Worth waits until Solange has cleared the battle zone to step close and speak to her in a low voice. "It's your uncle. You know he hasn't been well these last few years. The shock of all this has given him a spell. It's his heart, we think."
            He pauses and adds, "Felicity needs you. I think he's dying."

"I'll come right away," Solange says, folding her wings.  "Where are they?"

"Outside. I'll take you," says Worth.
            Worth pushes his way through the crowd, and Solange follows in his wake.  They leave the hall and wend through the halls, out into the outer bailey.  Many of the guests are already leaving the castle grounds, making way for those still coming out of the hall. Royal guards, Rangers, and some naval officers wander among those who remain, guarding and tending the walking wounded.
            Worth heads straight to one little clump of former partygoers. Solange sees Felicity and several of the ladies of her circle, who are attempting to console her. On the ground before them is her Uncle Fleet and a young guardsman, pounding desperately at him in what Solange recognizes as some sort of CPR technique.
            "Breathe, damn your eyes!" Solange hears him say as he works on the desperately-ill man.

Solange kneels down beside the guardsman and her uncle.  "Want some help? I've had the training," she offers.  She turns her head to Worth.  "Papa?  There's people running around with medkits. Can you see if anyone's got something we can use?"

"He's had that," says the guardsman. "You take the chest and I'll keep him breathing!"

Solange and the guardsman work furiously to revive her uncle. They can keep Fleet alive by continuing the CPR, but his heart is not beating and he's not breathing without their aid. The guardsman continues with CPR as long as Solange likes.   
            A physician arrives and oversees, but there's nothing he can do, and he's not going to tell a royal daughter to stop if she thinks there's anything to be done.

After several minutes of futile effort, Solange accepts the obvious.
            "You may as well stop," she tells the guardsman.  "It's no good."

He looks frustrated and upset. "I'm sorry, my lady, I wish I could have done more."
            Worth looks at the man and says "Thank you, we know you did your best."

Ignoring the fluttering ladies, Solange goes directly to Lady Hardwind, and takes both her hands.
            "I'm sorry, Aunt Felicity," she says.  "We did everything we could, but he was already gone."

Worth leans down and shuts his brother-in-law's eyes.

If her aunt seems so inclined, Solange embraces her and lets her cry on her shoulder, but she is not so forward as to initiate an embrace, just in case Felicity prefers to give her friends a display of quiet dignity instead.

Felicity leans on Solange heavily for a minute. She seems quite fragile.  Then she stands up and says, "There are people who'll have to be notified, things to do--I, I'll have to go home and take care of them ..."
            She's clearly in shock.

"Let me take you home," Solange says.  "You'll need some time to collect yourself.  Writing notes, making arrangements -- I'll help you with those, if you like."

Worth says, "The roads back to the city will be crowded. Solange, do you think Felicity could stay here with you tonight? Arrangements can wait until in the morning."

"No trouble at all," Solange says.  "Come with me, Aunt Felicity.  I'll get you settled, and have them bring us some tea..." and starts steering her aunt towards the Family Wing.
            She figures that Worth will see to poor Uncle Fleet's body, and get it into the ice house until they can bring him home to lay out in the parlor.

Worth does remain with the body.

The chance of thermonuclear destruction subsides as Martin leaves the room with his father and Aisling leaves the room with Paige. Marius is left alone with Ossian's trump, which he may now use.

Marius doesn't want the first thing the Queen is subject to to be panic, chaos, or, well, a mess, so he will actually take a bit of time to find a quiet spot free from debris she might trip her dainty little feet upon.   
            Once there, he will concentrate on the card.  "Ossian," he will say, calmly.

"Ah. There you are." Ossian answers brightly "Shall we come through?"

"Indubitably.  Be forewarned, there are injuries, escapees, arguments, and debris.  Not necessarily in that order."  He takes a deep breath.  "You may wish to warn the Queen that she will be expected to act in the kingdom's behalf on an immediate basis."

"I'll talk to her." Ossian looks slightly shaken as Mariu's words dawn on him.
            //The king. Is he ok? Vialle is worried.// the taste of Ossian's mindspeak tells Marius that worried might be a slight understatement.

//He is unharmed.//   Marius is not quite ready to call Random "OK."  He finds Random impudent, presumptuous, and brash, and fears that Random's hurry is seemingly to get away from the problems of the kingdom rather than to find solutions, but then again, Marius realizes he hasn't been on the super-secret meetings that might prove this hypothesis wrong.
            Besides, how could Random leave his lovely wife behind?  Ah well, maybe Marius can be there if she gets lonely.
            "However, there are many other injuries amongst our kin noted by the exodus to infirmary and healers.  I would hate to make a broad assumption, but I think, maybe, we've survived this shot over our bow."

Ossian nods.

Marius holds out a hand appropriately.

//Could you hold for a few seconds while I inform the queen?// Ossian asks, smiling, and then addresses Vialle and Lilly.
            "Your Majesty, Marius is ready to bring us through."
            "He asked me to inform you that while the king is unhurt, you will probably need to take charge of things upon arrival."

Vialle swallows the last of her water. Ossian feels that she's using the moment to steel herself.   
            "Very well," she says. "Let us go through."

Lilly says, "If it pleases your majesty I will go first so that I may aid you in making the transition." The words were pretty but the translation was obvious, /I'm paranoid, your majesty, and do not want to hand you off to anyone without first making sure they are not waiting to kill you/.

Vialle seems a little startled. "Oh, of course, Lilly, whatever you think best." She draws herself up then, with grave dignity, and waits her turn.

"Marius, they are ready now. Dame Lilly will come first." Ossian says and reaches for Lilly's hand.

Like all experienced Amberites, Marius has managed to make waiting with his hand out look like a completely natural and casual way to spend his time.  In fact, he's got a pose and everything.

Ossian hands the ladies over to Marius one at a time, himself stepping through last. No funny business intended.

"Greetings, Dame Lilly.  It is a pleasure to see you in good health," Marius makes meaningless social noise towards her as he takes her across.  He realizes he was holding his breath and lets it out.  This is something he's more heard of than really experienced, and the first time he's done it himself.  Maybe you could get caryatids with mental abilities to hold open a Trump permanently... hmmm.

Lilly has never been one for making arbitrary noise. She does however offer a polite nod in return for his greeting before quickly assessing her surroundings. Once that is done she turns her attention back to the emerging Queen. For the time she remains silent awaiting Ossian's arrival and orders from the Queen.

"Your Majesty," he somehow manages to pull her through in such a way that allows him to be rising from a semi-bow as she arrives, no matter if the effort is wasted.

"Sir Marius," says Vialle. "Thank you for assisting us in our return to Amber. Is there anything I need to know before I take charge?"

"This, by the way," he says to Ossian as a matter of polite conversation, "is Folly's card, and I will need return it."

Ossian's eyes flashes with irritation for a moment, then he nods.  "I note the masquerade is over." he says, and starts to remove the piece of cloth that masks his face, and subsequently the fake beard thereunder.

Jovian has to go into the inner castle, but he finds a page quickly and sends off for the supplies. One hopes he remembers to ask for the painkillers for that headache of his.
            Jovian goes the opposite direction down the hall and misses Martin's perp walk.

Well, crap.

Vere watches various members of the royal family disperse in various directions.
            Gerard has taken Lucas away. Benedict and Caine have vanished sometime during the Aisling-Martin blowup.

Momentarily, Jovian re-enters the ballroom, catching Brennan's eye.  "A runner will be down from the Infirmary with a full medi--" At that point his gaze over the rest of the room, including various expressions, catches up with him. "Crap. Where'd he go, and is he coming back?" From his own drawn expression, it seems other things are catching up with him as well. He glances about to see if Reid and Random left that brandy bottle somewhere useful.

It is not present. RHIP: Random Has Imperial Prerogatives.

Brennan, on his way back to Cambina, pauses to give Jovian a credible and not unkind impression of Jerod saying, "It's good to be the King."  Then, in his normal voice, "You just missed him-- King Random took him away."

"Well, fine then," Jovian responds wearily, closing his eyes and pressing at his forehead in some evident pain. "He can do his own crewelwork. I suppose Vialle's regency is effective immediately? Where is she, anyway...." he trails off.

Julian has just re-entered the hall from the side gardens with Robin, who goes off to attend to her own business. He approaches Jovian and cocks an inquiring eyebrow.

"She all right?" Jovian gestures toward Robin with a nod, and clearly regrets it.

"I believe so, for the nonce. She will be better after we return to Arden."  Julian pauses. "Or so I believe, at least."

"Who wouldn't?" Jovian ripostes, not unkindly and (strangely enough) not all that ironically either.

"Anyway" he continues after Julian's reply. "Thought you might want the report from outside. The good news is we kept the dragons from breaking through the roof to get at Dara."

Julian says, "Considering the manner of her departure, that might not have helped. Shall I fetch you something for your head?"

"Assuming that Gerard has not recently sacked the entire Infirmary staff for their inability to stock a jump kit...ah, there we are."

A page arrives breathlessly with a medical kit and seems to be looking for someone to whom he can give it.

"Over here," he waves to the page, and thanks the youth for its delivery. "Now please check in with senior staff in the outer bailey to see if you are needed there. If not, you may return to your post."
            Seeing the page off, Jovian turns back to his father. "How much are you aware already of what happened among the dragons?" There is just a hint of bite to that question, hanging in the air as he rummages through the kit for an analgesic.

"I found myself somewhat preoccupied," says Julian. If he is aware of the bite, he is either ignoring it or charitably attributing it to Jovian's headache.

"Not surprised," Jovian allows. "The entire flight burst into psychotic rage at the instant you drew your sword. Took enough concentration to get the dragons back under control that my riders didn't even see Dara's cards coming. I could barely manage to duck, at that." He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, then takes the painkiller. His look says Julian is free to follow, and reply or not at his discretion in light of the company.

Julian looks a touch surprised, but otherwise unmoved. "Given the number of psychically powerful beings in this chamber, almost none of whom have any experience with dragons, and all of whom were rather agitated, I wonder at the certainty of your correlation."

For just an instant Jovian's control slips to allow a positively withering look at this, but it is quickly masked again. "Don't bet on that, Dad. They knew there was an intruder and were whipped into a killing frenzy to 'protect the clutch' - at *exactly* the instant you drew that fucking pig-sticker in a crowd."
            Son locks eyes with father at this, daring him to challenge on a question of timing. "So who else knew, at that instant, about an intruder putting their child in danger?"

Julian gives Jovian a look that suggests he has a name in mind, but he does not speak it aloud. What he does say is, "I find that my inquiries on such matters have better results when I am not certain of those results in advance."

"I've got a hypothesis that looks sound. If you've got more data, let's have it out. Or are we back there with the llamas, the sun that doesn't move and the cryptic answers when I'm trying to keep my people from getting killed?" Jovian's tone is acerbic, but quiet and above all weary, his eyes squeezed shut and his fingertips pushing at his forehead as if to keep it from popping loose. It is the expression of one counting the seconds until painkillers take effect.

"Far be it from me to dissuade you of your hypothesis, Jovian. You are past the age where I can or will give you easy answers. It is not I, but a harsh and uncaring world, that has charge of your education now," Julian says.

In the time it takes to breathe twice, still holding his forehead in place, Jovian rejects the first four responses that spring forth. What he says at last, slowly, evenly, forcing patience upon himself, is this:  "Prince Julian, my education has been complete enough to know that hypotheses are made to be tested by new facts. The facts neither persuade nor dissuade - they fit or they do not, and if they do not, the hypothesis must be revised. I am sure you would have taught me that intellectual discipline yourself, had our paths not diverged at critical times." The tone of this bears no indictment, no malice; it simply acknowledges a historical condition.
            "I am faced with a problem that has threatened my life once already and may yet do so again, that being the strong and unexpected reaction of the dragons to the knowledge and emotions of a non-rider. I have seen them react in such unison to one other person, yourself. If there was someone else with the knowledge, in the emotional state and able to intrude upon the wings' collective psyche to elicit the specific reaction I had to contain tonight, at my deadly peril, it is vitally important that I know of the fact. You may not have charge of my education - and I may regret how briefly you ever did. But you may have charge of a few key facts that test my hypothesis." If Julian chooses not to disclose them, that will be a matter for his honor and his conscience, Jovian reflects but keeps it off his face. He is the son of a Prince of Amber, and he will not relinquish his pride.

During the rather prolonged time it takes Jovian to say all this, he suspects that Julian has considered and discarded a large number of responses. He settles finally on an impassive arch of his eyebrow.

"I'm not saying anyone did anything deliberate, but if my dragon has an unforeseen vulnerability I'd better know about it, and soon. When we have a few minutes of quiet," the dragonman suggests somberly, "it might be a good idea to tell me at last what you did to Canareth's egg."

"An experiment, which has not yet reached a sufficient stage for me to draw more than preliminary conclusions," Julian says.

Jovian surveys the room, noting who is still present. "I would like to hear more detail. I've a bad feeling my life may come to depend on knowing what the possibilities are. How soon are you returning to Arden?"

"Tomorrow, as early as possible. I must make my reverence to the Queen, and Robin has some business, but as soon as she returns, we ride. Arden needs me," says Julian heavily. "And Brita is also of Arden, and thus has claim on my attention."

"As it happens, at least part of Robin's business is with me – a discussion over breakfast at four bells of forenoon. Then I plan to fly down to Ruby Falls at six. Can we find a few minutes to discuss the...experiment privately?" The hesitation is not meant to be sardonic, but does convey some trepidation.

Julian says, "If you are done with Robin early enough, we can meet before you fly to Ruby Falls. But I cannot tarry for your return."

"I gather Vere is going with Prin-- is it King Corwin now? -- to Paris tomorrow, which seems likely to limit the useful length of our discussion," Jovian explains. "Where should I look for you at, say, five bells of forenoon?"

"I will be sorting out what few things are left of mine here, or I will be with the Queen if that is the only time she can receive me," says Julian.  "I have not asked for an audience yet, but I will try to be free by then."

Jovian acknowledges the answer, and pulls out antiseptic, swabs and the suture set, and it is evident that he either doesn't regard the ensuing exchange as private or intends to receive a short answer for the moment.
            Jovian looks up from the kit and, half to the room and half to himself, asks, "Now where did Vere disappear to? The fool's walking around still bleeding." With a tight expression of suppressed annoyance, he puts the items back in their bag.

Julian, who has had an eye on Vista and the other Ranger, says, "I believe he went that way," indicating the direction back towards the bar. "If you will excuse me, " he adds, and heads towards Vista, who is on the other side of the room near the door to the former champagne fountain.

Jovian grimaces slightly at his father's retreating back, then turns away, noticing Robin crossing the room. He steps after her.

If (when) Brennan spots Cambina, he goes directly to her side.  Not knowing precisely what to say, he falls back on one of the classics:  "Are you all right?"  He gives a rueful expression, "I'm probably the fifth person to ask you that in as many minutes."

She smiles.  "Thanks for asking.  I hit my head, but I've been told it's hard.  I should get up, now that the excitement's over."  She doesn't seem to be making any move to actually do so.

Corwin and, based on Corwin's example, Merlin step away to give the two what privacy they can get in this room.

Brennan being Brennan, he insists on giving her at least a cursory once over, if she permits.  Probably a full exam is not required, since Jerod and Corwin have already done so.  It's quick and painless, and mainly intended to make sure that she hasn't worsened since then, and that he's not going to lift her by a broken arm, or onto a broken ankle, or some such.
            Very bad form, that.
            He does this under the pretext of making sure she's ready to stand, then gently gives her whatever assistance she may need-- and then, strictly speaking, a little more than that.

There's quite a knot on the back of her head, which she tells Brennan is sore, but just sore.  She should be fine.

Well, she's passed muster with the expert on head wounds over there, and she shares in the family vitality.  Brennan is attentive, but not obnoxiously so.  I assume she's on her feet, now?

"Well, the excitement is over for tonight, I hope.  But I'm sure it isn't over for the long run."

"I'm not sure the kingdom could stand more excitement tonight.  I hope we were the first and last stop on their itinerary tonight."  She looks around.  "Where did the King go?  Corwin said he wasn't hurt."

"Not unless you count being tackled by Martin as hurt.  Martin was, though evidently not seriously."  He gestures with the medical kit he'd fetched for Martin, and never got to use.  "They both ducked out a few minutes ago.  Before I had a chance to talk to Martin, in fact."

"Why?  Were you going to offer to be his second?  You're the wrong type for the only other thing he has on his mind."

She shakes her head, slowly, and takes a deep breath.

Merlin says to whomever he is with physically, "Excuse me. Paige needs me in the guard infirmary." Then he takes her hand and passes through.

Brennan snorts, then replies, "No.  Aisling's, maybe, but I'm happy enough that we all pounced and quashed the whole drama.  No, I wanted to have a talk with him and Merlin before everyone starts breaking to pursue their own agendas.  So much to do, so little time."

"I've got to re-create my dance card and figure out who else might have danced with me and not realized they were really dancing with a psychotic assassin from Chaos."

He nods.  "I'd offer to help, but other than our dances I don't think I can."

"I can't check it tonight, anyway."
            "If you want to talk to Merlin, do it before noon tomorrow.  He leaves with Corwin.  As for Aisling, I wouldn't recommend being her second unless you want to be up at the crack of dawn on a regular basis.  If I thought she was being tactless and impolitic on purpose, I'd be very suspicious of her agenda."
            She turns to look into Brennan's eyes, her voice low and soft and slow.
            "If you're her friend," and the tone indicates that she is not sure, but is willing to allow for the possibility, "then you'll convince her that a very public apology to Martin will be less painful than a thorough beating followed by a very public apology.  Martin won't let this go.  It's not his nature to do so, even without the politics of the situation."

"We'll burn that bridge while we cross it, no doubt," he replies in a similarly soft voice.  He's not for a minute discounting what she says, but, "I could live a long and happy life not knowing what started that escapade.  But I do know she is personally responsible for getting the entire army out of the Courts at the end.  Martin wasn't there.  He might not even know.  But it's worth something to
me."
            It's not the hushed voice of an argumentative tone.  It's just the hushed voice of a conversation that doesn't need to carry.
            And, come to think of it, a conversation that probably can't be completed now, no matter how much Brennan would like to have it, and hear her advice.

"I could've lived a long and happy life uninvolved in the matter myself, but I got dragged into it.  Martin would've been more free to ignore her if she hadn't been knighted.  For the same reason that officers are hung for offenses that merely get soldiers horsewhipped."

There's no good reply for that at the moment, but Cambina can probably tell that she's got the gears turning in Brennan's mind, if she's watching for that sort of thing.

Brennan is in a special and rarefied class of people whom Cambina assumes listen to her and what she does and does not say.

That's because Brennan is so utterly charming and perspicacious.
            So, he looks around and exhales, then continues in a more normal voices:  "This probably isn't the place.  But thank you.  I'd like to talk it-- oh, damn.  Didn't I hear that you're going with Corwin tomorrow?"

She sighs, sounding frustrated.  "There's a great deal to do and fewer people to do it than there were before.  I don't know if I'll get there, or at least if I'll go with Corwin."

Brennan raises an eyebrow: scuttlebutt confirmed, but new wrinkles added.  "Something in particular working against you?"

"Yes, Too many people skylarking off on their own and not enough to do the real work here."

"Unavoidable, to some degree.  You could always get forgiveness instead of permission.  I think someone qualified going to this Paris of Corwin's and looking to see if Tir and Rebma are connected definitely counts as real work.  Vital, even."

He hasn't been told this is Cambina's task, nor is he implying it's the only one.  But it is an obvious one, to Brennan, and an important one.

She bites her lower lip.  "No,  I can trump through if I'm needed there."

"You ready to leave?" She nods and he says "C'mon, let's get out of here," and he offers his arm to escort her out properly, as though a psychodramatic maniac hadn't tried to murder the attendees of the Coronation Masque-- them included.

They walk into the busy castle.

Once in the bailey, Aisling makes a quick pass to take in the conditions of the people there, and see if there's anyone she can help; and if there is, she figures out the order of people to help in her mind, and then plunk down and get to work on that.

While there are a large number of injured, for the most part few of them are critically injured.  There are perhaps a dozen dead, some of whom, like Lord Hardwind, did not take the attack well.   Scars will apparently be fashionable this season, because so many of the best people of Amber will have them.
            Sargeant Barrell of the Castle Guards is in charge here, and is glad for the help.  There are some knights present, also helping.
            One mentions to another that this attack would have been devastating against a mounted charge.

Aisling pictures this, and mentally agrees.  ~Yeah, you didn't run into personal opposition from the royal house of Chaos before.  I wonder how Corwin survived?~
            Since by now most of the patchable people have been bandaged, her aid mostly involves the "laying on of hands", general aid flowing into those in danger of infections, or, as a whole, those who cannot be helped by any other Amber means, with comforting words for those still conscious.
            If there is any bandaging remaining to be done that the people already on the scene can't get to yet, Aisling helps some on a more mundane level, as well.  However, she is looking to turn her steps towards the guard infirmary once she has done what she can on her specialized level.
            She spends a few moments trying to track down Ce'e, hoping that he can attend her if he is done herding people out of the castle with the other knights, before she heads down to visit the unfortunate Mustard.

Ce'e finds her, just as she's deciding that she can do no more here.

Aisling notes the looming presence of her affine and stands from where she had kneeled to check once more the condition of an unfortunate unconscious journeyman.  She lifts up her skirt with one hand and brushes bits of straw and dirt off of the soft fuzzy cashmere with the other, and looks around the bailey one last time, and then smiles up at her homely fellow-traveller in enemy lands, where he blends into the background in his costume of night, a smile just for him.  She's pleased to see that he (or someone with him) has had the wit to take off his mask.
            Then she frowns, her expression guarded, her tone direct, her volume conversational, and she has ever in mind that others will hear, "Ah, excellent.  Sir Ce'e.  Attend me; there is a guard I have been asked to look in on."  She sets off for the guards' infirmary, without a doubt that he will fall in alongside her.

As Robin approaches the bandstand cum triage station, she becomes aware that another pair of hands will add more to the confusion than to the aid, so she swoops on past.  A quick circle of the Grand Hall is made.
            Rangers accounted for and in reasonable health?  Check.
            Dragonriders accounted for and in reasonable health?  Check.
            No sign of His or Her Majesty, the ex-Regent or the Crown Prince so no one to report to concerning the incidents of the side room.
            Reid?  Discussing a dead man with Vista, Llewella and Jerod.
            Jovian?  Having his needed moment with Julian.
            Brennan?  Sharing a tender moment with the blood-soaked Cambina.
            The girl spirals to stop with a ruffling of her feathers and a grim chuckle.  Looks like she doesn't have to endure any more party tonight.
            Standing there, still for just a moment before she flees this place, Robin looks for Vere.

A page arrives breathlessly with a medical kit and seems to be looking for omeone to whom he can give it.

"Over here," Jovian waves to the page, and thanks the youth for its delivery.  

Vere has moved away from the center of the room and is standing with his back against a wall, quietly watching the bustle.  As Robin's gaze turns towards him he smiles briefly, but otherwise he doesn't give any obvious sign that he's aware of her.
            It's unclear what, if anything, he's doing.  He isn't assisting anyone, he doesn't seem to be watching anyone in particular, he just seems to be... waiting.
           The worst of the blood appears to have been wiped off his shoulder wound, but there's no sign that any other care has been given to it as of yet.

Robin's bright green eyes dart between the page and Vere, her lips part in preparation for a whistle to the page just as Jovian hails the lad and takes the medical kit.
            From across the room, the girl cocks her head as she takes in her brother's stiffness, his careful movements.  A moue of sympathy dashes across her lips before she turns her attention back to her own concerns.
            Gathering... something to herself, Robin strides across the room to Vere, one hand running through her whitened hair.  Approaching him from the side so as to not occlude his view, the girl wets her lips nervously.
            "Vere?"

He smiles at her as she approaches.  "Robin," he says, with real warmth in his voice.  "I am pleased you are here.  Is there anything you need me to do immediately?  I need to report to the Queen within the next few minutes, to explain what happened while she was absent."

Crrooooonn.  That smile, that warmth, 'pleased' -- Robin's eyes glimmer as she looks up at him.  But despite the glow starting within herself, the Ranger stays on track.  Spectacularly, unbelievably, Vere had already given up the chance to see the Family's first recoup from an unexpected attack in their midst.  Just to check on her.  And Robin can't bring herself to ask him for more at this time.  Especially not if he needed to report to Her Majesty.  Therefore, Robin keeps it as brief as she possibly can.
            "Things are heating up quickly, Vere.  I doubt I'll be able to fly with you and Jovian tomorrow."  Sorrow clouds her eyes for a moment.
            The girl holds out her closed hand to Vere, offering him something hidden from the view of the rest of the room.  "I...." oh, it's hard, but Julian's hidden daughter fights back her instincts, "I sleep in the north-east garden tonight.  The one with all the yew?  Please come if you can."

Vere accepts the offering with no change of expression.  "I will, unless Chaos itself intervenes," he says.  It does not sound like hyperbole.  "We must talk."

At the touch of their fingers, a shiver runs through Robin and her breath catches momentarily.  Into Vere's hands is pressed the softness of feathers, the smoothness of beads, and the warmth of that which has been worn next to Robin's skin.
            "Thank you." Inside the girl's mind sounds the exultant scream of a hawk on the wind and she basks momentarily in his gaze, drawing it into herself.

As the shiver runs through Robin, and their gazes meet, Vere grows even more still, and for that brief moment everything but Robin ceases to exist for him.

And then she lets herself listen to the second sentence.
            "I understand, Vere.  I'll be ready."  A lop-sided smile raises one side of her lips.  Yep, time to start the horrific consequences work.  Unless, of course, Chaos itself intervenes.  In which case, Robin will have to tear apart all of creation getting back to Vere and her chosen horrific consequences.

Vere comes back to the here and now, and his eyes flick from side to side, judging what changes have taken place in the room in that brief instant of distraction.  "My lady," he says, bowing to Robin.  "*My* lady," he says again, but with a decidedly different emphasis.

Those green eyes close briefly at Vere's emphasis, and the girl's chin lifts momentarily, joy coruscating in shimmering rivulets down every nerve.  Her lips part briefly, but Robin has no breath.

He backs away from her one step, his hand unobtrusively slipping its contents into his pouch.  

As the air changes and Vere's heat moves away, Robin opens her eyes and nods wordlessly.  Duty first – always -- she wouldn't have it any other way.  Though Robin suspects the... withdrawals will always be bittersweet.  The girl doesn't bow or offer any words, letting her self say all that is needed.

Then he turns and walks decisively towards the Queen.

Once He is gone, a long sigh forces its way out of the way out of the Ranger and she leans back against the wall where he stood.  After a moment, an ironic chuckle ripples through Robin.  And here she thought that breathless and weak in the knees stuff was just a metaphor.

From the bandstand, there is a short drum sequence.  It is repeated twice.

Vere glances curiously at the bandstand as he heads for the Queen, more than half expecting to see one of the Rangers using the drum to send one of their mysterious messages.

"Portal Magic VIP find/bring"
             The message is from Couth, a moderately senior ranger who is currently assigned to be Paige's bodyguard.  The tempo indicates "for Vista" or "for Julian" or perhaps "for Robin".
            If Robin looks, Couth is standing on the bandstand, surveying the remains of the crowd and being very visible to anyone who responds to the tattoo.

Robin snaps out of her dreaming reverie at the sound of the drum.  She casts her green eyes toward the bandstand, brow furrowed.  Evidently, she recognizes the musician as Robin responds almost immediately.  The Ranger searches around for a nearby chair and hops up onto it to stand above the thinned crowd.  She flashes an acknowledging wave bandstand-ward and starts surveying the room from a different perspective than the one the musician would have.
            As she sorts through the weeds of partially removed costumes, the girl bites her lip unconsciously, her brow still furrowed.  Politics – and politicians – definitely being a weakness, the girl struggles with her memories from the grey time and counsel meetings either ignored or endured as necessary and quickly discarded from her notice.  Dammit!  She can't remember.
            With an exasperated sigh, Robin resorts her jumbled mind using different parameters.  There *was* a connection, she knows it.  Don't think about it, girl, *feel* for it.  Who?  Ah, yes, the oil... diplomatic Conner, that was it.
            He was here.  And she was here.  They were dancing together, quite a bit, if Robin's snap-shot memories of the Masquerade are accurate.  But what was she?
            Robin's fluttering mind regurgitates another image, her brother's wings so prettily spread in a deep bow to a.... Griffin!  That was it.  A griffin.  Robin's eyes sharpen once she's identified her prey and from the perch of the chair, her gaze sweeps the ballroom like a raptor's.

Robin doesn't see the griffin, but since the room is mostly cleared, that doesn't surprise her.
            She does see her father moving to speak to Vista.

Robin nods to herself as the seniors gather.  Making sure she has Couth's attention, Robin waves that she's going on to search the garden that most of the guests evacuated into.
            Assuming she gets an acknowledging signal, the Ranger hops down off the chair and trots out toward the garden.

Vere approaches Marius and the returnees, saying, "Your Majesty," politely as he draws close to the Queen.  The tone of his voice clearly indicates that this is not just a greeting, but that he is requesting her attention.

Vere acquires Lilly's full attention whether he wishes for it or not. There was an intensity to the girl that suggested a deep hunger for knowledge of their current situation. The more she knew, the more prepared she could be. Preparation could be vital to the safety of the queen right now.

Ossian greets Vere with a nod, and looks around for one of the thrown cards Lilly mentioned.

"Vere," Vialle says pleasantly, but Ossian and Vere can both hear the underlying stress in her voice. "How stands the realm, and my lord the King?"

"The King is uninjured, Your Majesty, and has requested me to report to you upon what has occurred in your absence.  He regrets not being here to speak with you himself, but is seeing to the treatment of Prince Martin, who was injured while protecting him from Duchess Borel's attack.  Would Your Majesty have me report now, or would it be preferable to retire to more private chambers?"  If Vere's shoulder wound is causing him any pain there is no trace of it in his voice.

Torn between searching for the thrown cards and hearing what Vere will say to the queen, Ossian stays close to the queen.

"It appears...Vere..." Marius remembers him from the coronation and the ride to the dragons, but otherwise has little knowledge of him, and it shows in the pause before speaking the gentleman's name, "has more information than I do, your highness," he says, giving his voice the kind of bow that would have been wasted on her vision.  "I was amply shielded by the wings of fortune."  He smiles a little at his small joke.  "However, if I may accompany you to learn this much more, I would do so, unless another task you would send me on is more pressing."

"Please remain, Sir Marius. Lord Vere, if I am to hold the kingdom steady for my lord's return, I must know before I leave this chamber what I face. What has happened in my absence?" Vialle asks.
            She pauses. "And how badly injured is Martin? Are there other casualties?"

"I do not know how badly injured His Highness is, Your Majesty," Vere replies.  "He was well enough to still be walking under his own power, and he did not allow anyone to know he was injured for a significant period of time.  My opinion is that his injuries are not critical, although I do not have definite information upon that."
            He pauses, then continues, "Lady Brita is kidnapped, Lord Lucas is injured and being attended to by Prince Gerard, and Princess Cambina was injured, but is well enough that she too is up and walking.  Demond Harga'rel was murdered during the attack or immediately thereafter.  I do not have all the details upon that, but I believe the assumption is that the crime was committed by someone not affiliated with Duchess Borel."

Marius keeps a mental score card.  He also notes the people with the question marks next to their names.

Vere pauses again.  "I believe that some member of Lady Solange's foster family was seriously injured, perhaps killed, but I do not have details upon that matter, either.  Unfortunately, I cannot give full information on the number of injuries among the general populace, but my impression is that the number is not exceedingly high.  My attention was otherwise engaged immediately after the attack, but I believe that Lord Marius remained in the main chamber and I do not doubt that he can fill in the facts that I do not have."  Vere bows slightly to Marius before continuing.

Marius receives the bow with a nod of his own, but is waiting for Vere's finish.

Lilly not only makes a mental note of those Vere mentions, but of those he did not. The relief she feels comes as something of a surprise. She had not realized how close she had allowed herself to become to some of her cousins.

"To give further details, Your Majesty.  I believe you heard the confrontation between Duchess Borel and His Majesty.  Immediately after staging her attack she and her companion departed, apparently tearing a rift through reality to do so."
            Vere glances around at the others, then continues, "The Duchess' companion greatly resembled Lord Brennan, enough so that my assumption is that he is a child or grandchild of Prince Brand, or perhaps of his mother.  Other possibilities for the resemblance exist, of course, but that is the assumption that I suspect the majority of those who noted the resemblance will make."
            "In addition, another companion was also present.  He is the one who
kidnapped Lady Brita, apparently after battle with both her and the Lady Robin.  Princess Fiona and Prince Bleys, along with Lord Brennan and Lord Conner, are currently closeted to consider an appropriate action.  The dragons became extremely agitated during Duchess Borel's attack, I do not know the cause of that.  Order was restored quickly, most people have already begun to depart, and the wounded have been seen to or are still being treated."
            Another brief pause, and then, "Immediately after the attack there was a confrontation between Prince Martin and Dame Aisling.  I can quote it verbatim if you wish, but the gist is that His Highness strongly implied that she was still working for Chaos, and was no doubt in league with Duchess Borel.  While she might choose to characterize her response to him differently, I have no doubt that His Highness interpreted her response as giving him the Lie Direct."
            A faint hint of amusement enters Vere's voice.  "The cousins descended upon them immediately, determined to prevent violence.  His wound was discovered by the King at that moment, and thence to receive medical attention.  But that matter will raise its head again."

Lilly's shakes her head slightly in disbelief. This was something that could cause issues for the Order. It would most definitely need to be looked into and discussed at the next Knightly meeting.

"And I believe that covers the majority of what has occurred, Your Majesty.  Are there any points requiring clarification or elaboration?"

During Vere's summary, Ossian keeps his eyes close. He might be trying to visualize what happened.

Vialle looks a little overwhelmed. She takes a moment to process everything Vere has told her, and finally says, "Only one that cannot be dealt with in due time. Vere, are you all right?"

There is amusement in Vere's voice once again as he replies, "Your Majesty remains as perceptive as ever.  A small injury only, I assure you.  I shall have it attended to immediately I have discharged my duty to report to you."

Marius waits for his answer here as well.  (I believe he can see the blood, but for all that they really haven't gotten any time to spend with each other, I think Marius has pegged Vere pretty well.)   He does not suggest to Vialle that her majesty give Vere the permission to collapse, but the thought does dance around his mind for a moment or two.

Lilly awaits Vere's response before making any comments of her own. Most of what she had to say could await a private audience with the Queen and that would come soon enough. Or so she hoped.

Lilly had been listening intently without much expression until near the very end. The news of the exchange between Martin and Aisling brought an uncharacteristic look of surprise to her features. She instantly became determined to find out everything she could about the incident and the events that provoked it. Of course, she suspected it could easily be put off until morning. Right now she had to put the Queen's interests first. So rather then comment, she settled deeper into her silence and awaited Vialle's response.

"Which you have now done. Consider it my order to go to your father at once and have him tend to you. If anyone asks, you are on the Queen's business," Vialle says.

Vere bows, murmurs, "I obey, Your Majesty," and backs away two steps.  He gives a brief nod to each of his three cousins, then turns and departs, to go and find Gerard.

To the others she says, "With Random gone, the people will need to see me and know that I am well. Take me out to where the people are, and I will address the crowd."

"Very well your majesty." Lilly says. "Ossian, perhaps you should lead the Queen. Marius, you and I can serve as guard. I do not expect there to be any issues but I do believe in exercising caution." With that said, she is ready to follow Vialle.

Ossian looks at Vialle, himself, Marius and Lilly, in that order.
            "Yes. You are right, cousin." he concludes, placing Vialle's hand on his arm.  "Shall we, your Majesty?"
            Ossian starts to lead her out to the people.

Marius takes her other arm and together they guide her through the ballroom, with Lilly as their guardian.

Jovian turns away, noticing Robin crossing the room. He steps after, coming into step with her momentarily.

Robin soars across the Great Hall, the darkness and the air beyond the garden doors beckoning to her despite the crowds past them.  As she flies, she becomes aware of another matching her path and turns her head to see Jovian matching her steps.

"You OK?" he asks his sister, and there are layers of meaning there.

"Oh, Jovian!"  There's a hint of a wail there as Robin throws herself toward the dragonrider, intending to fold herself around him in a tight embrace.
            The girl buries her face in his chest for a moment.  "I'm so sorry," she murmurs in a muffled voice, "I didn't mean to take him from you.  Honest, I didn't."

Jovian folds the girl in the wings of his cloak... admitting to himself that with all the day's stresses, including who knows how bad a hit below the waterline of his relationship with Kourin, he could use to be held a bit.
            "Don't take it that way, little bird," he croons, stroking Robin's spine. "It's nothing that suffered for waiting, and I would have had the headache no matter who he talked with first."

A sympathetic croon emerges from the inside of Jovian's cloak and Robin nuzzles her brother comfortingly.

When she's ready to look up again, he gently asks the question on everyone's mind: "What happened in there?"

Green eyes peek up from the darkness of Robin's face-paint and the shadows of Jovian's cloak.  A sigh ripples through the girl.
            "Can we talk and walk at the same time, Jove?  I've got to find that Griffin you were dancing with earlier..." she wants to talk with Jovian – badly.  Enough so that the girl is showing no signs of letting go of her brother.  But she's also still on duty.  Torn again.

He nods. "Let's do that. I think I can recognize Harper unmasked." The smile that comes with the observation is both vaguely fond and mildly predatory. Id est, all bronze rider.

Robin cocks her head at the expression on his face, and a fond glimmer warms her eyes.  "Thanks, Jove."
            With a chuckle, she tickles her brother's ribs briefly before releasing one arm to walk beside the bronze rider.  The other arm remains firmly looped around Jovian's waist and the girl stays pretty much tucked under his cloak.

His pace is not notably swift as he guides Robin to the outer bailey where triage and crowd security are being managed. It is calculated to give her plenty of time to catch her breath and compose her answer.

As they walk, Robin murmurs quietly to the man in whose lee she walks.  Her voice is the faintest whisp that carries no further than the two of them.
             "I... it got really loud there at the end."  The girl ducks one ear against her shoulder, wincing at the memory.  "But even before that, I was having trouble.  Brita..." she sighs the name out, a wealth of complicated tangled emotions twisting in her voice.
            "I try, Jovian.  Really, really hard.  I won't hate her.  Because it's not her fault.  And I *won't* do to her, what *he* did to Dad."  The 'he' is snarled out with green hissing venom.
            "But it doesn't help that she didn't *ask* to inherit my life.  That it was thrust upon her when I didn't come back.  I... it's still my life, Jovian.  And it's hard to watch it being lived by someone else."  Robin's eyes squeeze shut in pain and she leans her head on her brother's shoulder.
            "So, there I am.  Hunting at her side.  Trying.  When it appears.  Coiled in the doorway..."  Robin's voice changes.  A smoky hunger rises from the girl; breathless, seductive, full of sweet torment.  Her eyes stare off into space, darkly glimmering.  "Soooo beautiful."  She murmurs.  "Death."
            "It strikes."  Appreciation runs through her voice in a thrilled shiver.  "And we fall.  Brita and I."  
            Then the girl shakes it off.  "When we get up... my bow is broken -- the bow I had to sneak in.  But not Brita's hammer, the one the King told her she could wear.  So I'm left with whatever I can grab."  Bitterness there.  "Brita.... dammit, Jove!  Brita gets to rush him.  And *I'm* left to shepherd the fucking civilians out of there."
            She sighs.  "Which I do.  Because while the thirty of them aren't worth her life, the two thousand out in the Hall who will stampede are.  Dung!"  She finishes dispiritedly.

Jovian absorbs all this, and mostly files it for later. There is a lot more here than he bargained for, and some of it troubles him not a little...but he keeps his reactions in the 'clinical interest' category. "You did well, Robin," he allows when she pauses here. "You did what Dad would want done. A Ranger's duty is to protect."

"I know.  But...." she shakes her head, "Oh, Jove.  Thank you.  For that, at least."  A small smile falters its way to her lips.

Robin's eyes go elsewhere again.  "Brita charges it.  And... and," a breathless thrill runs through the girl and she shivers delightedly against Jovian.  "It completely overwhelms her.  She is helpless, broken in its grasp for all that she's still fighting.  And it's coiling around her, playing with her, murmuring to her."
            "Then it got really confusing."  Robin looks up to her brother, her brows furrowed.

It is by no small effort of will that Jovian keeps from his face any evidence of how profoundly disturbing he finds Robin's reactions right now. With a little effort, he keeps his tone even and asks: "Confusing how? Where did...Death...take Brita?"
            And then he recalls, as well. Brita, whom he hasn't met yet. Brita, Fiona's daughter, who's been working with the Rangers while Robin was away. *That* Brita.
            One thing gets more understandable. And then another does. And Jovian's appointment calendar gets a little more full... not that Fiona's likely to be available again until her baby is safe home again....

Robin slows to a stop, her head resting against Jovian's shoulder for a moment.  Amidst his understanding, the traces of effort.  The words that stay on the surface.
            The girl looks up into her brother's face.  And blinks slowly once.  "Its name was Cleph, Jovian.  It was wearing Uncle Caine's form.  It ripped open a tear in the fabric of reality.  All I could see of the other side was darkness and cold.  And though Father stabbed it in the shoulder, it dragged Brita with itself through the rift.  Then it sealed the rift behind itself."  Robin's voice is very straightforward, very factual.
            She removes her arm from around Jovian's ribs and steps out from under his cloak.  Those green eyes fall and then come up again.  Robin tremulously pats at Jovian's chest, almost as though trying to wipe away something that isn't there.  "I... I'm sorry.  I misunderstood your question."  Her gaze drifts away and a strong shudder shakes her form.

Jovian puts his hand over Robin's stilling it on his chest but also holding it there. "I don't know whether you did or not. What did you think I meant, at first?" He's worried, but now it's worry in equal parts *for* and *about* her. Now as much as ever it's big brother wanting to know how he can help.

Robin looks up into Jovian's eyes, her own liquid with suppressed tears.  "I thought you wanted to know what had happened, why we had to leave you."  She whispers.  "Not what had happened, tactical information on a battle fought and lost."
            "Oh, Jovian... it's dark.  Smoking and swirling.  And choking me..."  Her eyes squeeze shut momentarily and she pales.  "But..." the girl swallows and forces color back into her face.  She opens eyes that smile with fondness and raises her other hand to lay it along her brother's cheek.  "my bright shining hero of a brother, it's not your responsibility.  If you don't want it to be."

"Hmph. Says you," Jovian responds, and pulls her back in again. "You're safe. You'll be with her soon."

Robin snuggles herself deep into the folds of Jovian's cloak, practically disappearing from view except for two glowing feet emerging below the crimson and gold.  Against him, she is warm but shaking.  When she looks back up at her brother, tears glisten down the blackness of her cheeks but a happy smile illuminates her.
            "Th-thank you, Jove.  Thank you sooo much."

He pauses, looks down into her face again. "So how does all this play in to why you had to leave me? Some confidence you needed to share with Dad, wasn't it? If it's need-to-know, and I don't, no worries."

"Oh.  It's not that."  She bobs her head and chuckles.  "Well, it kind of is, but that was just the excuse that Dad used to pull me out of there."  Robin sniffles inelegantly and rubs her nose with one hand.
            "See... Jove, I was losing it.  Dad knows the danger signs.  So he called me to his arm and got me out before I went all... theatrical.  In front of Aunt Fiona, Conner, Reid and everyone within shouting distance."  She shakes her head, her eyes taking on a haunted look.
            "I... I was never supposed to be at the Castle, Jove.  I shouldn't be here.  It's too loud.  There's too... *much.*  I can't... oh, Jove, tonight was really *really* hard.  And then *that!*  I was just.... oh, Verde!"  She shudders once again.
            "Jove, please.  Let's find the Harper Griffin and get me off duty.  Please!"

"Oh, jays...I didn't realize how bad it's gotten. And I made you stay in a *cave*...." He winces, and it's not all headache. "Yes, let's find Harper. What'd you need her for anyway?" he asks casually, continuing to stroll outward with his arm around Robin's shoulders.

"It's... the cave was mostly okay, Jove." Robin reassures him.  "It was full of harmony.  That helps."  Robin leans her head on her brother's arm as she walks.
            "*I* don't need Harper.  Couth does."  Robin points with her shoulder toward the man at the bandstand.  "Don't know why.  But if he's sounding in public like that, it's got to be important."
            As Robin is pointing out the interconnectedness of Ranger communication, her father comes into her line of sight, accompanied by the sought for griffin.  The girl's eyes follow as he leads her into the champagne room and a small sigh escapes Robin.
            "Okay.  Okay."  She quivers a little under Jovian's arm.  Pulling it together for a moment, the Ranger purses her lips and lets out another brief whistle in Couth's direction. [OOC – 'Robin off-duty.']  It looks like it hurts her a little.
            Then she looks up to Jovian.  "Please, Jove.  Let's go."  She whispers to her brother.

"Sure. Where are you sleeping tonight?" he asks, intuiting that the answer will not be inside the rockpile as he leads her out into the halls.