Dara is paying attention to Random and so does not notice the speeding dart until it passes by her, some feet away, and falls to the floor.
            "Well, 'King' Random?  Is that your answer?  I demand so much more than one poorly executed attack."  Dara has what might be a deck of cards in her free hand and is spreading them.
            Random looks towards Solange, then back at Dara.  He pulls himself taller and replies.  "My answer is that you have no right to come here making demands.  And if you come in war against us, then all there is for you here is a cell.  You'll have my old one.  It can be made comfortable enough."
            Beside her, the smug young man seems to be doing something.
            She laughs, bell-like tones ringing incongruously throughout the place.  It is a sound that is disturbingly familiar to those who fought at the abyss.  "You can't take me and you can't hold me.  I am the heir to Borel's demesne and I will have my due."
            Random shrugs.  "If that's the way you want it, so be it."  He nods, once, abruptly.
            "As you will."  She says, and flings the cards in her hands outward in a great arc that covers most of the hall.  They move unnaturally and there are many, many more of them than can be accounted for by mere numbers and they are accelerating towards almost all of the crowd.  There are screams as the closest observers are hit by the attack.
            Although few can spare the attention to see it, the familiar looking man's free hand sparks as he draws it down, a single finger outstretched as if he were scratching the air.  There is a sound like claws against a chalkboard and the space his finger has passed through opens like a wound.  The rip in space reveals an empty place beyond.

Folly plays through the exchange between Dara and Syd and she suspects that she helped him, if not with her power than with her steadying presence and musical familiarity.
            After Dara and Random's exchange, Folly and Paige see cards flying out at almost everyone, including at them.

Folly, concentrating on her music, has perhaps not kept as close an eye on Dara as she should've.  And so, by the time she realizes what is happening, all she can manage is a forceful "Get down!" to the people around her while dropping to the ground herself.

A wingless emerald Asian dragon soars incongruously over the bandstand, stooping on a sitting duc^h^h^h^swan, hopefully bowling it over and out of the path of the missile. As the tense moments *seem* to elongate during her flight, Paige finds herself scanning the crowd for the Devil and then impacting Folly.

As Dara looses her cards, Random starts to move forward towards her, as if to close and attack. His movement is short-circuited by Martin, who throws himself on top of his father.
   
There is a pause, a heartbeat that seems to take forever, in which Folly's entire awareness shrinks to the square meter or so surrounding herself as she waits to see whether she remains Not Dead.  She has instinctively Ducked and Covered, she realizes with grim humor, just like those hide-under-your-desk-in-case-of-apocalypse drills they used to have in school.  The violin is nestled safely against her chest, cradled in the arm that isn't Covering, beneficiary of a deep-seated musician instinct.

The Devil has stepped in front of the dragonriders and is doing something with his sword.  Perhaps he is parrying cards...

A momentary sigh of relief, lost in the impact of...

Paige lands atop Folly, knocking her out of her chair and landing on top of her. Folly's head hits the music stand behind her and it smarts, but the dangerous cards don't hit either of them.

Vere sees cards flying out at almost everyone, including at him.

Vere immediately moves to push as many of the noncombatants to the ground as quickly as he can manage, shouting "Get down!" to those that he can't reach.  He's more concerned with protecting as many of the women, children and elderly as possible than he is with getting out of the way of the cards himself.

Vere pushes several of those nearby down and more take his advice.  He is hit in the shoulder by a card.  It slices off a portion of his costume and a layer of flesh, but it does not cause him to drop.  It looks worse than it feels.

Solange and Marius see cards flying out at almost everyone, including at them and Solace.

Solange quickly moves her wings to "displayed" and turns her back, stepping in front of her companions so that they're at least a little shielded from the oncoming cards.

Two cards lodge in the supports of Solange's wings. Marius, Solace, and Solange are all uninjured.

Lilly sees cards flying out at almost everyone, including at her, Ossian, Gerard and Vialle. Gerard's shield is already in position to interpose as the cards are thrown.

Lilly reacts in way any overconfident person wielding a sword would when faced with a deck of playing cards, she tries to cut them in pieces while knocking them from the air. Not just hers either. Any card within a few feet of her is fair game as far as Lilly is concerned. Her main goal is to keep the cards as far from Vialle as possible.

None of the cards come close to Lilly's little huddle. They are miraculously spared.

Also, as soon as Ossian squeezes her hand, she is squeezing back. She wants Vialle out of here ASAP. Things are getting just a bit too strange for her taste.

When Ossian feels Lilly's hand squeeze he does not hesitate. He steps through to the beach, looks around for a moment to that nothing dangerous lurks there, and then pulls Lilly and Vialle through.

Gerard tosses his shield at Dara and her companion. It's too far, and he's too slow, but nobody should ever tell the strongest man in the world that.

Jerod sees cards flying out at almost everyone, including at him, Random and Martin, and Folly, Paige, and Flora.

Neat trick...buddy with the claws that rip open space is very interesting.  A pity Jerod can't talk to him without probably having to try to kill him...:)
            Jerod is armed once he sees Martin so - he doesn't waste any time (yes he's always armed and voluminous robes are really nice for carrying swords at costume parties).
            Also some poor schmuck gets the unfortunate duty of falling into the path of the card meant for Folly.  Jerod is *absolutely certain* that's going to happen (yes, I know, he's Eric's kid.  Mean, nasty, ruthless - but he made a promise and he keeps it.  How he keeps it is just a minor detail.)
            Oh, and assuming he's got a chance, he ducks...:)

Jerod ducks, but he thinks that he wasn't going to be hit anyway.  Jerod sees a lot of people getting hit and falling down.  The pattern trick works and an unfortunate Sackbut player finds himself falling in the path of a card that might have hit Folly.  He does not manage to have a musician intercept the flying cousin (Paige) who does hit Folly.  Jerod also notices that Flora seems to have dropped and rolled under the bandstand.

Conner sees cards flying out at almost everyone, including at him and Llewella.

"Should've been a sorcerer like Mother wanted."  Conner murmurs.  His arm lashes out and grabs a metal serving tray abandoned by a panicked server and proceeds to use his makeshift shield to guard himself and Llewella.

Conner holds up a tray, brightly polished silver reflecting Llewella's image and his own.  He adroitly stops two cards which clang like thrown rocks against his makeshift shield.

Brennan sees cards flying out at almost everyone, including at him.

Well *someone* has to do something action-oriented and suicidal, er, daring.
            In Brennan's minds-eye, there is a smooth, flowing image:
            He takes a step forward, down into a crouch.

Brennan times this well, and two cards pass harmlessly over his head, although it is possible that someone further behind him may not be so fortunate.

He retrieves the throwing knives at his boots-- they had some moderate success against Grackleflints, as Brennan recalls.
            He takes a second step forward, out of the crouch, throwing one at Dara and the other at the man who could be a long-lost brother.  Bonus points if it lodges in his throat right where Caine's arrow hit Brand.

Brennan surges up and knows that he will miss; his targets are disappearing into the opening ripped into space beside them.

//J'lin g...//   
            Canareth's strong response comes as soon as Jovian opens his mind to speak to him.   
            //Anger! Anger!  Intruder!  Defend the Clutch!  Kill it!  Kill it!//
            Canareth is enraged and Jovian can almost feel the wind on his back as he flies.  And he gets a faint echo of a vision of Brita being attacked by a man who looks like Caine.

In an instant's mental focus there is nothing of Jovian left except the sheer strength of his bloodline - he is utterly J'rim, and he is of Canareth, and he is In Control.
            The full force of his will comes to bear on his leviathan bondmate.  Bright, sharp, pure *focus*...commanding without words as he did over the Abyss. ~Trap the intruder,~ the force of his will impels. ~The Sire defends. The wings will not let it escape!~ The fire in J'rim is laser-tight, drawing a saurian grid that no being within could slip through.

J'rim's strong, even touch brings the wild wrath of his partner under some measure of control and his will is battered by more than a score of angry dragons reflecting and amplifying a huge surge of emotion and anger amongst themselves.  After a moment or so, it is clear to J'rim that his will is holding and that he and Canareth are beginning to help the others maintain or regain control.  The two push their power out, a steadying that all the dragons and riders need.
            J'rim maintains his focus on the dragons and takes in the scene.  Surrounding him are his most senior riders, sweat on their foreheads and eyes closed, apparently fighting the same mental battle he is engaged in.
            Somewhere nearby, a flying woman is speaking.  J'rim sees her throw what seems to be a pack of cards.  They are flying everywhere out from her and some are heading right at him and the riders.

J'rim seizes the shoulder on either side of him and pulls as he drops to one knee; when he's sure they're following he whips the wings of his cloak forward and to the sides - a defensive move fit to be echoed by cavalier-era duelists all over Shadow. The swirling motion also happens to bring his right hand over and down to V'laren's hip area.
            V'laren has his belt knife, because he *always* has his belt knife. He's never without it, therefore he must have it.

He doesn't.  If he brought a knife to an event where he would be in the presence of the King (like a coronation, knighting, or ball), it would be taken away from him.  If they couldn't take it away from him, Julian, Jerod, or Jovian would have been summoned to do it.  As he is in the hall, he has no knife.

~Hold. Prevent escape.~
             The bloody-minded resolve pulses in him, cool, clear and coherent, and
outward through Canareth to the wings. It is utterly, if oddly, consonant with his unbreakable will to hold ground and prevent escape that J'rim's right hand comes up with his Farpoint wing man's belt knife and, from that stable one-knee stance, sends it flying for the raven costume's center of mass.

Bleys, who has been moving about in the crowd, reappears among the dragonriders at this juncture. He steps forward, naked blade in hand, and whips the blade in a circle before him, almost like a shield. Cards in the general vicinity of the blade snap to it, as if drawn there.

Aisling sees cards flying out at almost everyone, including at her.

Aisling glides to the side, to see if the card heading for her tracks her specifically.  If it does, she'll put one of the particularly sheep-like of this lot of cowardly wastes of blood between her and it...  She dodged the direction she did on purpose. 

The card does not track Aisling, they are dangerous in their individual selves and in their shotgun like quantity.  This attack could have staggered a charging Army.  Perhaps if Borel hadn't gotten distracted by Corwin, things might have been different on the field...
            In any case, Aisling manages to avoid being hit.

What she wants to do is disembowel Dara with her bare hands, and then walk around smacking various people with the steaming reeking entrails.  But she's too far away to get there in time.

Merlin and Corwin have been standing on the edge of the dance floor where Paige and Jerod abandoned them. Corwin has Grayswandir in hand by the time of the attack.
            Merlin reacts to the attack with amazing speed, snatching the blade from his father's hand and passing it, vertically, as if it were a staff, in an arc between himself and Corwin on one side and the cards on the other. He speaks three syllables as he makes the arc, but no one can hear them clearly enough to make sense of them.
            In the wake of the blade, there is a silver shimmer left in the air. When Dara's cards strike it, they burst into flames and evaporate.
            From the expression on Merlin's face, this wasn't the result he expected.   He hands Grayswandir back to Corwin a little too quickly, as if passing off a poisonous snake. Corwin looks mildly amused at the his son's discomfiture.

Caine is somewhere deep in the crowd, actually behind Dara and her companion. Since he's out of her arc of cards, he doesn't need to dodge before delivering a beautifully  thrown knife directly into Dara's back.
            He grins in wicked satisfaction as her companion pulls her through the rift in space, then begins moving towards Random as the crowd stands in stunned silence.

Benedict calmly parries a card that comes too close with his staff, which he then reverses and hurls like a spear. It passes through the space where Dara once was a moment after she vacates it.
            In the moment of stunned silence that follows Dara's departure, Benedict, unshocked, nods, as if he expected this outcome.

There are several weapons coming at Dara from different directions after she fans the cards at the crowd. From one side, a familiar-looking hermit's staff; from before her, three daggers, and assorted other items; from behind her, a knife with a green pommelstone.
            All three daggers from the front go wild of their intended targets (two at Dara; one at her companion). The dagger from behind plants in Dara's back with sufficient force to drive her forward momentarily, as if it staggered her.
            Dara's companion grabs her and drags her through the rift, which seals behind him as if it had never been.
            The staff is a moment late, and Gerard's shield a moment behind that, as the onlookers take a moment to recover, or gawk, or assess their wounds.

It is possible that Cleph is succeeding due to luck, but Brita's intuition tells her that he knows exactly what he's doing.  He may be a better fighter than she is.
            Cleph steps back with remarkable speed and ducks to avoid the majority of Robin's projectiles, although some almost certainly hit his cloak and likely him.  He times this so that he also neatly sidesteps Brita's powerful swing with the warhammer.  His sword clatters to the ground and his grin is feral.  Before she can recover from her swing, he has closed.  He bends down, wrapping an arm around Brita, they are too close for her weapon to come to bear, and he looks as if he is about to stand.
            He is again too close to Brita for Robin to get a clean shot, except at his right arm, which is akimbo.
            Prince Julian has just reached the doorway and has instantly taken in the scene.

Brita attempts to head butt the idiot that has gotten close enough to her. She will also surge upwards, trying to unbalance him before he gets a chance to stand.

Brita attempts to surge upwards in a head butt, but she finds she has no power to put behind the surge.  Cleph rises, his arm wrapped close around a writhing wildcat.   Brita attacks but he maintains his grip.  He seems to be making soothing sounds as one would to a cat that did not want to be held.
            Or a lamb being led to the slaughter.

"Calls itself Cleph, sir.  And it's pulling its punches.  Don't know why yet."  Robin reports tersely as she looses another barrage at the akimbo arm.  Her eagerness for combat pulling her yet a little further from the herd moving behind her, but she still keeps the shepherding presence on full power.

Cleph's free hand sparks as he draws it down, a single finger outstretched as if he were scratching the air.  There is a sound like claws against a chalkboard and the space his finger has passed through opens like a wound. The rip in space reveals an empty place beyond.  Cleph begins to step through, dragging Brita with him.
            Robin notes that her missiles that hit this rent cross into another space.  Whatever is on the far side of the opening, an icy breeze is coming out from it.
             "Stay back!"  Julian replies to Robin.  He is pushing his way through to Cleph, and it is unclear if he will arrive before or after Cleph crosses and pulls Brita through to the other side.
            Reid and Fiona enter the room and see the action.  Fiona yells "My baby!"  and drives through the stragglers after Julian.

Reid follows his former dance partner in hot pursuit. "I'm getting too old for this $#!+"

Robin drops the sling and, despite the fact that Fiona is in the room, calls forth the heritage of Amber that she's been holding smoldering within her.  Blue fire flares along her nerves with a 'foomph' of power.
            Robin is trying to make him trip, preferably forward.

He doesn't trip.

Brita continues to writhe: kicking with her good leg, "punching" with her bad knee, and using her hands to poke out eyes, box ears, or grab anything she can to distract him.  When she sees the "doorway", Brita also spreads out her six foot+ frame in an attempt to catch the edges of the "door" or anything else nearby.  She is NOT going easily into the void.

Brita's attacks like a wildcat and Cleph seems to be just soaking it up.  She gouges an eye out and it seems more like sticking her finger in clay than like touching a human.  She hits and hits and doesn't seem to faze him.  The edges of the rift give softly when she touches them and she can't get purchase on them. 
            Once she is through, Cleph speaks a word in a strange language and the rent begins closing like a wound, getting smaller and smaller.
            Julian arrives as the rent is perhaps the size of a child and stabs through the opening, piercing Cleph's shoulder.  Fiona is but a moment behind him.  She seems intent on throwing herself into the breech.  Julian drops his sword and grabs Fiona by her shoulders.  She struggles helplessly against his strength for a moment while the gap in the fabric of reality finishes reknitting itself.  She looks up into his eyes, questioning.
            The room is, though not empty, silent, for the moment.

Martin and Random have not risen by the time Dara vanishes, although both of them seem to be moving and there doesn't seem to be a pool of blood underneath them.

Once Folly is satisfied that she is neither dead nor mortally wounded [thanks, Jerod!], her focus expands outward again and she looks up, cautiously, to ascertain the fates of those dearest to her -- first Paige, and then (if she can catch sight of them) Martin and Syd.

There is an instant of quiet, like the silence after an explosion.  Near the front of the bandstand,  Folly sees at least one musician on the floor, bleeding.  Beyond the bandstand, she sees a number of people down on the dance floor,  Martin is on top of Syd.  There doesn't seem to be any blood and they're both moving.  Unlike some of the people near them, like Lucas and Cambina.

Paige rolls off Folly, looking back to appraise the situation and then scanning the nearest for who needs help once she sees that Dara's retreated. Her instinct to run to Martin is cut short by her knowledge that managing the perceptions here was going to be crucial from this point on. No use crying over spilt milk, but you can keep yourself from spilling anymore.
            As she looks around, "Honey, you OK?"

"Mmph," Folly says, still a little disoriented from the double-impact of Paige and the music stand.  She sits up carefully.  "Yeah, I -- I think so."  She loosens her grip on the borrowed violin -- it now sounds like it's got something rattling around inside it -- and feels about under the edges of her skirt for something.  "How 'bout you, sweetie?"
            Paige can hear the tender concern in Folly's voice.

"Fine. Sorry I was so rough," she says offering Folly a hand.

"That's alright, I can take it," Folly replies, and grins.  She rummages under her skirt a moment more before taking Paige's hand and getting to her feet.  "Thanks," she adds quietly as she rises; it's clear she means the knocking-down as well as the helping-up.

Jerod doesn't bother catching his breath - it will catch up when he needs it.  He makes his way quickly over to Folly and Paige, offering hands to the pair to help them up as he says, "Duty calls for the medics.", noting the location of the wounded, before the colour drains slightly from his expression and he makes his way (very quickly) towards his sister.

Brennan throws anyway, hoping for a lucky shot into the void, but misses.  He does see Dara get hit by something from behind before she is pulled through.  Didn't look fatal, but perhaps you all could be lucky.

"Next time, bitch," he mutters under his breath.

After they disappear, there is an instant of stunned silence from the bleeding and battered crowd in the ballroom.

His next intent is find Cambina and make sure she's all right.

Cambina was on the dance floor.  She's down.  You don't know if she ducked or fell.   Lucas is lying next to her.  There's a pool of blood.  Neither is moving.  Nearby is Martin and it's likely that Random is underneath him.  They look like they're moving and there isn't any blood there.

Brennan is already moving in her direction by the time he bellows out, in that battlefield voice that's so at odds with his normally mild speaking voice, "Knights!  Crowd control and triage!"  Hopefully they're not all dead, or Brennan is going to look silly.  And have a lot of funerals to go to.

Knights in the crowd start moving in response to Brennan's command.

It seems extremely unlikely that any of the ordinary party-goers are going to get in Brennan's way, and that has nothing to do with probability manipulation....

In the moment after the attack and the departure, there is an instant of silence, like a void waiting to be filled.  Conner notes several wounded people in the reflected image behind him and his aunt.  "Thank you," says Llewella, quietly.

"My pleasure, my Aunt."  Conner replies letting out the breath he was holding.  He places his platter on the ground quietly as if not wanting to disturb the silence.  "Now I must see to my own."  Conner heads away from the scene on the dance floor and hurries toward where his sister and Robin were last seen.

Vere ignores the minor wound, instead scanning the crowd to see who was or was not injured.  He's nowhere near the king, and there are other people to see to him anyway, so he quickly absolves himself of any responsibilities there.  Gerard and Solange are both uninjured, and it appears that Paige prevented Folly from being injured as well.
            Vere therefore immediately begins running for the side room where he last saw Robin, the area from whence he heard a scream and a Ranger's whistle, and where he saw Julian go.

Everyone around Marius, Solange and Solace stands stunned for a moment as Dara and her companion vanish.

Although it's too late to catch Dara and her friend, Gerard's shield strikes the high ceiling of the hall with a clatter in the instant of shocked silence after they vanish.

Gerard says, "Lilly, take the Queen to the King." When there's no immediate response, he turns around and realizes that they're gone.
            He curses, then, and starts to bull his way through the crowd towards the dance floor.

As Dara and her companion vanish, Bleys steps back in a way that's not quite a stagger, blade still in hand. The cards are still stuck to the blade, but after a moment, they all fall to the ground, as if simultaneously released.
            Bleys looks a little grey around the gills.  There is a momentary silence after the interlopers depart and the last of the things thrown at them clatters to the floor.

Aisling watches as Dara and her companion disappear via some sorcery.  There are any number of attacks that are too late, although it looks like at least one throw hit Dara.  After the weapons clatter to the ground, there is a moment of stunned silence.

She can't get to Random, or to anywhere else useful.  Crowd control is now hopeless, her immediate thought there being "F*ck this for a lark".  The most she can do for Amber now is to provide a sterling example by holding her ground. 
            No, wait.  There's going to be a stampede, with people getting crushed as they run like the lemmings they are. 

Aisling spends the time taking in the damage to see where she can be of the most use.  Oh, and raging internally.

The Ranger's eyes roll wildly for a second, an unnoticed keen starting in the girl's throat, as she looks around for something *anything* to do.  Robin's green and liquid gaze lands on the Harlequin.  Brita's beloved mentor.  Who Draws.
            "Reid!  Can you Call her?!" The Huntress cries out in desperation.

"I can try, but I'm wondering if a trump connection at this point in time might distract her from whatever physical defense she might be attempting." Reid looks to Julian for guidance on the matter.

"Sir.  She was frenzied."  The Ranger says to Julian.  "No defenses," Robin's green eyes dart to Reid.  "And who knows how much of her time has passed?"  Robin's obviously not about to let it go.

Julian shakes his head. "Reid is quite correct. It would only endanger her."

As Vere and Conner come into the room, they see Julian still holding Fiona by the shoulders, as if reluctant to relinquish her. His blade lies on the floor at their feet, the top third or so of it cleanly sheared away by the closing rent.
            "We will get her back," Julian is saying in a low, compelling voice to his sister. "I swear it."
             Fiona masters herself with some effort, and nods.

Conner falls into step with Vere as they enter the alcove together.  At this moment, they are likely the same: fear and worry well masked by control.  Conner takes in the scene quickly and his face falls from a grim smile to a lost child.  "What's happened?"  He says somewhat weakly moving to his mother's side.

The sight of Conner's face falling pile-drives sorrow through Robin like a land-slide through a stand of pine.  And she shakes her head furiously, her blonde hair sweeping across eyes that are filling with liquid.
            Stooping, the girl squats to pick up her dropped sling.  And to, not so co-incidentally, hide her face from those in the room.  Dammit, girl!  Get it together.  You've lost men before!  While squatted, Robin takes a deep breath.
            When she stands again, she's a ranger.  And under control.

Vere's gaze goes first to Robin, and he quickly decides she's furious and frustrated, but not apparently seriously injured.  For a brief moment relief flashes across his face, to be replaced almost instantly by his normal unreadable expression.  He pauses near the entrance to the alcove, watching Conner approach Julian and Fiona, and coming to an instant conclusion about what has happened based on the actions and words of those present.  He says nothing.

Robin's eyes flicker over to Vere, briefly.  Not enough to be distracted from the moment at hand.  But enough to notice that he is there.  Enough to notice that he is injured but seems unbothered by it.  And enough to notice that he... appears to be wearing what looks like an unholy combination of meringue and barbecue sauce.
            Beneath her surface runs flickers of joy, laughter and the start of an slow deadly burn.

Julian relinquishes Fiona with some reluctance. She turns to Conner and says in a tremulous voice, "They've taken your sister. We have to find her, at once. We don't have very long."

Conner takes his mother's hand.  "Then find her we shall."  He promises grimly.  "Mother, my quarters?"  He asks.

Reid catches Conner's eye. "Cousin... If I can be of any assistance..." His voice is grave, and he looks at Robin before continuing. "If we gave her, perhaps, an hour our time... if she's engaged in one-on-one combat, that might be resolved, one way or the other, allowing her a better chance of making contact." His eyes continue to drift from person to person in the room, landing on Fiona and Vere next, seeking confirmation that his plan is neither futile nor foolish.

"We will try that. I have another plan in mind, one that may resolve matters more quickly," Fiona says.

Vere steps closer to Fiona and Conner and speaks in a low voice so that any nonfamily members still in the area can't overhear.  "I do not presume to understand the Duchess better than you, Your Highness," he says.  "But a logical conclusion would be that she will attempt to negotiate an exchange, your daughter for her son.  Surely this will cause her to wish to avoid any lasting harm to such a valuable asset?" 

Fiona nods, slowly. "I didn't know Dara was here. But ... it makes sense. If Cleph is her ally."

He pauses for a second before continuing, "I do not know if there is anything I can do to assist, but if there is you have but to instruct me in what you would have me do."

"Thank you Reid. Vere."  Conner says sincerely nodding to both.  "Once we have found her, we can best determine what to do next. I suspect we'll need all the help we can get."

"Count me in, Conner."  Robin's voice is grim from where she stands tucking her sling back into small of her back.  "Please."  She adds in afterthought.
            Then, the girl starts toward where a wicked looking blade lays on the ground.

Conner simply nods to her as well.  "And Robin."  He adds to his list of thanks.

Fiona says, "Your offers of aid are appreciated. All of them." And her eyes move to Julian, who has silently observed the conversation, offering no opinion. "But first I must find Brita, and that will be--risky. I must do this at once; I will send for aid afterwards, if we need it."

She takes Conner's arm, as if she is ready to go.

Conner simply nods and walks her back out to the main ballroom heading for the closest exit towards his rooms.

Robin watches them leave with flickering green eyes, and then crouches down to examine the sword, being very careful not to touch it.  She speaks quietly.  "It was a good answer, Reid."  She glances up to him with a locked-lip smile.  "Just not the one I wanted to hear."  A rueful snort goes through the Ranger's body.

It's wicked, but a familiar kind of wicked. Standard castle issue, Robin thinks, although she'd want to ask Venesch to confirm that.

Reid tries to comfort the ranger without making her uncomfortable.  His body language is merely empathetic.  "And not an answer I wanted to give. Trying to stay cool and logical after watching a girl I practically raised get pulled into the void is not without its difficulties... When we do catch the parties involved, I will be first in line to hand out either justice or retribution, whichever is more appropriate."

"That line will be long and the justice will be thorough," Julian says.  That Brita might need vengeance does not seem a thought he is willing to entertain.

Vere silently watches Fiona and Conner leave, then his eyes go back to Robin.  After a second he smiles slightly, then strips off the gauzy food-stained robe and tosses it into a corner of the alcove.  He tilts his head to one side quizzically while he watches Robin examine the sword.

Julian moves to stand by his daughter and examine the blade. He looks up at Reid and says, "Reid, someone must tell the King what has happened. Fiona  can be rather--intent on what she is doing--and may not recall that she needs to do this. Will you and Vere speak to him, and advise him I shall follow momentarily?"

Vere nods silently, but waits for his elder cousin to answer before speaking or doing anything else.

"Yes, Vere, perhaps you should..." Reid sees Julian's face stiffen almost imperceptibly... "I mean, we should go inform the king. Did you see where the rest of the family wandered off to?"

Vere smiles slightly.  "I could tell you where each of them was at the moment just before I left the Great Hall," he says, "and my estimate of what they were about to do.  But to answer what I think you meant, they are all seeing to care for the wounded and the calming of the crowd."  The smile fades.  "Princess Cambina and Lord Lucas are the only members of the family who were wounded, as far as I could tell.  I do not know how seriously.  And I do not now how many deaths the Duchess Borel might have caused, if any."  He waits still, as though awaiting a clear order from Reid or Julian before acting.

Robin's green eyes look up to her father, something swimming in their depths.  Then over to Reid, a small sad smile – grateful for his graciousness and wishing that she could do more for him – is given to her cousin.
            Inevitably, like the pull of the tide, Robin finds her gaze going to Vere.  Without his gauze yet still draped in mystery.  The wound on his shoulder tugs at her hands, and at her heart.  Yet he holds himself so still.  This is his world, and therefore he chooses.
            Mixing with it all -- her father's use of the singular pronoun was not lost on the Ranger.

Vere appears not to notice Robin's glance in his direction.

Julian says, "You discount your own injury, Vere. After you have spoken to the King, have your father look you over. I mislike wounds sustained in battle with Chaos; some of them turn sour in unexpected ways."

Vere makes a slight dismissive gesture with one hand, then nods.

To Reid, he adds, "Thank you," although he doesn't specify for what. It does sound like a dismissal.

"Shall we then?" Reid inquires. With Vere's consent, they move on...

"Indeed," Vere replies.  And is content to follow Reid's lead.

"Sir Otter," Solange asks, "do you think it's possible to remove the cards I've caught without injuring yourself?  Someone ought to have a look at them."

Marius makes the appropriate grunt and does so.  He wants a look at them.
            He looks wistfully at the place where Dara and Friend vanished for a moment, but won't say what he's wistful for, exactly.

Marius carefully extracts the cards from their lodging-places in Solange's wing-structure. They're sharp, he thinks, and is very glad he didn't take a wound from them.
            The cards look like ordinary playing cards to Marius but they have an odd
sheen to them.

Sensing that the dragons are coming under enough control to handle the situation themselves now, Jovian straightens and surveys the bloodied crowd, in that odd moment when the shadows do not flicker. The funny thing about time is when it doesn't....
            He glances upward, half in the room and half out, then throws back his cowl and hood, revealing the Knight Commander's face to the assembled luminaries.
            "Everyone will please stay where they are," Julian's son thunders in a
powerful yet calm voice meant to carry across a formation in flight.  "Our allies are on patrol outside the castle. Remain within the grounds until the all-clear is given."
            When he feels confident that he has most of the crowd's attention, he
continues. "If you are uninjured, and untrained in the healing arts, kindly retire to the gardens. Knights and veterans, remain to assist the injured."
            //Healers are to land in the courtyard, now,// he adds to Canareth.  //The courtyard, NOT the formal gardens.//

The crowd responds favorably to the confidence in Jovian's voice and begins filing out.
            Knights, Royal Guards, and Rangers all move to take some charge of the crowd. Jovian recognizes a few, such as Vista.

Whereupon, with significant looks to his wingleaders, he closes the few yards between himself and Bleys. "Are you all right?" If that latter worthy is looking shaky on his feet, Jovian offers an arm.

Bleys shakes off whatever had had hold of him, literally. "Yes, yes, fine.  Have you seen my daughter?" He scans the hall, looking for Paige.

"Last I saw, she was headed toward the top of the hall, toward the King." Jovian nods in that direction, where it is presumably not easy to see because of the semi-orderly movement of the crowd, but with luck the elaborate emerald dragon on the orchestra risers may be visible.
            Leaving Bleys to it, Jovian goes about collaring servants with instructions:
            You, gather bottles of the purest, strongest spirits.
            You, get the clean napkins, spare tablecloths, whatever linens are sanitary, and start cutting the bigger cloth in strips.
            You, get the sharpest of the available cutlery together, and if boiling water isn't available, clean them with the spirits that one's collecting.
            And all of you bring it to...hmmm. That clear area of dance floor before the orchestra risers.
            All of this makeshift is just to deal with the most serious cases, of course, until proper supplies arrive. You, get to the infirmary upstairs and get us proper supplies, and run like *I'm* chasing you.
            You, get some brandy and port moving outside. Calming draughts, medicinal purposes. No, not the champagne, that'd seem callous.
            With that, Jovian is off, locating such wounded as can't move much on their own and walking them to the area where he instructed the servants to converge.

The servants are moving quickly, although the castle guards and the senior staff might be redirecting your collared servants into better tasks.  Some of the help here aren't allowed into the castle, not being regular staff.  Not after this evening...
            Venesch, on Random's orders, is moving everyone outside of the castle.   Family excepted.  Some of the naval officers and rangers are helping with the efforts.
            Jovian's head is throbbing.  Pounding.  He has the platonic ideal of all headaches.  He does notice that the other riders are also moving slowly and carefully.

//Canareth? The intruder managed to go *between* from inside, we're getting things under control here. What's happening out there?//

//We guard.//

Something labored in his tone reminds J'rim of the stories told by older Bronze riders of a mating flight interrupted.  As if the dragons were in a state of heightened emotional responsiveness and then something was taken away.

//How did you know about the intruder before any of the riders did? Did you find out from my father?//
            There's nothing accusatory in the tone, it's just a calm, level inquiry.  Everything about Jovian is calm and level - he really doesn't want to agitate his pounding head, you see.

//We knew.//

//Please tell me this isn't a time-stress headache.//

Canareth knows better than to answer rhetorical questions.

Who said anything about rhetorical questions?

Canareth does not answer this question.

Ruminating upon Canareth's reply, Jovian heads for the side room wherefore he last saw his father parting the crowd, any number of questions disturbing his thoughts as minimally as he can manage.

Jerod arrives beside Cambina and Lucas at about the same time that Flora emerges from underneath the bandstand, looking amazingly lovely even in her disheveled state.
            Lucas is atop Cambina and appears to be bleeding from somewhere in the vicinity of his head or throat. There's a lot of blood.

Noting the amount of blood on the way over to their location, Jerod has already pulled off his robe and shredded a suitable chunk of it for use in staunching the blood flow.  Given the amount of blood, Jerod has no qualms about bodily flipping Lucas over (and off his sister) to get the wound dealt with (assuming it's not gaping or otherwise mortal to a family member.  Politeness and other wounds be damned, stop the bleeding first).

Flora looks around, sees Lucas and Cambina in a bloody heap on the dance floor, and gasps. "Lucas!" she cries, and immediately runs to her son's aid, arriving moments before Brennan.

"Take this!" Jerod says to Flora when she arrives, releasing his grip on the material so she can take it, so he can get a look at his sister.

Flora holds the rags to Lucas' head wound. It looks like the card was only stopped by the thickness of his skull. Before Jerod applied the rags to Lucas' head, he thinks he saw that part of Lucas' ear had been sliced off.  Sliced ears are about to become Very Fashionable in Amber.
            Cambina is covered in blood, but it all seems to be Lucas'. She starts to sit up, but complains of lightheadedness.

Brennan is notably relieved.  Audibly, even, if anyone cares to listen for a sigh of relief over the noise going on.

There is no sound of relief from Jerod, though close family would recognize an *unwinding* of tension when his sister starts to sit up.  Jerod continues to examine her though, making sure nothing is broken and there are no hidden wounds - blood can hide a lot.
            "What happened?" Jerod asks, to get Cambina to start talking, to refocus her attention.

Brennan seems to lag behind Jerod and Flora in getting there and assessing the situation.  He helps with the medical efforts under their direction, since they have a better picture by the time he gets there.

"I... I hit my head when I fell.  I'm OK.  Is Lucas..."  _dead_?,  She doesn't ask.
             Before Jerod can answer, Corwin steps up.
            "I, ah.  I have some experience with headwounds.  Where did you get hit?" he asks, looking at her head.  "And how's your vision?"
            Merlin is behind his father, although he doesn't insert himself into the
conversation. He glances at Flora and Lucas and Solace and Brennan and the
approaching freight train that is Gerard as if he's trying to figure out something to do.

"He's alive." Jerod says to Cambina, performing a surface examination of her scalp for evidence of injuries.  "Looks like he lost an ear.  This Dara would seem to have a penchant for anti-personnel weapons.  Good thing for her they weren't that accurate."

Corwin watches closely as Jerod inspects Cambina. She tells her uncle, "Back of the head. Lucas landed on top of me and I didn't brace."
            Corwin nods. "When Gerard is done with Lucas, he'll want to look you over.  You should be all right until then. If you have any sudden nausea or change of vision, speak up at once. And if Gerard releases you, have someone stay with you tonight."
            "I will, uncle," says Cambina.

Paige sees the Cambina-Lucas pile and the arrivals of Jerod, Brennan, and Flora to tend to them.
            Behind them (from her perspective, which is to say, further out on the dance floor), she sees Martin start to get up. Something in his posture suggests he's on the edge of--something. Random says, "We thank you for your zeal in protecting our royal person." Martin snaps back into control and stands in a single smooth motion as his father continues, "Now help us up."
            Martin extends his hand to Random, who rises to his feet, and they turn towards the bandstand to be confronted by the sight of Cambina and Lucas.

"They're fine, too," Paige says her own concern as obvious as Folly's. She's scanning the room for Red Yin she arrived with and the Head Harem Girl. When she doesn't find them, she heads to the floor, near the King looking for direction.

Folly nods and bites her bottom lip.  She looks at Paige as if to say something; but seeing the Redhead's focus shift elsewhere, she thinks the better of it, turning her attention instead to the poor injured sackbut player and anyone else in the vicinity who requires assistance.

Solace hears Flora's cries and says, "Lucas!" and starts shoving her way determinedly towards the dance floor.

Aisling, having surveyed the bloody ballroom, speed-glides to the bloody heap of Lucas and Cambina.  Once there, looking especially iconic, she looks down on the two of them and the people around them to determine which is closer to death, and that one she will sit down beside and work on in her own way.  Probably near the foot, some body part far from the site of injury, so she won't be getting in the way of people working on more usual life-husbanding techniques.

Aisling kneels at Lucas' side and takes his hand.  There is no obvious effect.

A woman who is obviously Lucas' companion based on the costumes is right  behind Brennan. She stops cold and starts crying when she sees Flora and Lucas and all the blood.

Brennan turns.  You must be Lady... "Solace," he says, taking one or both of her hands.  He doesn't raise his voice, or speak harshly, or even unkindly.  He does meet her eyes and speak as firmly and insistently as he can.  And hopefully, Brennan is as difficult to ignore as he usually is.
            "Lady Solace," he repeats, "Lucas is alive.  He's hurt, but he's alive.  We need your help, Lady Solace.  Jove is keeping this crowd from a panic by sheer will force, right now.  Help us show everyone that everything really is under control.  Help us get everything organized and everyone shuffled out of here.  Can you help us do that?"
            Brennan's question is designed to be heard as rhetorical.  Of course she can help with this.  Brennan trusts her.  He wouldn't bother asking if he didn't.

Solace doesn't pull away when Brennan takes her hand. She doesn't stop crying either. "Lord ... Brennan, isn't it? You've seen battlefield wounds, haven't you? You're sure he's--he'll be better? The children--" and she pauses, as if she can't quite finish the thought. She's not hysterical, but she's not ready to simply go away.

He nods at his name, and the battlefield question.

"I've seen men walk away from much worse, Lady Solace.  It's a head wound, and head wounds tend to bleed and look very bad.  But it is a head wound," he says frankly, "And if Prince Gerard doesn't have him sent off to the infirmary, I'm going to.  I don't believe he's going to die, Lady Solace.  But these sorts of wounds need treatment and attention."
            Thinking of the instrument which caused the wound, he stoops to pick up the card.

The card is stiff, much too much so for the material it appears to be made of. And sharp, such that Brennan has to be careful not to cut his fingers.  Not to mention bloody.

Brennan may recall that Lucas has two children. If Lucas were to die, it would be a shame if his children didn't get a chance to say their farewells.

...Cause that's exactly the heartstring to tug at, for Brennan.

Meanwhile, Gerard is wheeling over towards Lucas, and people are scrambling out of his way.

Solace clings to Brennan's hand, unwilling to relinquish his strength at the moment.

"...I need that back, Lady Solace," he says, referring to his hand.  "I've only got two, and I need to wipe this thing off to get a closer look at it."  He gestures, non-threateningly, with the *sorcerous implement of death* he just casually picked up off the floor.

Solace releases his hand with a start.

Brennan gives her a don't-worry-about-it look.

He produces a handkerchief from somewhere appropriate and begins to carefully wipe it down.  Thinking it might be in some way related to a Trump, he takes appropriate precautions.  Like, not staring at it, keeping the cloth handy to cover it, keeping it covered when he's not futzing with it.  Standard no-brainer stuff.

The card appears to be a standard playing card. ("Standard" in this case meaning larger early period cards, not the little Bicycle decks we get nowadays.) It's unusual in that it seems to be too thin and very sharp and slick. (Think laminated.)
            When he wipes the first side down, Brennan sees that it is the nine of swords from a normal deck.

Gerard stops his chair by Lucas and leans over to have a look at him. It's not a sustainable position, and Gerard curses as the wheelchair wobbles and creaks in protest at the strain he's putting on it. "Get some of these damned guards over here with a stretcher!" he growls at no one in particular.
            To Flora, Solace, and Brennan, he adds, "I'm about ta take the lad to the new infirmary."

Brennan nods, more to Solace than to Gerard.

Aisling's not so much for the interpersonal interaction at the moment.  After looking down on the two royals and choosing the one that wasn't stirring, she smoothly kneels down next to the Shepherd and takes his wrist as if she's checking his pulse.  For the next few minutes, then, talking to her is like talking to a member of some frieze carved over a door.
            Then she looks down at Lucas (from where she was looking off into the distance), and nods once, and stands as quietly as she knelt, and walks off to see if there are any that need immediate patching to live.

"Merlin." Jerod says, when Cambina is replying to Corwin, motioning for him to come to one side of his sister.  "When she's ready to get up."  (Jerod's strong enough to pick her up without any trouble, but gentleness is more applicable here).

Merlin steps up at once and gets into position to help with Cambina. "I can lighten you, Cambina." He pauses. "If you think it is better," he adds diffidently to Jerod.

Jerod pauses to consider Merlin's comments before smiling for just a moment.  Merlin's way of speaking is going to keep Jerod on his toes - he likes that.
            "That won't be necessary." Jerod says, completing his initial evaluation.  "It's better if she can move on her own to do so.  It can be an aid to the diagnostic process as well, to see how well she does as she recovers."

"Ah," says Merlin.

Off to one side, they can all hear Gerard barking orders at people and getting ready to move Lucas to the infirmary.

"We're not likely to get you away from Uncle Gerard until he's had a chance to check you over." Jerod says to his sister.  "How about we head you down there along with your defender here?" motioning to Lucas.

Cambina flushes slightly, and says, "I'm fine. I just want to sit down."

"So it shall be." Jerod says, making sure she's reasonably comfortable.

Corwin says to her, "If you still want to come to Paris, and you're not well enough to ride, I'll order a carriage for you. But after this evening, I can't wait to get back to Paris. I have to leave tomorrow." He turns to Jerod, and adds, "I hope you'll be able to join us as well."

"Unless Uncle Random has something else to occupy my attention."  Jerod says.  "Cambina is okay which means I don't have to go hunting someone over a silly vengeance trip.  Damn things are a pain in the ass."
            "I will want to speak to you concerning something from...home.  We can do that in Paris, after I've had a chance to see your...ummm...drawing." and Jerod smiles.

Brennan moves over to the other clump to talk to Merlin.

Paige wants to help with Lucas and Cambina, but there seem to be more than enough bodies there. Jovian's voice can be heard bellowing orders, so if not given orders, she helps triage injuries and after removing her mask and much of the extraneous parts of the costume (Blythe will kill her) she carries wounded to the rooms being used or out into the gardens.
            Random looks up when she comes over.  He nods to Bleys and speaks to Paige.  "I'm having Venesch send people outside.  I'll address them briefly after they clear out of here.  Then we'll talk in one of the side rooms.  If you and your cousins could help people step outside in an orderly fashion.  I'd appreciate it.  And spread the word.  Them out, us in."

Paige nods.

Bleys says "You're alright, then, daughter?  That was more athletic than I would've liked, given your condition."

"Father, we're speaking of a week. Most women wouldn't even know that they're in such a *condition*, yet," she comments. "I'm fine, truely."
            Paige helps sort the masqueraders out into the appropriate groups in the courtyard. (i.e. Hurt, Hysterical, and Dragon Snacks) She keeps a look out for the leClaires, but more importantly, is concerned for the lack of Lilly, Ossian and Vialle. 

It's at about this moment that Jovian wanders into the alcove from the main hall.
            He pokes around the wreckage to find what he is unshakeably convinced will be there - a bottle of decent brandy and a tumbler, both of which somehow escaped the general smashing up of the room intact.

"Jovian," says Julian, acknowledging his son's presence. "Robin and I will be taking a moment of fresh air. I will return anon."
            He takes Robin's arm, and, barring a significant demur from Jovian, departs with his daughter.

Robin looks up with flickering emerald eyes and nods her agreement.  Standing she takes her father's arm and leaves with him.  No muss, no meeting of eyes, no waves, no fluttering, just gone.

"Fine," Jovian replies, the pain creeping into his voice as he locates the bottle and straightens up again. "Be sure to catch up with me when you have a minute, please."

"I shall," says Julian.