It is at about this time that a Shepherdess arrives next to Solange and lays a hand on her arm. "My dear Angel, you look simply--divine." She grins conspiratorially at Solange and says, "I could never have dared to think of such a costume. No one will forget how lovely you were at the Coronation masquerade."

Marius' gentle leer is just reinforcement on this item.

"You're very kind to say so, when you make a Shepherdess as dainty as any china figure," Solange answers.  "It was very clever of the Grey Ghost to waltz with your lady mother; it'll give the gossips something besides my gown to chatter about."

"I suspect the gossips will have plenty to chatter about besides either of us," Solace says. Solange and Marius feel she might not mind having her mother be on the receiving end of gossip rather than the giving end, for a change.

Solange glances sidewise at Marius, flirtatiously. "I don't believe I've met your friend."

"Ah, but have I not seen you before, giving names to the stars from the river banks, and yet putting so much of night's grace to shame.  I have seen the Moon, and while she shines, and watches, she does not have the responsibility of the flocks."  He smiles pleasantly.  "I am the Otter," he says, "and I have sharp teeth and a disposition to match."  He winks.

"Your disposition seems kindly enough to me, Sir Otter," Solace replies and winks in return.

"Playful enough -- unless he's provoked," Solange comments.  "Cousin Otter chose his costume well."

"Then I shall have to make certain not to provoke you," says Solace.  "Normally I leave that to my dear Shepherd," she adds, inclining her head towards the dance floor, where the aforementioned Shepherd waltzes with a plump lady garbed as a cat.

The Phoenix smiles and half-nods to the Moth, reiterating the offer. His right hand is extended in offering toward her left; his own left is held out just enough to make plain that her right would be hidden from prying eyes by the excellent design of his cloak-wings.

Aisling smiles at Jovian, "Perhaps next year at this time.  For the moment, I am more curious to learn what is going on."

"I share your curiosity," the Phoenix admits in low tones, without appreciable tension but pitched to ensure his words are picked up by the Moth's antennae alone. "I'm coordinating other eyes and ears to that end. But when I saw a fellow Chaosite in panicked action, I immediately thought of...urrr...." He looks even less comfortable than such matters warrant, and finds himself unable to meet the Moth's eyes for a moment or two.

Aisling purposely misunderstands his discomfort to be kind and so says gently, "I am sure there are others keeping an eye in my direction, too. But I do appreciate that you actually crossed the floor to me."

"I have a good memory that sometimes plays disturbing tricks," Jovian allows. "But that is a discussion for a less occupied time. For now, I am both intensely interested in what caused our Hawk to bolt his perch so abruptly, and intensely averse to drawing more attention to him by stepping up and asking."

Meanwhile she scratches the top left corner of her cloth-of-silver mask with the bared tip of her sharp and pointy right forefinger, glove held on as best as possible by keeping the fingers together and the thumb tucked up against their bottom side.
            Tucking this hand back along her left side, she continues the charade of "nervous tic" by rubbing the cut silver strands near her temple with her left hand, and then jerking a few out of the weave.  With her hands demurely clasped in front of her then, the posture indicating that somewhere in there she's chastising herself for nervously screwing with bits of her costume, she winds the silver threads around her thumb and forefinger to keep the glove together.

His wily little half-smile is appreciative of the subterfuge, but his scan of the room shows he wonders who's buying it. He keeps an eye out for anyone noticing the transformation particularly, all the while keeping up the pretense of light patter....

"Our friend Lord Otter has as little knowledge as I, and our friend Lady Dragon is attending to her duties; but I suspect that our friend Lord Fox may know something of interest, and it is to our benefit that he does not appear to be seizing his opportunity to dance with the sweet and lovely Lady Swan," Aisling suggests, in the process of finishing tying her glove together.

"Indeed - though the way he's scanning the place it would probably be useful for him to have an excuse to turn round and round. Shall we find out what he's looking for?"

"That would be pleasant," Aisling agrees, finishing with the glove, and letting that hand return to its usual not-attracting-attention carriage.  She wends her graceful way through the crowd, however, with Jovian on her left.  Her angled glances continue to update her on those approaching herself and Ce'e.
            By the time they reach Brennan, she has picked up that Folly is in a trump contact, and she tilts her head at the Fox questioningly.
            Curious Menagerie

When Brennan saw them start to head over, he gave them a nod and a smile, as though they were the friends he'd been scanning the area to find... and then kept a good watch on the area anyway, just tried to be more surreptitious about it.
            "Thanks for the cover," he says quietly, when they arrive.  "I was just about to come for your help," he says, looking at Aisling.

"Ah?" Aisling asks politely.

Folly looks around, surprised.  She'd been so wrapped up in the Trump contact that she hadn't even noticed their approach....  She stares blankly at Aisling for just a moment, as if getting her bearings, before smiling a warm greeting to the newcomers.

Jovian pieces together the bits rather rapidly, for a bronze rider.  Someone looking like Brand or Brennan...a long lost brother to the Fox? Not bloody likely - literally.
            "Let me guess. Shapeshifter." It is not a question. "And one who was after Merlin, that may or may not narrow the field. Aisling," he turns to his sometime companion, "forgive me for getting personal among company. But in your experience, how much exposure to a subject does the average shapeshifter need, before he can pass as the subject's twin to a casual observer?" For punctuation, he tosses a speculative glance at Brennan, his hand moving as if grasping something beside him.

Aisling gives the Phoenix an iconic look, "I would prefer to have more information before I gave myself to speculation, Sir Jovian."  She inclines her head a bit to him, and carefully returns her gaze to the Fox.

"I believe," Jovian responds quietly but in a drawl so dead-on Julianic it's disturbing, "that is exactly what I was seeking." Nevertheless, he also turns to his vulpine fellow KC.

Jovian can't tell whether that scored or not.  Aisling is carved out of ivory.

Brennan catches Jovian's gesture and nods once, sharply.  Keeping it as short as possible, and sticking to his normally soft-spoken tones, he tries to bring them up to speed as soon as possible:
            "No, he's right.  Brita has detected an unlicensed Chaosi, but we don't know who, yet.  It's impersonated Cambina, and now," he nods at Folly, "either me or Brand, it seems.  Both times in a black-themed costume.  I have reason to believe that some nights ago, it impersonated Benedict, but it's supposition.  There is strong reason to believe that Merlin is the target."

Aisling would really like more detail, but accepts Brennan's desire for speed at the moment.

Which, really, would explain the Trump in the middle of the Masque.
            "I'm playing a hunch and keeping an eye out for extra family members in black costumes, since that's the theme, but in a moment, I need to rendezvous with Fiona.  Dara or a minion is my hunch, but I'm open to anything anyone can tell me."  He nods at Jovian when he mentions Dara, but addresses the final request for information to Aisling.
            Hopefully he doesn't look too distracted while he continues to keep an eye out for shifty types-- under the guise of watching people learn the new dance.

Aisling's again arranged herself such that she can keep up her  16-degrees-of-Ce'e-surveillance.

"I have other eyes keeping a coordinated watch for anyone with an unhealthy interest in Merlin," Jovian contributes, in a light tone that probably fools no one nearby into thinking this isn't a war council. "And others will shortly be minding the outside for sudden movement."
            His brow furrows a moment (visible only by a slight movement of his hood) and his jaw tightens as if a headache is coming on, but he does not lose focus on Brennan. "Garbed in black, check. Wearing a face present at Coronation, check."

"Uh, not necessarily," Folly reminds them.  "Unless Brand made a surprise appearance at the Coronation that I somehow missed."
            She hesitates, then, as if gathering her thoughts or carefully selecting her next words.
            "You, uh, you might want to consider relatives with ties to Chaos as the likely doppelgangers.  I mean, I don't know about Cambina, but -- Benedict, right?  And Brand, if I've got my lore right.  Which makes Corwin a really good possibility."  She hesitates again.  "And... and I know Martin's known Merlin for years.  And lucky us, they're both wearing black."    
            Folly looks really, really unhappy.

"I think it is more likely that the creature is taking whatever form is most likely to get what it wants.  But likely it has the balls to duplicate Martin, if it wants to," Aisling says, wishing she could be more comforting.  
            "A very good shapeshifter could emulate anyone in this crowd with a few
hours practice.  But there are not many shifters that good; and if this is only seen wearing black, it suggests that it is a lesser shifter, who has a grasp of sorcery, which would make for far less need of observation of fine features and mannerisms and gait.
            "There does not seem enough of the brash about this to indicate Dara herself, to me; and I imagine she is still busy becoming Borel.  Perhaps that has already happened and she has become less flashy in the process." Aisling shrugs.  "I am reminded that once I heard Borel was preparing its own spy; Dara would certainly employ such.  It is likely to be a dangerous fighter and sorcerer."

This whole "becoming Borel" business has got Folly looking confused and intrigued, as if she's not quite sure she got all the parts of speech right when she parsed the sentence.  She stares out at the crowd, her gaze shifting from Paige to Merlin to Corwin to Martin and back again, while she works it out.

"Why is Princess Fiona not meeting with the creature?"  That's not censure -- she's trying to figure out more of what's up.

Brennan was tracking the conversation while he continues to look about the room in that way pleasant party-goers have, to watch everyone enjoying themselves while he stands out a dance.
            He's certainly not rejecting anything that anyone has said.  To the contrary, he's just trying to piece as much as he can into a coherent picture, making sure he isn't blinding himself to something someone else thinks is obvious.  When Jovian mentions his watchers, Brennan nods in gratitude, but spreads his hands-- it's just a theory, not gospel.
            He answers Aisling, "Because she doesn't know who it is, either. Unless you do?"

Aisling slightly frowns at him; if she knew, she'd've said.  "How did Brita come to know there was a Chaosite here?"

Then, to Aisling and Folly, "I don't think you two disagree, really.  Intuitively, wouldn't it be reasonable for a lesser shapeshifter to be limited in garb as well as limited to people previously studied?"  The question is directed to the resident expert.  As is, "And something else-- leaving aside the possibility of an inside job, how exactly would a Chaosi get here?  How many could manage it?"  There is a benefit to having a past expert on hand.

"We brought back an *entire army* from Chaos," Aisling says, channeling the essence of the silently laughing coyote.  "I'd almost be surprised if there weren't Chaosites who just got swept along by accident."  She wipes the grin off her face, goes back to being statuesque.  "Also, it seems unlikely to me that Merlin is the only Chaosite who commands the magic of Trump. And there could be Chaosites here who have been here for years.  The reason that you have not been overrun with sorcerers and shifters, now and before, is that only very tai--  only creatures of Chaos that have had a crack at the blood of Amber can survive here, without the Black Road, for long."
            She shrugs, "As for shifting, it's not a reasonable endeavour.  Everyone has different ways at it."
    
"I wonder if that's still true," Folly muses, mostly to herself.  "About the surviving, I mean.  Not that it especially impacts our current conundrum."

Aisling nods the nod of 'point, yes...'.

Folly scans the crowd once more before turning her attention back to Aisling. "You can't... sense... other Chaosites at close range, can you?" she asks.

As Vialle and Bleys approach, Ossian leans closer to Lilly (probably closer than she is entirely comfortable with) and whispers:  "I guess you want to discuss things secretly. If you only want to talk to Vialle, just lean close to her and whisper. Giggle girlfashion. If you want me and Bleys to hear, well then I'll just chatter to cover whatever you say." Ossian pauses for a moment. "This is where you giggle at my supposedly clever comment."

Lilly gives him a bit of a suspicious look. "I thought you wished for our behavior to appear normal."

Ossian laughs warmly. "Sure. Everything depends on who you want to appear normal to, dear dragon. Just do it your way."

Bleys arrives with Vialle on his arm. He says, "Lilly, you have a lovely way with the waltz. A pity we won't have a chance to dance together just yet." He drops his voice. "We have at least one uninvited guest. The King asks that you guard the Queen."

"Understood." Lilly says quietly. Her voice then returns to a more normal tone as she adds. "The Waltz. So that is what it is called. Yes. I found it quite enjoyable."

While Bleys and Lilly make their quiet exchange, Ossian bows to the Queen "Your majesty." he murmurs, mostly to let Vialle hear who's nearby.

"Lord Ossian," Vialle replies, acknowledging him.

Looking to Vialle, Lilly then adds,  "And I must say your majesty you handled the dance beautifully yourself."

He turns his attention to Ossian, and asks in the same low voice, "Do you have a deck of the Family's favorite playing cards?"

"No. I have a few of the cousins." Ossian answers, keeping his voice low.  "If you won't steal this dragon from my clutches right now, what are then the Devil's plans for tonight?" he asks in a more normal voice.

Bleys says jovially, "Deviltry, of course. If I tell you any more, it will spoil the surprise." In a low voice, "If you have one of a locale nearby, it might make a useful escape route. We believe the Queen should be able to pass through with assistance."

Vialle feels very vulnerable, Ossian is certain, but she's putting a brave face on it.

Ossian certainly seems to enjoy this double-speak game.  "Sorry. But I can get us out in shadow if we should need something that drastic." Ossian says quietly.
            "Ah. I shall not pry then. I love surprises." he continues in his normal voice, bowing again, to cover his retrieval of a slim Trump case from within his costume.

"Don't forget to make it a two way trip and not a Nomadic journey.  Our Queen is a city creature and should not be taken into the wilderness unwitting.  Where would you go?"  Bleys looks unobtrusively around and leans close to Ossian.

"I can hopefully Trump us back through one of my cousins." Ossian says and takes a Trump showing a sunny beach out of his case. "This beach used to be very serene."

"You will need to remain close by cousin. If the situation deteriorates into one where we must flee I doubt I will be able to muster the necessary concentration doing such without jeopardizing my Queen." Her voice is low, calm, and full of confidence. Providing cover for another while they opened a Trump connection would, in her estimation, be relatively easy compared to trying to provided cover for herself while her mind was busy elsewhere.

"Don't worry. I will stay close enough. I want you to come with me and our Queen to the other side, so please don't cut my head off with that sword of yours when I grasp for you." Ossian says quietly "It would break my concentration.  Not to mention ruin my costume." he adds playfully.

"I think I can manage to leave you intact. I would suggest a light touch on the shoulder of whichever arm is free of my blade. No matter what do not reach for my sword arm. I may react to that without thought." The thoughtful intensity of her eyes suggests that she is in no way joking. However it is also clear by her stance that she really does not wish to bring harm to Ossian in any way.
            "But I fear we are getting a bit ahead of ourselves cousin. First we need to know if we have an available exit." Lilly nods in the direction of the card Ossian is now holding.

"I'll just check if it's still calm." Ossian says and opens the Trump contact to have a look at the beach. He does not want to teleport there.

Ossian concentrates on the place that he sees in the card and attempts to make that place as real as this place.

Vialle turns to Lilly and says, pitched for anyone standing nearby to hear, "Who is dancing this waltz, Dame Lilly? Has my Emperor made it popular with the guests yet?"

Lilly takes the opportunity the scan the dance floor making astute mental notes of everything and everyone. "Popular? The family seems to be enjoying it. As for the guests, well I believe they are still trying to understand it. It's a pity really; dance is one of the few things that should be experienced rather then analyzed. But I digress. In answer to your first question, it is difficult to put names to some, due to their costumes of course but I shall do my best." With that Lilly begins to do as the queen asked; give a complete rundown of who remains dancing. She keeps her voice mild and her commentary to a minimum while she makes her observations. She is not so caught up in it that she can not keep an ear on Ossian's conversation.

The cold feel of the cards switches to a convective blast of heated air.  The beach is there, hot and hyper-real, although Ossian knows the breeze to be real only to him.  If Ossian steps forward he will be on that pristine sandy ribbon between sea and land.  His body begins reacting to conditions only he can feel, and Ossian knows that if he stares much longer, he will begin to sweat.
            The hand on his shoulder is not quite unexpected, and the voice in Ossian's ear is familiar.  If the hand were held slightly differently and if the mental voice was a shade different and perhaps less round in mental tone, then it would be even more disturbingly like Brand than it actually is.  "Yes, that will do splendidly."

Ossian fights off a wave of irritation, //It has not changed very much.//  and closes the Trump.
            "It seems like we have a decent Trump backdoor at our disposal, should we need it." Ossian says to Vialle and Lilly. (quietly of course)

Lilly nods her approval. Then, realizing for the hundredth time that a nod is useless in the presence of the Queen she adds, "Very good. You have my word your majesty that I shall do everything I can this evening to keep you safe."

"So ladies, what is your wish now? A drink? A seat? More waltzing?" Ossian asks in a normal tone.

With a hushed tone Lilly says, "I would prefer to be somewhere in the main room where it would be near impossible for someone to come up behind us and catch us off guard."
            In her louder more social voice she adds, "Whatever pleases my Queen."

"With The Empress's, permission, duty calls me away from your company and I shall depart."

Vialle says "You leave me in excellent hands, my Lord Devil."

Bleys bows, his eyes on first Ossian and then Lilly and he prepares to depart.

Ossian bows too, and takes Vialle's arm. With one beautiful girl on each arm Ossian is beaming.
            "I spot some free space over by Gerard and Vere. Shall we join them?"

Lilly takes a moment to gauge the area looking at both it's offensive and, more importantly, defensive advantages and disadvantages. She did not know enough about Gerard, or Vere for that matter, to truly categorize them but they were scions of Amber. Chances were they could help to swing things in the Queen's favor should need arise. With that thought the decision was made.
            "That sounds lovely. I've had very little chance to get to know either of them."

Vialle says, "You will find both of them quite companionable. Gerard was one of the best-loved of his family before the Regency. Vere is a gentleman, and very well educated. He knows as much about the castle as those who were born here." Her gay chatter is at odds with the tension Ossian feels in her arm as he leads her across the chamber.

"I would no doubt find his knowledge of the castle interesting." Lilly says adding the words "and useful" in her own mind.

"He's also much more entertaining than you would expect from the Family's most talented bureaucrat" Ossian adds. He continues in a hushed tone to Vialle, "Things will be alright. Have you travelled by Trump before?"

"No," whispers Vialle back. "But I can't leave. Random will need me."

"He will need you _unhurt_. Besides, we'll get back as fast as possible. And don't worry about the Trumping. Just hang on to me and all will be fine." Ossian whispers back.

Lilly allows the Queen to answer before leaning close to Ossian to whisper softly in his ear. It is immediately obvious to him that Lilly is not quite (all right, all right, not at all) comfortable with that sort of intimate closeness.

Ossian smiles to himself. He was fascinated by Lilly's innocence.

"We should make our way near one of the walls. If fighting broke out I believe the Queen would be safest if she were well out of the way. The wall also has the advantage of giving me only three sides to secure."
            Moving her head ever so slightly, Lilly regains eye contact. Her brown eyes are full of emotions ranging from trust in Ossian to doubt in herself, from disappointment to excitement, and from self-assurance to a bit of fear. Though she might already have a bit of a reputation for being a bit cold and distant it was becoming more and more obvious that she truly was the passionate soul Paige had spoken of.

Ossian nods. His blue calm eyes returns the trust, and a tiny bit of excitement.
            Following Lilly's sugesstion Ossian leads the trio along the wall on their way to Gerard.
            Ossian keeps the beach Trump in his hand. (The same hand that he leads Vialle with.)  He keeps it as hidden as possible while still holding it.

Vialle helps cover the card with her own hand, shivering once at the chill of it.

The Viking sends Jerod a long glance and then turns and begins to move around the room.

Benedict intercepts Venesch in Jerod's general vicinity and makes his report in a low voice.

Since Jerod is close enough, he should be able to approach without appearing to make a beeline for the pair.  Given the circumstances, he's not going to take the chance that the parents are going to leave the kids out of the fun.

Benedict nods as Jerod joins him and Venesch in time to hear the tail end of Venesch's report: "... we took him to the physician, who says there is nothing physical wrong with him: no wound, and no obvious signs of poison.  But he does not respond to anyone who speaks to him. He is like an idiot."
            Benedict frowns. "Where was he stationed?"
            Venesch says, "At the stair to the basement, and to Lady Cambina's excavations."

Benedict says to Jerod, "We have an intruder who has somehow attacked one of the guards. The King must know of this at once. Cut in on his waltz with my sister, and tell him."

"There was an apparent attack upon Merlin as well.  I do not know the details." Jerod replies, not immediately moving.  "Our Viking Brita has detected an intruder she claims is of Chaosian origin.  She is undertaking to track it.  Bleys and Fiona learned of this from her and have would appear to have advised the King and Queen accordingly." and he takes note of the movement of Bleys with the Queen and Corwin's attendance with Merlin.  "Do you still wish the King notified?"

"Yes," Benedict says, noding once, slowly.  "Both what Venesch told us and what you know.  Where did Brita go?"  he asks, scanning the floor.

"In pursuit.  She will require reinforcement if she encounters resistance though." Jerod replies.  "Whether Merlin was the intended target or merely a diversion was unclear.  I would wonder more as to the latter.  Uncle Corwin should be sufficient to slow the opposition as to the former.  I go to acquire a dance partner."
             And with that Jerod nods and fades back into the crowd, to become one of the notorious as he dares the new trend of "cutting in".  But first he needs someone to pass the King off to, as opposed to leaving him standing totally alone (that would be very bad).
            So he finds himself back to Corwin and company and offering a hand to Paige as he bows for the benefit of the crowd that might observe while speaking to the three.
            "Got duty.  Care to cut in on the King?  I get to dance with Flora sooner than expected." Jerod says.  "And Uncle Benedict says hello."

Paige takes Jerod's hand and looks to the Harlequin for approval before she leaves the Hawk in his charge.

Corwin nods.  "Go.  If you have to trump out in a hurry, don't pick up hitchhikers.  It would be bad."  Merlin pales at the image his father has suggested and can't seem to keep his hands still.

As they depart, Jerod thinks that his elders really need to explain these references more clearly in the future.

Paige nods. "The Swans say either we've two party crashers or as you say, one with several costumes. They say Black Swan hasn't danced with Lady Moon, no matter what everyone saw on the floor. Same black as the Raven, perhaps."
            Paige kisses Merle on the cheek. Even if he doesn't understand Orderly relations, over the years he must've learned that from Paige, it means she cares. He's also waterful enough to know she's concerned for him.
            "Be safe," she says, wishing that her control of Pattern were strong enough to make it so or even to make the words themselves less hollow.

Once separated from Corwin and company and into the dance, Jerod begins to fill Paige in on "new" news.

"Venesch reports that one of our guards downstairs is unconscious.  Apparently dealt with by an intruder.  No marks or signs of injuries, but unconscious.  Might be our same intruder, or another one.  How  are you with the idea that Merlin might be a decoy target, a diversion?" Jerod asks.

Paige leans in a bit, a lewd smile on her lips, obviously suggesting something that ladies just don't talk about...
            "Perhaps, but I don't doubt that *they* want Merle back. Secondary objective's probably a better definition than diversionary," Paige whispers near his ear.
            "You caught that we're looking at shapeshifters and sorcerers?" Paige asks. "And that... *it* passed as our historian during a dance with your drinking buddy?"

"I picked it up just now." Jerod says.  "Having heard this I'm more willing to gamble that Merlin was secondary.  It's a rather stupid, and dangerous, gambit to grab someone during an event with this many people.  The question is to see who might be the primary."

Paige laughs and nods at Jerod's witty response.

"That someone is shifting to people who are well known to others implies they've done their homework.  I've fought shifters but never good enough ones to imitate our historian.  And precisely enough to avoid detection at close range.  It means I'm not sure how we'll go about detecting this threat.  I'm assuming that's the job of our elders." and he has been making steady progress to get them closer to Random and company.

"I've been thinking. We've no proof that they're shifters, just a sorcerer that has a familial resemblance and a Cambina imposter," Paige says.
            "Redhead and a black bob? Could be Brand and Dierdre back from the Abyss," she jokes darkly.

Paige gets the impression that the idea of Brand being back does not amuse Jerod, just anger.
            "Possible." Jerod says.  "But unless dear departed psycho Uncle Brand is *really* tough, even he'd have trouble surviving an arrow in the throat.  And I doubt Deirdre is good enough to pass close scrutiny to my sister.  It might work from a distance, or if she's under partial cover, but not face to face.  Even with the masks and costumes, we know who we all are at that range."

The Viking heads first towards the champagne room.  He selects two  glasses of champagne and then proceeds to check into each nook off this room.  Brita breathes deeply at each nook, searching for the lingering scents of Merlin and his visitor.  The Viking looks like he is looking for someone, glancing into each nook and excusing himself to anyone he may find there.  Once done with these nooks, whether Brita finds a scent or not, the Viking will move back towards the ballroom.  Scanning the crowd and holding the two glasses, he appears somewhat deflated for a moment and then perks up somewhat, apparently spotting his quarry across the room as he moves around the dance floor towards the buffet room.

Jerod remains invisible amongst the crowd, nodding at the precise times, smiling ever so perfectly at the banal comments that people offer and then promptly forget as much of what they said as who they said it to.  He can monitor Brita's progress even as he does not seem to acknowledge it, and continues to watch and listen and wait.

The environment has a number of family members in motion.
            Flora is rather loudly calling for another waltz and seems to have claimed the King for it.  Bleys and Vialle are talking to Lilly and Ossian.  Corwin is with Merlin and Paige.  Folly is talking to Brennan and Cambina and Martin are taking the dance floor.  It seems as if the whole family is in motion, and everyone is very alert.  People are nervous, but they don't know why.

As Flora cues the next waltz, Reid approaches Fiona and extends his arm as an invitation. "M'lady, might I have this dance?" He smiles from under his half-mask.

"Of course, my lord Harlequin." Fiona gives Reid a flirtatious smile in return as she takes his arm and lets him lead her out among the waltzers.
            Fiona is light on her feet, of course, and experienced with this dance.   Once they are out among the dancers and away from the crowd, she says to him in a low voice, "Brita has scented a Chaosian among the guests."

"No crime in being from Chaos... though, if other crimes were committed, I could see the family taking offense. Anything I can do? Eyes, ears, sword or trump, not necessarily in that order?" Reid offers.
            "What says Random, I saw you with him not long ago," he asks.

"Random says the only Chaosians with invitations are Merlin, Aisling, and her affine, and they are all accounted for. He also sends his queen to her guardian. I do not believe we are under attack. Yet," says Fiona.
            Over Fiona's shoulder, Reid sees Martin and Cambina waltzing. Their posture and demeanor suggests that they are playing their old game of hostile flirtation. Martin says something, and Cambina stiffens for a moment. As they twirl by, Martin's smirk is leavened by what Reid can only feel is relief.
            Fiona says, "We are trying to decide how best to root out our uninvited guests without panicking the guests. Have you any thoughts?"

Reid whispers wryly, "Kill them all and let the Unicorn sort them out?  OK, maybe not. Unfortunately, or perhaps, fortunately, my first-hand experience with shape shifters is particularly lacking. I am not familiar with their rate of change, or their instinctual reactions to threats. I suspect it takes some effort to keep form, but if they were strong willed, it might take a lot to shake them."
            "What possibilities seem to be in favor so far?" Reid inquires.

"Guard the King and Queen, and keep them out of danger until we can sort matters out," Fiona says. "Which may not be until the end of the evening, alas. We might be able to catch our uninvited guest on the way out, or search the castle afterwards. But with so many people here ..."
            She shakes her head. "If we could only identify who it is."

Reid, ever paranoid, does a gut reaction check to see if Fiona is really Fiona.   And if the gut is not enough...

Reid really doesn't know Fiona well enough to be sure.

"Need more hunters. Vincent, Brita's father in Ampgard, trained her pretty well in such matters though." Reid is searching...

Fiona arches a delicate (but non-Julianic) eyebrow at him. "Master Reid, my brother Benedict's memory does not fail him yet, so surely yours has not begun to fade. Surely Brita's uncle Loki is one of your shadows. Unless he's one of your sons."

"That may well be," Reid admits. "But a gentleman prefers to know if he has been properly introduced to his dancing partner." He continues to scan the crowd around them for likely suspects as they dance.

"'The roof constitutes an introduction', I believe dear sister Flora would say," Fiona says with a smile that isn't quite malicious. "But let us return to your previous comment. Which thing may Loki well be?"

"I believe we have other matters to attend to. What more can you tell me of Chaosites?" Reid sidesteps.

"Fickle, selfish, and determined. Fluid of shape but strong-willed. Not unlike Loki in those respects," says Fiona. "You can see that the question is not entirely idle."

"I would never dare suppose that it was, dearest Aunt. And though I'm a teacher, philosophy really isn't my strong suit. The nature of man, or even, the nature of man as created by the whims of shadow shifters is dangerous territory..."

There's hooded yet present savage flash of joy in Robin's eyes as her father looses her.  For a moment she soars at the edges of the crowd, raptor's eyes taking in the patterns of movement; Paige and Merlin to the dance floor, Jerod to cover among the flocks, and the strangely familiar Viking... subtly hunting!
             The Huntress' head cocks.  Paige and Merlin are unapproachable right now - most likely the intent.  That leaves Jerod or the stranger.  And since in any choice between Jerod or another, the other is the lesser of two evils, Robin turns her wings so that her flight seems to accidentally intersect with the Viking's prowl.

The Viking has just backed out of a small nook off of the banquet room and Robin hears him mumble gruffly to himself "...bad as Uncle Loki in the Valkyrie dorm!"  He turns on a heel, still gazing back at the nook, and practically runs right into Robin.  Some deft maneuvering manages to save them both from getting soaked in champagne.
            "Cou...Lady Huntress!" the Viking sounds surprised to find the small Ranger in front of him. "Forgive me.  I was not paying attention as I should."

The gruff muttering voice, the cant of ax, the line of hip and shoulder, the scent - as Robin tracks her prey to the nook, she finally realizes whom she is tracking and freezes in place, a delighted smile slowly lining her face.  Something akin to relief, as though a burden were being lifted, is darting through her eyes when the Viking suddenly spins and the Huntress finds herself unexpectedly underfoot.
            Robin flutters aside nimbly and, since it is a redhead holding the flutes, there comes no sound of breaking glass and the ranger doesn't add champagne to the gin her costume has been baptized with this evening.  Yet.
            A delighted laugh trills from the girl.  "It's alright.  I've got practice in being overlooked."  The girl looks over her companion's costume with an admiring eye.  Dung!  She wished she'd thought of that.

The Viking straightens to his full six foot plus height and bows to Robin.  "It is fortuitous that you are here, Lady Huntress.  I have been seeking a bird who has flown the coop, as it were.  Your skills could help me find It..."

A curious cock of the Huntress' head answers the Viking's statement.  "Of course, Sir.  I'd be glad to hunt with you."  The Ranger smiles warmly and sincerely, though there's something swimming deep in her green eyes.

The Viking's voice quiets conspiratorially as the two move towards the next alcove.  With a wry smile that implies some shared jest to any onlookers, the Viking leans down to Robin and says, "It seems a Crow may have gotten into our garden.  It startled the Hawk into flight as you saw." The Viking straightens and scans the room. At a normal volume, the Viking continues, "I have been searching for this intriguing bird to share a drink and some words, but have been unable to find it as yet."

"Weeellll," Robin laughs gaily, "when it comes to birding, I'm your girl."
            The laugh covers a flicker of dread in the Ranger's eyes.  But despite that – and with a covert wince – Robin opens herself even further to the currents of the room; movements, scents, sounds and gestures. And in her mind, she brings herself to a readiness with the blue fire within herself.  Not igniting, not burning, just... ready.  And she circles beside the Viking, while engaging in silly conversation, from nook to niche to curtained alcove.
            "So when did you first meet this turtledove of desire, Sir?"
            Robin lets Brita handle the systematic approach, she is looking for what startles or what hunkers down and gets still at their approach.

Perfect.  Exactly what Brita hoped for.  "Ah, you see, there is the rub.  I have not actually met this bird of parodies, "did he say 'parodies'? No, it was 'paradise', "just heard tale of it from Lord Hawk."

During the intermission Conner and Thalia had retreated to the champagne fountain for a drink and a vantage point from which they watch the buzzing crowd.  When Flora calls for the second waltz Conner gives Thalia a kiss on the cheek and moves off towards Aunt Llewella.  

Thalia heads off to where Harper is standing, taking two drinks with her.

"Everyone else seems to have acting weird covered."  He says quietly with a smile.  "So I thought I'd act normal.  Would you care to dance?"

She smiles back.  "If we are not to be the hunters, then by all means, let us be the diversion."  She holds out her hand to her nephew.

Conner takes her hand firmly.  "Besides twirling on the dance floor is a fine place to keep an eye on things"  He chuckles escorting her to the dance floor and starting in on the waltz.

"I already have my eye on things.  So many of us seem to.  Do you know what's going on?"  She dances divinely, turning on cue and looking across the dance floor and the audience without seeming to stare at anything.  To the outside world, she is clearly an attentive and talented partner.

"Not precisely."  Conner replies.  "But it seems something threatens Merlin.  And my sister and Robin hunt."  Conner replies courtier's smile firmly in place while he chuckles to a witticism for the outside world. "That means an uninvited guest from realms far away to my mind.  I'm keeping an eye out for duplicate costumes.  The best way to hide in plain sight in here."

Llewella shakes her head slightly.  "Not really.  If they're imitating us, it's to singe our beards.  The best way to hide is to be invisible, or the closest thing to it, which is to be a servant.  Have you seen someone carrying drinks who was unfamiliar to you?  I certainly have."

"First party of this magnitude since the Sundering.  A lay on of new staff didn't seem unusual to me.  But now.."  Conner lets the thought trail off and runs back through his memory of the night looking back at them for strangers.
            Conner wracks his brain for a time, but it's no use.  There are just too many people involved in an event of this size.    

"Vent should know everyone on staff.  We'll have to ask him."  Llewella looks around the crowd, trying to see the steward.

"He'd be our best bet."  Conner nods scanning the crowd for him as well.

He's standing by an exterior door, scowling.  He can probably tell something is up.
        Llewella nods in his direction.  "Question him now or later?  It's probably about to be purely academic."

"Later."  Conner agrees.  "I think we must be ready."

It's at about this time that Martin and Cambina approach Paige and Jerod, no longer waltzing as they were. Martin says, "Cousin?" and touches Jerod's right shoulder. Paige can see it's with his left hand, and that Martin is ready to step in once Jerod relinquishes her.

"Advise Martin and be sure the King knows about Venesch's report if I don't get to him first." Jerod says to Paige, before switching off partners.

Paige nods and takes Martin's hand graciously. Any stiffness about her might be the unexpected change of partners in this new sort of dance.

Which Martin knows perfectly well she has danced a hundred times before if she's danced it once. Including a few times with him.

Cambina says to Jerod, "Well, this is a novel way to pass information. Here's what I know.  There are shapeshifters here, probably from Chaos.  Martin thinks at least two. One of them, apparently, does a passable imitation of me.  Do you recall dancing with me earlier this evening?"

Jerod shakes his head.  "Hadn't gotten to you yet." he says.  "Too much else going on trying to fit everyone onto the one true dance card."

Cambina looks, behind her mask, relieved.

"Venesch indicates that one of the guards down below is unconscious.  No signs of injury but unresponsive otherwise.  Apparently someone was wandering around your digs.  I'll need to ask about those later.  Benedicts wants to be sure the King is informed.  Merlin apparently ran into something that wanted him back...wherever back is for him.  Sorcerer or so it is believed.  I got that second hand.  Seems like everyone from Chaos is a sorcerer or some such."

"I'm pretty sure that it's an important survival trait in Chaos.  Father mentioned my lack of sorcerous skills as a reason I shouldn't go too far from Amber."
            Perhaps she would have said more, but...

Paige says to Martin, "Hawk's pretty rattled. Harley's convinced we're facing sorcerers and shapeshifters. The former's confirmed by the Hawk, the latter I assume he came to based on your comments on not-Lady Moon or the fact that the Raven that was stooping on the Hawk looks remarkably like cousin Fox's natural coloring," she says between smiling teeth. Let him remember that a man who looks like Brennan could look like Brand. Paige would be more than happy to not have to remind him.

It's not quite enough to throw Martin off his rhythm, but Paige is certain she's made the point.

Business. Duty, as Jerod put it. She can do this. Paige almost laughs out loud when the idea occurs that she'd rather still be dancing with Jerod. Even if she did feel safe in these arms, that security belonged to someone else.
            "Venesch reports a guard unconscious downstairs. No marks or signs of injuries. Guess that supports the sorcerer conjecture," Paige continues. "My last dance partner believes Hawk might be diversionary, to draw us off. I think it's more a secondary or target of opportunity issue."

"Guard? That's bad. Real bad," Martin says. "I have orders to leave ASAP after we close it down here, but somebody has to check that out. Have Merle look the guard over. If it really was *her*, we may be screwed. If she ate the guard, she knows everything the guard knows."
            He sounds mildly alarmed by the prospect.

Coming in from the area with the champagne fountain, Vere spots a red-headed fellow in a black costume, cloaked in a way that suggests wings, with a half mask hiding his nose under the beak of a raven.

Vere frowns, then says to his father, "I do not recall seeing this man before, dressed in a costume like a raven, with red hair.  There is something about him..."  Vere pauses while he tries to determine just what it is that's attracting his attention.

Perhaps it's the way he seems very directed in his walk through the crowd, and yet at the same time seems to be searching for something.

Simultaneously he's analyzing the man's direction and where his attention is focused, trying to locate his destination.  Vere is also plotting an intercept course, and checking to see if, on his way to intercept the raven, he will pass any of the family, and of Venesch's guards, any of M's men, or any of the dragonriders.

Given the general direction of the Raven's path, he could try for Benedict and Venesch. The Raven might turn, though.

"Father," Vere says, "I am going to inform Prince Benedict of the man that I have noted, although one certainly hopes my doing so will prove redundant.  In any case, this will give me an opportunity to inquire as to what is occurring.  Her Majesty is being escorted in this direction, I assume she will have information for you."  

Gerard reaches over the side of his chariot to loosen its wheel-shield for use if need be.

Vere inclines his head to his father, and heads for Benedict.  His walk appears deceptively casual, he is moving much more quickly than most people watching would realize, and he remains aware of what is going on in the Great Hall.

The Raven seems to have spotted his quarry, whatever it is. He veers off in a slightly different direction.

There is a great crash from one of the side-rooms, followed in short order by a scream.