For almost no time at all.  After about three heartbeats, the dragon is once again in the sun-drenched sky and descending, wind back in their faces, dragon under them again, and each other.

“Wooo-hooo!”  Robin is getting to love the dragon riding quite a bit.  She flashes an exultant grin Vere-ward and slaps Hoshith’s hide appreciatively.

Vere returns the grin, only the slightest faraway look in his eyes betraying the considerations going on in his mind about the nature of the nothingness between spaces.

Kourin quickly lands and Hoshith kneels again to let them dismount.  "I'll rig some extra straps for the passenger", says Kourin.

“Thank you both!”  Robin slides down reluctantly as she looks around.

"Indeed," Vere says, as he also dismounts.  "My thanks to both of you, Kourin and Hoshith.  Come, my love, let us find Padraig, and see how his crew's preparations to depart progress."

"Okay."

Vere takes his love's arm in his and begins the walk towards the beach.  "An interesting question," he muses as they walk.  "Do we reveal to Padraig, and/or his superiors when we meet them, that I believe their invaders to be led by a relative of ours.  Or will that needlessly complicate matters?"

She grins.  “I was raised with old fashioned values.  Namely, never give away information for free.  I also think it might be better to not imply that the invaders’ leader is a peer.  Whomever or whatever it is, I’d rather display confidence on our part that it is an annoying disturbance at best.”  Julian’s daughter speaks.

Vere agrees with a nod, then asks, "I hope that mother and Avis were able to answer your questions regarding the Dragon of Arcadia.  Do you have any new information that will aid in Prince Julian's war?"

A sigh ripples through Robin’s frame.  “Don’t know.  They mentioned some interesting myths and legends and recommended a researcher on another island... damn, I didn’t get the name of island or the researcher.”  Robin ruffles with annoyance at her own distractibility.  “Well, at least I asked The Lady to said word to her.”
            “One interesting thing came up -- not in the Draconish way though.  They mentioned an immigration here to the Isles from somewhere else in the past.  Soooo, if everything here goes to hell in a hand-basket, there’s always the potential of shipping the lot of them somewhere else... I suppose.”
            “Damn, I really wish I could talk to this Danu person if it’s still around.”

"Danu is more a figure of myth than legend.  I do not know if she even still lives, but certainly if she does she is no longer physically present in the Isles.  That does not mean she is not here, of course. She is spoken of as being the very soul of the Isles, for whatever that may mean."  Vere shrugs.  "While I think they would follow your lead away from the Isles, they would hate to do so, and it would change who they are."

Robin’s head rocks back and forth as she susses out the possibilities of speaking to those who are here but not physically present.  Of course, Vere does have a better perspective on that than she does.  She glances at him with a fond smile, that fades at the next thought.
            “Veeerrreeee,” Robin drawls, “Think their going to have to change who they are regardless.  I’m... a Goddess of freedom and the wild.  Not of Order.”  A sigh ripples through her.  “Kourin’s right.  They’ve faced so much change already and yet... shit.”

"I understand, love," he says, smiling gently.  "And there is a tie of some kind between you and the Isles.  I do not understand it, but I cannot deny that it is there.  Our Grandmother's blood is linked to this land, and that tie seems stronger among the women of our line." The smile fades to a considering frown.  "I still suspect that Solange will eventually be drawn here, will she or nill she.  Now that sister of ours will truly be a shock to the conservatives of the Isles and the Witch Queens, do you not think?"  The smile returns, an amused crook to his lips.

“Dunno, love.”  Robin says with a touch of wistfulness in her voice.  “I barely know her.  And okay, tie.  I ain’t going to run from that.  Though I bet Daeon’s laughing his damn fool head off wherever he is.”  The girl’s expression twists in disgust and frustration.
            “On the other track.... Vere, my love,” her voice gets very, very gentle as she takes his hand in both of hers, “I don’t think you should either.”

Vere is silent for a long moment, then he nods.  "Aye," he answers finally, sounding strangely like Gerard.  "Aye, you have the right of it.  I keep acting as though I can wash my hands of the Isles and be off.  But it is not so.  The place is in my blood, and I cannot change that.  Truth be told, I do not wish to."  His hand grips her tightly. "Especially now, when I know that this world is a tie that we share. How can I turn from anything that is a part of _us_?"

“Thank you, beloved.”  Robin leans in to kiss him tenderly.  “While I could, I’d rather not face this without your brilliant common sense.”  She brings her brow to his.
            “Trick is - how to learn, understand and grow without resentment or letting it dominate, steer or compromise our futures.  ‘Cause Arden, the Lodge, your father and the Psyche still wait.  And I’m not giving up any of that!”

Vere laughs quietly.  "I can assure you I have not forgotten the promise of the Lodge," he answers.  "Oh, my love, there are so many places for us to fly, so much for us to see and do.  So much in which to be together."

“Ooooo.” Robin croons wordlessly and draws Vere into a molecule-blending tight hug.  Desire flash-burns through her and she kisses him fiercely.

Vere returns the kiss with equal intensity, and then, with a sigh, he breaks the kiss, although still holding her in his arms.  "You are such a temptation," he whispers into her hair.  "It is a good thing that we have both been so well trained in putting duty before all else.  Otherwise that blasted oath of mine would soon have a chance to show what it is capable of."

A series of small growls and chuffs lets Vere know of Robin’s frustration, but a sigh ripples through her as well.  “Know.  Won’t break.  Love you!”  She clutches him again but forcibly fights down the sensuality.

He holds her tightly once more, then releases her.  "To business, then," he sighs.
            Holding her hand in his, he heads once more for the beach.

Robin chirps an affirmative and, with her hand resting comfortably and firmly in Vere’s, walks onward.

Padraig is waiting where he was left.   He looks past them to Hoshith.  "I'm ready, Warleader, Lady.  And I told my men what we talked about.  If I am to go to the Mother, it will be as a warrior, not a merchant."

Robin nods once in greeting to Padraig.

Vere clasps Padraig's arm in his, one warrior to another.  "Then let us be off," he says.  "The time for action is come."

As he leads Padraig back towards Hoshith Vere glances at Robin, then asks Padraig, "Have you any legends or stories of such creatures as Hoshith?  She is a dragon.  There are many types of dragons, and many people have stories of them."

A fond rueful smile crosses Robin’s face as she walks beside Vere.  Damn, he was so good at that.  And yep, it hadn’t escaped her that Vere and she had crossed jobs.  On the other hand, that was a probably good idea to avoid too much interdependence.  But oooooh, didn’t she itch to get a look at the battle plans, relative strengths and resources?  ‘Cause Robin’s been fighting the big guerilla defensive battle her whole life and would love to see the boys’ (Jovian and Vere) theory was.  She was pretty sure that currents could be handled like trails but tides?  She didn’t have any experience with tides.  And Naval and Aerial battles were right outside her expertise . . . Oh, wait!  There’s an important answer coming.
            Robin snaps her attention back to the here and now.

Padraig shakes his head. "No, Warleader, but some of the sailors told us tales of demons that breathed fire.  We just didn't expect 'em to be so big.  How do ye' break 'em to harness?"

'You do not," Vere says, with a slight smile.  "They are as intelligent as a woman or man, and they fly as partners with their riders."
                He throws a quick look at Robin, allowing a slight hint of disappointment to cross his face at the news that Padraig's people had no legends of dragons in their land, then returned his attention to the man from the Land of the Valiant.

Robin meets Vere’s look of disappointment with a fond smile.  Trust her man to understand that folks aren’t always bi-laterally symmetrical upright mammals either.  Master Hhhrooo-onnk would be proud.
            “Yep,” the Ranger confirms, “it seems more like an intimate and cherished marriage than like a user-tool or master-pet relationship.”

"Hoshith is a queen of her own kind," he says, as they approach the great gold dragon and her rider.  "She can understand the speech of humans, although she and her kin only speak to their riders."  With a laugh he adds, "And, apparently, with certain human queens when the mood takes them, although that last was a surprising bit of news to me."

Robin grins mischievously at Vere - there’s something she’s not telling him - before turning to wave to Hoshith and Kourin.  She has her own opinions regarding draco-thought and ‘as intelligent as a woman or man’ is a bit under the mark as far as she’s concerned.

"I believe we are ready," he tells Kourin as they arrive.  He looks to Robin once more.  "My love, am I forgetting anything?  Or can we be off?"

“Off.  Most definitely, off.  If we’ve forgotten anything, we’ll just improvise.”  The gleam in the Goddess’ eyes indicates that improv is better for her anyway.

Padraig goes with Robin and Vere to Hoshith and, following a long discussion of the best route to Alton City, they mount and take off.  Padraig is certainly afraid, but seems almost overwhelmed when the dragon goes between.  He screams, which is not audible until the dragon returns to reality.  She circles over the flooded remains of Lady's Town.
   
Vere politely ignores Padraig's response to the sensation of non-existence.

As they circle over the flooded city and the broken roof of the temple, Vere looks down upon it silently, his face betraying no sign of his emotions.

Vere can feel Robin’s body stiffen with shock as she catches her first glimpse of Lady’s Town.  The first thing that passes through Robin’s lips is a small wondering laugh, like a child might give upon seeing a kicked-over sand castle.  This is immediately followed by a narrowing of the Ranger’s eyes as she scans for signs of evacuation, speedy or otherwise.  Finally, Robin leans curls back against Vere with a long, low, mournful croon, her eyes upcast toward the falling rain.
            She’s not thinking about Padraigh and his reactions right now.

The water floods most streets, and if it had risen over decades, Lady's Town would be a canal city.  Near the center of town, by the temple, the water is a story and a half high.  The broken dome of the temple is like eggshell fragments in the smooth waters.

Jovian and Canareth appear shortly thereafter.  "Hoshith says Canareth says they're here to see us off.  He can't go with us, though."  The two dragons fly along for a few moments, the wind precluding any but shouted conversation.

Vere waves at them, but has nothing so important to say that it must be shouted across the intervening distance.

At the sight of J’rim and Canareth, Robin uncoils like a spring of joy.  For a brief moment, it seems like the girl is actually going to throw herself across the intervening distance.  But in the end, she just leans way out and whistles a loving exultant greeting to brother and companion over the rushing wind.

Eventually Canareth peels off, and begins to circle downwards.  "He's stopping for water in the forest before he heads back." explains Kourin.

Vere nods.  He doesn't waste breath asking her to tell them to be careful, they know the dangers they face.

“Well, pooh.”  Robin mock pouts, but then perks up.  After all, she does understand that caring for one’s folks comes before family reunions with bratty little sisters.  She watches Canareth spiraling away with fond glowing eyes.

The flight continues uneventfully, with mile after coastal mile disappearing under Hoshith's great golden wings.  After a long stretch, Padraig points below.  They are coming up to a river-port.  'Altona', he says.
            "How do we want to approach?", asks Kourin.

"Your leaders are here?" Vere asks Padraig.

"Aye.  Lord Devon is King of Altona and High-King of our peoples."

Vere says, "My thought was that the best thing would be for you to land somewhere out of sight, and for the three of us to walk in.  Padraig can introduce us.  It saves worrying them about the presence of a dragon in their city or just outside it, something that might cause someone with a nervous disposition to make an unfortunate action."

He looks to Robin for her opinion.

“Works for me,” she nods.  “But we should arrange a whistle-code for ‘Come in flaming’; ‘Show up looking arc and grandiose’; ‘Coming back for a leisurely ride home’; ‘Coming back hot’ and ‘Take off without us, NOW!’”  Robin tilts her head, “And from the other side there’s probably ‘Come back now’; ‘We have to leave but will be back’ and ‘We have to really leave, you’re on your own’.”
            Robin’s lips press together for a moment.  That was a lot, but even though her present companions didn’t grow up ‘speaking’ Cadence, they’re not a dull lot and one of them might have a theory.

Kourin raises her eyebrows.  "If I go with you, Hoshith can go between and land in the space of 3 deep breaths, and we have a telepathic bond." Hoshith begins spiraling down towards a hilly area that doesn't look cultivated.

Vere nods.  "That gives us a way out should things not go well.  In the worst case scenario, should we be forcibly separated, I suggest you have her come and fetch you, and report back to my mother.  Do not try to locate us in that situation, it is more important that you get the information back, the two of us can take care of ourselves.  My love, what are your thoughts on this?"

Robin’s smile is a little sad.  The last rider who went off with her is still working on his recovery.  On the other hand, Antrith’s pull-out was far easier than Robin’s first leave-taking of the citadel.  “I don’t have any objection to your coming, Kourin, if that’s what you and Hoshith want to do.  It’s just that I don’t have a real good record of friendly resolutions here.  But then, we do have Vere along this time, so maybe things will go better.”  The Goddess perks up by the end of her thoughts.

Hoshith lands, and the group dismounts.  Padraig tells you that unless the hordes have reached the gates, Altona will not question their entrance. The problem may be finding someone to pay attention to them.

"I could still fix that," replies Kourin.  Padraig swallows, visibly.

Whereas Robin nods.  She could fix it too, but Kourin’s way was less likely to get someone killed for trying to put them in prison.

"We shall keep that as an option," Vere says seriously.  He smiles at Padriag, "But let us begin with something simpler.  Robin, I am not inclined to work our way up the chain of command.  Do you not think we should simplify things and go directly to the top?"

Robin’s green eyes blink in astonishment.  It had never occurred to her to do anything other than go directly at... errr, to the top.  Diplomacy, hunh, who’d thunk?  She shakes her head at herself with an ironic chuckle.  Yep, things will definitely go better with Vere here.

"Tell us, Padraig O'Neill, of your High King.  What manner of man is he?"

The Goddess is all focus on Padraig at this statement.  She figures she could probably suss out where the crossbowmen are on her own, but other things -- like asking politely maybe not so much.

"He is an O'Bran, and thus an Easterner.  Altona is far from the O'Neill seat at Bishop's Rock, but our Chief man has seen the High King.  I suspect he is like the other O'Brans, but I cannot say of my own knowing.  I can present you to him, of course, but it is not clear that he would listen to you."
            Padraig looks down the hill in the direction of the city.  "The O'Brans are
said to be a canny lot."

"Indeed," Vere answers.  His eyes meet Robin’s.  "I have no doubt that the children of that line are clever as serpents."

Okay.  That was some sort of code.  Unfortunately, Robin doesn’t think she got it.  Her head cocks to the side inquisitively.

He looks back to Padraig, "Present us to him, we shall worry about making him listen."
            And with that Vere begins to make his way down the hill towards the city.

Robin skips down the hill, automatically falling into a wide flanking position for the rest of the group and keeping her eyes out for hostiles in the brush.  ‘Unless the hordes have reached the gate...’ the phrase brings a smile to the Goddess’ lips.  Oh, some hordes would be fun right now after all the yakking she’s done and all the yakking that’s facing her.

At the gates, they are asked their names and business.  No one questions weapons and [assuming that 'I am here to murder the Ard-Righ' isn't the business stated] the group is waved inside.

Vere allows Padraig to answer for them, he's interested in what the man will say.

"Padraig O'Niell, and 3 guests of the O'Niells.  Warleader Vere, his wife, and another woman.  To see the Ard-Righ."

Kourin raises her eyebrows, and looks to see how the others respond.

Vere maintains a dignified silence as they are waved inside, not reacting to the form in which Padraig chose to announce them.  Once they are outside the guards' hearing he glances at Robin and Kourin and raises an eyebrow, letting an amused smile cross his face.

Robin looks a little uncomfortable with the w word, but figures that Vere is the keeper of his own oath.  A similar amused smile crosses Robin’s lips and she shrugs to Kourin.  One moment you’re a Queen, the next you’re ‘another woman.’  Still all in all, they are Robin and Kourin no matter what anyone else says.
                So, Robin keeps her big mouth shut and admires the gates (footholds there, there and... there) and the walls (with a running start, right foot there, left hand there, reach... yep) and the river (oog - current there, eddy there, lines and nets there, there, there, there, there, sheesh.)

The city is larger and not as well built as Lady's Town was.  Much of it seems to be recently constructed, and quite crowded.  It is not comparable to Amber, but it is larger than anything else in the Isles.  There are people here who clearly look like the Men and Women of the Isles, as well as more exotic folks, wearing a riot of colors and styles and riding beasts that are not horses.

Vere's eyes flick back in forth, taking in details, analyzing combat readiness and the way people react to one another, getting a feel for the city and its inhabitants as they walk through the crowded streets.

This is a city made prosperous by metals and it looks to be making instruments of war in large quantities.  There are soldiers here, but not very many.  There aren't as many young men as Vere would expect.

It’s clear from Robin’s occasionally wrinkled nose that she’s not so fond of closed-in civilization.  But none of the skittishness that takes a hold of her at Amber Castle seems evident here.

He maneuvers close to Robin and says in a quiet voice, meant only for her ears, "Do no be surprised at whoever we may meet."

“Is delight or murderousness okay, given the right circumstances?” she murmurs as she grins back at him.

"The emotions are acceptable if the cause is sufficient, but perhaps you might want to hold back on acting upon them until the situation becomes clear."  Vere smiles, but he appears serious.

Robin kisses his nose.  “Hearing you, love,” she replies with equal seriousness while also reserving the right to go ballistic on her own terms if she deems fit.

It is clear that there is a strong military presence in the town.  Vere and Robin suspect that it is surprising to Padraig.
            Padraig says "we can try the palace immediately, or we can go to my kin to rest if you wish it."

Vere shakes his head.  "We neither of us want rest right now," he says, with a smile to Robin.  "We are eager to seek out the mystery of the invaders, and to see what we may have in common with Devon O'Bran."

“Yep,” the Goddess chirps.  “I’m sure your kin are great, Padraigh, thank you.  But I’d rather just move ahead.”

Padraig nods.  "As you wish, Warleader."

The guard at the top of the hill is more professional and better armed.  They want to know each of your names, and who you are here to see.  "I am Padraig, of the U' Nialls, here to see the Ard-Righ on business from the far west.  These are my guests, a Prince of the Danu and his retinue.  They are the reason I have come to Altona."  A man leaves the guard-house and heads towards the castle.  The other guards nod, and one looks at Vere, his eyebrows raised.  "Your name, O Prince?"

Vere meets his gaze, and answers in a firm, dignified voice, "I am Vere, son of the Lady of the Isles, Warleader of her forces and Lord Commander of the Brotherhood of the Stag and the Children of Lyr."

If the guard’s eyes slide her-ward, Robin acknowledges his gaze with a nod and a casual “Robin” to identify herself.  Because, frankly, being “Robin” is enough, and people underestimate that at their own peril.

Since that works, Kourin follows Robin's simple example.

The group is led into the building, which seems to be well-defended and has a commanding view of the surrounding countryside.  In an anteroom just inside the keep, a grizzled man enters from the far side.  He looks to be a competent soldier, and carries himself like a leader.  He has two soldiers in armor behind him.  "Ah, yes, the de Dannan.  We had not expected your arrival for some days.  Prince 'Vere', is it?  I am Prince Bran.  My father is away at the front, but I am here to offer you our hospitality."

"It seemed wise to come ahead, and gather information as quickly as possible," Vere says with a small smile.  Prince Bran, may I present my betrothed, the Lady Robin.  And Dame Kourin."

Robin nods cordially, though she’s less than impressed.

He observes the Prince's response to the two ladies with interest, then says, "We thank you for your hospitality.  I am eager to learn as much about the invaders as I can, let us move to that matter immediately."

He smiles.  "Your grandmother's letter suggested that you were a man of decisive action.  I am pleased to see it, considering the wild stories they tell about men and women and power in the west."  He looks up at a young man in the doorway.  "Gil, fetch us some wine, if you will."    The man disappears.
            Bran turns back and strides across to a table.  It has many papers on it, in small, neat piles.  He unrolls the largest one.  "This is as good as our diviners have done. The invaders have magic on their side, and more of it of late."  He frowns.
            The map shows the coast near this spot and a number of towns of varying sizes.  On the left edge, far from the areas of interest, Vere thinks he sees the outlines of the Isles.  They are somewhat distorted.

Vere leans over the table, memorizing the map as Bran speaks.

Robin glances at the map for a moment, her head cocked sideways as she stores the image among the feathers and twigs of her mind.  Then, restlessly, her green eyes troll around the room, looking for hidden surprises.

Prince Bran points to the center of the map.  "Now here is where we are, and your forces are to the west, fighting in the isles.  To the east, about a third of our kingdom has been lost, mostly in the O'Connart's lands, but they're heading towards Altona.  We're pretty hard pressed, but if we can move men and especially war wizards from the eastern battles without breaking your forces, we can counterattack them where they're weakest."
            He looks Vere in the eyes.  "I know it puts you at risk, but the invaders are not going to be beaten without bold strokes.  What say you?"

Robin’s brows furrow for a moment in confusion.

"I say it is time for a bold stroke.  Which is why I am here."  He straightens and meets Bran's eyes.  "Allow me to correct a misapprehension.  I believe you have mistaken me for a emissary of Chancellor Vianis.  I am not.  I am the son of Lady Corvis, Queen of the Isles, and I seek a truce in the civil war of the Isles so that we may join forces and throw back these invaders before they overrun all our lands."

A happy ‘ah-ha!’ chuckle ripples through Robin.  Followed by an excited happy croon cannot be repressed as she puts together the quotation marks, the Grandmother’s letter, and the man of decisive action.  Her green eyes shine with excitement.  That’s one Danu she’d love to get her hands on.  Thumpity, thump, thump.

He looks at Vere for moments in silence, then breaks out in laughter, loud and genuine.  When the page comes back, Prince Bran is catching his breath.  The boy looks questioningly at the older man.  "Serve our guests, please."

Vere smiles a quiet smile in return.
   
The boy does and Prince Bran also takes a glass.  "Bold strokes, I said, and bold strokes I need.  And you're here with the U'Niall's.  Bold strokes.  Well enough Vere son of Corvis, if you would be willing to rally to the banners of the Ard Righ, setting aside all feuds with the Chancellor and her allies, we could use your help in our fight.  The Chancellor is sending an emissary here shortly and we can tender the proposal.  Now, the man you'll have to convince of your sincerity is hers, since we are not in a position to fight on two sides.  An you can convince them, you will be brought into the alliance."

Vere takes a glass as well, and as the prince speaks he takes a sip of the drink, letting it sit on his tongue a moment as he considers the taste, and listens to Bran's words.

“Thank you, Gil.”  Robin murmurs as she takes a glass.

He pauses and drinks his wine.  "What forces do you plan to bring to our defense, Prince Vere?"

The Goddess’ brow briefly furrows.  She darts a glance toward Vere, her eyes narrowing for a moment.

"That will depend, Prince Bran, on the situation, and the results of our meeting with Vianis' envoy.  If he's the man I think, it will be an interesting meeting, as the last time he met with my beloved he slipped her a drugged drink and captured her."  Vere's smile turns grim.  "The reply for that was the destruction of the Chancellor's fleet and the sinking of her capitol city beneath the sea.  One trusts they have not forgotten that lesson."

Robin lifts her glass to Bran.  And drinks solidly.  One hopes that the lesson isn’t lost on anyone else, either.

"What I would like now is more information on the invaders.  We sped here unseen ahead of the Chancellor's men, and we can speed on more quickly yet.  Somewhere their god-king directs them and gives them their orders.  An army without its head is an army in confusion.  And if these people are the fanatics I have been told they are, that will be even more the case.  Are there prisoners the Lady Robin and I could interrogate?"

Robin nods firmly and sets her glass down.  Yep, she’s in a mood.  Give her something to do, some mayhem to create.  “That’ll do.  Either that, love, or we back-track and snag the man who needs convincing or we speed forward and get a look at the front.  Any of the three work for me.”
            Hey, look.  If Bran can ignore her, she can ignore him too.

Kourin turns to Robin, and speaks quietly.  "The front is easiest.  Not that far off and some nice, nearby mountains for cover."

“Sweet.”  Robin nods with a grin.  “Thanks for your help, Kourin.”

Vere nods slightly towards Robin and Kourin, without taking his eyes off Bran.

Bran looks at Vere.  "I don't think we have any here at the moment.  I have faced the Enemy's men in combat.  We took out a small squadron.  Scouts, and we might not have done so without surprise.  Our magics are our real advantage, that and knowing the land on which we fight.  Our wizards cannot crack their magic at all--they tell me that as far as they can determine, there is no magic in their weapons at all."  He pauses.   "We may have remains, if that would help you, or I can describe what I saw when they came at us."

"I think... both," Vere answers.  He turns towards Robin and Kourin.  "My lady," he says to Robin, "While there are no living prisoners to interrogate, there may still be something to be learned from an examination of the bodies."

Robin has trouble repressing her smile as Vere works her.  “Oh, all right.  But no more than an hour or so intel-gathering, okay Vere?  And if I’m going to be here that long, I’d like to get a look at these weapons and maybe chat up any Lore specialists they have around.”

Bran O'Bran nods.  "There will be a magician with the remains.  Come with me."  He leads them deeper into the castle.  "I had four men out scouting the enemy's flank, seeing if there was any good spot to attack their supply train or otherwise slow them down.  We heard two of them climbing the hill we were on, and we waited in ambush.  When they came over the hill, we jumped them, killing them before they could use their iron staves.  We took the weapons from both, in hopes that our mages could learn to nullify their magic.  The enemy were very odd looking.  They had all the markings of men, but they were red-skinned and nearly hairless."

Vere nods as he listens to Bran describe the warriors.

Bran stops at a thick wooden door and pushes it open.  Inside is a tall, thin man, almost emaciated.  "My Prince?," he asks, starting to rise.

Bran waves him down.  "Gwyd, these are the foreign Prince Vere and his party.  They wish to see the weapons of our enemy."  Bran points to an item on the thin man's desk.  It is, to those familiar with such things, a gun. There are elaborate carvings on the metal plates and the highly polished wood stock.

Robin’s eyes narrow as she sees the weapon.  Her glare is icy enough to chill the air around her.

Vere picks up the gun without pausing to ask permission and examines it, careful to keep the muzzle pointed away from people.  "I have heard of such weapons," he says as he considers the carvings.  "And I have seen drawings of them.  But I have never held one before."
            "My lady," he says, as he turns and offers the gun to Robin.

As Robin takes the gun, it’s obvious that she has handled one before.  While still thoroughly in a cold fury, the Ranger is careful of such things as safeties or chambered rounds (if such exist with this model), and muzzle direction.  She sights the barrel, examines the firing mechanism, etc.  All in a cold, cold silence.
            Eventually glacial green eyes turn to Bran and Gwyd.  “There would have been small metal ‘charms’ with this.  Do you have any here?”

"No, we just grabbed these staves and ran."

"Wise, if there were others nearby still armed," Vere says.  His eyes are on Robin's face.

[ Hand produced Rifled Muskets, more like Enfields than Springfields; rifled barrels, .58 cal, percussion cap, muzzle loaders.  They are elaborately carved and the metal plates are engraved.  You can look down the barrel if you want to see if it's loaded. :) ]

Gwyd leans over and points to a device on the gun.  "That's the symbol they're all wearing."  It looks like a fang. Or a horn.

"Indeed," Vere says.  He is still watching Robin.  "Confirmation?" he asks softly.

A soft growl escapes her.  “I’m willing to launch at this point.  You were right.  I was wrong.  I won’t have these things on our world.  But I can’t figure out how to get back out.”  Her face twists in another growl at the last statement.

Kourin looks at the rifle.  "What is it?"  She asks.

Robin drops the gun noisily back on Gwyd’s desk.  “You might want to check if immersing these things activates the carvings.”  Her eyes dart to Vere.  “But it won’t affect my decision one way or the other.”

"I mean to ask a spirit, an I can summon one.  An efrit, perchance, if I can find one who is both learned and honest.  They seem to be staves of fire."

Prince Bran nods.  "Sounds good, Gwyd.  And try what she said, too."  He turns to Vere.  "What do we do about them?"

"It is called a gun," Vere says in answer to Kourin.  "J'rim will be able to tell you more about it."

She nods, and Vere suspects that she has no idea what a gun is and his advice about J'rim will be quite useful.

He meets Bran's gaze and says, "This confirms something that we suspected.  These weapons do not come from this world at all.  The invaders are alien to our world.  We must find where they are coming from, and what they want.  From what Padraig has told me of the fragments you have managed to learn from prisoners, I suspect that they seek to travel through our world to another one, this 'watery hell' their legends speak of.  It may be we can convince them that they need to travel some other route, that fighting their way through our world is a waste of their strength that they cannot avoid."

Bran looks skeptical.  "They've been adding to their army, Prince Vere.  Mostly magicians.  I have to say that I am glad they did not end up on the far side of us, recruiting amongst the witch-queens.  Our neighbors to the east, beyond the O'Flynns, have powerful magi, but not many. "

Vere nods, his expression one of consideration.
            He looks at Robin.  "It seems to me that our next step is to sneak behind their lines, capture and interrogate some officers, and learn what we can of their leader and their goal."

Robin raises a very Julianic eyebrow.  “You are, of course, free to do as you wish, my love.  I intend to sneak behind their lines and butcher the being that brought these here.”

Gwyd pales, but Prince Bran grins.

Vere does not answer Robin, his face has gone flat and expressionless.  He turns his attention back to Bran as Robin speaks to the prince.

“As for what you can do about these, Prince.” Robin’s icy eyes turn to Bran. “The rifle,” she points, “the charms and an additional component - probably powder of some type - are all needed to make these work.  The rifles have delicate mechanisms; here, here and here.”  Robin points to the trigger, the lock and down the barrel respectively.  “Any spell or incantation that will truly fuck a clockwork will stop these as well.  The charms I mentioned earlier are simple constructions of metal.  Any disfiguring or weakening will render them unusable.  The powder is extremely flammable.  Even a small shower of sparks near its container will... disable the wearer.”  The Goddess’ smile at that statement is not a pretty one. 
            “Gwyd.  These are not fire staves.  They are machines.  Like a windlass or a pump.  Attack them so and you will have better luck defeating them.”
            “Everyone on the same trail?”  They’d better be says her tone.

Gwyd is furiously writing notes.  "I certainly am," says Prince Bran, "What can I do to aid your mission?"

Vere looks at Robin again.  "I think we are ready to go, beloved, yes?  Do you think it would be best to ask Prince Bran for a letter of introduction to his father, and seek out their front lines first to obtain more information, or would you prefer that we strike out directly behind enemy lines?  And is there anything I am overlooking?"

Her eyes flick to Vere.  She opens her mouth, considers for a moment.  “General warding charms - strong, but not complex.  Letter of introduction....” Robin argues with herself for a moment, “... yes.  Overlooking?  How to get me out.  I promised Father I wouldn’t get myself killed.”  Her face twists into a frustrated snarl at that.

Kourin smiles.  "You could drop in on him from the sky amid a flight of fire-breathing dragons."

A quick tick of Robin’s lips is a close to a smile as she can come right now, but she nods her gratitude to Kourin.  Something like that had been going through her mind.

Gwydion and Bran stay quiet, letting them plan among themselves.

Vere shakes his head.  "I do not want them exposed to the guns," he says.  "And if the invaders have these, they may have cannon as well. J'rim will explain that as well, and he will agree that the danger is great."

Kourin gets a faraway look in her eyes.

He takes Robin's hands in his.  "I have a plan for getting out if it becomes necessary," he says.  "Involving our fathers.  We can discuss that, as well as other details, on the way."  He smiles at her.  "Once we leave here the decision on exactly where we should go becomes yours, my love.  Who else can track and ambush as you can?"

Robin’s hand in Vere’s is shaking with suppressed rage.  “Th-thank you, love,” she manages to get out.  “Get what you can.  Warding, weapons, non-aggression pacts.  Work your magic, beloved.  But don’t take long.  It’ll only get worse with me.”

"Shards!"  says Kourin.  "Robin, J'rim is fighting something in the woods.  They're calling in the wings."  She looks at Robin and Vere.  It's obvious that she wants to go.

Vere's grip tightens on Robin's hands and his eyes meet hers.  "It sounds like Jovian needs help, beloved," he says immediately.  "That takes precedence."

The shaking tension and rage within Robin snap into raptor-like focus.  She’s no more capable of words at this point than an osprey and the eyes that look back to Vere are wild.

He drops her hands and turns back to Prince Bran.  "My betrothed's brother needs our aid," he says.  "We must to that first.  Send a message to your father as quickly as you can, let him know that we will be coming."

The minute Vere drops Robin’s hands, she’s gone.  The girl retains just enough thought to attempt to snag Kourin on her way out.

Vere blinks, eyes flicking after Robin.  There is a momentary pause, then he turns quickly to Padraig.
            He takes the brown leather headband from his head and hands it to Padraig.  "My thanks for your aid," he says.  "You will be welcomed as a friend in the Isles.  Take this, the emblem of the Prince Royal of the Isles, as a token of our friendship."

He gives a final bow to Prince Bran, even as he's beginning to move.  He sets out at a full run after Robin.