightly, but he keeps his tone light, if mildly sarcastic. Folly isn't fooled for a moment by his tone, and neither is Cambina, Folly feels certain. What he says is, "Don't worry, sweetheart, you're safe. I won't ask you for another dance. I'm here to talk to a man about a shadow." He turns his attention to Brennan and is about to continue when Cambina cuts him off.

The swan-bill sweeps the trio and Martin's lips press together in a thin line for about a half second. He says, firmly: "At this moment My Highness is suddenly interested in finding out who I danced Lord Chantris' Galliard with in the middle of the first set, if it wasn't Cambina."
            Brennan has no trouble hearing the capital letters in Martin's invocation of his own title.

Folly looks at Martin, her eyes wide.  She doesn't say anything, but the sudden prickle of gooseflesh visible on her exposed upper arms suggests she might have an idea of what's going on.

No one should have any trouble hearing the sound of Brennan's molars grinding together.

Cambina's voice has taken on a terrible urgency of its own. "I was outside with Marius talking about some odd dreams he's had. Chantris' was ending as we returned."

As Lilly exits the dance floor, she notices Brennan looking her way. Something in his eyes, or perhaps his posture, brings her back from the joy of the dance. It looked like it was time to get back to work and back to reality.
            "I believe the fox over there may indeed be trying to garner my attention.   Shall we go find out what it is that he wants?" It might be time for the real world to step in but Lilly was not quite ready to give up Ossian's company. For whatever reason she found herself wanting to know him better.

"Yes, why don't we?" Ossian says, but his voice lacks that enthusiasm.

Slowly she began to make her way across the floor. There was no sign of urgency in her step. Even if something was wrong there would be little point in calling attention to it, or so she believed. If there had been surely Brennan would not have been so subtle.

The Viking, after talking with Julian for a short while, takes his leave of the Archangel and gets a small glass of scotch.
            As the waltz draws to a close and Jerod and Paige make their way towards that general area of Bleys, the Viking approaches the pair.  "Lady Dragon, Lord... Jerod," he says with a bow, "I am unsure what to term your attire, sir.  An interesting Conflict of Light and Dark.  Perhaps we can discuss the concept over a drink?" and she offers the scotch to Jerod.

By the time the Viking has moved close enough, Jerod knows who it is.  You don't forget someone you spar with.  And no one gets to sword range without Jerod knowing who it is.  (unless Jerod doesn't see them coming, which is another matter).
            The offering of the scotch clinches the impression and Jerod studies the outfit before smiling.  "Indeed." he says.  "I could say the same for your attire...*Lord Viking*." and he accepts the glass, sniffing to determine its background.  "Your attire ensures freedom from custom for the night.  I approve."

The Viking smiles as he sips from his glass of water, allowing Jerod to continue.

"It is a symbol I learned from my arms instructor during philosophy training.  A blending of the Light and Dark, as opposed to a conflict.  They are the elements within each of us.  Do we allow one to become dominant?  Do we seek the middle ground between the pair?  Or do we seek to transcend the pairing, and become more than their sum?"

"Ah, yes.  The light and dark in all of us.  Order and Chaos.  Of course," the Viking turns slightly to survey the room, "there is perhaps one here tonight with much less Order than expected." The capitals are obvious to well-watered characters.  "One should always be on the Alert for an unexpected imbalance towards Chaos."

"Anyone in particular?  Have the usual suspects have been eliminated?" Jerod asks, making a slow motion to scan the room, comfortable that an intruder would not suspect his intentions.  He is doing exactly what is expected of a member of Court during a Court function - checking out the crowd, just as dozens of others are.  And he has his Court face on.

The Emerald Dragon's smile is the same as it was when the Viking arrived, perhaps even a bit broader. It maybe that the Viking has shared some witty remark or complimented the beadwork that went into Blythe's lovely creation.

Acquiring a glass of wine from a passing server, Paige also scans the room for one person in particular, a merlin hawk that might need to take flight. "Perhaps those closest to Chaos might sense the shift best, knowing its source."
            "I'll see if I can find him," Paige suggests with a small covering chuckle.

"Let others know if you can." Jerod says, a polite smile on his face as he bows slightly to her in preparation for her departure.

The Viking bows slightly at Paige as if accepting a return compliment and says to Jerod, "The Hawk and Moth are well known and not close to the fire.  I have had little contact with the Moth's companion and have not actually found him in the crowd yet to know if he is causing any chaos.  The Emerald Sorceress and Sir Fox are spreading the tale with potentially a little Devilish help."  A slight pause and then to Paige, "The Sorceress was thinking that a display of her power might attract too much unwanted attention; even a more subtle move to contain her prey was apparently ill advised."

Paige nods and touches the Viking gently on the arm, "I'll remember that."
            Setting the wine glass down, she shuffles something from within the dragon's tail into her hand, a packet wrapped in emerald silk, about the size of cigarette case. Using the other cousins as cover, she shuffles out her Fortunes, smiling at their cold feel as she locates one of a young dark haired man, sitting at a table. Concentrating on it, her bowed head might be embarrassment or just shyness at the Viking's words.

Jerod chuckles a little, enjoying the act of acting on the greatest stage of them all... all the while still watching.
            "Once the Dragon has finished her meditations, let us go for a walk around, Lord Viking." Jerod says.  "See if we can't find something that doesn't belong."

"Certainly.  A hunt would be fun.  Perhaps you can suggest the best course to lead to success?" the Viking glances out across the room and, noting Lord Julian's gaze, raises his glass and nods in acknowledgement. "The Archangel might provide some experience on a true hunt through the darkness."

The Trump contact comes into focus. Merlin is in one of the many nooks scattered about the side rooms of the Great Hall. He's also terrified, as much of the contact as of whatever he's dealing with. There's a sharp tang of relief as he recognizes the touch of his mentor on his mind.
            "Bring me through. Now," Merlin says, and extends his hand. It doesn't sound like a request.

"A bit flashy," Paige whispers to her friend.
             "Can you wait until I get someplace quiet?" she asks, moving for the closest secluded place she can see, the card palmed now.

"No."
            Merlin appears almost on top of Paige, in what little space there is between her and Jerod and the Viking. He's wild-eyed, and the Viking can smell the sharp scent of fear on him.

It happens that Aisling is where Marius and Solange step off the dance floor.   "You danced together like a warm summer's day," she remarks with a smile, inclining her head to them.  "Allow me to take a moment to remark on the excellence of your costume, my lady; I am very much impressed by the articulation of your wings."

"Articulation," Marius murmurs with an amused quirk of the lips.

Solange chooses to ignore whatever Marius might be insinuating, since she finds herself annoyingly unable to discern what it might be.  She responds to Aisling:
            "Thank you!  It looks more complicated than it really is -- the mechanism's similar to an expandable hat-rack.  I like the way you've managed your own wings, myself."

Aisling's own wings swish a bit, her streamers clearly having been on their way to do something, and she turns her head and stares at the  Merlin-fading-rainbow-Paige-Jerod-Brita group full-on, as she does so not so much like a hawk as like an icon, carved from ivory, the sort of thing you'd find gazing out from an alcove of some very strange Russian church.
            Then she turns that gaze on the entire volume of the ballroom in a slow 360.  There is danger here, and she is surrounded.  There is still no one making for her in a suspicious manner.  Her position when she halts is such that she can easily see her affine, but no one could follow her line of sight directly to it.

Marius frowns, but it is seemingly more at Aisling's distancing than the Trump.

"The Viking is Brita," Aisling very quietly comments to the two with her.

"So I'd guessed," Solange answers just as quietly.  "It did take me a while."

Marius tilts his head to listen, and then nods.  He examines where he is in the room in comparison to others he knows of The Family.  "There are so many people here," he says, under his breath.  "I do hope no panic is going to begin.  It would ruin my plans for a warm and cozy night."  He winks at Solange, but he is also beginning to pull himself into a kind of "alert state."

Solange smiles back at the wink, but is equally concerned with surveying the room.

He carefully kept himself "a dagger's length" away from Aisling from the beginning.  He's keeping those daggers' lengths ready at hand(s).

A faint Aisling smile flicks by at Marius's comment.  There's a pause while she just senses the environment, and then she says further, quietly, "We are suited, as a trio, to watch out for each other's backs, while 'conversing'...  Or perhaps one of you two is a being who could ask one of the knowing groups what happens?"

From the corner of her eye Lilly saw it. Merlin appeared as if Paige had pulled him through a trump. Certainly that could not be considered normal behavior. For a moment she paused in her motion. Part of her wanted to continue on to Brennan's side. The other part of her wanted to go to Paige to find out what was going on. As those two sides argued, her instincts shifted to exactly where they needed to be. Lilly began to look for the Queen. If something had indeed gone wrong, Vialle would need her protection.

Vialle is leaving the dance floor with Bleys, with whom she was dancing.

Ossian is obviously slower to react.
            "Someone obviously want to ensure we won't have a boring evening." Ossian says.

"It would certainly seem that way." Lilly cannot hide either the note of disappointment nor the hint of excitement in her voice as she speaks.

"You want to be near the queen?" he continues quietly. There is a slightly nervous tone in Ossian's voice.

Lilly nods. "If there is a true danger, the Queen's safety is my primary concern."

"Back to back." Jerod says quietly to the Viking, watching his half of their perimeter, and those who are doubtlessly now watching in their direction, trusting in the Viking to cover the other half while Paige takes care of Merlin.

"What's happening, and which room were you in?" Paige asks, helping Merlin to straighten.

"Brand," Merlin says breathlessly. "He looked like Brand. Or Brennan."

It's fortunate that the Emerald Dragon's face is powdered white beneath her ask. It hides color draining from her face as her mind races to a conversation no more than a half an hour ago. As quickly as it comes she dismisses it.

Brita's response is to say in her Viking voice, pitched at a level to be heard by those non-family around them, "Lord Hawk! My compliments on your costume; it blends as well as a true hawk's camoflauge as I did not see you behind that plant.  I believe the Lady Sun was looking for you earlier..." and Brita turns, managing to position her back towards Jerod, as she scans a half of the room as if looking for Solange.
            In her normal voice but almost under her breath, Brita says as she notes various reactions, "The Family is alert tonight." Her gaze passes over Vere, a slight nod of acknowledgment to Brennan as she catches his eye, and finally in her Viking voice, "Ah, there is the Lady Sun, she has attracted a Moth and an Otter to her sphere." The Viking's stance is relaxed as he gazes across the room.  Brita notes Aisling's perusal of the room and subtly begins to follow her gaze without seeming to move her head - the wonders of a full mask....

When Vere makes his sweep of the Hall from Gerard's side, he sees that Merlin has suddenly and unexpected arrived in the middle of the Paige-Jerod-Brita trio.
            He is also in position to see the reactions to the arrival.

Vere's immediate reaction is to scan the Great Hall and any portions of the adjoining rooms he can see from where he stands, looking for anyone reacting to the situation in a way that seems out of character.  Trumping Merlin in like that was almost certainly the result of a serious threat (although in the back of his mind Vere acknowledges the possibility that this is simply another example of Paige acting without considering all the consequences of her actions).  Combined with the unusual activity that he had already noticed, the probability is very high that something dangerous is going on, and as someone not in the middle of things he is in an excellent position to gather information.

The crowd is confused and curious, but not fearful.
            Vere can see pretty much all of the reactions.
            Gerard asks quietly, "What's happening?" Even in his wheelchair, he's tall, but there's a limit to how much he can see in this crowd.

Folly makes a guttural sound that might be a stifled expletive, although the emotion behind it is concern rather than anger.  "I'm gonna...."  She gestures minutely in Merlin's direction and is about to take off, when....

"Oh, son of a *bitch*," Brennan mutters with passion to Cambina, "The same shapeshifter that set Merlin's shorts on fire and sent him scrambling through Paige's Trump, I'd guess.  It's what I was trying to tell you-- Brita detected a chaosi, and we don't know who.  My money is on Dara."

Martin says, "Next time, spare me the song and dance and spit it out first thing." Folly thinks he made some effort not to snap at the other man. The altogether uncasual gesture that ended with Martin's hand on Folly's arm puts Martin's hand near his own blade, should he need to draw it.

It is an effort of pure will for Brennan not to put his hands on his weapons, but to stand or walk seemingly relaxed, engaged in the futile effort of trying to see where Merlin came from.  Maybe the infamous Vere will have had better luck.
            He looks at the vast sea of costumes, masks, and hidden identities.
            "Our recognition phrase," he says, "is 'bitter irony.'  This is so not good."

Folly has stopped in her tracks and is standing very still, waiting, thinking, her attention divided between Martin and the group around Merlin.

Brennan's eyes are still, futilely, on the crowd, but his ears are on the conversation.

The Huntress watches as the flustered hawk appears among the quail with the flicker of a curious eyebrow, but no other change of expression.
            "Sir?"  she murmurs, ever so quietly.  "I'm strung and loaded in five seconds.  Should you need it."

"Not yet," says Julian. He watches the movements of his siblings across the floor.

There's a stir and ripple in the crowd as Merlin's sudden appearance from nowhere is noted by those nearby. Brita's attempt at covering seems to confuse people, but some of them are pretty sure of what they've seen.
            The elders are all leaving the dance floor in pairs. Fiona is watching the group Merlin has joined, and Random is looking around intently.
            Bleys is casually scanning the crowd, his hand near but not on, the hilt of his blade. Catching sight of Lilly, he takes the Queen's hand and starts to lead her to her protector.
            Corwin breaks from Flora and starts to move towards the little knot his son has joined. Flora cuts across to Random, and gestures to the musicians, who strike up another waltz. She extends her hand to the King, who notices the Sun only after the Sorceress in Green has nudged him, and belatedly the King moves to join her.
            Caine appears to be making a beeline for someone in the crowd, with Llewella in tow. (Ambersiders suspect it's M.)

Brita and Jerod can see the elders' reactions.  As the music starts up again, Jerod catches sight of Venesch moving through the crowd towards the King.

Given what Merlin just said and the fact that unless all his Elders are lying Brand is dead and gone (they could be lying but it's very low on the probability scale even for his level of paranoia), Jerod is going to take a good hard look at Venesch, and wonder if it's actually him.

Jerod could not be sure from the look of him, but he knows the movements of his old armsmaster like he knows the grip of his own blade. If that's not Venesch, it's someone who has studied and mastered the movements of the Captain of the Guard.

Then suspecting that all will be well on that front (and any bad news Venesch might be handing to Random is something Random can handle on his own), Jerod proceeds to blend in and vanish in plain sight.
            Jerod is able to do so. The crowd is buzzing around him.
            " ... he just appeared ..."
            " ... say he's a strange one ..."
            " ... chaosite creature ... sometimes male, sometimes female ... disgusting..."
            " ... Prince Corwin's son ..."

Brita looks for her mother and brother in the crowd, noting their reactions and actions.  Casually she asks, "You have seen our Fox, Lord Hawk?  Perhaps you mistook another for him as I was speaking with him before the waltz, which he danced with Lady Moon, I believe.  The costumes can be rather confusing at times."

"I am acquainted with the Fox. Yes. It was not he, but one who looked much like him. Garbed as a raven," Merlin says. He sounds a little less panicked.

Paige nods. "It's a very confusing thing a masquerade, the art of things not being themselves," she agrees. "We'll have to see what we might see, but for the time being, perhaps being seen is enough."
            Sliding her hand under Merlin's she heads toward the dance floor, and hopefully into the path of an argent and sable harlequin. "I'd be thrilled to trip the light fantastic with you, my dear Raptor, especially since our last dance was so rudely interrupted." _Stay visible, stay safe._

While Jerod does the exact opposite - he blends in to the crowd of Court, moving off to one side to allow the focus to be on Paige and Merlin and less on him.

Merlin takes her hand and the two of them head out towards the dance floor. Corwin intercepts them.
            Corwin says, "What happened?"

Merlin says, low, "I wanted to be away from the crowd, so I found a private place. Someone came on me there. He was a sorcerer, and he had red hair. He looked like Brand or Brennan. He said I must return to Borel with him, and made to force me. Paige called me and so I came."

"Safety trumped discretion," Paige says to her uncle.
             "Which room had you hidden yourself away in, Merlin? Short odds we can still find this Raven, but it's a start."

"I could go there," Merlin says and shrugs helplessly. Paige recalls that Merlin is not very good at giving verbal directions, and was quite surprised to realize that he could navigate square blocks in different ways while still coming to the same place.

Paige feels the familiar touch of a Trump on her mind, distracting her from Corwin's reply.

Paige accepts the call with the words, "Describe it, Hawk. The Harlequin should be able to place it."

"... was a sorcerer?" Corwin asks in a low, intense voice.
            "I am."
            "Damn, Damn, Damn.  What the hell would they send one here for?"  Corwin says, loosening his blade in its scabbard.
            "I do not know, Father."
            Corwin turns to Paige.  "Sorcery and Shapeshifting.  Most of us will be useless in this fight.  Try to let your cousins know."

Paige nods to the Harlequin. "Is running an option?" she asks softly just in time to see Jerod's approach. She slips Merlin's Trump back into a convenient pocket for the moment.

If Ossian and Lilly can locate the Queen, Ossian will lead Lilly there, unless she wants to run.

For now Lilly settles for walking. She does not want to alarm anyone in any way.

Bleys is leading the Queen towards Ossian and Lilly.

Ossian stays quiet for a second, and lets Lilly start the talking if she wants to. (She probably has more important things to say than Ossian does right now.)

"If you sense anything unusual, please let me know. I believe that there might be
undercurrents I may overlook. We all have our strengths. And I believe yours and mine are quite different. If we work together, I believe we shall have a greater chance at success."

"I shall keep my eyes and ears open." Ossian smiles "Did you notice if Paige had a Trump in her hand?" he asks very quietly.

"I know only that she had them on her person." Lilly responds in the same hushed tone.

"Well. Let's hope Merlin's arrival wasn't just a distraction."

On their way there Ossian tries to see what the reaction of the crowd is, by looking at people and listening.

There is confusion and concern, but no danger of a stampede at this time.

Good. Ossian thinks a stampede would be bad; a panicking audience does not watch, nor remember very well. But people seem alerted to the situation; that is certainly good.

As Corwin crosses over towards Merlin, Paige, Jerod, and Brita, Martin looks torn for a moment. He says, "I don't think she can hold costume changes. Look for Cambina, or someone in similar garb."

Brennan nods, understood.

Folly nods, frowning.  "The Not-Cambina -- she seemed to know you?" she asks.  The intensity of her gaze makes it seem like several questions at once.

Martin nods once, abruptly, but doesn't speak.

As the musicians strike up the second waltz, Martin looks at Cambina, and there's a moment of communication that neither Folly or Brennan is quite privy to. "Luck," says Martin to the both of them, and relinquishes Folly's arm to take Cambina's hand.
            Martin and Cambina depart for the dance floor.

Folly gives another slight nod, and a hint of a smile.  Then she turns to Brennan.
            "I'm gonna check in with Paige," she says, dropping into a casual crouch, the sort one might use to tie one's shoes.  Instead, though, she rummages around under her voluminous skirt for a moment - Brennan probably notices that she's turned her left hip, where most of the rummaging seems to be going on, toward him, presumably to avoid flashing the crowd -- and comes up holding a wooden card case, open, with Paige's Trump at the ready.

If Brennan can stand in such a way that his own cloak accidentally-on-purpose conceals her actions, he does so.

"You want in on it?" she asks.  She extends her free hand to Brennan...
            ...and then frowns, noticing her glove.  She has no idea whether this requires skin-to-skin contact, or what.

There's a very brief, but just noticeable pause, while Brennan thinks about that.  "Yes.  But I don't know if I can."  For the record, Brennan's costume also has gloves.  On the other hand, it also has a cloak, and if skin contact is really necessary, they might be able to work something out.
            "If not, I'll just pretend to talk back to you and give you some cover."

Folly nods, thinking -- and decides to run with the first reasonable solution that occurs to her.
            With a so-beyond-caring-what-the-biddies-think smirk, she grabs the top edge of her glove between her teeth and peels it down to the middle of her forearm.  She feels confident Brennan can take care of the rest, should it become necessary.

Something about Brennan's glove gives him a momentary itch a few moments later.  Shockingly enough, getting his fingers to the right place to scratch that itch leaves a strip of his skin showing.

Folly's standing within easy reach -- quiet, private conversation distance -- with her now-partially-denuded arm toward Brennan.  With a slight twist of her wrist, she offers him her hand again.

Of course, once he takes her hand, I bet none of that will be noticeable, since the bared skin will be against each other and not really visible.

Thus situated, Folly turns her attention to the Trump in her other hand.  She concentrates.

Brennan follows Folly's lead.  As far as he's concerned, she's the expert.

Paige accepts the call with the words, "Describe it, Hawk. The Harlequin should be able to place it."

There's the briefest hesitation as Folly tries to work out what Paige is talking about; but then she plunges ahead with, "Hi, sweetie, it's Folly -- and Brennan.  Is Merle OK?  We heard rumor of a Chaosi intruder."
            Folly's voice is low and even, but Paige can still feel the concern behind it.

Brennan does nothing to distract Folly from the Trump conversation she's having.
            But the confirmation of black costume continuity, the tendency to impersonate family members, and the desire to get close to Merlin puts a very odd thought in Brennan's mind.  Thus, while he's scanning the room to look for suspicious-looking individuals in black costuming coming out from the side rooms, (including the Raven that Folly just mentioned) something that will really stand out as suspicious in his mind is...  anything that looks like Corwin's black and silver harlequin costume.
            It's a stab in the dark with a stray intuition, but sometimes you get lucky.

"Redhead, looks like Maestro or the Fox, dressed as a Raven. Sorcerer, too.  Not sure what room the Hawk ran from."

Folly's fingers reflexively tighten around Brennan's.  "A Raven," she repeats.  "So, still in black, then.  It was Cambina earlier, apparently -- and was convincing enough to fool Martin."
            Dropping her voice even lower, Folly continues, "Was it after Merlin specifically, do you know?" but what she really means is, _Should I come over there and be another barrier between him and It?_

"Yes, wanted to take him home to the flock, as it were," Paige answers.
            "We've got a Harlequin here to help keep the carrion birds at bay,"  _You're safer away from us._

Folly nods her understanding, but she looks concerned.
 
"You're better off able to see your way out," Paige matches Folly's tone.  "Be safe," she says trying to shift her focus back to Corwin and Merlin.

"You, too, sweetheart," Folly says.  She looks like she might be about to add something else, but then decides against it.  With a farewell smile, she breaks the contact.
            She turns to look at Brennan.  "She was pretty terse," she says, "but.... Merlin was in a side room -- we don't know which one -- where someone who looked like you or your father, dressed as a raven, approached him and...."  Folly pauses, recalling Paige's words.  "Wanted to take him home to the flock.  Don't know for sure whether there was threat of force."

The only part of this that Brennan hadn't already inferred or deduced was that someone was masquerading as, possibly, himself.  _That_ gets an eyebrow raised.  "For right now, we have to assume there was, or would have been."

She suddenly realizes she's still clutching Brennan's hand and abruptly lets go with a mildly embarrassed little smile.

Something about that sparks Brennan's dry sense of humor even, or perhaps especially because of, the circumstances.  He glances out on the dance floor at Martin and Cambina.  "When this is settled, though, I believe I'd like a dance."

Folly's smile shifts to appreciative amusement.  "You're on," she says.

"Count on it."

Marius, Solange, and Aisling see the crowd reactions, and particularly Caine heading for M.

"My sister is distracting the herd," Julian says as Flora moves towards Random and the music starts again. "I must play my part. Remember, a show of force will startle the deer, and that could be a tragedy. Go gently unless attacked."

Robin nods minutely as she watches the pack swing into motion, pacing together to separate and supporting ends.
            "Orders, sir?"

"Find out what is happening if you can, but quietly," says Julian. "Meet me again after the dance with your report."
            He releases Robin, like a hawk from her jesses, and moves along the edge of the crowd until he finds a suitable young lady, garbed as a nightingale.
            Robin cannot hear all of the exchange, but she sees the girl flush with pride and pleasure as Julian takes her arm, all the gentleman, and leads the girl onto the floor for a waltz.

Vere leans over casually to his father, and says in a low voice, "The immediate cause of the commotion is the trumping of Merlin into the main hall, presumably from somewhere nearby, and presumably for a serious reason.  He was trumped into a group containing Paige, Jerod, and Brita, who incidentally has been wearing man's attire this evening, if you have not already spotted that.
            "Even before that, however, certain members of the family were behaving in a way that made me believe they were anticipating some sort of potential trouble.  Prince Bleys is currently with the Queen, Lilly is on her way to her.  Princess Flora has taken the floor for a dance with the King, Venesch is headed in his direction.  Prince Julian is certainly aware of the trump, he was watching Paige, Jerod and Brita even before that occurred.  Solange is with Marius and Aisling, they are all three on alert.  Folly was with Martin, they had met Cambina and Brennan just before this happened, and have now changed partners."  He frowns briefly as he says that last, then continues, "Prince Corwin is heading for Merlin, Prince Caine is heading for Marquess Maritime."

Gerard says, "Something's afoot, all right. Trouble, if Caine's going to M.  You know he's got men among the guests, of course."

"He likes to be thorough," Vere replies.  He straightens again, and continues watching, gathering more information, and trying to piece together what's going on.  He smiles quietly as he watches Robin receive instructions from Julian and set out on whatever task she's been assigned, but doesn't allow himself to become distracted by concentrating exclusively upon her, tempting though it is.
            Making sure that no one else nearby can hear, he continues to give Gerard updates on what is happening as it occurs.

Benedict intercepts Venesch, and they converse. Caine and M are speaking.  Martin and Cambina are at it again while waltzing; score one for Martin.  Random and Flora are waltzing; Julian has found a partner.

As the music ends, the Firebird offers a deep reverance that puts him almost on one knee, bowing over the Gryphon's hand. "But as long as the interests of King and Country are one, why should it not be so? Now is not a time to be the enemy of destiny, would you not agree?"

"How could one disagree?" she chuckles lightly, and thanks him for the dance and conversation as he guides her off the floor

"May I call upon you again sometime soon, dear lady?"

"It would be my honor to accept your call, Sir Knight." She leaves him with a smile, retiring into the swirling, murmuring crowd... just in time for the Knight to see what the murmur is about, a lingering rainbow shimmer and a Hawk freshly appeared from it.

Something so flashy, in this crowd? Alarums begin to sound in the Firebird's head. And currents of movement begin to make sense. He looks around for his father, finds Temperance and the Huntress parting company as the Sun and the Emperor call another waltz. Cover. Yes...and while everyone watches them, they watch everyone in return.
            And out of a memory that feels eons old though it was barely more than a fortnight, a voice echoes. A fevered, desperate voice. As desperate as a Chaosite re-entering the main hall by Trump....
            No. There could not possibly be a reason to think about that now.
            Still...he had to admit. He'd be more comfortable near her.
            He scans the hall and finds her, standing stock still in a way that gives him a half-second's chill. With Marius, and a gorgeous winged sun-goddess whose acquaintance he had not yet made. But her attention was not fully with either of these.
            He closed the distance across the floor with strides he forced to make appear something approximating casual.
            //Canareth, alert the wingleaders,// he projects as he walks.  //Something is very much not right here, but I don't know what yet.  If anyone's actions are seeming out of place, they should keep watch and keep me posted, through their dragons and you. Particularly anyone keeping too close a watch on the little guy dressed like a hawk.//

As Jovian moves through the crowd towards the group that contains Aisling, her attention turns to him and she watches, estimating.  Even past the point where the grey suede glove on her right hand is aerated by the sudden appearance of sharp pale shell-purple edges along the sides of her palm and spikes at the ends of what were fingers.
            (And by that, to be clear, I mean "finger".  She only has the one complete
one on that hand.  ;)  In fact, the only parts of the glove that aren't neatly cut, top from bottom, are those that cover the missing end of the ring finger and the chunk of palm.)
            No, first she spends a certain amount of time cursing bluely behind her ivory facade, and then she spares a brief glance down, perhaps a hint of a sour Benedictine expression on her face, and then she casually tucks her right hand under her left arm, and nods a bit to Jovian in greeting.

"Well met, little Moth," the Phoenix says aloud as he comes near the odd trio of Moth, Otter and Sun. "Is it possible my flame could draw you out onto the dance floor?" There is a subtle emphasis there; non-cacti might well hear the subtext of _Move with me, before you become a focus of attention for worse reasons_....

Marius has made no comment for a moment or two, although he nods politely at the Phoenix's arrival.  Those so inclined towards the fiery side of the spectrum would notice however that the fluttering lovely is now part of his potential "threat spectrum."  It would be hard to say if it is a protective or defensive stance, however.
            He closes his eyes for something that would just seem like a long blink and then looks towards the Sun.  But not directly at, of course.  "Would you mind, my dear lady, if we whirled once more in orbit?"  A tension has been released here.  He looks at the Moth and smiles, showing his teeth.  It's not an unfriendly smile, in fact, the words behind it might be, "You are safer somewhere else than around me, this moment."

"A pleasure," Solange answers, picking up on the obvious tension between Moth and Otter, and not at all inclined to thwart the clear attempt to defuse it.

Aisling bows to them slightly in farewell.  There is no tension on her part.  Nor is there frustration; nor is there "Oh dear god, please don't leave me with him".  There is, in fact, no particular emotion at all visible about her.