BrienneCarriageReturnBrienne: Carriage ReturnLieutenant Holden is easy enough to pick out, and easy enough to have the Corporal (whose name is Coronet, Brieanne learns), and easier to bring over. "We're under orders from the Princess on behalf of the king to secure this site, and to safeguard any and all members of the royal family." he says. "I suppose that driving you to Erkus would be well within that mandate. I do not expect that we will be departing for some hours,. yet." "Corporal" he says to Coronet. "Drive the Princess and her servant to where she wishes in Erkus, and return here with all due dispatch. It would not do for you to be left behind." Emmet raises an eyebrow at the title, but he does not dispute it. "Will this suit, Princess?" Lt. Holden asks Brieanne. "Yes. Thank you." Brieanne replies, leaning slightly on Emmet and turning him toward the carriage without further conversation. While they settled into the carriage Brieanne spoke again. "Do not worry yourself over what they say. To some degree they believe that any with us must be servants, but I suspect that most wouldn't hesitate to take a dig if they see a free shot." With the door shut and the carriage underway, she relaxed, watching the scenery briefly. "I need to sleep. I am a moving target, but on a set path now. I might as well be sitting still." She gave a bitter laugh and leaned away from the little window. Sitting still, and the efforts past, drowsiness warns within Brieanne. "I guess I shall have to hope everyone has enough distractions..." "I will keep watch, Princess." Emmet says. "And as a most junior noble, the fact that I might be mistaken as a servant by the soldiers of Amber is somewhat bemusing. In fact..." Brieanne doesn't quite find out just what Emmet was going to say, because drowsiness, the rocking of the carriage, the relative safety of the location, and the promise of a protector are enough to plunge her into deep sleep. The sleep is not dreamless, but is a kaleidoscope of images familiar and foreign. One of her tutor's Towers. A great tree, greater even than Silvered Leaves. A fire in Arden, faced and fought with a strange and unfamiliar diminutive sorceress. Practical jokes on Fiona's son. Drawing a bow, accidentally, on Caine and Julian. Learning magic for the first time. Hunting her quarry in the Golden Circle, finding only his Chaosian son. A magical duel, for fun and skill building, with Kyle. And more. Brieanne comes awake as the carriage slows to a stop, in front of the Alcalde, the Mayor's Palace on the hill in Erkus. The sleep has refreshed her.She could sleep another day, but this will do, for now. "Awake, lady Princess?" Emmet asks. "We've just arrived." "With dreams such as those, it is a wonder I slept at all." She blinked hard to chase away the grogginess, shaking her head in bemusement at the images that had come to her, and looked out at the Mayor's Palace. "Now to see if anything has been afoot in my absence, or if I can go back to sleep..." She stepped out of the carriage, watching the area to see who was around. The guard level on the Alcazar is relatively high, a few of the Begman soldiers coming up to the carriage. They don't have drawn weapons, but are clearly armed and alert. Their recognition of Brieanne is uncertain, but they do recognize Emmet and relax their stance. "Thank you, corporal." She looked up at the man who had driven them, politely dismissing him now that they had arrived. "Yes, Princess" the corporal says. He gives one last look at Brieanne and Emmet, and with a movement of the reins and a call, wheels the carriage away and back down the hill. "Did you wish to speak to the Lord Mayor, milord." One of the guards says. He pauses, regards Brieanne again and adds. "Princess?" "Not unless it is convenient and he feels some pressing need. I am much more interested in a hot cup of tea and a quiet dinner." She didn't growl, but she spoke in a deeper, more serious tone than she usually employed. "I do hope an appropriate room has been set aside for me." She gave the soldier in front of her a severe look and began walking with slow but deliberate progress. "Um, ah..." The soldier back pedals in the wake of Brieanne's progress, faster than Brieanne's walk. He reaches one of the other guards at the entrance. "Miles, go find Laurence and get the Margherite Room prepared. And tea. And food. That old bat of a Duchess has long since gone up country. Quick!" Miles moves inside of the Alcazar at speed. The guard steps back forward. "A place suitable for your Highness and your lordship will be ready by the time we reach it." he says. Emmet does not quite snort at this, but rather proceeds alongside Brieanne. "Good. It has been a long day and I am on the verge of feeling peevish." She lifted her chin and continued at the same regal pace. Brieanne doesn't quite catch them in the act, but by the time she is led to the aforementioned Margherite Room, a long, partitioned room that is combination sitting room and dining room has been straightened up. Its a decent effort given the short notice, although there is the slightest fusty smell in the air. From a junction corridor behind them, a servant has turned the corner and is pushing a trolley with a tea set and covered platters toward the room. "You're very good at this." Emmet murmurs. "Royal Courts should ask you to visit to get the lassitude out of their staff." "Surprise is a wonderful element." She replied quietly, before stepping forward to survey the room. "I need potted plants. Several of them." She gave a sniff and frowned. "An orange, rosemary and cloves as well." She gave another sniff, considered and looked at the soldier and servant. "Make that two oranges, or some fruit very simliar. Unless you think I should be sleeping in old lady smell." She arched a brow, fixing them with a sly, dangerous stare. The soldier's jaw opens and closes for a moment. He looks at the servant and then looks at Brieanne and Emmet. "Go to the Orangery. Requisition help. Wake someone if needed. What is there should suffice the Princess' needs. I'll, ah, see to the tea." The servant bows and scuttles out. The guard does not prove to be the most adept person at preparing and serving tea. The regal annoyed look from Brieanne does appear to be offputting, but he manages two cups of tea, and the serving of dinner (poached sea bass, new potatoes, greens) Brieanne eats in contemplative silence, accepting the service as it is and passing no judgement. She had actually rather expected him to get the plants and the servant to pour the tea, but in a moment of compassion, she simply let the misunderstanding pass without comment. Emmet picks at a second plate that the guard prepares, remaining quiet and contemplative as he picks at his own meal. Having gotten two helpers, the servant returns, lugging two small orange trees, a clove plant, and a rosemary plant. These are enough to do the job, Brieanne is pretty sure. "If there isn't anything else...?" the guard says, with the hopeful tone of someone desperately desirous of leaving Brieanne's presence but trying not to be too obvious about it. Brieanne dabbed at the corners of her mouth, wiped her fingers and set her napkin down before turning her attention to the offerings. The seconds ticked by, probably painfully for the guard, before she stood up to examine the plants closer. "I believe these will do." She turned to regard him, her demeanor and expression relatively unchanged. "Good night." She dismissed him, turning her attention back to the plants. "Yes, Princess" the guard starts retreating. She was concentrating on the trees when the staff departed, but once the door had closed she glanced at Emmet. "In truth, all I wanted was the fruit and dried spices, but I was afraid if I corrected him and sent them back for those and plain plants, the poor man might have hemorrhaged. Which could have been entertaining, but I think I will leave that spectacle for a night when I'm feeling ... meaner." She shrugged, running her hands over the leaves. She plucked two small fruits, broke off several sprigs of rosemary and then several more from the clove, and returned to her seat. She used the upturned lid from her dinner as a bowl placing the items in and with an arcane dose of brute force, heated them, crushed them and release their oils into the air as perfume. She place the makeshift bowl on the floor in the middle of the plants and turned her attention to the greens, using them to breath in the air, purifying it while the swirl of energy carried the perfume around the room. When she was finished, she sat back down to finish her tea. Emmet takes a deep breath of the manipulated air. The mustiness is completely gone, and the air is, if anything, the smell is vaguely and lightly of someplace semi-tropical. "Smells much more like a city in the shadow Johor now, than a mothballed room in Begma." Emmet agrees. He walks over and pours himself some tea. "I had wondered, Princess, why you went to the trouble of requesting the plants when you could have cleared the air yourself. I now see the multiple reasons why." "The complexity of the members of the Amber Royal Family remains proven." he says, taking a sip of tea. His comment was met with a throaty chuckle. "We are a twisted bunch." She leaned back, curling up in the chair. Her hands, cradling her cup of tea, rested in her lap while she gazed at the plants. "Every task is easier when you have the proper tools. And I like to look at them." She finished in a wistful tone, a hint of melancholy that she pushed away by force of will, draining her tea in the process. "I must sleep, and if I am to stay any longer, in the morning I must shop. I suggest you rest as well. I have every intention of dragging you along with me since I have no idea what passes for fashion here and refuse to be embarrassed by unfortunate wardrobe choices." The sly sharp look in her eyes was balanced by the teasing smile as she stood and headed for bed. "I understand entirely, Princess." Emmet says. looking at Brieanne contemplatively over his cup of tea. "I would be pleased to aid you in this." The spell's effect has spread to this room, and the long, narrow bed beckons Brieanne. Even given her drowsiness in the carriage, the bed is welcoming, inviting, and lets Brieanne fall asleep again with little difficulty. Another set of images, these a little like the last set, but much more of an order of a tarot card reading. The familiar Tower, again. Her teacher and tutor. A book, a beautiful leather bound tome that she is certain she would remember if she had seen it before. A birds eye view of a set of garden paths, with two of the paths converging toward the top of the card, as if the paths were going to become one. There is the softest pop of magic, as if a long ago spell, somewhere, connected to Brie, has activated. And with that, Brieanne awakens. Given that it was afternoon when she fell asleep, it is before dawn in Begma when she fully awakens, rested, recovered and in full possession of her powers again. "Well. I don't much care for that." She rested, eyes closed, replaying the images and the disturbing sensation of a spell going off as if from a trip wire. There was little to do about it and she finally stretched and roused herself. An inspection of the foreroom shows that Emmet has arranged one of the divans to be a day bed and is still sleeping. She let him sleep, making herself comfortable in a chair, staring out the window as the city stirred. The quiet time useful for making plans and considering options. Brie has about two thirds of an hour of contemplation, till just after dawn, in fact, to watch the city and the Mayoral Palace come to life. Somewhere bread is already baking for the Mayor's breakfast. The distant sound of ringing swords suggests the practice field is being used already. A cold March gust of wind briefly rattles the shutters of the window as the sun, peeking over the eastern hills, starts lighting up the city. Emmet wakes up at this point. Eyes blink open. It takes a few moments for him to realize Brie is there, but he holds back any surprise, and instead rolls to his feet next to the day bed. "My apologies, Princess." he says, blinking his eyes and automatically straightening out wrinkled clothes with his hands. "I should have expected a sorceress and a huntress to be up before dawn. I usually, when in my holding, sleep even later than this." He laughs. "Listen to me, explaining myself to you as if I were a thrall or a helot." He sobers his jovialty. "I do admit that the events of the last day impinged on my mind, with strange visions impinging on my unwoken mind. I do hope you did not sleep so strangely as that." "It was a busy day." Was Brieanne's only comment. "We have one brief errand, and then we will break fast and sort out the day." She stood and stretched, moving a pot with her foot so there was a spot big enough for them to stand in the middle of the pots, while it was still small enough to deflect attention. When her return point was set, she turned to look back at Emmet. Emmet has been watching Brieanne's moving of the pots with a squinting-eyed but silent curiosity. "Have you ever been to Arden?" She stepped in next to him, taking his arm. He doesn't resist at the gesture. "The trees tend to block the view of the sunrise, but it's best to get about things early, while the night predators are moving to their beds, but daybreak has not yet roused all the men from their beds." "I traveled through Arden, once, in the service of my father." Emmet replies. "My elderly father had been sent by the Prime Minister to speak to Eric, who was leading Amber but had not yet been crowned." Emmet explains. "He took me along. It was a wondrous and frightening place all at the same time. I remember the green of spring, the scent of flowers in the air, all the different kinds of trees. We even heard the Lord of Arden or his son nearby riding through the forest, with hounds baying in front of him in search of prey." "It unnerved my father so much that we sailed back to Begma on the return trip." he adds. Brieanne chuckled darkly, "Probably a wise choice. Even if you are innocent of wrong-doing, you do not wish to end up on the business end of the hounds." With that, she set the pins for her spell and moved them into the depth of the Forest, for which all others were but Shadows. The location well known to her, the room in the Alcalde in Begma falls away, and Brieanne and her unexpected servant exchange the early morning of Begma, for the cool shadows of Arden. The chill of the late March air is bracing, especially in the deep dark of the forest where they stand. Emmet cranes his head upward. Like sentinels, the tall trees all around reach for the sky. A few dozen yards away stands the old tower shaped guard station of living rock that Brieanne used as an anchor for her spell. Isolated and only manned at need, it was and is a useful place for retreats, especially for spell testing and research. This scene is punctuated by the baying of a nearby hellhound . Brieanne recognizes it. One of the older hounds. Eisenholz. A large grey beast, one of the ones Father uses to hunt large prey. He is nearby, and approaching. More and more baying in the distance suggests the news of Brieanne's return to Arden is being communicated across Arden. Emmet's eyes widen but he resolutely stands in place, even as he trembles. "The fate you had in mind for Lord Kowal " he says aloud. "I now understand." Brieanne scoffed. "He would have been a waste of their talents. I could have run him down and finished him off with my bare hands." The cries of the hounds, heralding her return, caused her to move briskly, dragging Emmet along with her to the largest of the trees around the old tower. She released him and pointed to the ground. "Sit, and do try to look relaxed. Do not look them directly in the eye, do not stare at me. Yawn, study your hands in your lap, lick your lips, study your boots. If they do not believe I am threatened, they will wait for a cue from me before they undertake action in my presence." She gave directions in a tight, terse tone as she knelt on the ground next to the tree she sat him under. Emmet nods. "All right." he says. "And do be quiet, it is hard enough to think with their racket, and trees speak softly." With that, Emmet and the quickly approaching hounds were shoved to the edges of her mind, all of her concentration on listening to the trees. The hounds knew she was here, their focus on her would help, and she sought images of her recent past, the dreamy knowledge Arden's most silent citizens held in their boughs. Emmet stretches out his legs and looks at his hands. He does manage to obediently be quiet for Brieanne. As she concentrates on the trees, Brieanne is dimly aware, very dimly, that Eisenholz has come along. He stops close to her, interposing himself between Brie and Emmet, awaiting the command to make him prey...or not. In the meantime, Brieanne gets a conflicting, confusing answer. Like a double exposed image, Brieanne sees two sets of images and memories. There is a set of memories that she does not recognize or remember at all. A group of relations, most unfamiliar, with her, fighting foes near a Door similar to the one she and William traveled through. The creation of a Trump Rift that a couple of these unfamiliar cousins go through, and bring back Julian? That's completely out of bounds. A Trump Rift is something her tutor had mentioned in the Tower, once, but she had never tried it. Never. The sequence ends with her taking a nap. And then there are memories that clearly are concurrent. Traveling through Arden, looking for signs of her enemy. The rush of happiness at finding sign that he dared travel through the forest. Was he mad enough to dare her domain? Desperate? Over-confident? The chase through the forest exhilarates her, and the hounds come coursing at her call. The chase is on. Running through the forest, following the sign, almost tasting the vengeance that would be hers. And then, lost. His trail fades even as it leads out of Arden, and into shadow, into the Golden Circle. The murderer had traveled through Arden to get into shadow, too quickly, too quickly. And cast some spell to mask it. Sorcerer of Avalon indeed. Lost! And then a niggling sensation, from a long ago spell laid for the purpose, that her William needs help. Urgent help. Trouble in Begma. Trouble that might take her mind off of his eluding her, again. And perhaps, he might even be there, as amusing and coincidental as that might be. Both sets of memories seem equally valid, both seem equally true. (the lighting of the sky proves it). But they surely cannot both be true. Its utterly impossible for her to have been in both places at the same time. And as these memories end, two more hounds have joined Eisenholz. The former looks wrong, too. He has two eyes, rather than just the one. His missing eye, the one whose eye socket Brieanne fitted with a soulgem years ago after a dangerous Manticore hunt, is completely normal. The other two hounds are more standoffish, looking at Brieanne and then at Emmet with skepticism. Briarsting and Smoketredder are somewhat confused, however, as they turn to regard Brieanne, as if uncertain about her. Brieanne sat back on her heels, letting the images play across her mind, back and forth from one to the other. Curiouser and Curiouser... Emmet remains as still as he can, looking at his fingers, mouthing something silently to himself. She extracted herself enough to reach out a hand for Eisenholz, running her fingers through his fur as the images played out one more time, and then she took a deep breath and looked at the animal. She shook her head. "Curiouser and curiouser, indeed." Eisenholz cocks his head. Standing, she looked over at the other two hounds. She said nothing to them, but reached for Emmet to take her hand. He stands up as he takes Brieanne's hand. "We are leaving. I have what I need for the moment." Once she had him on his feet and at her side she glanced back down at the hound. "Eisenholz, heel." And with her group expanded by one, she returned to Begma. With the two-eyed Eisenholz, and Emmet, Brieanne's spell returns her squarely back to the quarters in the Mayor's Palace in Begma. The hound remains by Brieanne's side, as he turns his head around to take in the new location, and sniffs the air. Emmet looks at the iron gray monstrous hellhound. Swallowing, he clears his throat and speaks. "He seems to suit you. One of your favorites? Was he part of the reason we went to Arden?" "Yes, he pleases me." She stepped out from the plants she had set the boundaries of her return point. "Intelligent, loyal, and even in the face of the most fearsome adversary, he is relentless." She stroked the top of the hound's head, as was her priveledge. "But he is not why I was there, only an opportunity I took advantage of." Emmet gives this a moment. A question forms and dies on his lips unspoken. She crossed the room to look out the window again. "I need new clothes, and I detest using sorcery for such a mundane task." She looked at the streets, and activity. "A quick meal to break fast, a quick meeting with the Mayor, and we can be on our way." She nodded, mostly to herself, and headed for the door, trusting that the others would both follow. A noble of Begma padding through the Mayor's Palace at an early hour is hardly cause for notice or concern from the staff (among the few who are up at the early hour). Adding in a Princess and sorceress of Amber does increase the level of interest as they make their way to a meal room. The addition of an Arden hellhound, however loyally and obediently padding alongside the Princess, however, draws a lot of notice. Servants shrink back in surprise and fear. One maid drops a full water pitcher, the ceramic shattering on the stone floor, water splashing in an explosion. One of the guards comes toward the group after this last, stopping. He clearly recognizes Emmet, and has a dawning realization or recognition of Brieanne. He's not one of the guards from yesterday evening, but clearly, word has spread. He makes a mental calculation, and decides not to challenge either. "The captain of the guards will likely accost us shortly." Emmet comments. "They are used to hunting hounds, but usually down in the kennels. Unnaturally large, magical ones are another matter entirely." The meal room that Brieanne finds (mostly by her nose, and partly with Emmet's help) is a trestle table room with a fireplace in the corner burning away the chill of the morning. There is a gradation of tables from the most rustic to a clothed and polished table that is clearly the equivalent of a High Table. A minor Begman noble, judging from his clothes and appearance, eats here alone, a castle servant standing solicitiously behind him. The former pays no attention to Brieanne, Emmet and Eisenholz, the latter's eyes widen in surprise. "B ... breakfast?" he squeaks "Yes," Brieanne replied, choosing a table that put her above the noble already eating, though she did not take the High Table. "Breakfast for two, and something suitable for the hound. He is much easier as company when he is properly fed." She stroked the hound as she sat, glancing up at the servant once she was settled. "I would also like someone to run an errand in the city, so please send a messenger to me." "He eats...meat" Its not quite a question but a confirmation. Eisenholz does not need to growl. Just the baleful look is enough to send the servant scrambling, promising breakfast for two, the hound, and a messenger. Brieanne watched the man with a bemused expression. Ten minutes later, breakfast, in the form of grilled polenta cake topped with rashers of bacon, a fish that is probably preserved herring, thick sourdough bread and weak wine. Also brought are a plate of thick sausages for Eisenholz (the latter is carefully put several feet away from from the hound) and a young man in the livery of the Mayor. The noble looks up from his own breakfast (which looks like somewhat more pedestrian porridge) and gives a look of disdain at Brieanne, hostility toward Emmet, and still manages to ignore Eisenholz. As Eisenholz pads over and starts eating a sausage, the servant pipes up in a high voice. "You wanted a message sent into the city, Princess Shannon." He stops, correcting himself. "Brieanne. Princess Brieanne." Emmet silently takes a forkful of cake, eats and watches. There is as yet no sign of the Captain of the Guard, as Emmet predicted. "That is not a mistake you will make again." Brieanne settled her plate, her napkin, and took hold of her fork before her gaze sliced upward to the servant with a disapproving frown. She did not give him time to apologize, simply get to the business at hand. "I need a proper change of clothes and someone who can make them fit correctly. I have decided that I do not have time for a shopping trip, as amusing as that might be, so I need someone brought to my room with several choices of clothing that can be quickly tailored. I am assuming that your city has someone who can manage this feat with a degree of elegance and professionalism. Please bring them here, and get them the assistance they need to arrive quickly." The servant clears his throat. "I can certainly bring a tailor here, Princess." He hesitates slightly before adding "Brieanne" as if weighting the hazards of using her name or eschewing it. "Begging your pardon, so that I bring a tailor suited to your needs and clothes to your specifications, might I ask what sort of clothes you are seeking and for what planned activities? I would not wish to bring you someone specializing in Court Ball Gowns when you wish riding clothes, milady Princess." "You will not often find the Princess Brieanne overly concerned with the latest fashion trends." A tall man dressed in the livery of the guard, although of finer cut, interposes. "Be about the business, lad" The servant remains in place, looking at Brieanne. "Princess Brieanne," the guard says says. "I am Captain Malloy, head of the Castle Guard. I understand that your visit has caused no little disruption to the smooth running of the Alcazar since yesterday evening." He looks disdainfully at Eisenholz. "The presence of a Arden hunting hound is most irregular. Are you hunting prey in Begma, by any chance?" "I was, and if it's going to be sporting, I might add another to the list." Brieanne's voice was cool as she turned her gaze from the obedient servant to the guard now vexing her. "I am quite certain that your Lord Mayor will inform you that I have been of great service to Begma, to him specifically, and worth whatever ...irregularity... troubles you." She leaned back in her seat, drink in hand. "I have help to unearth and neutralize enemies of the crown, save nobility and apprehend traitors. All in the course of a single evening while you were...... where?" She asked, setting her glass on the table and propping her elbow on the table with her chin in her hand. Captain Malloy stares coldly back at Brieanne. She was. perhaps, about to say something else, when her eyes flew wide and she sat straight up in her seat. "Fredrik!" She emptied her hands, hands abrubtly flat on the table, and looked ready to stand. "Where is Fredrik? He was a guard summoned to the Lord Mayor's chamber last night, he went to assist Princess Shannon, he needs brought to me or if he has fallen too ill, I need brought to him." All coy behaviors evaporated as she shifted gears, clearly concerned and suddenly agitated. "Frederik? He has been sick a bed, I had heard that he bears a burden that Princess Shannon put upon him, so I have not rousted him." Captain Malloy says. He looks at Brieanne, glances at Emmet. When he looks down at Eisenholz, the hound looks up from his food and licks his muzzle. The gesture, as if mirroring and echoing Brieanne's, is not meant to convey his satisfaction at the sausages on his plate. "He would be in the guard barracks, if you insist on being brought to him now." Captain Malloy adds. "Or did you wish to terrorize servants and Castle staff some more while you finish your breakfast first, first, lady Princess?" The not yet departed servant shuffles nervously from foot to foot. "Ugh, Shannon..." There is a note of disgust in Brieanne's voice as she pushes herself to her feet. "I can go back to terrorizing the castle after I make certain he doesn't die," Brieanne snapped, "which is exactly what he is going to do in very short order." "I will be back, I will still want breakfast, and I will still need a tailor, but you have that much more time to find someone to help." She spoke briskly to the servant, cast a hard glance at the other diner, and then moved toward the door, her hand briefly touching to Eisenholz as she stepped up to him. "The faster you lead, the easier it will be to help Frederik." She cast a hard stare at the Captain, since she had no idea where the barracks were, but she was already formulating a plan should the Captain decide to quip and quibble further. Smoothly, Emmet rises and follows Brieanne in her and Eisenholz's wake. The other diner says nothing. Captain Malloy says nothing, turning and leading the way. Malloy says nothing, his shoulders set and his body language hard as he walks through the Alcazar. The barracks are on the side of the first floor, a far more martial and spartan area than the rest of the building Brieanne has seen previously. Unerringly, Malloy makes his way not to the larger barrack rooms, but one of the smaller quarters for officers. Lying on a pallet, awake but glassy-eyed,. is Frederik. "This is the state he has been left in." Malloy says coldly. He will sup broth and water if given to him. But little else. In addition to the tangle of magics that had been foisted upon him by Brieanne's work, there is clearly something else around in and binding him, being sustained by him, in some ways, to his sorrow. Shannon's imprint on this spell is obvious even from here. "What did she do?!" Brieanne hissed, mostly to herself since she did not expect anyone to have the answer. She went directly to the soldier's side and sat next to him, close enough that he was within comfortable reach, and cupped his face in her hands. "Who did what?" Malloy says. "Speak sense." "Better not to ask." Emmet comments. "Frederik?" She pushed through the spells and his exhaustion to reach him. "Give me a moment, and I shall have you untangled and free." Her voice was soft and reassuring, her touch warm and soothing. She bent her head to the task, placing one hand above his heart, moving the other to his forehead. She chased down the threads of Shannon's work first, trying to understand why it had been done, and where they led before she did anything with them. Its a tangle of a spell of Shannon's, that much is clear on the first pass. On the second pass, its clear that its a spell that is vampirically using the magics that had been passed onto Frederik, and onto his health, too, in order to be powered. So the soldier not only is the target of the spells that had been put on the Lord Mayor but this additional spell as well. As Brieanne looks, some of the stray threads, the tangles, and the magical nodules start to fall into place. In order to undo the spell, in order to free Frederik, would almost necessarily send off an infallible messenger spell, presumably to Shannon, that her spell had been tampered with and disassembled. Brieanne can undo it without sending off that spell, but that would take somewhat longer to accomplish. "What?" Malloy asks again, getting a sharp sound from Emmet in response. "Oh, you want notified, do you?" Brieanne snarled softly, slipping herself ethereally between Frederick and the spellwork. "Who, what?" Malloy demands again. "Oh for the sake of the Seven, be quiet, Captain." Emmet says again, sharply. Holding him steady, she looped a ward around herself and him, a twist in between her and the stricken soldier further shielding him from whatever happened next. Then she sliced abruptly through Shannon's spellcraft, snapping all the lines in a blatant, efficient manner. She braced for any potential backlash, and then turned her attention to Frederick, hoping the relief would rouse him enough to at least briefly speak with her. The backlash, when it comes is not so much an attack or a strike against Brieanne and Frederik but rather an exhalation of energies, a sending of power and information. Like a swirl of leaves upon a wind, the details of Brieanne's action, the power she used, the technique she employed, the very fact of her present flies away in a swirl of released energies. Frederik still has the previous burdens on him, of course, but the additional one Shannon had placed on him is gone. The glassy eyed look has turned clear and normal. And, indeed, he slowly opens his eyes, giving out a short breath. "Princess." he manages, in a raspy and dehydrated voice. "My apologies for any inconvenience. I've not felt well since the burden." "No inconvenience." Brieanne smiled benignly. "He needs water." She glanced at the Captain, and looked for someone past him to fetch it before she turned back to Frederick. "Water, right" comes the voice of one of the guards. "I am afraid you were given one too many burdens, so I fixed that, and hopefully I can relieve you of this task entirely very, very soon." She huddled in on herself, elbow on her knee, chin in her hand. "Can you tell me where you and Shannon went?" "We walked down a hallway...and then she did some sort of spell" Frederik says, dreamily. "We wound up in a black tiled room, with a lot of windows, like we were in a high tower. All the windows showed different places, though, like the tower was in a lot of different places or something. Sat me down in a chair, examined me like you were examining the Mayor." Brieanne's brows pinched together, confusion quickly replaced by a concerned frown. "She got mad, said the spell on me was tougher than she thought. Said your name a couple of times, wanted to know more about you. She...did something, and then brought us back." The guard comes forward, a short, rail-thin man, one of the Sergeants by his rank insignia. He thrusts a ceramic cup of water toward Frederik. He takes it, downs one large swallow. Then, looking at Brieanne, more sedately sips the rest. "That is all I remember. I barely recall being put in bed here." "That's all *we* know." the Captain puts in. "The Princess showed up, said he needed rest, said it had to do with the Lord Mayor. He's been here since." "Half of it a lie..." Brieanne growled. "We aid the Lord Mayor, but the worst of it is her own doing, for her own reasons, and is sounds suspiciously like she didn't do anything she was supposed to have done. That Tower, is not in Begma, and I can see no reason to leave, except to have a place of Power to work from." "I still am mystified." The Captain says. Brieanne's gaze was turned inward while she spoke, puzzling things out for herself. She shook her head and turned back to Frederick with a reassuring expression. "Let's get you feeling better, get you some breakfast, and then if Shannon did indeed shirk her task, we shall complete it so you can be finished entirely." She held out her hand to take the cup, and passed that back to whomever chose to take it, and then scooted in a bit closer to Frederick. "Very much as we did last night, lay back, close your eyes, and relax." She placed a hand on his head again, and the other on his heart. "Yes, Princess." Frederik says, laying back and closing his eyes. He is not so much forcibly relaxing himself as letting his lassitude take over again.
His memory is very good, once Brieanne has a chance to unspool it from his mind. Shannon did take him away from the Mayor's quarters. Gaps and jump cuts in Frederik's explanation fill in like missing paving stones replaced. A room in the Alcalde, somewhere. Shannon walking around him, studying him. Manipulation of energies of some sort. Tying off the spell that had been transferred to him, weakening it even as she studies it. "It is tougher than I thought. I need to see if it will traverse shadow." Brieanne hears Shannon say aloud. "We're going on a trip. We'll be back to Begma, soon.Come." She leads him out of the room and down the hall, and then there is the swirl of sorcery that has her and Frederik's next steps be into the Tower room. The remainder of the memory plays out much as he said. Studying him even more intently as he is seated. Upset with Brieanne. The weaving of spells around him. A walk through one of the windows, and back into the hallway in Begma. Frederik can have the spell dissipated fairly easily, especially without Shannon's spell around it anymore. She weakened it severely, but left it in place. There are no more traps, though, that Brieanne can see. Relieving the burden should be easy. And a couple of days rest, once this is done, and the soldier will be back to normal. Brieanne kept her irritation to herself as she followed the threads, tracking the maker of the spell that plagued the Lord Mayor and gathering as clear an impression of that individual as she could. Without opening her eyes, she reached blindly for Eisenholz. She coiled a fragment of the spell around the hound so that he could help her track the caster, and then unwound the spell from Frederick entirely, freeing the soldier. Eisenholz is clearly used to such treatment. He raises his head. Brieanne can feel his body language, the desire to hunt, the wish to have Brieanne unleash him on this prey.The caster, as far as Brieanne can tell, is in Begma, up the river, beyond the now fallen estate. Likely in the Capital. This is overshadowed by the gasp that Frederik gives off as the spell is removed. He gives off a series of short breaths as if hyperventilating. She sat up straight, leaning back slightly as she regarded the soldier. The work was done... perhaps... And she waited to see if there was any residual affect she should tend to before she did the job Shannon had shirked. The breaths become shallower, more regular, more normal. He swallows and blinks his eyes. She kept one hand on Eisenholz, fingers running absently through his fur while she waited for Frederik to respond. "Thank you" he says to Brieanne. "It is gone now. I can feel it. I feel better.. Whole." "Good. You will be back on duty tomorrow, Frederik." The guard captain says. Brieanne shot the Captain a disapproving look, but addressed Frederick warmly. "No thanks is necessary. You served your realm and me, and I always take care of those who hunt for me." She straightened out the edge of the blanket he was laying under. "Make sure you rest. You'll likely have little stamina the next day or two and it would be unwise to push yourself." She angled her head so she looked stern, but there was a hint of a smile wanting to break through. It didn't. Frederik nods. "As you say, Lady Princess" She stood up, gave the captain another annoyed look, and stepped away. Emmet gives off a chuckle and shakes his head. "We know now who did this?" he asks Brieanne. "We're not going back to that Estate, are we?" "No. Shannon wasted time with her petty pursuits, but I know where to go and we can hunt them down, the sooner, the better. Shannon's tampering damaged the spell, if it were going to set off alarms, it likely has already done so. If they have another Door, they can escape through it, and then we have that whole mess to go through again or we shall have the pleasure of allowing them time to decide to blow it up on our side and see how far they can make the pieces of your Capital fly..." She was striding out the door and heading back to the kitchen. First things first. "If there is a Door there, the Prime Minister will want to know." Emmet says. "Fortunately" his pace matches Brieanne's in the same manner as Eisenholz's does. "there is no word or suggestion he has been suborned or stricken. Certainly I had never heard of such plans in my visits to the Estate." Back at the kitchens, a few more people are eating breakfast now, but the table that Brieanne, Emmet, and Eisenholz had previously appropriated is very tellingly unoccupied and tidied up. The noble that had been sitting nearby, though is gone. "A moment's peace" Emmet says as a servants start bustling at Brieanne's reappearance. "Not really. I need to work on transportation, I still need fresh clothes, and we should probably see the Lord Mayor before we make our way to the Capital." Brieanne returned to her seat and settled herself, expecting food to arrive promptly. "Left to my own devices I would simply thrash the individual in question and hand him over once he's broken. People are usually very willing to talk when a hound is about to shake them into pieces. Leaving them with the specter of once again being a toy tends to keep them cooperative." She added in a confidential whisper. "But the Mayor might have a suggestion for how it should be handled. I wouldn't speak of it to the Minister until it's finished. If he hasn't been subjugated, how do you know he's not in on it?" Food, similar to the food before, from polenta to fruit, is quickly placed in front of Brieanne, Emmet and Eisenholz once again. "They can be taught" Emmet murmurs. He keeps his low voice as he continues to speak. "We don't know the Prime Minister is in on it of course, this is true. Assuming he might have been suborned might be wise. I suspect the Mayor will suggest a subtle hand in dealing with the puppet master. Even if this is all really a conflict between the Lord Mayor and the Prime Minister. Such conflicts have arisen before, given the importance of my fair city to the country. The Capital." he sniffs, and takes a bite of cheese "is not quite the city this is." Brieanne mulled the options and sighed. "I would so much rather William were here. I'm not very good at subtle. Eisenholz will help me hunt down the crafting mage, I can bag him, bring him back here trussed up like a present, and be done." At the mention of his name, Eisenholz looks up from the sausage he is greedily devouring. " Fast, efficient, but not truly subtle. Will it count as subtle if I'm done before anyone knows I've started?" She popped a piece of fruit in her mouth, still musing and rapidly coming to the conclusion that it would simply have to be her way. She didn't know any other. "It might not count as subtle." Emmet says, taking a grape and popping it in his mouth. "However, there is an expression in Begma, and possibly in Amber as well. It is easier to remit a petition of forgiveness to a liege lord than ask his permission beforehand to do the same deed." "If the mage were found and captured quickly, that would be worth doing." Emmet finishes. "Fast, efficient, but not truly subtle. Will it count as subtle if I'm done before anyone knows I've started?" She popped a piece of fruit in her mouth, still musing and rapidly coming to the conclusion that it would simply have to be her way. She didn't know any other. "It might not count as subtle." Emmet says, taking a grape and popping it in his mouth. "However, there is an expression in Begma, and possibly in Amber as well. It is easier to remit a petition of forgiveness to a liege lord than ask his permission beforehand to do the same deed." "If the mage were found and captured quickly, that would be worth doing." Emmet finishes. "Then quickly it will be. Let me eat in silence, I can work and chew at the same time." She didn't wait for his reply, seeming to turn all of her attention to her food, eating daintily, almost ritualisticly, as she constructed the spell that would move them on their hunt from where they were, to where their quarry resided. Like skipping a stone across the Shadow... it wouldn't be one big jump, but a series of small ones that allowed for correction and brought them in with opportunity to flank their quarry with as little warning as she could manage. Obediently, Emmet remains quiet for the next twenty minutes, save for the sounds of chewing and eating. This gives Brieanne the time and opportunity to eat her own breakfast, and start to work on chains of spells. She has the destination, thanks to her spell work with the guard, and can use that as the hook to construct a teleport cascade. Brieanne does realize she has to make a trade, here. There is an uncertainty to each jump, and while subsequent jumps can correct for this, more jumps have the disadvantage of being potentially more detected by the target. So, fast, accurate, and subtle. Brieanne can strengthen and focus on two of those traits for her Spell matrix. After mulling the issue over, Brieanne chose a fixed initial arrival point, and a more flexible final destination, so she could scope out her intended location before she popped out in the middle of some place awkward. She spent the next minute finalizing the work and finishing her breakfast. She wiped her mouth, swallowed the last bite of food and waved to the attendent. "Where you able to arrange for the tailor, or is that still a work in progress?" Her tone was neutral, as if she didn't care what the answer was. "I believe you delegated that to one of the servants here." Emmet says mildly. "I will check." He rises from the table and heads to the doorway and speaks to one of the servants waiting there. A minute and a half goes by before Emmet comes back to the table. Brieanne quietly finished her meal, checking on Eisenholz once but seeming to pay little attention to the rest of the room. "He is due within the hour,Princess." Emmet says. "Perhaps not a convenient time frame, all things considered. The tailor is due to remain in the Castle all day, however." "No, we cannot wait, but if he will be here for the day, the problem is solved." She wiped her hands and got up, "We should be off." She made eye contact with the hound as she glided past him and heard him fall into step behind her. Emmet falls into line as easily as Eisenholz. "We shall leave from my room again. It makes returning so much easier to have a consistent point of reference, and one never knows when that little cheat might be useful. But, for the moment... the Lord Mayor." She paused, homing in on the man, and turned down the first hall leading in the correct direction. Brieanne's homing instincts bring her to the threshold of sitting room, deep within the Alcazar, not far away from the personal quarters of the Lord Mayor. It would not be surprising if the sitting room had a back connection to same. A couple of guards stand here, not relaxing even at Brieanne and Emmet's approach. "Let her in." the Lord Mayor calls from within. "Hello Princess." Brieanne replied with a jaunty little gesture that was not quite a theatrical bow as she stepped through the door way. Inside of the room, the Lord Mayor is sitting in a chair. Another seated young man is writing on a piece of parchment sitting on a lap desk of some kind. "Your aid is once again appreciated, Princess Brieanne." The Lord Mayor, far closer to his expected health and vitality, says. "And yours, Lord Emmet. But where are the Prince William and the Princess Shannon?" he asks. "Surely, they deserve my thanks as well." "William, yes." Brieanne agreed as she approached. "Shannon... not so much. It is actually her failing that I need to go address." Brieanne made a sour face. "We are off to the Capital to secure the individual who wrought the spell. Shannon's tampering may have already given them warning, but we may yet have a successful hunt." "It is unfortunate that your royal cousin's help was less effective than it might have been. There have been dark doings in Begma these last months." He gives a glance at Emmet, who has a cool expression. "However, it seems you know where the heart of this darkness lies. I am unsurprised that it lies in the capital. May it not lie within the auspices of the Prime Minister itself. If he were to be compromised, Begma itself would convulse, and I shudder." he launches into a brief coughing jag, a clear holdover from his previous condition and state. "I shudder to think what might befall my country." "Is there aught you wished of me, or merely to ascertain that your curative has had the desired effect?" the Lord Mayor asks. "Merely?" Brieanne feigned horror. "Given the scope of the work, I'm even rather impressed with myself." She gave him an impish smile. "And yes, it is good to see that all has gone well. I hope we will return shortly, with news, if not bodies..." She gave him a wink and prepared to leave, but moved slowly enough that he had time to respond. "If he is not compromised himself, the Prime Minister would likely wish to see your, ah, handiwork, before you depart the capital." The Lord Mayor says. "I would not take it amiss if you delay to do so, quite to the contrary. I am sure that Prince William would agree." "Good..." The lord Mayor searches for a word, and then glances at Eisenholz. He gives a nod. "Good Hunting, Princess." Brieanne flashed a fierce smile and glided out the door. "Now, you were saying?" Brieanne can hear the Mayor say to the scribe as she, Eisenholz and Emmet leave the Mayor's rooms. "Well, now we have sanction if not outright approval to hunt again." Emmet says. "Yes!" She flashed another smile and began placing the pins to engage her spell. "And we should be off." (hee, looks like Brieanne is going to be away when William starts to get more info as to who and what she is). The spell ready, the specifications done, there is nothing to inhibit her release of the spell to transport herself, Emmet and Eisenholz away from the Erkus Mayor's palace, and to her destination near her quarry. The flexibility of final destination, in order to avoid detection and to be able to have created the spell in the time frame means that the landing is not precise. In point of fact, Brieanne, Eisenholz and Emmet find themselves teleporting into the hilly city of Tyin, capital of Begma. While Erkus has two major hills, Tyin, being inland and on the piedmont, is far hillier. Their landing spot, as it so happens is near the crest of one of these hills, next to a clockmaker's shop. Clocks of various sizes tick the time, 9 in the morning. The beautiful wooden houses suggest this is a mostly prosperous residential district, although there aren't the gated and walled estates that suggests nobility. The target, according to Brieanne's senses and research is relatively nearby. Perhaps as close as this street, certainly within the quarter. "Let's find our rabbit..." Brieanne stroked Eisenholz's head and gave him the signal to track, and a second one for quiet. They walked down the street, her arm through Emmet's, looking for their target and scouting the lay of the land as they went. "A rarebit?" Emmet asks, with a smile dawning on his face. "Shhh..." Brieanne mocked whispered, smiling. Although the landing was imprecise, Eisenholz's nose is not. After a few moments, he definitively leads his mistress and Emmet along the cobblestone streets of the Goldenestrasse. The people walking the street pay the trio a little mind, mostly to the hellhound. One servant woman, with a kerchief on her head is suddenly startled as Eisenholz starts pulling on his leash. Her loaves of bread clatter to the street in startled surprise as he gets the scent of prey. Brieanne chides Eisenholz gently, scooping up the fallen loaves as they pass, half of which she hands back to the woman. She tucked the other in the crook of her arm and kept going. Her fingers drummed on the loaves briefly, as if testing their crust. The servant is dumbstruck by Brieanne's acquisition of some of the bread, standing stock still and regarding Eisenholz warily as they continue on. "Hungry again?" Emmet asks, curiously. The crust of the bread feels good. Fresh, well baked bread. Brieanne only smiled in reply. One of the several story wooden houses, a post and beam construction with a double pitched roof and set slightly apart from the rest of the houses on the street is the target that Eisenholz is pulling toward. There is a small, 3 foot wall around the house, more of a deliminator than a serious barrier. Despite its wooden construction, this IS definitely one of the nicer houses on Golden Street, easily, and certainly one of the largest. It also appears to have a backyard, or at least clear access down the hill A servant, sweeping the front porch, looks out at Brieanne, Emmet and Eisenholz uncertainly. "Good morning." With her hound at her heel, Brieanne greeted the woman pleasantly, her voice soft and lady-like. She approached directly, eyes steady on the woman as she gathered Power and Will and brought it to focus. The woman would cooperate, a lifetime of service had primed her for that, and who was she to question or thwart someone of higher rank? "Guten morning." the servant replies, in a mixture of Thari and some local dialect. "I am hoping the Master of the house is available?" Brieanne did not attempt to pass the woman, simply stepping up to the porch beside her. "It would be so nice of you to invite us in, and perhaps you will accept this gift on behalf of the house you serve?" With a tilt of her head and another soft smile, Brieanne offered the woman the bread. Beside her, Emmet opens and closes his mouth, revelation crossing his face. He watches the woman carefully as she regards the bread, Brieanne, and Eisenholz. "I might invite you in to see him, Lord, Lady, but your hound would have to remain out here." the servant says, taking the loaves of bread in her hands. "I believe Master Tophet is having his fruhstuck." "His breakfast" she corrects. "As long as he perceives no threat to me, he will be content to wait." Brieanne nodded agreeably, stroked the hound's head and pointed him toward an already swept spot so he wasn't in the servant's way. Eisenholz pads over to the spot and sits on his haunches, regarding Brieanne and the entrance to the house. Then she turned to the servant expectantly. "Ja, ja, that will suit." the servant says. She sets her broom to the side, holding carefully to the bread that she has taken from Brie in one hand, and opens the door with the other. The door leads to a small entrance foyer, with an open doorway. The interior is all red colored wood, cherry perhaps. The servant stops at the threshold to the hallway that ends at the doorway. Brieanne followed the woman in leisurely, looking around with interest, as if admiring the woodwork while she scanned lightly for magic. The light scan for magic reveals that this is a magic user's house. Light ambient fields, more potentials than anything activated. Once activated, defenses could be deployed. Trying to learn more about those would be an aggressive act, and noticed. "Master Tophet" she calls down the hallway. "You have guests." Some distant, indistinct sounds punctuate a somewhat elderly man entering that long hallway from one of the far doorways. He slowly and pedantically walks down the corridor. His overalls, a faded blue in color, and his wrinkled white shirt look like they have seen better days. "Who are Master Tophet's guests?" the servitor asks the porch-sweeper. "I...I didn't get these names. They want to see Master Tophet. They offered bread." She holds out the loaves. The man shakes his head and regards Brieanne and Emmet expectantly. "Brieanne, and Emmet." She stepped closer, indicating herself and Emmet in turn. The gesture was unnecessary, betraying a nervous temperament and a lack of experience. "But, I'm afraid they won't mean anything to him." She almost seemed wounded by that. "We're newly at our employ, it's still my first day! But they'll all know my name soon enough." She added the last in a conspirator's whisper, her fingers briefly touching the man's arm as she leaned closer, impressing upon him just how young, and likely naïve, she was. "But, for now, we are here to deliver a message." She smiled broadly, convinced of her task's importance. Brieanne feels a short static burst of a spell originate in his ear and fly down the hall. A messenger daemon spell, clearly. One comes back nearly as quickly. The servitor nods. "Surely, then, you have some sort of identification, to indicate where you are from." He stands and smiles. "As a suggestion, young lady, having such papers at the ready will do you well in your job going forward." "I...." Brieanne floundered, the bravado with which she had entered crumbling. "I only have what I am wearing. I left too quickly to take anything with me." Her gaze dropped uncertainly and she shifted slightly toward Emmet, her hand brushing his. Pin? She sent the little thought through the touch of their hands, though she trusted that if he had papers of any sort, he would produce them, or know if Neil had had papers of any sort. Pin! Emmet responds. He reaches into his pocket, and produces another of the Door Pins. It does not feel enchanted at all, since Brieanne's senses are up. "My apologies, good sir." Emmet says, holding the pin between thumb and forefinger. "We are well acquainted with your master's doings." The servant stares at the pin for a long moment. "I don't remember a woman" he says. "The woman is not important." Emmet says. "I let her speak first to see how well you and yours serve. You did well in not admitting her cavalierly. The other..." he gives a disdainful look to the porch-sweeper and then back to the servitor. The aristocratic bearing of the young noble is now in full flower. The servitor, now, is shaken by this, and steps back and gives a cough. "My pardons. I will conduct you to the Master immediately." He turns to walk down the hall expecting Brieanne and Emmet to follow. As they followed the now daunted servant, Brieanne glanced at Emmet from the corner of her eye and winked. She took his hand again. Let us see if our conspirators had contingency plans. I apologize for holding out on the pin, Emmet responds, easing into the communication easily. *Its just a curio, it has no spells on it whatsoever. I should have anticipated this sort of doorstop*. Down the hallway, the servitor leads Brieanne and Emmet to a door. He raps on it once, and opens it to reveal a large square room. Bookcases line the walls, and a large cherry desk. Behind the desk is a rail-thin man, bald, who has stopped looking at the large piece of parchment that he holds in his hands. Standing next to the desk and the man is a large, muscled man with short, blond hair. "Greetings, Princess Brieanne" the tall, muscled blond haired man says. "I don't believe we've met. I do tend to avoid Arden whenever possible. My name is Dalt." He picks up and takes a long drink of a glass of milk and regards Brieanne coolly. "That is the most prudent course of action." Brieanne agreed, nodding sagely, "and while they say many things about you, cousin, I have yet to hear them call you stupid. I must confess, however that I am not sure what surprises me more; that I am so instantly recognizable, or that you are here with him... Which brings us back to prudent versus stupid." She gestured with her hands as if she were a scale, weighing possibilities and then let them fall to her sides. Her tone and demeanor were calm and casual, her head tilting slightly as she waited for his reply. "I had not realized you had taken lessons in language from the more clever tongued of our family. But then you *have* been a surprise since you set foot in Begma, or so I have been told." Dalt replies. He calmly takes another sip of milk. "But I am not here to correct your misimpressions, either. And you are in little position to ask I do so." "Morris" Dalt says to the servitor. "Please see the Princess and her friend out." Dalt says. "She will not be tarrying any further. Will you?" he adds, staring at Brieanne. If he was trying to stare her down, it failed. Her grin returned as if the entire situation was an enormous joke only she had the punch line for. "Unlikely. I rarely, purposefully, intrude upon family." She tried to sound lofty and proper, but couldn't quite do it through the smirk that refused to leave her lips. "But truthfully cousin, I'm not the one who's misimpressions need to be corrected." She slid an arm through Emmet's in a now familiar fashion. "But maybe you'll be absolutely darling in a little collar, being all shy and sweet, going on about what a privilege it is to serve." She gave him an appreciative look. "I'd have fun with it." With a wink she turned, gave the poor servant a blinding smile, and her physical form walked out of the room with Emmet. Tucked behind a fast and dirty Veil, her astral self melted to the floor, as compact as a garden pixie, zipped up to the desk, and around to the back. With nothing physical to her form, logic dictated that she didn't need the Veil, but she hadn't been taught logic when it came to unfamiliar wizards and family. She'd been taught respect and paranoia. So she masked everything she would if she'd been there with her teacher and a hound playing Hide and Seek. She stayed at the edge of the window, just inside the edge of shadow and drifted up. Listening, and taking a leisurely look at the paper on the desk. She tracked her physical self, walking casually down the hallway, prepared to leave immediately one direction or another if things didn't go as planned. For his part, if Emmet doesn't quite know exactly what Brieanne has done, he can guess. He manages to keep the physical form of Brieanne, really on autopilot, moving toward the door, although he gives glances behind now and again. This interplay, though, is barely "Lord" the man says. "Yes, what is it, " Dalt has an irritated look on his face. "I feel a weak presence. I believe she cast a spell of some sort." From her position, Brieanne can now take a look at the parchment. Brieanne knows how to read a ley line map--she was trained to do so, after all. This is not so much a ley line map but its clearly a map of notable locations in Begma, Amber, Eregnor, and Kashfa. Elegant lines, curves, circles and double circles. Its maddeningly abstract in that it doesn't indicate what these places are, but reading this map, one of the double circles appears to be down river...where the estate with the Door lies. Concentrating, Brieanne placed the circles and double circle in relation to the estate with the now closed Door, made an effort to account for where she was now, and spend the rest of her brief moment memorizing the picture as a whole. "No matter." Dalt says. "You'll flush it out as soon as she is off the grounds. If there is a connection to her, so the better. Let her feel the fire." "Yes, Lord." the man replies, folding up the parchment, so it is out of easy view. Gleeful, Brieanne fractured once again, leaving a small sacrifice, like a mote of dust hanging in the air as she zipped out of the room, up over the house and met herself between the porch and the gate. She slowed the last few steps, gathering Power to counter the impeding attack, and straining to listen. The little mote was drifting lightly, and drafts would eventually carry it toward the hallway door, but she still had a tiny anchor into the room. She'd much rather burst his spell as he tried to cast it, and she was happy to still have any perception, but risks had to be weighed and Dalt was dangerous to trifle with. |
