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City of Adventure

Espérance turns to Swan. "Shall we go?" She also glances around to see if Hugo is ready to accompany them. Fortunately Ramelan didn't say anything against bringing large dogs into the city.

Hugo has remained on board, and out of sight, for the entire negotiation. At the words from his mistress, however, he bounds out of his hiding spot and lands next to Espérance.

Swan nods lightly, "It's your show Ezzy." She makes room for the dog to accompany them and follows them into this bizarre city.

Sub Magistrate Ramelan looks surprised and seems ready to say something, but Cazaril and Huttner step up and start engaging him in negotiation. This allows Swan, Espérance and Hugo the time and space to slip by, and into the city.

There are many things to catch the senses in the city of Panaji in the ladies' initial minutes. The buildings of orange and yellow marble, ranging from the blocky and short to the tall and spindly. The mass of people, people. This city certainly has more people than Espérance has seen--and more than Swan has seen in Amber city, anyway. The variety of people is astonishing, with a full spectrum of skin colors, hair colors, eye colors, and most especially, clothing.

In the space of ten minutes, the two ladies and Hugo pass by men wearing little more than loincloths, others dressed in a full body robe, women with very little on, and others who are covered head to toe, and veiled. And in a variety of colors. Many are wearing white and yellow, as the sub Magistrate mentioned, but nearly every hue, but black and mauve, are represented.

The smells of food and the sounds of languages both familiar and unfamiliar echoing in an endless cacophony around the three travelers help complete the sensory experience of the masses of humanity that is the city.

Espérance finds herself looking up at the rooftops rather longingly, but decides that now is not the time for that. She keeps a hand on Hugo's ruff, to prevent losing him in the press.

"What do you think?" she asks Swan. "Should we look for this Prefect's office? It won't be secretive, but it might be faster."

Busy enjoying her surroundings - particularly the dangly bits poking out from behind the loincloths - it takes Swan a moment to realize she's being addressed. She blinks at Espérance blankly. Comprehension sets in and she blows a smoke ring into the air. "Faster pussycat kill, kill, I always say. Gets the job done and may attract some attention. I like attention, if you hadn't glommed it yet." She snakes her arm through Espérance's, a mischievous smile forming around the gasper between her lips.

"So, Ezzy, tell me. Do you like a bit of the old ultraviolence? Or are you a huggy-kissy twist?"

"Put it this way." Espérance lays a hand briefly on her sword hilt. "This is business, not pleasure."

Swan laughs softly, "Honey. My business /is/ a pleasure."

Espérance nods. "So I gathered. For myself... When I want to relax, I do something else."

"Oh-ho? Now that sounds promising," Swan chuckles. She pauses long enought to stub out her gasper. "You're an interesting doll, Ezzy. When we have more time, you need to show me how you relax."

"Simple enough." Espérance smiles. "Do you like music?" Another glance at the rooftops. "Or climbing?"

Swan laughs and hugs Espérance, "Do I like music, she says. I'm a professional torcher, doll. Spun a few records back in the Beast. And I free-run whenever I can. Roofs included."

"When we get the chance then," says Espérance, her eyes lighting, "--because it's always business before pleasure, isn't it?--I'll race you. And then harmonize afterwards."

Swan grins brightly, "Races usually have bets attached to them. I'm sure we can come up with something interesting." She gives a bawdy chuckle, "Mrm-hrm. Harmonizing. It certainly will be."

Her eyes scan the street ahead of them and spot building with civic-looking symbols on it. "That might be it."

"Worth a try, anyway," says Espérance, turning toward it.

There is a line of people waiting to get into the Onion-domed structure that Swan points out amongst the many other buildings. As Espérance and Swan approach it, it seems more and more to be the promised destination. It sits on a square that, at the center portion anyway, is composed of bright blue flagstones.

The line seems interminable, but, providentially, a bit of the ultraviolence is not needed to get Swan and Espérance into the structure. The line moves rapidly, and it seems to replenish itself behind the pair just as rapidly.

A few minutes later, inside a large and grand hall dominated by a mural with a multitude of what must be Gods and Demons, Espérance and Swan are at the head of the line.

A very bored young woman with cocoa colored skin and hair the color of jet looks a little more alert at the arrival of the two ladies.

"Salaam." she says. She looks at the two women. "If you are looking for the blessings of Saldana, Huntress and Eater of Men, the temple is thirteen streets to the north and is a red and gold structure, topped by her symbol, the Arch."

"Not today, thank you," Espérance replies pleasantly, though with a twinkle in her eye at the way the young woman seems to have an eye for people's predilections in gods. "We have a different errand. We seek news of a distinguished foreign visitor: Damil, Duke Emeritus of Tremontaine."

“Distinguished foreign visitor.” The clerk says thoughtfully. She turns and bends over, briefly, showing the crimson red that makes up the lower half of her outfit, in contrast to the lily white top. She pulls back around with a large scroll and opens it. “There may be news I might be very possibly capable of relating.” the clerk says, looking at Espérance. “Are you concubine, kinswoman, child, wife, slave or employer of the Duke?” “I’m an agent of his niece, the Duchess Tremontaine,” Espérance replies coolly.

"An agent of his niece, the Duchess." the clerk gives Espérance a pensive look. She looks down at something below eye level on the counter and squints.

Espérance's attention sharpens, just a bit, as the clerk fixes her attention on something Espérance herself can't see. She's known people to pull weapons out from under desks and counters.

The clerk seems oblivious to Espérance's sharp attention, more intent on what is underneath the counter than the swordswoman's reaction.

In the meantime, Espérance notes that Hugo has turned his head to follow Swan's movements, but has made no other reaction at this time.

"Very well." the clerk looks up at Espérance once more and furrows her eyebrows "No doubt that you have some proof of your credentials of being an agent of this Duchess Tremontaine. Of Niejwein, isn't she?" she adds.

In addition, her hands are now much more clearly visible, and the clerk remains unarmed.

"No, Niejwein is considerably farther down the river than we are," Espérance corrects her. She reaches into a vest pocket and removes the Duchess' letter of authorization, with the Tremontaine seal. The clerk doesn't need to know whether it's an authorization for this mission or one of the other assignments Katherine has given Espérance in the past.

"Ah, yes, of course." the clerk replies at Espérance's correction. The tone suggests that the clerk seems to have known this very well. She takes a look at the letter, staring at it with a perspicacity that would be intimidating if she were anything more dangerous than a clerk.

"Very well, it seems that you have the credentials, regrettably foreign of course, necessary to disclose the information."

"The Duke of Tremontaine registered his arrival in the city fifteen days ago, in the company of another gentleman whose name is not recorded. This one suspects, however, they are devotees of the cult of Altair. The Duke registered an address here, but my records here show a recent request to visit the ruins of the old capital city, a day and a half's journey inland, in the Shaa valley."

"There is no record of his return." the clerk adds.

"That sounds like a most fascinating destination," says Espérance. "Would it be possible to hire a guide to take us there?"

"In point of fact" the clerk replies. "visitation of the old capital without an approved guide is a crime against Erios,the God of the old city, and would be punishable by..." she pauses and looks at Espérance. "Well, the standard punishment would not apply to you, given your gender."

"So" The clerk clears her throat and continues "In order to gain a guide to avoid the tabu, you would want to go to the temple of Erios. Four blocks to the west. Small temple, look for the sign of the five yellow hexagonal stars."

"That is what we shall do, then, I think," says Espérance. "I thank you." She gives the clerk the type of bow she learned from Hamzah.

The clerk bows,too. "Blessings upon you and your companion this day."

Then she checks on Hugo and looks around for Swan.

Hugo has remained loyally next to Espérance the entire time, relaxed and watchful of Swan. Swan is in point of fact having a conversation with a tall red haired man in a corner of the hall. The latter has very carefully kept his hands in plain sight, as if reluctant to give Swan a reason to think he is hostile.

The man gives a glance in Espérance's direction and then resumes speaking with Swan.

Swan idly wonders if they’ll have time to visit the aforementioned temple. It sounds right up her alley. Maybe they sell t-shirts. She pretends to roll her neck and scratches the back of her head while Espérance talks. In truth, she’s scanning the other faces around her, looking for any that might not fit into the norm. The clerk’s engagement with Espérance allows Swan the opportunity to scan and look at the people in the room. Aside from the line they stand on, there are clumps of people here and there. They talk, they look at the murals, they look at pieces of parchment held in their hands. In the midst of all of these clumps of people, people who are here by themselves are as rare as hen’s teeth. There are a couple of them. And out of them, individuals who don’t *quite* blend in, in terms of ethnicity or fashion, are even rarer. So the tall, pale skinned, close-cropped red haired man with green eyes and wearing foreign clothes (dark green tunic with white pants, finely made) is definitely out of place as he, too, seems to be surveying the room. (Casting Call: Sean Bean) His eyes meet Swan’s briefly, and he holds the gaze for a moment, and then continues looking around the room.

As their gazes meet, Swan whistles quietly. “Mrm-hrm. I could wear you as a hat, Green Eyes.”

She moves to stand between the man and Espérance, blocking his line-of-sight. Casually, she flicks the leather strap from her rune-pistol, freeing it up for a speedy draw. “Ezzy,” she says. “If you hear gunshots, don’t be a dizzy dame and just beat feet, savvy? I’m going to check something out.”

Swan is acutely aware that Hugo is watching her, and beyond her, Green Eyes.

Swan begins making her way toward Green Eyes, but remains ever conscious of Espérance’s position.

Espérance seems content for the moment to dicker with the clerk, as does Hugo. As far as Green Eyes, he remains in place where he is. To Swan, he seems to be almost deliberately *not* watching Swan's approach, although he certainly is well aware of it.

When Swan maneuvers to within twenty feet of Green Eyes, it is then that with a half-grin, he turns to watch Swan.

"Good morning. To what do I owe the pleasure?" he says. In Amber-accented Thari, with a touch of something else Swan does not recognize.

Swan is taken aback by the familiar accent, her words dying on her tongue. She scratches the back of her neck, chuckling. “The pleasure is mine, I think.”

She steps closer, but not /too/ close. “It’s been awhile since I glommed a familiar puss around these parts. You stand out from these Jaspers like a bull at a shyster convention. So thought I’d have a closer peep before you scramed out.”

"Is your unusual diction what they are teaching in the Eternal City these days?" the man replies, shaking his head slightly. He pauses a moment.

“That dive? Nah,” Swan says, “I stem from a more civilized place.”

"You are correct, though, I am somewhat unusual looking here . However, one might say the same about you. And your companions. The swordswoman, as well as the ones you left on the ship. And, I would suspect, he who pursues you."

"Perhaps after your friend is finished with her inquiry, the three of us might have a chat together, yes?" the man adds. He has, Swan will note, very carefully and deliberately brought his hands so that Swan can see them, holding them together at about waist level.

Swan cocks her head, considering this for a moment. “Well, since you asked all nice like, I gander I could flip your switch.” She smiles thinly, “Still, you may be cute as bug, but I haven’t glommed your name yet, Green Eyes. And before I intro you to my client, we need to be on first names, savvy?”

"I suppose the family tree of Amber is still selectively taught to its children." Green Eyes replies, with a tone of regret. "Ex scientia victoria, after all."

"If the family tree of Amber was taught to its children without editorial meddling, you would recognize me as the oldest of the children of Queen Clarissa and King Oberon. My name is Vanyel, but you can call me Uncle Van, if you wish."

"I have my guesses as to where you fit in." Vanyel continues. "Perhaps you might save me the trouble of guessing?"

Swan snorts, “Yeah. You’ve got the family attitude, no doubt. Guess I don’t have to plug you. Yet.”

She takes out a gasper and lights it up. She takes a quick drag, “I’m one of Caine’s brats. Swan. If you want selective editing, I doubt I’ll ever appear on the family tree.”

"Then we have something in common, Swan." Van replies.

Swan grins, “Cool beans. We’ll get along famously, I’m sure.”

She takes a puff and smiles, “My powers of observation tell me you’re here for a reason. Our type don’t bump shoulders by accident.”

Van looks away from Swan, in the direction of the booth where Swan left Espérance. He gives a nod and then looks back at Swan.

"It would appear that your companion has finished her business with the babu." Van observes. "To answer your question, however, there are a number of reasons why we are in the same shadow. For one thing, there is an esoteric law that draws beings of increased reality into shadows together."

"And for second, that is doubly so if there is something of esoteric power here." Van continues. "Might I guess that we are here looking for the same place of interest?"

“I’m just here for a job. People stuff,” Swan says between drags. “The Abercrombie stuff never tickled my fanny. But I’ve been tripping over a lot of Reals this month, so I’ll take you at face.”

She slides her arm though his, “So Van, shall we go? And you don’t get your knickers in a twist over Chaosians do you? ‘Cause if so, we have issues.”

Meanwhile, Espérance has spotted Swan and Vanyel and is heading in their direction with Hugo.

"I think that we will be able to remain in place while your companion approaches us." Van says, giving a nod as Espérance and Hugo approach. The latter is wary, but no more than with any stranger. He certainly stays close to his mistress.

"To clear up two items, however." Van says. "It must be said that in the era that I grew up and spent in Amber, contact with the Courts was nearly unknown. I do understand that in the enlightened era of the reign of my youngest brother, this policy has not changed. While I have not sworn fealty to him, I see no reason to work against his stated policy at this juncture."

"And as far as your own characterization of your skills." Van says to Swan. "Unless my overachieving nephew is responsible for their manufacture, the weapons you carry belie your ability and proclivity for the arcane. Or as you put it, the 'Abercrombie stuff'"

Swan smirks around her gasper, "Well, check out the big brain on you. Yeah, I've got a touch of the tricksy spirit in me. Just don't shout it on the street, 'kay? " She holds his gaze for a moment more, pleased that he's as clever as he is yummy.

"Now." Van says, looking at Espérance, and Hugo as well before looking back at Swan. "Won't you make the introductions, Swan?" He gives a bow to Espérance.

"Hey, Ezzy," Swan says. "This is my uncle Van. Van, this is Espérance Titamoanee. . . I think. I just call her Ezzy. And the dog is Hugo. He's a scrapper and smarter than he looks."

"I prefer to use my father's name," Espérance says with a faintly corrective air. "Espérance St. Vier." She bows politely to Vanyel, then stands looking at him assessingly, though with no particular hostility.

"Now." Van says, looking at Espérance, and Hugo as well before looking back at Swan. "Won't you make the introductions, Swan?" He gives a bow to Espérance.

"Hey, Ezzy," Swan says. "This is my uncle Van. Van, this is Espérance Titamoanee. . . I think. I just call her Ezzy. And the dog is Hugo. He's a scrapper and smarter than he looks."

Van bows his head. "Miss St. Vier." He then rubs a finger underneath his chin as he regards her and Hugo.

[Swan] finishes her gasper, "I love Fate. We snoop for your pops and find my uncle. How messed up is that?"

"I don't know. Were you looking for him?" queries Espérance. "Or vice versa?"

Swan grins brightly, "Nope. But can I keep him? Please, pretty please?" She rests her head on Van's shoulder and hugs his arm as if she's hugging a new puppy.

Van blinks uncertainly at Swan's body language. He gives a look of surprise in Espérance's direction.

With a lurking twinkle, Espérance replies, "Does he want to be kept?"

"If our goals are congruent, then spending some time in each other's company would be of benefit to the both of us." Van replies. "As I said to Swan, before I say more on matters, and before *you* do, we should find a less public place. I happen to know there is a small place nearby that bakes and serves an excellent Naan."

"Shall we?" Van offers.

"I was told the food in Aveshq was not to be missed," says Espérance. "I'm agreeable. Swan?"

Swan nods lightly, "A little grub sounds rate, doll. Let's beat feet so we can bump gums with fewer ears around."

She keeps her arm around Van's, smiling triumphantly.

And so, led by Van, Swan and Espérance, and Hugo exit out of the hall and back onto the crowded, teeming, loud and sense-pulsing streets of Aveshq. Hugo stays close to his mistress, keeping between her and Van, although Espérance does not sense any especial tension. It seems to her more akin to prudence on her companion's part.

The promised food stall is not far away from the Hall; in point of fact both Swan and Espérance recognize a couple of people who left the hall ahead of them in line at the stall, coming away or sitting down at rattan tables. Van gestures for the ladies and Hugo to procure one of these, and soon joins them with a small stack of large steaming elliptical pieces of flatbread, as well as a clay bowl of a creamy substance.

"The hummus is not native to Aveshq, it comes from a place called Akhiqar and is usually served with a different kind of flatbread However, the culinary experimentation and fusion here, given its status as a port city, means you'll find foods from all over this shadow put together. The Naan is a native invention."

He tears a strip of one of pieces of the bread, dips it in the bowl, and chews thoughtfully for a moment.

"Now." he says, looking at Espérance. "Swan mentioned you were here for your father. Given what I can sense about you, and what I definitely sense about your bonded protector there who seems to want a piece of bread, I would make a guess that you are a scion of one of the Houses of Chaos, and a major House at that."

"Aren't you?"

"So they tell me," Espérance replies calmly, tearing one of the pieces of flatbread in half and offering one half to Hugo.

Hugo takes the bread eagerly, still watching Van as he masticates the piece of bread hungrily.

"But that's on my mother's side, and I've never been there." She tears off a smaller piece of the remaining half and dips it into the hummus.

Swan pokes the hummus with a piece of pita, raising a brow at the viscous reactions thereof. Dubious, she tastes the concoction, only to be rewarded with a burst of flavor. Although not the burn she’d like, it makes her tongue tingle with every bite. She realizes just how hungry she is and begins to dine.

“We’re being hunted by House Jesby,” Swan interjects. “They want Ezzy for some nefarious purpose. They want me because I ventilated one of their molls. They may be popping up soon too.”

"Well, you have been fair and your auras show honesty." Van says. "A fostered scion of a House of Chaos looking for her non-Chaosian father." he nods at Espérance. He glances to Swan. "A scion of Amber as her ally. And you have more allies back on your ship. And an intermural fight between Houses of Chaos."

"Honestly." Van continues "I thought you were here in this shadow for the same reason I was." He pauses a beat.

"I'm hunting for a Broken Pattern."

Espérance glances at Swan to see if this declaration means anything to *her.*

Swan nearly chokes on a piece of pita and hurriedly clear her throat with some tea. She gives a few more feline-hairball coughs before staring at Van like he's just sprouted Ethel Merman's head singing Nina Simone's 'Tale of the Black Freighter.' "In the quiet words of the Virgin Mary... come again?" she says. "How do you break the source of all Creation? More importantly. How pray tell do you hunt something as rare as a penguin's lacy unmentionables?"

Van blinks at Swan's reaction, but this melts into a patient look as Swan recovers and then poses her questions. He gives a nod.

"Not as rare as you might think. I am sorry to say." he adds with a tinge of regret. "There are a number of them scattered throughout shadow, Swan."

"My branch of the family has made a study of them, especially my mother, myself, and sometimes my sister. Perhaps her children, too, have been drawn into their mother's project. Its not something we hide, but its not something we advertise widely."

"To answer your other questions" Van continues "let me say that they are extremely perceptive ones. The study of Broken Patterns is an ongoing project, and their origin, nature, and best practices regarding them are something we debate and wrangle about. And we are not the only party interested in them."

Swan listens to this with widening eyes. Her mouth moves soundlessly until she fills it with another pieces of pita bread. In the end, she grins brightly. "So, you're sort of like Lorius. Only you've got a body I could explore all weekend." The feline grin grows, "You don't play poker do you?"

"I am aware of the game, Swan. And my somewhat colorful nephew." he chuckles. "Regrettably, from *your* point of view." Van says. "My tastes run to being only incidentally interested in members of your gender. It is a matter of consternation to Mother, as you might imagine. On the other hand, it provides lessened opportunities for the creation of more pawns for her."

"I'd bet my nephew has an eye for you, though." Van says, and returns to eating a piece of bread with the hummus before turning toward Espérance.

"Speaking of Mothers..." [Van] turns his eyes toward Espérance. "I count it as no coincidence that you were fostered here. This is your birth shadow too, isn't it?"

"Well, not this city," Espérance replies. "Riverside is across the ocean from here. That's where I grew up."

Swan lights up a gasper and leans back in her chair, listening to this with genuine interest.

"Well, being of Chaos, you wouldn't want to be fostered too close to the Broken Pattern, although many of them do have a Chaos taint to them. It still makes the use of the powers of Chaos in the entire shadow somewhat more difficult than usual. More taxing, certainly. Chaosians here would be better off relying on sorcery, in fact."

"I'd guess that your Mother wouldn't have fostered you here, father or not, without some sort of protection. And what better than a broken Pattern to make her enemies in Chaos less than effective? If I had to guess, too..." he looks at Espérance. "You're more the martial type, I would guess. Yes?"

Espérance nods. "One of Riverside's best swords," she informs him coolly.

“I’ll admit, she’s pretty rate with a pigsticker,” Swan agrees.

"I know nothing of those of Riverside's skill level, unfortunately." Van replies. "Measuring the ability of those raised and trained in shadow is difficult." Van replies. "However, if Swan here, who has been to Amber's Court, says that your skills are good, then that gives me a baseline to work with." He claps a free palm on the table. "It's all of a piece. Martially trained to a high level, born and fostered in a Broken Pattern shadow. Given a guardian demon to protect and watch over you. Not the worst of set ups to put and train you. Not by half."

"So, you came across this shadow in search of your father." Van eyes Espérance before turning to Swan "And you, with a bunch of Chaosians showed up in this shadow and have joined forces with her during her journey. Earning the enmity of House Jesby in the process."

"I think I'm missing two bits before we can move onto an action plan." Van points at Espérance. "Why IS your father on this side of the world, anyway?"

Espérance grins slightly. "We think he came along with an old friend of his. As for said friend's motivation -- no one's ever been able to quite figure out why the Mad Duke does anything. Why should this be any different?"

Van considers this for a moment but does not immediately respond.

He takes a piece of pita, and points it at Swan. "And I'm not clear why you and your friends are here in the first place. Come to take Espérance and Hugo home, perhaps?"

Swan cleans her fingers on a napkin. “That’s the rumble, daddy-o. I was busy ventilating a few orange shirts when I bumped shoulders with Caz and ‘Lex. They were trying to get the slant on these gams right here. Offered me a nice nest-egg if I lent a hand.”

Van nods. "Not a bad strategy for them to hire an Amberite to try and find Espérance in a shadow like this."

"Huttner, meanwhile, had found me," Espérance points out, "and brought me my mother's message."

"It does sound like a lot of resources employed to find you. And a lot of resources arrayed to keep you from doing so." Van remarks. He takes the last piece of pita, eats it, and gets up, holding up a finger.

He soon returns, with another basket of the bread, some more of the hummus, and a bunch of some sort of meat on wooden skewers. He takes one of these and fingers the sharp other end.

"Okay, I was trying not to be too curious, but I have to ask, Espérance." he says. "Curiosity runs in my part of the family. Who, or what, is your mother?"

"The Queen Mother of Chaos," Espérance replies, deadpan, while picking up a skewer of meat for herself. "She *says.*"

Swan waves over a waiter and orders a cezve of daruh sourj. When he's gone, she smiles playfully, "No wonder Caz and the others are so bee's knees when talking about her. And the Jesby's want you so bad."

"The Queen mother." Van says. He folds his fingers together and waits until the waiter returns with the pot of coffee, and three small ceramic cups. He pours one for Swan, one for himself and looks to Espérance to see if she wants to try a cup.

Espérance holds out her cup for him to pour.

Van gladly three-quarters fills Espérance with the coffee.

"I think I might need something stronger than this." Van replies, before taking a sip. "If Dara Sawall is truly your mother. That puts you in the House Royal of Chaos."

"It also means" Van continues "that, if you didn't know, that you're family to Swan and I, too. And now I know where you inherited some of your skill with a blade."

Espérance cocks an eyebrow. "What wasn't passed on from Richard St. Vier? Do tell."

Swan smirks, but says nothing.

"Your mother, Dara, and therefore you as well, trace descent from the Amberite Prince Benedict." Van explains to Espérance. "Prince Benedict is rightfully considered the best blade and general in the Amber Royal Family."

"I see."

“She’s one of Stumpy’s kids?” Swan exclaims. “Cool beans, Ezzy. Explains your sense of humor too.” She grins impishly.

"So you've met this person?" Espérance asks Swan.

"Me? Nope. Just got the full history lesson when I was in Amber," Swans says. "From what the Family tells me, Benny is bigger than life but about as funny as a bag of drowned kittens."

Van nods to Swan. "There are a couple of generations between Benedict and Dara. Just how many there are, I think, actually something of a secret."

"That said, too, No wonder Espérance is such a person of interest, to everyone."

He drains his cup in one sharp, sudden motion.

Swan sips her brackish coffee, smiling. “As long as I get to ventilate a few droogs I’m rate. So, with a high profile tomato like Ezzy, I’ll probably get my wish.”

"You likely shall." Van agrees with Swan.

Van refills his cup, and offers to top off Swan and Espérance's in the bargain.

Espérance waves off the offer this time, since she's still working on the first cup, sipping slowly.

Swan nods for a touch-up.

"Now that we have shared food and drink, this is what I propose." Van says. "I think it would be useful from all perspectives to pool our resources in this foreign land. Accompany me to unearth the Broken Pattern, and in return I will aid you in finding Espérance's father and ally."

"It is even possible that both of these projects will align neatly." he adds, sipping his second cup.

Espérance looks down at Hugo. "What do you think?" she asks the dog.

Hugo thumps his tail in agreement. Espérance can read that her companion has accepted Van and his proposal.

Then, "Is this 'Broken Pattern' likely to be on the move?" [Espérance] inquires of Vanyel. "If not, it might be best to look for my father and the Mad Duke first ... because they are very likely to be."

"No, this Broken Pattern is at a fixed location." Van says to Espérance."We're not nearly in a chaotic enough shadow for it to be mobile."

“I’d also like to know what you intend to do with this broken pattern, Van,” Swan says. “With a bunch of Chaos blood around, sparks might fly for real if they catch up to us at an inopportune moment.”

"Study it, examine it, determine its properties and classify it." Van says briskly. "It's premature of me to try to alter or manipulate it in any manner. Getting a sense of what is here is my primary goal, Swan." Van says. "It will likely be a subsequent visit where I do anything of permanent effect to the Broken Pattern."

"Well, if I do want your help, then a negotiation is de rigeur." he says, turning to Espérance and Hugo. "Let us find your father and the Mad Duke, first."

"Do you bear anything personal of either of them that I might trace their movements?" Van asks. "Or are your companions on the ship engaged in that activity already?"

"They asked me the same thing, as I recall," says Espérance. "The answer is no, I don't have anything of theirs ... unless the blood relationship counts. My mother did at least confirm that."

"That may be something..." Van says thoughtful, temporizing.

Swan nods, "I've tried Shifting toward him and we wound up here. Never did learn much more than that before you popped in, Van. We could get Caz to do his mojo, but there's no telling what defenses the guy has up. I doubt he wants to be found."

She smiles over at Hugo, "Unless you can sniff him out?"

Hugo looks up at Swan and thumps his tail.

Van grins.

"I don't propose we do it in the restaurant." Van says, taking the penultimate piece of pita and eating it with a daub of hummus. "But I think the thing to do is to give Hugo the one thing of yours that is related to your father. As you put it, your blood."

"Not much." Van says reassuringly. "A few drops of your blood, Espérance, should suffice to put your companion on his trail, easily enough."

Hugo thumps his tail, again, once, and looks up at Espérance.

Espérance looks back at the big dog affectionately. "Considering how often Hugo's kept me from bleeding, I'd say I owe him some," she says.

"There are companions which feed on the blood of those they are bound to. I don't think this is the case, however. Depending on what species of demon Hugo is, though, using him in this way have worked even across shadows." Van adds. "Not that we're likely to need that skill in this case."

Swan downs her last cup of bitter coffee, grimacing as the fluid settles in her stomach like molten lead. “Well, we have our bloodhound. Time to nose for Ezzy’s pops. Time’s a’ticking and we got chopper squads arriving in port any time soon. As much as I’d like to mess it up with them, I’d rather ghost this joint.”

She rubs Hugo’s head, “It’s up to you, mutt.”

Hugo gets up on all fours, and gives Swan an almost human-intelligence look of agreement and acceptance of his role. He thumps his tail, once, and walks a couple of paces away from the table, as if eager to go.

"All right." Vanyel rises. "Let's find a quiet out of the way spot, get the blood drawn, and set Hugo on the trail."

He beckons for the two to follow him (and a very eager Hugo) out of the restaurant.

Espérance gets up and follows.

Hugo almost strains to keep at Espérance's pace loyally, its clear he wants her (and everyone else) to move much faster.

Swan is up like a shot, eager to let some scarlet run free and be on their way. She nudges Espérance and chuckles, "Bet you didn't think your day would go like this when you woke up this morning. Squids, broken patterns, and blood-letting. Not exactly Ozzy and Harriet stuff."

Espérance gives her a half-smile. "Things can get lively in Riverside, too, but not quite the same way. Giant squids and broken Patterns -- I'm still not sure what that's all about -- I haven't encountered before, but bloodletting I'm familiar with. Usually I'm trying to make sure it's somebody else's blood, but in a case like this..." She shrugs.

As they exit the restaurant into the crowded streets of Panaji, Espérance notes, "The real challenge may be to find a quiet spot."

"In a city of a million gods, did there have to be nearly that many people?" Van asks rhetorically, as he starts weaving through the crowd. He finally stops the group after ten minutes. The ladies, Hugo and Vanyel have gotten to a small square, but no nearer to anything that resembles a quiet spot.

Vanyel turns his green eyes on the ladies.

"A subtle, arcane solution may be needed. We could walk the breadth of this city in vain looking for a suitable spot. We should change the odds to ones more likely in our favor."

He then affixes his gaze on Swan.

"Would you like to give it a try?" he says. "Or would you prefer I exert my talents to find a quiet building?"

Swan lights up a gasper and nods, “Let’s give it a shot.” She closes her eyes for a moment, calling up an image in her head, letting her mind feel and know that location as if she’s been there a thousand times. When she’s satisfied, she walks forward without a word, briskly pushing through the crowd.

"Good." Van replies, taking a position right behind Swan, walking next to Espérance and Hugo.

The crowds begin to thin as she turns corner after corner, leading the group off the main street and into the dusty alleys. They pass beneath drying fabrics and threads, the cobbled streets freckled with brilliant dyes. The air burns with the scents of saffron and cumin, which waft out of large windows with white shutters. But with every step, the crowd thins until finally the city sounds fade into a distant roar.

When the last of her gasper turns to ash, Swan passes beneath a hedge doorway into an old garden. A fig tree stands like a sentinel over the organic sanctuary, while water burbles happily out of a blue and white fountain.

“How’s this?” she says.

"I like it," says Espérance, regarding the tree and fountain with approbation. "But isn't it likely to belong to someone?"

"I made sure we'd be alone for at least a day or so," Swan says. "At least, that's how I imagined it."

Espérance raises her eyebrows, but says only, "I doubt we'll need it for that long."

Espérance's companion ranges out from her, looking around the garden with a protective mien. He finally comes back to Espérance, tail wagging slightly.

She ruffles the fur on his neck, affectionately.

"Intent determines reality." Van confirms. He takes a few moments to look about the garden. "Yes, this will do very nicely for our purposes. I am pleased, Swan. And I sense that you hewed so that you remained in the same shadow. Of course, with an icon of reality nearby, even broken, shadows do tend to plat out in a different way than elsewhere in shadow."

Swan shuffles her foot and grins, “Well shucks. Twern’t nothin’” Despite her teasing tone, she appears pleased by his approval. She actually impressed that she pulled it off.

"The scions of the Courts of Chaos may be dismissive of the talents of Amber. And they may do things that Amberites cannot easily duplicate." Van says to Espérance. "However, we do have access to some abilities that they do not. Like this changing of reality by intent."

Espérance looks over at Swan. "So it's not just taking a short cut to where you want to get to?" she asks, thinking of their shipboard journey from the White Maiden's position to here.

Swan grins wryly, “Nope. It’s sort of like making sure the short cut is there to begin within. It’s why I’m rarely without a coffin nail, no matter where I go.” She reaches into the pocket of Espérance’s vest and removes a pack of gaspers that /has/ to be there. She tears into the package and then pops one of the black kreteks between her smirking lips.

She lights it and inhales the flavored smoke, “Mrmmmm. The sweat and tears of a hundred thousand child-laborers never tasted so sweet.”

One of Espérance's eyebrows flickers again, but she's seen Riverside street magicians perform similar stunts.

"Shall we get started?" [Van] says, taking a seat on the ring of stones around the burbling fountain.

"All right." Espérance chooses a seat next to Hugo and draws a dagger from her boot. She makes a quick, deft cut along the base of her left thumb and lets some of the blood trickle into her palm before holding it out to the dog.

Hugo hesitates only a moment, looking up to Espérance as if seeking one last dram of permission before continuing. And then, he stretches his neck forward, lapping up the blood there.

It doesn't take much blood to sate Hugo, and he pulls away. As he does so, Hugo moves to the far side of the garden, and gives off an eager bark.

"Looks like he's picked up the trail already," Espérance notes.

Van pulls out a pink, thin lozenge shaped object out of a pocket and offers it to Espérance. "A bandage, for covering your wound." he says.

Espérance takes the object, but regards it with some puzzlement. In her world, bandages are usually made of cloth. "I usually heal fast anyway," she informs Vanyel.

"As you wish." Vanyel says mildly.

Hugo barks again, eagerly, looking back at the trio at the fountain.

"I think he wants us to follow him," says Espérance, smiling slightly as she rises from her seat and moves toward the dog.

"He does seem intent on task. I may have been more correct on his nature and capabilities than even I thought." Vanyel says, following Espérance.

Swan takes up the rear to make sure they aren’t followed. With the others focusing on Hugo, they might not notice a threat until it’s too late.

With Swan guarding the rear, Espérance and Vanyel focus intent on Hugo, and his eagerness to follow the trail. And into the city the trail goes. The quiet peacefulness of the abandoned garden quickly and preternaturally gives way to the crowded assault on the senses that is Panaji.

While there aren't any overt signs of attackers or anyone with malicious intent, it is clear to Swan, as she keeps watching for threats, that the sight of Hugo leading the group through the city is generating some interest.

Still, the trail eventually leads away from the center of the city, and over the course of an hour, to the outskirts of the city entirely. Every so often, Hugo looks back at Espérance and Vanyel and barks, a sign to the former that he is still on the job and still expects them to follow him.

The city's density drops rapidly; although there are no walls per se, the city limits are pretty sharply defined, rather than a series of less dense buildings around the denser city. And so dense city soon becomes forest and jungle, Hugo following a rutted road that is full of people traveling both directions. This, sometime later, Hugo turns his route, and attentions, to a smaller path branching from this one. This road is empty ahead, and runs up the side of the mountain that faces away from the ocean and Panaji. And still Hugo continues with no sign of stopping or fatigue. He does look back, specifically at Espérance, as if getting permission to continue, or to convince her to continue the hunt.

Espérance shows no sign of flagging, either. "Good work, Hugo. Keep going," she tells him.

And buoyed by his mistress' words, Hugo resumes the hunt.

Swan – a native of humid climes – is accustomed to the physical strains of this environment. It reminds her of the days she’d spent looking for the perfect crawdad amongst the numerous townships that dotted the swamps surrounding Bête Noire. The rings of blue smoke following her help keep the bugs at bay.

And it is at this point that Swan recognizes that, at last, they are being followed. Three individuals with straw hats have been following the group since before the turn off onto this relatively disused path. Their pacing behind the group suggests to her that they are more than casual travelers on the same path.

At about the same time Espérance says dryly, "Company. How nice. Make sure there aren't a bunch more hiding in the bushes before we ask them what they're up to."

"I mislike unwanted pursuers." Vanyel says.

Swan raises an eyebrow, “We’re going to let them live that long?” She shrugs, “Yeah, I guess that’ll work too. When we come to that curve ahead, just keep going. I’ll drop back and bump gums with whoever doesn’t bleed out first. If things go south, I’m counting on you two to yank my ever-beautiful keister outta the fire.”

"You got it," Espérance promises.

"I will prepare a useful ensorcellment" Vanyel says after a moment's thought.

[Swan] continues until the bend in the road breaks the line-of-sight between the two groups. The instant they can’t see her, she cuts into the thick foliage like a pantheress. She cuts uphill to keep the advantage and then comes down again, thus allowing the trio’s pace to bring them past her. When they pass by, she silently begins to stalk them.

Espérance, meanwhile, stays alert to any action from the trio.

Espérance does feel something electric coming from Vanyel, a slight smell of something harsh, and when she glances and sees his eyes, his eyes are glowing blue-white. Even Hugo stops and turns his head.

"No worry." Vanyel says. "A simple spell. Something I've been playing with. Let's keep going."

Hugo seems to accept this and resumes his hunt of Espérance's father and companion.

"Such workings would be new for you." Vanyel says. "I do know that your mother is reputed to have some skill with such things." Vanyel says conversationally. As he speaks, the group continues on the upward curving path.

This gives Swan all the time she needs to walk through the foliage. The trees aren't quite those of Bete Noire, but tropical is tropical, so in a general sense, the terrain is familiar to Swan. When she finally emerges from behind an oversized sago palm, Swan has turned the hunters into the hunted.

And the three men are completely oblivious to the fact that Swan is stalking them. From her position behind them, she can see that, while they are ostensibly wearing peasant gear, there are hints within the sleeves and underneath the collar that they are wearing some sort of light, flexible armor, and bear blades.

Swan moves like oil until she’s just out of knife range of the trio; her aching arm reminding her not to get too close. Huginn and Munnin feel cool in her fingers as she draws back the hammers with a resounding click – the mechanical sound standing out against the jungle’s natural noises. She coughs politely to make certain the group knows what sort of jam they’re in.

“Okay fellas, grab some blue sky and turn around. Slow,” she warns. “I see a shiv and you’ll get clipped in a very painful place, savvy?”

As soon as she hears the click, Espérance whips around to face their pursuers, sword drawn. Just so they know they're not facing a bunch of patsies here. The fact that she didn't hear any indication that Swan found anyone else lurking in the jungle makes her fairly sure that these three are what they have to deal with, right now.

Vanyel turns around at this point as well. Hugo stops, and takes a position close to Espérance. He lets out a single warning growl. Vanyel does not draw any weapons but he gives an approving nod to Espérance. And his eyes still look strange.

When the trio turns around, Swan gives them a thin smile. “Alright, who is in charge?”

The center man of the three disguised men speaks as he moves a hand inside of his sleeve, as if reaching for something. "Who..."

The man doesn't get another word or to finish the gesture as the preternaturally fast reflexes of Swan allow her to let off a shot with her gun. The bullet strikes right in the stomach and the man goes down, with a groan. The gunshot startles a few birds nearby to take flight, with a flurry of squawks.

Swan narrows her dark eyes, “I said, ‘who is in charge?’”

The two men look at each other, look at their companion, on the ground holding his gut, look at Espérance, Vanyel and Hugo. Finally, one of them points at the man on the ground.

"Tulorian is." Tulorian gives off another groan at the mention of his name. The man speaking continues. "Or perhaps was. I am Brude. This is my third cousin Enoch "

Neither Brude nor Enoch have made any threatening moves, although their eyes flicker between Swan and the group headed by Espérance and her drawn sword.

"So why did Tulorian there have you following us?" Espérance asks calmly.

Swan remains steely and attentive, the pistols leveled on the remaining men.

Tulorian gives an incoherent groan in response. Enoch looks at Swan, stares at Espérance, Vanyel and Hugo defiantly, and then bends down, hands open, slowly moving to check on his fallen companion.

Brude gives a quick approving nod to Enoch and then looks at Espérance and responds.

"You are traveling up the path to His mountain." the capitalization of the pronoun is evident in his voice. "Several days ago, two rich pale skinned dayuhan came up the path to disturb the Hari. Rich dayuhan often have others following them, like a cloud of mosquitoes. We've been tasked to see if you are doing so. And take measures if you are."

His eyes flicker. It looks for a moment that he is ready to make a move, but his eyes go to Espérance's sword, and the electric eyes of Vanyel, turns his head slightly to catch a glimpse of the pistol armed Swan, and then seems to reconsider it.

Swan clucks her tongue and shakes her head very slow – the message clear: bad idea.

Espérance smiles slightly. "What if we promise to take them away?"

Swan clicks the hammer on her pistols, giving Brude a nice view of the sizable barrels. “Or we could just ventilate you right here and let the jungle take care of the bodies. Personally, I like this plan better. But girlie over there is in charge."

"It is our tradition to be led by a wise woman." Brude says. He looks down at Tulorian, who croaks as he speaks quietly, but loud enough for all to hear. "Take the deal."

Brude clears his throat. He looks away from Swan even as he takes one more glance at her weaponry, and faces Espérance once more.

"Such a bargain is not in my power to make. Such a deal is only within the purview of the Hari's most trusted advisors. Happily." he says, eyeing Espérance's hand on her sword and studying it. "it is within the purview of Tulorian, Enoch and myself to bring you to the presence of one who can speak for the Hari."

"Is that what you wish?" Brude adds after a look from Tuloriad, who, with Enoch's help, has managed to get to his knees.

"I don't see why we should make a detour to talk to your Hari's representative unless it would help us to find these two 'dayuhan' faster than we could on our own," says Espérance. "Seems to me the faster we catch up with them, the faster this can be cleared up for all of us."

"A detour?" Brude shakes his head. He gives a glance back at Swan and then clearly makes a calculation. "I suppose our speech here is not the same as yours, and the particulars of the situation is not conveyed to you."

Vanyel, content to remain quiet, raises an eyebrow at this as Brude continues.

"The two dayshun are currently in the custody of the Hari's petitioners for the crime of approaching the Hari's fastness too closely If you persist in traveling this road to find your countrymen, it will necessarily be in our custody. Companionship, if you prefer that word." he continues.

"Further violence against us would reflect poorly on your chances to negotiate for their release." he adds quickly. He does not quite reach for a weapon, but both Swan and Espérance can sense the slightly more martial standing and setting Brude and Enoch have taken. Tulorian is still not really fit to try and start anything, although Swan notices he is studying her very very carefully.

"You are right," says Espérance, "you did fail to convey the particulars of the situation. If two of my countrymen are in the custody of these Hari, it is certainly incumbent upon me to secure their release." Her tone remains calm, but there is just the trace of a steel edge to it. She goes on to add, "If you are willing to help us expedite the matter, I don't really see the need for further violence at the moment."

"THE Hari" Brude says to Espérance. "She is One."

Swan pouts, “Awwwww. Can’t I ghost just one of them? Brude here is getting twitchy. Getting ideas. Stupid ideas.” She gives him a feline grin, “A mind is a terrible thing to paste, ginko. But keep it up and I redecorate the inside of your skull gunmetal black, saavy?

“That goes double for you, Tully. I have no prob turning your head and neck into a maraca.”

"Your weapons are not the weapons of an honorable warrior." Brude says. "However I do not wish to face them."

Espérance smiles slightly. "You are wise."

Admirably, Swan resists the urge to relocate Brude’s vital organ. She simply smiles, “When, tell you what, gink. After all is said and done, I’ll put my shooters away and you and I can dust it up… honorably. ‘Cause it ain’t wise to call a Daughter of Amber dishonorable.”

"We will discuss such a matter of honor. Later." Brude says to Swan. He smiles, showing lots of teeth. And then he relaxes, the moment passed.

[Swan] slides her pistols back into their holsters, but her fingers remain close at her sides if they’re needed again. “Help us get our people and we drift. Simple as that.”

The three men look at each other. After a moment, Brude and Enoch look at Tulorian. Nodding, he speaks.

"Our deaths will not serve The Hari. If these three oppose the Hari, let the wheel of time and fate bring them to her all the sooner. We are only its instruments."

"Opposing The Hari is not part of my contract this trip," Espérance assures them mildly.

"Enoch, walk behind these three. Brude and I will precede and lead the strangers to the fastness." Tulorian grimaces a moment, and then looks at Espérance.

"Will that suit the Hari's honored guests?"

"If it finds us the people we're looking for, it suits us just fine," says Espérance. However, she slides a glance over at Hugo to see how he's taking this.

Hugo is remaining very close to Espérance and Swan. The near conflict between Swan and Brude seems to have put Hugo a bit on edge.

Espérance ruffles the fur on the dog's neck in apparent reassurance.

Swan appears dubious about this agreement, but shrugs in apparent consent.

"Then we are decided." Vanyel says. His eyes are still crackling with electricity, but somehow, to Swan and Espérance, he seems more relaxed than he has been previously, content to let the women lead for the moment.

The next half hour is a continued trip up the mountain. Brude, Tulorian and Enoch don't say much, or don't seem inclined to under the circumstances. Both Swan and Espérance will notice that there is a military precision to their coordinated movement, keeping distance be

Hugo, Espérance, notes, still doesn't like these strangers at all. But he seems to be holding his hostility in check. For now.

At the end of the half hour, the jungle has thinned out, and Brude and Tulorian lead the group off on a side path from the one that continues up the mountain. The narrow path cut into the stone of the mountain appears to be the perfect place to stage a defense, or an ambush of those who might approach without escort.

Tulorian stops, and Brude stops in lockstep with him. He holds up a hand and speaks ahead to someone or something unseen.

"Three Guests for the Hari. A man, two women, and a hound" he calls aloud "They are here to negotiate for the Dayshun."

There is silence for a minute or so. Tension seems to spring up as it is clear that the wait is not what Brude, Enoch and Tulorian expected. Brude looks at Swan, looks ahead and looks at Swan again. He's not stupid enough to make any threatening moves, but the wait is clearly pressing on him.

Finally the silence is broken by an unseen woman's voice.

"The Hari will see the women visitors, only." the voice responds. "She who wields a blade, and she who wields fire. The man and the hound are not permitted entry."

"I said they were all honored guests." Tulorian responds.

"You spoke beyond your station." The woman's voice snaps. "The women visitors, only."

Hugo growls softly by Espérance's side.

Swan grins, “A Jane after my own heart. Mugs just muddle things up.”

Espérance looks over at Swan. "Whatever's in there, I think the two of us can probably handle it," she says.

She looks up in the direction of the unseen voice. "Which won't stop our companions from coming to our rescue if necessary," she warns, "with or without permission."

Vanyel folds his arms at Espérance's declaration. Hugo does not vocalize, but his tension, relieved by Espérance's prior ministrations, returns.

Swan nods to Espérance, “I’m sure they’ll stay dormy while the ankles bump gums.” She checks that her pistol belt is secure. “If the high pillow don’t nix at me going heeled, I guess I’m rate with that.”

She winks at Vanyel, “Don’t you two go lamming off, ‘kay?”

So saying, she follows the voice inside.

Espérance does too, staying alert.

Around the corner, the entrance to a cave has not been really touched from its natural state. Tulorian is tall enough that he has to duck his head at some points, as he leads both women into the rough hewn cave.

There is no sign of anyone at the entrance at all.

There are a few torches here and there, but the light levels are poor. Passages, thin and narrow, seem to run in a number of directions, in three dimensions.

With a shrug, Tulorian starts walking, expecting the two to follow. Where Tulorian leads the ladies, in the end, is down, into the mountain and downwards. Torches at intervals provide enough illumination that stumbling over things is only a minor, rather than a major hazard. Tulorian spends about 20 minutes conducting Espérance and Swan through passages.

Espérance keeps a running count of the passages in her head, so as not to get lost if she and Swan have to beat a hasty retreat. It helps her stave off the increasing unease at being in the dim, enclosed space, that's like a small cold ball in her gut.

This turns out to be a good idea on Espérance's part. This place is a warren of passages. It's not hard, but it takes effort to remember and keep count of the changes and passages. Tactically, the passages make a confrontation here less than ideal, too.

Finally, they are led into a straight line corridor, carved, and definitely not roughhewn. Doors are on the right hand side of the corridor, and in point of fact, Tulorian brings them past six doors.

At the seventh door, he stops. And the voice that Espérance and Swan heard before converse comes once more, from behind the massive and imposing portal.

"They can come in by themselves, Tulorian. What is here is not for you. Return to the entrance and see that their companions do not disturb our deliberations."

And as they stand at the door, both ladies, especially Swan, feel a familiar, if distorted power behind that door. A power very similar to one that Swan has used...

Swan quirks a grin, “Now that’s curious.” Despite the peril their likely in, she finds this new development welcoming. She also appreciates dealing with a true tomato, rather than the Brunos outside. Without a hint of hesitation, she steps through the door to meet the voice’s owner.

Espérance follows her, keeping an eye out both before and behind.

Beyond the door (and Espérance will see that Tulorian has already moved away), Swan sees first that the cavern beyond the door is upward sloping and roughly circular, spherical in shape. Reclining on a chair in the foreground is a woman with long white hair, dressed in a diaphanous short sleeved garment in purple and blue. Eyes of green study Swan, and when she enters next, Espérance.

There is no sign of Espérance's father, his companion or anyone else in the room.

Behind the woman, against the far wall, is a gigantic design burning in blue fire that illuminates the room. To Espérance, it looks like a labyrinth or maze of some kind, an inwardly curving design that leads to the center. Its incomplete, though, shot through with black portions that are distinctly different than the dark stone the design is burning on. The black portions look as if someone had doused ink, or some other dark substance upon some of the lines, blotting them out utterly.

To Swan, of course, the design, aside from the damage,looks much like the Pattern. Some of the directions and curves are wrong, in addition to the blotted out and missing elements, and of course its on a vertical rather than a horizontal surface, but it definitely looks a lot like the Pattern.

"Child of the Unicorn, and Child of the Serpent." the woman says in greeting. "I am Sharane, the Hari. If you have come here to destroy or transform the Mandala, I will oppose you with all the strength I have."

Espérance bows to the Hari with hands together, as she originally saw Hamzah do. "We have not come here with any such intent," she disclaims. "I am merely seeking two countrymen of mine, and I was given to understand that you might know their whereabouts."

Sharane smiles slightly,.and approvingly, at Espérance's gesture.

Swan is too lost in thought and wonderment to truck with formalities. She simply stares out at the malformed lattice of azure flame – so familiar, yet so foreign. A wistful smile replaces her cocky grin as she steps closer, drawn to this aberration like a reckless moth. “Well, tweak my beak, if that don’t just brace your ta-tas! Van’ll crap a brick.”

She finally remembers why she came here and tips her mitt to Sharane, “And not to worry, Shar. This ain’t no flimflam. I’m just a finder. But the droppers on our keister? That’s a different story. They’d consider this a double-header. Nab the people we’re trying to finger and nix this little beauty. Best we book and leave you in peace.”

Swan gives a girlish giggle, speaking aloud to herself. “I gotta walk this thing.”

"If you do not lie, your words give me joy." Sharane responds. "There are those from other realms, like yourself, who seek to alter or destroy the Mandala, to turn it to their own ends. My predecessors have faced them and turned them away for centuries. If I understand your diction, Child of the Unicorn, those who pursue you might number amongst those who would destroy the design."

Swan nods, “You got that right in one, sister. But this new Krewe packs some serious lead in their pencils. So, it might be a new story this time.”

"To answer your question, Child of the Serpent." she looks at Espérance "your countrymen, as you call them, are alive and well. They lie sleeping, beyond the first door in this passage you passed."

She turns to look at the Mandala. It seems to pulse, the lines throbbing as she stares at it. Sharane nods to it, and then looks at Espérance and Swan both. The strange reaction from the Mandala ceases as the Hari speaks.

"Bring me, preferably alive, one of those who pursue you, and you may have your countrymen. The Mandala seeks sustenance, and since we have no quarrel, I would not choose either of you."

"Before I would agree to that," Espérance says judiciously, "I would have to see my countrymen and be assured of their well-being. After that..." She turns a hand palm up. "I wouldn't be averse to ambushing our pursuers."

Swan shrugs, “Makes sense, yeah. Once we get proof of life, I’ll make sure you get your meat.”

"Proof of life." Sharane says, carefully, a clearly unfamiliar phrase to her. "I think that is a fair request before we enter into an arrangement. A moment."

Sharane turns and looks at the Mandala. It throbs several times, like the pulsing of a heartbeat. Sharane gives a nod of her white haired head and then she turns and rises.

"If you will follow me, I will give you the proof you seek that those you seek are alive and unspoiled. I must say that this arrangement will be mutually beneficial to the both of us. The Mandala did not wish them, and what actually to do with them was something which has weighed on my mind."

Sharane walks past Swan and Espérance toward the door.

Espérance turns to follow her.

Swan follows a step behind, still drawn to the broken Pattern. “You can bump gums with this Pattern? It’s aware?”

"I can speak with the *Mandala*." There is a noticeable tone in the last word. "That is why I am the Hari." Sharane says with the confidence of someone saying "water is wet". She leads Espérance and Swan down the familiar corridor. At the first door in this section, the first door the two ladies passed on their way to Sharane, she produces a key from inside a sleeve, and opens the door.

Swan nods, fascinated, excited. “Well, would the Manadla mind me doing the two-step on it? The Pattern was fun and all, but this?! Sweet.” She rubs the sweat on her neck, “And you might want to tell it my uncle has eyes for it. He’s seems kosher, but then again. He’s family.”

"I serve the Mandala." Sharane says. "It is the Mandala's decision as to who may access the holy design. As far as your uncle..." she looks at Swan. "Only women have walked the Mandala and lived."

Inside is a small room, with some bare furnishings. A washbasin and pitcher. A corner bucket which likely serves as a toilet. But most importantly, there are two cots, upon which two men sleep on their sides, facing each other across the distance of the narrow room.

Espérance will recognize them both. The one on the left is the infamous Uncle to the Duchess, the Mad Duke, and the one on the right, is her father.

Heretofore she has known their faces only from portrait miniatures Katherine has shown her, and it gives her an eerie feeling to see them in the flesh. A little older, a little greyer -- and so passive, so vulnerable, the eccentric firework intellect and Riverside's most celebrated swordsman.

"I doubt you will be able to waken them." Sharane says. "If you wish to perform a closer inspection."

"What is keeping them asleep?" Espérance wants to know.

Swan wrinkles her nose, “We’re not gonna have to smooch to walk them up, are we? I hate fairytale Shadows.”

"A spell whose power was given to me by the Mandala." Sharane explains. "While such a spell might not hold Children of the Serpent or the Unicorn, it can hold such as they easily enough. They will not be harmed. I can release them with but a word."

"There is a story." Sharane continues "that one of my predecessors held a man in such sleep for twenty years before his bride's niece acquired the price needed to free him. It was she, and not his original bride, who married the man."

"Then do they not age while under this ... spell?" asks Espérance.

"They do not, Child of the Serpent." Sharane says confidently. "They are immune to disease, rot, sickness or any ailment whilst they sleep."

Swan regards the prone men, “Yep. Just like the fairytale. Well, nothing for it, but to do the deed and get the guys back.” She folds her arms and regards the strange priestess. “And what other powers does the Mandala offer you?”

Sharane regards Swan.

"I speak with the Mandala and have access to what it tells me of the world And I am its conduit, and thus employ its power on my behalf to make this a better land. I bring or halt the rains. I temper the sun. I mollify the anger of Men." Sharane says.

Sharane pauses before continuing "And, in addition, although I am not as young as I once was." she runs a hand through her white hair. "I still am allowed by the Mandala to use its power to breach the walls that contain this world and walk amongst others."

"Does that answer your questions?" Sharane says, regarding both women.

Swan blinks, “Jumpin’! That and then some, Shar. It sounds like you got the line on Random’s little tricks. And that’s sayin’ something.”

She stares in awe for a moment and then clucks her tongue. “You and I are gonna be thick as thieves, I think.”

She folds her arms and regards Espérance, “Let’s wrap this soon?”

"I'm for that," the swordswoman agrees.

"Very well. We have an agreement." Sharane says, gesturing for the two ladies to precede her out of the room where Espérance's father and his companion lie sleeping. She doesn't speak until the door is closed behind her, and all three are in the corridor.

"I sense and see a trembling of the lines of the world, as granted to me by the Mandala." Sharane says, looking at Espérance and Swan seriously. "The Children of the Serpent opposed to you are close. They have abandoned the seas for fear of discovery, and are coming toward the City of a Million Gods by land. I suspect they intend to surprise you and your companions in this way."

"Do you wish to See, ere you depart and collect your male companion?" Sharane asks. "I will also, from afar, give you as much aid as I dare. The Mandala bids it."

"It's always good to have the jump on your opponent," Espérance comments with her bladelike smile. "That's one of the things I like about a higher vantage point."

"It don't take a shamus to figure that'd be a rate idea," Swan agrees, jerking a nod. “For the high, I can hold off an army with these roscoes. ” She pats her guns with smiling satisfaction.

She stays close to Sharane, “On the lowdown, watch your beak doesn’t get clipped. If it’s the snooper I gander it is, he’s one hard egg with plenty of magical juice. Last thing I want is him pulling yours ears around your neck. The Mandala might think this wrong number a weak sister, but she’d be wrong."

“He’s got a hard-on for me ‘cause I zotzed his round heels. I'd rather he keep the hots for me, than you. So, just give us the wire and we’ll do the rest, saavy?”

"I would prefer that he never tread within the Mountain." Sharane says. "Only that it requires one to survive and brought to it is the only reason why the Mandala wishes any of them ever to pass through the entrance."

She steps next to Espérance and Swan and gestures down the hall. Quietly, and without fuss, the view down the hall changes from an underground passage, to a tight passage of a different sort--through the jungle. Winding their way, single file, along the path, are seven men and two women, dressed in light colored, long sleeved clothing (all in a familiar shade of blue to both ladies). There appears to be no aural component to this spell, since nothing can be heard despite evidence of the mouths of the party moving.

To Espérance, the figures definitely look similar to the Jesbys she has already faced in Niejwein. In point of fact, as she looks closer, one of the men in the back of the line is almost certainly her dueling opponent, Acestes.

She looks to see if either of the women is the magician Huttner fought.

Neither of the women looks directly familiar and identifiable to Espérance as being the opponent in Huttner's arcane duel.

"Well, I've already bested that one once," she comments, indicating Acestes. "And he knows very well he shouldn't be here, by the terms of his own oath. Given that, I wouldn't have any compunctions about feeding him to your Mandala."

It is the man in front, however, that Swan recognizes, with the ginger hair, the somewhat mad look in his eyes, the cockiness and swagger. Leading the party toward the city is none other the leader of the Jesby's.

Saxon.

“Oooo… Sax-On-Sax-Off is with them,” Swan chimes happily. “Looking no worse for wear. He’s the button man with serious ju-ju. That boy can inflict some seriousness.” She folds her arms, glancing over at Espérance darkly. “He’s mine. Touch him and we’ll have words.” Perhaps for the first time, the woman’s psychotic nature rears its pretty head; a lunatic smile curling her lips.

Espérance gestures toward the imaged line of Chaosians. "Looks to me like there's plenty for everyone," she notes. "You're welcome to him."

[Swan's] hand drifts to her back pocket, drawing forth a straight-razor – its metal gleaming. She runs her fingers along its cruel edge. “Does Mandala need a living meal? Or can I fit them with a wooden kimono first?”

"Alive and preferably unspoiled would be best." Sharane says. With a hand, she disperses the image of the Chaosians traversing the tropical forest toward Panaji. "If alive and unspoiled cannot be practically achieved." she looks at Espérance and then Swan. Swan's playing with the blade has clearly unnerved the Hari.

"Newly killed should suit the purposes of the Mandala's needs." she stammers a tiny bit as she continues on. "I am not given permission to understand, but it is the freshness of the blood that matters."

"We'll try not to let too much out of the one we bring you, then," says Espérance.

Swan grins at her companion’s comment, adding, “Well, I can’t vouch for the most of them, but I’ll make a concerted effort to keep Saxxy breathing after I get my flippers on him. If not? Well, that’s the price of puttin’ the curse on someone.”

She flips the razor closed and puts it into her pocket. “Well, we’d better get to work, Ezzy. These throats ain’t gonna cut themselves.”

With a nod to the Hari, “Want to point us the way?”

"Oh, to depart." Sharane says, as if it were a rare event for a stranger to leave this corridor. "Betide a moment."

Sharane speaks softly into the air, words that even if they were fully audible do not sound like a language either Espérance or Swan really understands. The intent is clear, though, since several minutes later, Tulorian appears.

Sharane speaks, gesturing with a pointed finger.

"Tulorian. Conduct our guests back to the entrance and point them, and their companions, to where the Nyamuk Road runs from Belgaum to Panaji. The Mandala has commanded our cooperation with them on a matter regarding travelers on that road."

"Yes, Hari." Tulorian says, with a bow that is now familiar to Espérance and increasingly so for Swan as well. He nods for the ladies to follow him out of the tunnels.

"Spoken directions will be useful, but a map would be even better," Espérance suggests as she starts after Tulorian. She is already thinking about how to stage an ambush.

As Swan walks, she muses aloud, “Sax is an Abercrombie and slick as a snake. Last time, I grifted him. I doubt I can chisel him this time, even with you gift wrapped. But we can use his hate for me to our advantage. He’ll try to nip me like a hop-head seein’ a golden mud-pipe. And I ain’t got no kick about showing some leg to get him in the mood.”

She rummages in her pockets for her diminish pack of kreteks. She lights one up, puffing angrily. “So, do we go all dormy or try the flimflam?”

Tulorian waits until Swan puffs on her cigarette before responding to Espérance's question to him. He has not stopped moving forward through the tunnel toward the rough hewn cavern until this point, but he stops his progress and regards Espérance thoughtfully.

He takes a look back in the direction where the ladies left Sharane, and then back at Espérance and Swan again, focusing on the former. Finally, he rolls his shoulders.

"I can draw a map." he says. "It would not do for the Hari to be angry." he says. He bids the ladies to follow, and selects one of the many doors that the ladies had passed on the way to the Mandala. Inside are racks made out of some sort of light colored wood, perilously overstuffed with scrolls, paper, inkpots, sponges, quills (in a variety of feather colors), and other paraphernalia for writing.

"It does well to record the words of the Hari." Tulorian says, as if in in explanation. He takes a piece of wood, a quill, inkpot, and one of the scrolls. Awkwardly, like a bird, he leans against the wall, and manipulating these items uncertainly, he starts to draw a map.

It wouldn't be found in the library of the Duchess. It certainly would never be found in Castle Amber. Its a primitive map, lines and a very few symbols that are obvious without explanation. The cave. The city, Panaji. And of course the roads.

Tulorian shakes the open scroll before holding it open.

"See, here we are, and this is the road to the cave. The road that the Mandala has bid you stand athwart is here..." It becomes obvious that some backtracking to the city will allow the ladies to start on that road from the start--if they did not wish to bushwhack across country downhill and connect with the road in that fashion.

Tulorian stands back to allow the women to inspect his handiwork. The paper gleams with the freshness of the ink.

Espérance studies the map. "The question is," she muses aloud, "whether we'll have a better chance of taking them by surprise in the jungle, or if it would be to our advantage to let them reach the city first. Personally I like having rooftops handy, but..." She looks over at Swan for her opinion.

Swan is also studious and attentive, memorizing all the approaches and choke-points. “In the jungle, we have better coverage and room to scatter. In the city, there’s good cover too, but also for them. I’m a city girl, myself. But Sax can do serious damage to the civvies. So can I for that matter. And we’ll have to deal with the blues. I’d rather mess it up where no copper is going to stick his beak.

"Still, a few mortar and gas rounds here and here will bottle them up nice and neat," she adds, pointing to a section of the city's outskirts.

Her brow raises in question, “This is your show, Ezzy. You pay the cabbage, so you call the shots. I’ll dangle with you either way.”

"If we move to head them off by way of the city," Espérance points out, "we can also pick up reinforcements. I'd hate to cheat Huttner and Caz and your friend Alex out of their chance for a rematch."

"Do either of you have any questions that might help clarify matters?" Tulorian asks, clearing his throat with a cough. "I am only modestly trained in arms. However, it occurs to me that as strangers, I may have knowledge that the two of you, and those outside the cave, lack."

"In particular, you live here and we don't," Espérance notes half-humorously. She points on the map to where the road being used by the Jesbys enters the city. "What's in this sector of the city? Who lives here?"

“And what’s the hammer and saws like?” Swan adds. “If we start heavin’ lead, will the flatties show up in force? Do they wear iron too? Or is this more Jasper time? Last thing I want to stitch someone that’s just doin’ their job.

"I got morals after all." She laughs at this, shaking her head.

Tulorian furrows his eyebrows at Swan for a moment. He turns and looks at Espérance as his finger indicates the portion of the city where the road ends (or begins depending on your point of view)

"This section of Panaji is known as Vatta, which is named for the God of the same name, of course. He is a God of land based commerce, beasts of burden and travel, and pregnant women with light colored hair."

"With that in mind, this section of the city is known for its travelers inn, guest houses, and stables for Horses, Donkeys, Rukh, Chiliquenes, and Elephants. A number of midwives live there as well."

Tulorian next looks seriously at Swan. "Given the strange customs of outsiders, the constabulary give the area a light touch of enforcement, save for truly egregious acts. Some of the inns and travelers societies maintain watches and patrols, but these are infrequent."

"Then that's where we lay down," Swan says, finishing her gasper. "Strike the shepherd and the flock will scatter. I got Sax. Ezzy, you can zotz the others you think have the chops to run that outfit. Maybe that'll give them pause."

She gestures to a street the Chaosians will likely take to advance through the city. At one point, it and another road converge into one street. She taps this upside-down, Y-shaped fork. "I'll bet there'll be a square here before narrowing to the north. They come in from here... and I'll be waiting for them on the other side of the square. Sax will be too hot and bothered to care that I'm obviously bait. So, while he and I do a high-noon, you and the other seal up the street behind them and this one. That way they'll /have/ to go through me.

"There is a small square there." Tulorian interrupts before Swan continues.

"'Lex can put a few soup cans behind me, in case they break through. I'll bet there's plenty of scrap metal she can get her mitts on. Make for nice claymores."

Swan smiles thinly, "That way, when I turn into a one-woman chopper squad, I ain't gunning you lot down in a crossfire."

Espérance nods. "That sounds like a workable plan to me. We can tinker with it once we get there, depending on what we find. But to make sure we arrive before the Jesbys do, we'd probably better start moving."

"If there is nothing else." Tulorian moves to close up the map and offer it to Espérance." I would be happy to bring you back to your hound and your companion outside."

Espérance takes the map, rolls it up and sticks it in her belt for the moment. "Let's go," she agrees, and prepares to follow Tulorian out.

“I ~so~ need to get a Trump of Caz,” Swan mutters. “I’ll be hoofin’ it even we want to rope them into this.”

She turns Tulorian, “Anyway you can give my friends on the boat the lowdown to meet us? No phones here, I reckin’.”

"I do not know what a phone is." Tulorian says. "I can send a messenger, if you have a token..."

As that thought hits her, she begins rummages through her pocket as she walks. She triumphantly removes the pilfered pack of Trumps and begins leafing through it for familiar faces. Perhaps the one of the newbies is in there.

Swan's search for cards hits the jackpot almost immediately. The sixth card from the top is one that is completely unfamiliar to her being there. It wasn't there, she is certain of it. It depicts a familiar man in an unfamiliar locale. Standing on a battlement of some sort, with a orange-cream colored sky, holding a green glass sphere in his raised left hand, and a sword in his right is Cazaril. He appears to be looking at the viewer of the card through the glass sphere.

The next, similarly is of someone more familiar to Espérance.

The young man depicted has his hands on the shore's metal edge, while he himself is immersed chest-deep in a canal of some kind, hair wet and slicked back. He looks utterly at home in the water as he regards the viewer as if expecting them to join him for a swim.

Huttner.

The back of both of the cards, when she checks, are not Amber Unicorns. Instead the backs depict a green dragon or serpent of some sort protectively curled around the entire length of silver tower, tail at the base, head at the ramparts, the image on a black field.

There appears to be no additional cards out of place, for Alex or anyone else.

“Huh,” Swan suddenly says aloud, “I usually know when people have been in my pants. How’d the %#$^ did these get here?” She glances around as if someone might answer.

Tulorian looks at Swan, a confused, silent look on his face. He looks at Espérance with a slightly pleading look as Swan continues.

Espérance returns him a look almost equally puzzled.

[Swan] shrugs, “Well, don’t look a gift dragon in the mouth, I guess.” With that, she holds Caz’s card and tries to open a connection. “Ring-a-ding-dong, Cazzy.”

The contact goes quickly, and seems like an ordinary trump to Swan in all ways. The contact, once complete, shows Cazaril standing at the bow of the ship, facing away from the city. In the background, Swan can see Alex is scanning the city with a hand over her eyebrows. Huttner is not visible from Swan's POV of the trump.

"Ah, good." Caz says. "You found the trump. What did you find in the city, Swan?" Cazaril pauses and then continues with a slightly puzzled look on his face.

"You're not in the city anymore, are you?"

Espérance's puzzled look intensifies.

“Trumps,” Swan explains to the befuddled Espérance – not that this probably means much.

Tulorian's look certainly does not change.

"Is this a way to talk to the man you left outside the cave?" Tulorian asks Espérance. "Is that what she does?"

Espérance shrugs.

[Swan] nods to Caz’s image, “We’re in the jungle. Found some new friends. I’ll give you the lowdown later, but right now my boyfriend’s back and there’s gonna be trouble. Hey la. Hey la.” She takes a pull on her gasper and then blows out an angry snort.

"Wonderful." Cazaril says, deadpan. "We've been keeping an eye out, in all senses, for the Jesbys. I've felt another presence, well hidden, somewhere in the city too, although the presence has left the city or is covering their aura better now."

“He has a few bims and birds with him too. Tough ones from the look of it. We’ve got a plan to stitch them up. But we gotta move like bangtails or we’ll be behind the eight ball, savvy? Can you pull us through?”

"Of course." Cazaril says.

A sly smirk touches her lips. “And when all is said and done, you and I can bump gums on what you were doing in my pants without my prior knowledge, ‘kay?”

Cazaril's look goes to angelic innocence. "Miss Cainesdottir, I haven't been." he says. He twinkles a smile.

Espérance opens her mouth to ask why Swan is talking to a pack of cards, remembers that she started this adventure being talked to by a jewel, and closes her mouth again.

Cazaril calmly offers his hand to pull Swan across.

Swan turns to Espérance, “Put your flipper on my shoulder and don’t let go. Same goes for you, Tulorian. Slip a mitt around my friend’s waist.”

Espérance, as directed, puts her hand on Swan's shoulder and braces herself. She's already had a few samples of the odd things that can happen around these people.

Tulorian looks warily at Swan for a moment. He looks at Espérance, then at Swan, and then looks behind him as if the three of them were being watched. Finally, he waits for Espérance to put her hand on Swan and then gingerly, as if picking up a prickly cactus, maneuvers a hand around the swordswoman's waist.

Swan takes Caz’s his hand and allows him to pull her through the glimmering Trump contact.

In short order, Swan is drawn through, and with her, Espérance, and, much to his surprise, Tulorian. All three are now on the deck of the ship next to Cazaril. Alex turns around at their arrival and grins.

Tulorian, for his part, lets go of Espérance a moment after he is drawn through the contact, and starts steps backward, fear in his eyes.

This proves to be a slight mistake. While Swan and Espérance are firmly and safely stand on the ship, Tulorian's backward steps brings him to the edge and he begins to pitch backwards toward the waiting water.

Reacting quickly, Espérance lets go of Swan and makes a dive for Tulorian, trying to grab him before he goes overboard.

Espérance's dive is enthusiastic and spot on as far as reaction time. Her hands hook onto the mountain man as he continues to pitch backward. Momentum, however, is proving Espérance's action difficult to reverse. Tulorian and Espérance both go horizontal, and start to pitch toward the water...

More accustomed to the vertigo-inducing elements of Trump travel, Swan is quick to recover from the jump. She notices the danger for both Tulorian and Espérance – the former likely to drag the latter overboard with him.

She snaps a hand out and tries to loop it around Espérance’s belt, providing her the support she’ll need to this expedient rescue. "Hang on!"

The sharp action of support from Swan stops the pitching action, even as it proves just a little taxing for Swan. Not so much because of her strength, but simple physics.

Swan quickly finds Cazaril's hands on her waist. With him as anchor, Swan as support, and Espérance's grip on Tulorian, everyone manages to get back from the edge and safely to the middle of the ship.

"A tendril would have been faster, but likely a bad idea." Cazaril says as he releases Swan.

Swan leans into Caz and chuckles with relief, "There's always time for your tendril later, 'cause if you can hold up three people with it, I want a looksey."

"Thank you," says Espérance. "Though I suppose if he had fallen in, Huttner could have retrieved him... Where is Huttner, anyway?" She looks around, her brow creasing. "And what about Hugo?"

Swan disengages from Caz's arm, "We got a serious problem. This is gonna get bloody. You ready for that?"

"We've been watching for trouble." Cazaril says, gesturing over to Alex. He then looks at Espérance, "As far as Huttner, he's in the water." Cazaril does not quite avoid rolling his eyes slightly. "It's actually for a good purpose, he's trying to give us some advance warning if Saxon and company's ship approaches the harbour."

"Evidently he's coming overland," says Espérance, "though I suppose that doesn't preclude a two-pronged attack."

"It doesn't preclude it." Cazaril agrees. "As far as Hugo..." he continues to look at Espérance and furrows his eyebrows. "He went with you into the city. I saw him depart with you."

Swan grimaces, "Ah crap! I knew I forgot something." She offers Espérance a sheepish grin, "If you think puppy will be miffed, my uncle is going to be seriously pissed at me."

"Uncle?" Alex mouths, confused.

Swan nods, “Yeah, a lost member of my family stuck his beak in our business. Apparently he’s light in the loafers and gotta a noggin for Pattern phenomena. Nice guy. I should feel bad for ditching him.” She shrugs to herself, as if this last statement has yet to be decided upon.

"Yes, apparently we left him behind too," says Espérance. "I expect Hugo can find his way back eventually, but will they know to look?" She glances over at Tulorian.

[Cazaril's] eyes start flickering between Swan and Espérance with a note of suspicion in his gaze. Both ladies will note that Alex is taking a hard look at Tulorian, who has a slightly bewildered look on his face.

Swan jerks a nod in Tulorian's direction, "Long story short. He's a bruno in the service of a goddess. Name's Tulorian and will give us the low on the city proper. He's cool beans, but feel free to plug him if he gets shifty."

She pushes through the group, heading toward the gangplank. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a man to kill."

"Alex" Cazaril says, waving a hand. "Follow Swan closely and take along some of that explosive you're not carrying."

Alex is quickly on Swan's heels with a bag over her shoulder.

Swan bumps shoulders with her young moll and smiles. “I told you that you’d get to play with your soup. I want big boom.” Her hand slips around Alex’s waist, “Missed you, by the way.”

"Mmm." Alex says. "I was jealous Espérance got to go with you in the city." She pats her pack "This is the latest version of the Nitro-9. Maybe." she grins "I should call it Nitro-10 after today."

Meanwhile, Espérance asks Tulorian, "Will the Hari let our companions know where we've gone?"

Tulorian watches Swan and Alex for a moment, and turns as Espérance finishes her question. He bows his head before speaking.

"The Hari's powers are wide and powerful." he says, reverently. "She will feel the strange method we used to depart, I am certain. I would guess that word will be given to your hound and companion at the entrance, as a courtesy since she has decided your goals and ours are in alliance. As for what your companion will do with that knowledge, I cannot say."

Espérance shrugs. "Well, if they show up before the fun begins, we'll be glad to have them. If we have to go looking for them afterwards, we do. In the meantime..." She goes to the rail of the ship and looks around to see if she can find Huttner in the water. "We don't want to leave anyone out who might want to be in on things," she comments.

"The more allies and bodies we have." Cazaril comments. "the better off we will be. Saxon is not going to be a crew of one, that's for certain."

"The Hari would not be pleased to have this Saxon disturb the Mountain." Tulorian says in a tone of piety and reverence.

"We'll do what we can to make sure that doesn't happen," Espérance tells him.

Some turbulence in the water suggests to Espérance that he has spotted Huttner's submerged form. A few moments later, his head breaks the water, at a spot directly below the spot on the rail where Espérance is looking for him. He grins up at her.

"Hello, Miss St. Vier!" Huttner says, enthusiastically . "How was the city?"

"Large and confusing," Espérance answers briefly, "but that's not where we found what we're looking for. We did find out what the Jesbys are doing, though. Do you want in on the fun?" she asks him.

"They seem to be coming mainly overland and into the city in an effort to flank and surprise us." Cazaril adds. "Not on the water like we thought."

Huttner looks disappointed at Cazaril's words. He turns back to Espérance "Well, if the Jesbys would prefer to face you and me in the middle of a city, *again*, then how can I resist?" He hoists himself onto the ship in a swift, strong motion, dripping wetly onto the deck.

"It does seem a bit thickheaded of them, doesn't it?" agrees Espérance.

"Invitation accepted, gladly." he says.

"Good." Espérance grins.

"You didn't think." Cazaril says "Espérance would let you bob out there in the harbor all by yourself, did you?"

"Come on!" Alex says, squeezing Swan's arm and looking back at Espérance, Cazaril, Huttner and Tulorian.

Swan bumps shoulders with Alex and chuckles, “Yeah. Get the lead out, boyos. These throats aren’t gonna cut themselves.”

She winks at Alex, “Now, you don’t pull anything goofy during this shakedown, savvy? This boobs put the nippers on you and Caz once. I doubt they’ll play nice this time. And I like this mush… I don’t want it kick in.” She lightly kisses Alex’s cheek, a seriousness entering her eyes.

“Okay?”

"Okay, Professor." Alex's look is just slightly petulant. Its seems more playful than actually upset at Swan's orders.

"Yes, we should get moving if we want to take full advantage of what we learned from the Hari," says Espérance, striding briskly toward the gangplank.

When the others join them, Swan resumes pulling Alex down the street toward the ambush site.

With only a little bit of confusion on the streets (helpfully corrected by Tulorian, who seems more amazed by Swan and Espérance's companions than anything else), the group soon finds itself in the eastern outskirts of the city, the area called Vatta.

Here, both ladies notice that the population is even more diverse than other regions of the city, the variety of hues of hair colors, skin colors, and body builds suggesting a substantial population of foreigners. Other clues to the nature of this region include the line of three pachyderms passing by the group at one point, which draws stares from Huttner and Alex, and a studied, appraising look from Cazaril.

Espérance's only comment is, "Well, that's one reason for them to turn up here. They wouldn't stand out as much as in other parts of the city."

Not long after the Elephant encounter, Swan and Espérance are able to find the square, with the little street exiting out to the south that soon splits in a y-shape. A statue of a four armed male God, possibly Vatta himself, broods in the center of the square, as do the three and four story buildings. Aside from an old woman sweeping the cobblestones in front of one of the buildings, the area is quiet. Very quiet.

Espérance says to Swan, "I gather you want to be the one who confronts Saxon and crew head-on? Then Huttner and I can maybe take them from the rear." She automatically starts to scan rooftops for a good ambush spot.

"You got it in one," Swan says. "Although taking them in the rear might just tick them off." She smirks for a moment and then offers a good-natured laugh.

"I'm trusting you to keep me from being shivved, Ezzy. I've seen you with a pig-sticker. Do your magic and I'll be tap-dancing."

"All right." Cazaril says. "Looks like we have Swan as the fulcrum here. Espérance and Huttner close the trap from behind." "You have the explosives." he looks at Alex. "and I will counter anything Saxon and his crew do with the Logrus with some of mine own. So I will be up there." he points at one of the buildings at the edge of the square.

"I like a rooftop myself," comments Espérance, scanning down the street for a good one along the route they expect the enemy to take.

The layout of buildings provides Espérance with a pair of routes, on either side of the road. The left (looking south) set of buildings has larger gaps between the buildings whereas the right side are closer together, but more uneven in height, making traversing it slightly tricky in a different way.

Espérance mentally chooses the right-hand set of rooftops. She's an experienced roof-runner, and the uneven skyline is usually better for camouflage and evasion.

“Then we’re in like Flynn,” Swan chimes. “And frankly, no need for you to catch lead. Plus, you can keep your peepers open for Jessie back-up.”

"And I should perhaps remain out of the way?" Tulorian asks. "At the very least I should try to survive so that I may witness and report for the Hari."

Swan jerks a nod in his direction, “Yeah. Lay low. Enough people are gonna get some sunshine put through them this afternoon. No need to add you to list.”

As Tulorian speaks, in the distance, in a direction perpendicular to the square and the Y, Espérance hears a very familiar bark. A very familiar bark.

Perking up, Espérance puts two fingers in her mouth and lets out a shrill whistle.

Swan grins with pride, “I planned that. Seriously!” She covertly breaths a sigh of relief. Sure as taxes and death, they’re going to need the fuzzball’s help.

She turns to Alex, “Baby. I need you to do some shape-charges. I’ll be close to the soup, so I’d rather the big boom be going away from me. Can you rig that?” She points to the street she'll be standing in, drawing her finger through the air to indicate the path of the blast.

Alex grins. "How big should the individual charges be? I really should have done a little more experimenting in this shadow." she shoots a look at Cazaril, who looks innocent. She opens her bag and looks into its interior. A hand reaches in and Alex takes a moment to fiddle around before taking out the hand, empty. "But I think I can give you between 1 and 4 charges, depending on the size you want for each explosion."

“Big enough to shred a few bodies, but small enough not to deafen me into next week,” Swan replies. She watches Alex work and grins, “I love watching you work your magic, doll.”

Alex grins. "Three, then, will work."

She scans the square for the best places to rig a charge. She picks out a pair of buildings on the south side of the courtyard. “Rig two of your soup cans here,” she says. “When our friends show up, let them rip. First one and then the other. It’ll take them down a peg and turn their heads for a minute.”

Swan then points out a communal fountain. “Let’s put the third here. That’ll roast their keisters when they beat feet from the other two.”

"I like how you think..." Alex begins, and then stops speaking.

Around the corner, at a run, is Hugo, who does not stop until he reaches Espérance. He gives Tulorian a suspicious look and then gives far positive attention back at his mistress. Huttner gets a perfunctory glance from the hound. Swan, Alex and Cazaril get even less.

Hugo gets a good dose of positive attention from Espérance, too, who crouches down to put her arms around his shaggy neck and pet him. "Good to see you, Hugo," she tells the dog, grinning.

There is no overt sign of Vanyel, however.

Swan isn’t particularly relieved by this. “Hey mutt, where’s my uncle? You didn’t abandon him did ya, ‘cause that’d be rude.”

Hugo stops rubbing against Espérance's hand, and looks at Swan and gives off a slight whine. To Espérance, it sounds like Hugo was the one that was abandoned, rather than the other way around.

"That's Hugo saying 'It's not my fault,'" Espérance informs Swan.

Swan chuckles, “Okay, okay. You’re forgiven this time.” Her smile hints that there was nothing to forgive to begin with.

"Perhaps your uncle is using alternative methods, Swan." Cazaril says. "I am going to get myself in position now. The Jesby's will be here sooner than we think." Cazaril heads off toward the building he indicated.

Alex is already at work starting to set the charges as Swan suggests.

"You were thinking the west side of the street to run the roofs." Huttner says to Espérance. "I am not sure if I should follow you or try the other side."

"No, I am better on the water, liquid water, than any roof." Huttner says. "East side it is, for me. If anything." he says with a smile. "I will be more visible and attract their attention, and give you more cover thereby."

"Unless you're an experienced roof-runner, I'd recommend the east side for you," Espérance tells him. "It also couldn't hurt to be able to come at them from both sides."

"Well, don't make a target of yourself," Espérance cautions him. "That's the enemy's job."

Huttner grins. "I don't intend to have my skin turned into the leather for a Jesby footstool, believe me"

While Alex works and the others prepare, Swan begins to walk around the urban terrain. Her eyes have a strange light to them as she studies every angle, every doorway, every rise. An image of the coming battle plays out in her mind, incorporating her surroundings to their greatest advantage. And then she plays out the battle again. And again. Maximizing her use of cover and firing positions until she recognizes every possible killing zone. This time, she and Saxon would fight on her terms.

"I've seen this in Sawall WarMasters" Huttner says to Espérance, gesturing at Swan "She's plotting out the coming battle with the Jesby's A calculus of strategies. A summing over histories of outcomes and responses."

"Shall we go climbing some roofs?" he suggests to Espérance. "And does Hugo climb, or is he going to stay down here with Swan and Alex?"

"If he can find a way up, he's perfectly capable of roof-running," Espérance tells him. "But I trust him to know where he'll be most useful. Keep an eye on him anyway -- he'll probably let us know when the Jesbys are near sooner than any of the rest of us can detect it."

Swan concludes her mental chess-match and strikes up a gasper. She puffs irritably on the coffin nail – her skin feeling two sizes too small. “I think we’re good to dance, ‘Lex,” she says. “You and the others better get your keisters to the high ground. See you when the bone chips stop falling.” She steals a kiss before taking up residence in a doorway on the far end of the square.

Kiss stolen from her, and still blushing, Alex heads for the same building that Cazaril has already staked out. Swan is well aware that it will provide a good view for demolition purposes.

Espérance similarly uses the path she's previously traced, using stacked boxes, drainpipes and broken bricks to gain her watchpost on the west side of the street.

In short order, Espérance makes it to her forward watchpost, finding the roof running not too different than back home in Riverside. There is even an angry shout from one of the residents of this area as she deftly jumps over what looks to be a clothes line, allowing one of the clothes to flutter but not fall in her passage.

She gives the person a jaunty salute as she sails over the clothesline.

Huttner, with somewhat less agility, makes it to the forward watchpost almost directly opposite the swordswoman.

Hugo, for his part, remains at ground level,in the shadow of a building. If Espérance and Huttner did not know to look for him, he would be difficult to spot in the corner he is hiding in.

With Swan in her doorway, Cazaril and Alex in the tower, and Tulorian hiding in a corner of the square, the stage is truly set...

None of the group have to wait very long.

Hugo spots trouble first. A low growl from him, and then a single whine is all he emits. Its not loud enough for the Jesbys to hear, surely, but it is enough to get Espérance and Huttner looking in the right direction. The sound just carries enough for Swan, and presumably Cazaril, and Alex to hear as well.

And indeed, Espérance can see a small party of Jesbys, Simm and Acestes amongst them, seven in total, just as in the vision, coming down the street. Given their body language, it is clear to her that while they are wary and watchful, they are definitely still not aware of the impending ambush.

In short order, the group of them will be past the point where Espérance and Huttner wait and adjacent to where Hugo watches.

For the moment Espérance is content to watch and wait for Swan's plans to unfold. The psychological moment to take the enemy in the rear is not yet.

Swan wants their focus on her, rather than their surroundings. She needs them to look at the bait, rather than see the teeth of the trapped they’d already stepped into. Her proximity to the explosives and the odds might cost her dearly, but that was life in the Big City. Besides, where was the fun if she didn’t get a scar or two out of the deal? So, she lights up another gasper and sits down on the door stoop to wait. Her rune pistols lay in her lap like a pair of cuddly rottweilers.

When her new favorite playmate and his cronies came around the corner, she casually waggled her fingers in his direction. “Hey Saxxy! Long time no see.” She takes the moment to utilize her mage-sight on the group of Chaosians, seeing which one’s might have magical protection.

From Espérance's point of view, the seven Chaosians do not mark her, and do not mark her, Huttner, or Hugo.

Acestes is, in her tactical judgement, in a less-than-crucial position in the defense of the seven men. The blond man in front walks with swagger. The other five men surround the two women, who aren't as visibly armed with weapons (swords) as the men. They are more cautious and demure in their outlook, although not quite as observant as they should be.

The dynamic changes when Swan calls out. The men and women start looking around, and Saxon stops the group and raises a hand.

In using her sight, Swan can see that arcane protections surround the members like flattened spheres, Saxon's the most powerful of all. What is more interesting is that the protective spheres appear to be generated by the two women in the center of the group.

"What a delightful treat, Amberite murderess." Saxon says . "I didn't expect to have a chance to repay *you* quite so soon. You are permitted a few more words before you die. Perhaps telling me where your clients are in this little theater you've set up would be a start."

Swan stands up casually, Huggin and Muggin hanging at her side – the cool metal in her hands lending her the resolve to maintain this performance. Suspecting –hoping – that Cazril is listening in on her, she talks in a normal voice. “What /is/ it with you and your Mojo-risin’ molls? Gotta a sorceress fetish, do ya? No wonder you wanted to get a threesome goin’ with me and your last flame. What was her name, again? Ashe? Blaze? Dang. You’d think I’d remember. She had such a nice glow about her.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Swan sees the slightest movement at the top of the tower.

[Swan] begins angling herself so that attackers would be compelled to move closer to Alex’s explosives. “I’ll be on the square - my clients have already beat feet, Sax. We ribbed it up that you’d be too busy getting gashouse with me to stop them. So, I can dry gulch ya or you can go climb up your thumb. Either way, you’ve already lost and that’s the crop of it.”

"You've proven to be as trustworthy as any of your line." Saxon says. "And perhaps as truthful as any of your line." He takes a few steps forward, as does the group, although they begin to spread out, and clearly are starting to look around and size up the situation and the setup. None of them appear to have spotted any of the protagonists as yet, and Espérance is sure none are looking as far back as where her, Hugo and Huttner wait.

Swan grins devilishly, “I’ll take that as a compliment, Saxy. Makes me all warm and fuzzy in my pink parts.”

"Very well, if you wish to be difficult." Saxon says. He's gotten closer to the target zone, although he is not in what Swan would consider a prime location. Certainly in the blast radius of Alex's packages.

"I can be difficult, too." Saxon says.

A ball of light forms in his hands.

Actions?

With surprising alacrity, Swan uses Muggin to hip-shoot at the patch of cobblestones near the center of the group. The rune-bullet explodes in a black spray of acrid-smelling liquid, which splatters indiscriminately over everything nearby. The Grease spell transforms every surface it touches into a slippery, choking mess. Swan [hopefully] uses her momentum to duck behind the nearest cover and away from whatever nastiness Saxon has planned for her.

Espérance continues to watch both the enemy swordsmen and the two sorceresses. She figures Saxon and Swan are concentrating largely on each other.

She already knows she doesn't want to get near the black stuff if she can help it.

Swan's bullet takes Saxon and his companions by surprise. Most startling of all is that Swan aims at the ground, rather than at a live target. It clearly is unexpected, and the splatter of grease in the area is wildly successful. The Jesbys slip and slide trying to get purchase on the coated environment.

Swan manages to get behind a low wall and out of the direct sight of Saxon and his crew. She does not see, but Espérance sees the light in Saxon's hand shoot outwards in the form of a white, serpentine field of force.

"Seek" Saxon commands.

Unerringly and with great speed, the force spell dodges obstacles and strikes Swan. Her tactical ability allows her to avoid a possibly fatal shot to the torso by dodging the full effect at the last moment. Instead, her left leg goes numb as the spell strikes her in the calf just above the knee.

Getting out of the way when the first two explosives go off , which will likely be within moments, is now going to be a lot more difficult. Swan is definitely still within the blast zone of both of them. She is probably out of range of the third bomb as it stands.

"Move!" Saxon commands. "Get out of this mess and kill her." Again, its clear to Espérance that Saxon and his men are having problems getting out of the miasma that Swan has conjured.

Swan glances down at her numbed leg, feeling its useless weight slowing her. There’s nothing left to do but roll the hard six. “Come and get me!” she yells. With one hand, she wild-fires a spray of lead toward the group – just enough to give them pause. Whether it works or not, matters little to her. She uses the other hand to fire off an incendiary round at the largest concentration of grease. Hoping Alex’s soup is like C4 and doesn’t burn, Swan intends to use the resulting inferno to buy her enough time to limp the hell out of dodge.

"Watch it. She's got a nasty projectile weapon." one of the Jesbys says, just as the rune bullet penetrates his shield, drills him in the chest, and knocks him down. The other bullets ricochet and hit walls and buildings.

"Darin!" one of the women shouts, in anguish.

Swan grins, pleased that she’s connected with at least one of the Chaosians.

Espérance re-checks the various routes off of the roof that she'd scoped out previously. Where she comes down will depend on where the enemy bolts to. There'll be no duelling this time; she'll be looking to kill quickly and take no prisoners.

There are plenty of exits to ground level, the nearest being the clothesline Espérance leaped earlier, as well. She can see that Hugo is already moving down the street, with occasional glances upward at her and Huttner.

And then the square erupts.

Swan's incendiary bullet hits the grease at the same time that Alex's first bomb goes off. The dual explosions DO manage to produce a bonfire on the grease, flames licking up and down the entire length of the pool, running up and around the shields around the Jesbys, giving all of them a fiery corona. The felled Darin, without his shield, however, is now burning. The fire is not a threat to Swan just yet. And fortunately, the explosion did not do more than hit her with a bit of the shockwave. She is not further injured.

"Ready for it this time, Amberite Fire Witch!" Saxon shouts, laughing. "You'll have to do better than THAT!"

Swan yells back, “Is that bacon, I smell? Swan – One; Saxon – Zero, you mook!” Her ears are ringing from the explosion and the acrid smoke stings her eyes and lungs. Staying low, she tries to limp to another hiding spot, using the smoke and dust as a cover.

The square is rapidly filling full of smoke, fire, and shielded Jesbys trying to get out of both and find Swan. The smoke and fire IS going to give Swan time to move. From Espérance's point of view, taking any of the nearest ways down would put the fire and grease between her and the Jesbys. However, the way she originally went up to the roofs, at the square, is still open and clear.

And there are still two explosions to go boom...

Knowing this, Espérance sits tight, waiting for any of the Jesbys to run to a place where the fire will not block her from them.

Across the way, Espérance can see that Huttner has stopped his progress, looking to her for his lead. Below, Hugo glances up for spoor or sign of Espérance, and he stops, too.

Silently cursing her bum leg, Swan settles into her new firing position. However, this time, she waits for the Jesbys to get closer - keeping an eye on the taletell coronas of flame. Only when they’re in the blast radius of the other bombs does she begin firing again – trying to weaken their shields.

The Jesbys stop advancing after a moment, not close enough for Swan's new firing position, as a new aspect takes hold of the battlefield. The wind rises, and for a moment, it whips up the flames even more, before a chill runs down Swan's back.

The wind is cold, icy, and bitter. In short order, the flames start to die as the air, laden with the moisture of this humid place, begins to whip up into something something Panaji has likely never, ever experienced in its history.

A blizzard.

A blizzard that in other shadows might strike places named Grand Forks, or Britton, or Embarrass, or International Falls. And even for such places as they, this blizzard is deepening into one of terrible ferocity. Swan will have frostbite within minutes. And worse not long thereafter.

The snow is tainted by the smoke, dust and ash from the bomb, but the fires are being snuffed out, the grease being frozen into black ice.

Slowly and carefully, on this suddenly flash frozen surface, Jesbys are spreading out, providing lots of targets, but none in any concentration, except, in the middle long distance, Saxon, flanked by two of the three sorceresses. One of the Jesbys is actually heading backward, past the body of Darin, away from the square, and back down the street. He seems to be scanning the buildings, and has his hand on his sword hilt.

The Jesby is Acestes.

Espérance now has her target -- one she's defeated in the past, and one who, more importantly, might be going for reinforcements. She begins flitting across the rooftops--being careful of the snow--with the intention of cutting him off.

Her intention, insofar as the topography allows, is to make a final leap and land in front of him, her sword already out.

She manages the leap expertly, landing exactly in front of him. Acestes is clearly startled and amazed to see Espérance in front of him, armed and ready.

"Looking for me, Acestes?"

"You!" he shouts, stepping back a pace, and then two. He doesn't quite get to go further. With somewhat less expertly grace, Huttner has managed to land on the ground. And perhaps even more menacing from Acestes' point of view, Hugo is with him.

"I see" Acestes says, drawing his sword. "You felt the need to bring friends this time. And your tricks will not avail you this time. I have some of mine own, Sawall." Acestes draws his sword. A distinctly different sword, one that glows with a purplish light all along the blade from tip to hilt.

Espérance doesn't trust that sword an inch. She makes another leap, this one sending a boot straight for Acestes' head. If he uses his sword to block her, she's ready with her own blade to cut his hand off at the wrist ... sword and all. And if he doesn't block ... well, ain't that a kick in the head?

Acestes does not attempt to block the kick with the sword or anything else. Instead, he tries to dodge the kick. Acestes is fast, but as she has proven already, Espérance is faster.

She manages to land the blow, in Acestes's left shoulder, a blow which takes him down to the ground. As he falls, the purple blade he carries snakes out. It doesn't touch Espérance's leg, but the proximity to it is enough to send a strange muscle spasm of weakness through it from heel to knee. It's difficult for Espérance to manage it, but she manages to land on her feet without the leg collapsing under her weight.

Acestes is rising from the ground, sword in hand, a grin on his face.

In the meantime, back in the square, the lightning rune of the second bullet goes off inside of the sorceress' shield. In an effect similar to the one in their previous encounter, the lightning ricochets inside of the shield, striking the sorceress again. And again. And again. Until the sorceress is little more than a charred corpse.

“Swan – Two, Jesbys – Zero,” Swan laughs manically. “You mooks just like to die for me too much.” Secretly, she hopes Saxon can’t hear the chattering of her teeth.

A little of the electrical energy escapes the shield, and gives the other sorceress a shock to her shield, but otherwise is unaffected...until Swan's attentions, and everyone else's, are wrapped up in two more explosions...

The first explosion turns Swan’s head away from the buxom Jesby-lightning rod. Meant to drive the group toward the center of the square, the detonation only showers her in gravel and dust – her ears ringing. But it is a stark reminder that that she’s out of position. Instinctually, she realizes what’s to follow, but her body is sluggish from the cold. She barely has time to brace for the next explosion. “Ah crap...”

Before she knows it, Swan is going ass over tea kettle – her body like a leaf in a gale. For a human, the shockwave itself would likely have ruptured organs and broken bones. But she is far from human and taken much rougher treatment in her days. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt like a mother. Nor does it mean the landing is any less soft. The moment oddly slows down – allowing her the exquisite joy of impacting into the cobblestones and sliding over them like a piece of ham going over a cheese grater. In time – far too long for her liking – Swan comes to rest in a tangled, bloodied mess.

“Ouch,” she mutters in a statement of the obvious.

In the meantime, the Jesby's continue to explore the square. It's hard for Swan to hear it in her condition, but a soft auxiliary explosion suggests to her that Alex has laid an impromptu trap for another of the Jesbys.

"And now you die." comes a voice from the cold blizzard that still obscures vision throughout the square. Saxon.

"I've paid a high price in good men and women. But I've driven you to ground, and your explosions, projectile weapons and other tricks end here, Amberite."

With confidence, and with lowered but still visible shielding, Saxon marches across the cobblestones toward Swan. It looks like he has another of those body-seeking missile spells ready to launch at Swan's prone form.

And then he stops his confident stride toward Swan, the missile spell dropping from his hands. In point of fact, Saxon has his hands around his neck, as if trying to tear off something that is choking him.

"Swan!" comes the voice from the Tower, seemingly magnified somehow.

Cazaril.

Her intention, insofar as the topography allows, is to make a final leap and land in front of him, her sword already out.

She manages the leap expertly, landing exactly in front of him. Acestes is clearly startled and amazed to see Espérance in front of him, armed and ready.

"Looking for me, Acestes?"

Acestes does not attempt to block the kick with the sword or anything else. Instead, he tries to dodge the kick. Acestes is fast, but as she has proven already, Espérance is faster.

Acestes is rising from the ground, sword in hand, a grin on his face.

Espérance responds by, first, whipping her broad-brimmed, white-plumed hat into Acestes' face to obscure his vision.

Acestes is momentarily distracted by the subterfuge, granting Espérance a few moments to follow up.

Then rolling herself into a ball and launching herself at his legs...

As she does so, twin cracks of explosions peal from up in the square. The explosions have the unexpectedly salutary effect of knocking Acestes to the side, and away from Espérance's attack. The Jesby is down and prone,and barely managed to hold onto his sword. This still glows with that purplish glow, radiating its power.

Hugo and Huttner, however, have also both been knocked flat in the blast.

Espérance herself comes to a halt but her low profile means that she, out of the four of them, was relatively unaffected. Her leg still feels weak, but the effect of the sword's passage is attenuating moment by moment. She can stand, and walk, if not dance and move with her full agility.

Espérance is relieved to find that the numbing effect of Acestes' sword is temporary -- at least for a non-direct hit such as that. She comes up out of her somersault and pivots into a crouch, facing Acestes and the square. She pauses a moment ... weren't there three of those things that Alex made?

Acestes is picking himself up. A bloody and probably broken nose is the most visible of his injuries. He casts a wary eye in Espérance's direction, the sword held out as if it were a talisman to ward her off.

Beyond him, Huttner and Hugo are picking themselves up, as well.

Down the square, though, there is a snowstorm of some sort going on, or perhaps ash from the explosions. Watching this, though, allows Espérance a second or two of warning that Acestes, Huttner and Hugo, backs to it, does not.

The bow wave from the third explosion is coming up the street. Quickly. Cazaril.

In that moment, Swan’s attention becomes like ice crystal – its edge sharp and focused. The exhaustion and pain fall away like a cloak leaving her with naked rage. Ignorant of any damage she’s actually inflicting upon herself, she leaps to her feet and launches herself at Saxon. “No more tricks.”

No magic. No guns. No explosives. Swan now uses pure brute force to finish the job. And frankly, this is how she likes it best. She goes in for the clinch, bashing her skull into Saxon’s nose in a cruel head butt.

Saxon manages to free himself from whatever Cazaril is doing just before Swan starts the grapple with him. He doesn't quite get his arms up before Swan gets close. Her head butt dazes him for a moment.

She follows up with a few body blows and an elbow or two for good measure - giving him the Broderick a few times over, in order to weaken the Chaosian enough for a final grapple.

Saxon recovers from the headbutt soon enough to start trading blows, and words.

"A common brawl!" he shouts, answering an elbow with a punch that Swan turns from a head-stunning shot into a less deadly shoulder blow on her by a well-timed movement.

Swan hisses back, “Ain’t nothing common about this, Sax.”

Finally, it comes down to strength versus strength. No more bullets. No more fancy moves. Saxon's hands go around Swan's throat even as she tries to finish him herself. There are explosions, shouts, and more, but they are all a soft, dull roar as compared to the throbbing in her head, and the immediacy of the fight between her and Saxon.

Memories of Swan’s childhood come rushing back, lending her strength and determination. Even as the edges of her vision turn ruddy, she fights on with little regard to the damage being inflicted to her body or the outside world.

Seconds, a minute or two go by. The blizzard has stopped, and although Swan's skin is definitely frostbitten at this stage, and as battered and injured as she is, the brawl between her and Saxon tilts toward her favor.

Saxon can feel it too. He has stopped attacking, and is indeed, weakening even as he tries to escape Swan's embrace that may literally make her a femme fatale.

Swan's call

With the blood pounding in her temples, Swan’s restraint – what little she had to begin with – is forgotten. Now Uncle Gerard’s training comes into play, guiding her actions automatically. Unable to gain access to Saxon’s cervical cord, she instead slips her arms around his midsection and pulls him to her in an almost lewd embrace. Palm digging into the center of his back, she squeezes like a boa constrictor.

Saxon gives a game try to escape. Swan can even feel him start to change his form, to change, but it is too little. Too late. Swan's exertions force him to conserve his energy, his strength, and not engage in what shapeshifting that he can do.

Every time he breaths out, she tightens again… and again. Tightening until one or more of his thoracic vertebrae finally fracture under the strain. Depending on where the break occurs, he could suffer from internal organ failure, reduced movement in his arms, and paraplegia at the very least.

“Say hello to your chippie,” she whispers, preparing to finish the job.

Several vertebrae fracture, one after the other, like a line of fireworks. The Chaosian's body goes limp. It's probable that his heart, or perhaps hearts have been pierced by broken bone.

And as the blizzard subsides, and he hangs limply in her arms, Swan knows that Saxon Jesby is quite, quite dead.

It is also clear, from the dull roar around her, that his forces are not quite aware of that fact just yet.

Swan can feel the pain and exhaustion lurking at the edges of her perception, fighting for attention. For all she knows, she’s already mortally wounded. But the rush of victory and bloodlust blind her to the injuries. She knows that even with Saxon dead, she must still finish this fight. She summons Huggin and Muggin to her hands, drawing comfort from their heavy weight.

She lifts them and begins scanning her surroundings with Mage Sight, searching for the remaining Jesbys. “Your boss is dead, cupcakes. And now Death is coming for you!” she screams, tasting blood and dust on her lips. She fires a few random shots into the clouds of dust and snow to add credence to her words.

It does take a significant fraction of Swan's remaining energy to look for them, and fire her shots, but when that is done, she discovers that the Jesby's have been reduced in number further. There are a couple of active readings, way down the road, and only two active Jesbys still within the square.

All the other Jesby's are either fled, or like Saxon, quite dead.

Drowsiness, and the desire for sleep wells up in Swan's eyes. The temptation, the desire to just curl up in a corner and rest, relax and recover is strong. Extremely strong. To lay down her burdens.

However, there are voices, and even the sound of her name, echoing, distant, filtered in her ears, as if they were words spoken underwater.

Never one to lie down, Swan begins stalking the ruined courtyard – her eyes stinging with exhaustion and smoke. She ignores the sharp, tight pain from her frostbitten limbs and the ache from her bruised – if not broken – ribs. Too much to do and people left to kill. She can sleep when she’s dead.

She cocks Muggin’s hammer and levels him at the Jesbys. She shoots the one on the right with a flechette round. “Fight or beat feet?” she calls to the other one. “Your choice.” She isn’t thinking much on self-preservation or cover… relying more on the intimidation factor.

The remaining Jesby, one of the sorceresses as it so happens, looks at Swan for a measured three seconds. She gives a glance at the shot Jesby, one of the men. Her shield crackles.

And then very carefully, she starts backing up. She doesn't take her eyes off of Swan as she carefully backs up.

Swan waves the woman away with the end of her gun. “You owe me, tomato. Now take a powder before my overdeveloped sense of benevolence wears thin.”

A wave of disorientation washes over Swan. Blood loss, maybe. Shock. And then come a pair of hands, keeping her from slumping. Where did those hands come from?

"Easy, Swan." comes a voice behind her.. "You're about ready to collapse."

Her uncle, Vanyel

“Hey Vanny,” Swan says with a tired smile. His arms feel nice around her. The perfect place to bunk for a spell. Maybe forget how tired she is. To forget the agony running from nose to toes. “Frostbite sucks,” she observes.

“I was suppose to remember something,” she adds, letting the strength go out of her. “Maybe if I take a nap, I won’t be so jingle-brained, huh? Yeah. Or some java. You wouldn’t have some Joe would you?” Her eyes flutter as the numbness begins to swallow her up.

Beyond him, Huttner and Hugo are picking themselves up, as well.

The bow wave from the third explosion is coming up the street. Quickly.

Seeing this, Espérance decides her best option is a fake-out. She lets her "bad" leg buckle, going into a crouch to once more give herself a low profile. At the same time she keeps her sword ready to skewer Acestes if he gets careless -- or is propelled in her direction.

Hugo gives off a wail that causes Huttner to crouch...and thus warned, both manage to escape the worst of the blast. It still knocks them around a bit, and so it is Acestes who takes the brunt of the third and final shockwave. Even with his low profile, he gets pushed along, in Espérance's direction. He floats along, like a leaf blown along a street in a gust of wind, changing his profile so that his arm and sword are poised to if not puncture Espérance, to at least allow the blade and its dangerous energies close passage to her.

"Gotcha!" he says with a laugh,a drop of blood dropping from his nose as he approaches.

=That's what you think.= Showing that she's not as impaired as Acestes thought she was, Espérance turns her crouch into a spring that will allow Acestes to "float" under her. If she can come down on top of him (a boot-heel in the spine would be good), so much the better.

Espérance's leap is graceful, soaring and a sight to behold. She lands squarely, evenly and perfectly on a very surprised Acestes, the tip of her boot on his coccyx, the heel further up the back.

This stops his momentum, and in fact, surprises him enough that he lets go of his sword, the blade sliding a few inches forward, out of his grasp.

The Jesby reaches up with his left hand toward Espérance, even as his right strains to regain his blade.

In the meantime, Espérance can see that, as she lands, that Huttner and Hugo now have a Jesby of their own, who has managed to escape the blasts and make his way down the street, to fight.

Espérance places her own blade at Acestes' neck. "Don't try it, Acestes," she tells the Jesby. "Don't move. I'll only tell you that once."

She means it. If he tries to grab either her or the sword, she'll thrust her blade through his neck and let one of the other Jesbys be the one delivered to the Hari.

Acestes stops moving his hand, immediately. His arm,and hand hang in mid-air as he considers her words. Finally, he slowly and carefully lowers the hand that has been reaching for her boot, and the hand grasping for the sword stops doing so.

"Should we kill this one?" Huttner calls. A turn of the head allows Espérance to see that the Jesby is relatively hard pressed, trying to keep away from Hugo's bite, and the short, sawtoothed blade that Huttner is clashing against the Jesby's own sword.

Huttner is nowhere near as good as Espérance, but having Hugo as a partner is making up for that deficiency, against the level of opponent the Jesby represents.

"We need at least one of them alive," Espérance calls back, meanwhile keeping a wary eye on Acestes.

"Confirmed." Huttner says. "I'm not sure anyone but you is qualified to restrain Hugo anyway."

"He usually knows what he's doing," says Espérance.

Hugo and Huttner continue to engage the Jesby, slowly narrowing his options. He already has a bite on the ankle, and a minor wound on the forearm.

"Keep me alive for what? For some sort of ransom?" Acestes says to Espérance. Although his tone is defiant, his body language is compliant and submissive. If he is trying some sort of treachery, Espérance can't detect it just yet.

"For her aid in locating your party -- among other things -- the local magnate requires at least one of you to face her justice for invading her territory," Espérance tells him in a steely tone. She goes on to muse, "You Jesbys just don't learn about local magnates, do you?"

"Local magnates just don't count!" Acestes says loudly. However, Espérance can tell that the conviction in his voice is most decidedly lacking.

"I think you will find that in this case, they do," Espérance tells him.

In the background the clash of blades quickly comes to a conclusion. With Hugo's help, the Jesby is disarmed. Huttner doesn't hesitate as the Jesby says what sounds and feels like a prayer, and then Huttner finishes him, quickly and cleanly.

"Your problem, child of Dara," Acestes says after a long moment after the death of his compatriot. "is working with them as if..." he pauses a moment as if grasping for a word "as if they were...equals!"

"I grew up with these people, Acestes Jesby," Espérance says calmly. "Whether or not that's what my mother intended, she and everyone else is going to have to deal with the consequences."

"Then the Mother of the Emperor is as much a fool as her son." Acestes retorts.

"That's why he's the Emperor, I suppose," Espérance retorts sardonically.

She raises her voice a trifle. "Huttner, if you're through there, you can come over and help me secure this one."

"Oh I am done." Huttner says, walking over. Hugo trots along as well, giving Acestes a less than friendly look. Huttner pulls out some black cord from a pocket and shows it to Espérance

"A little something I conjured up before I did my underwater recon while you were away." Huttner says. "Here, let's get his hands behind him. This stuff will discourage any CCS on his part. I'm sorry that I didn't have time to animate it, though."

"It should do admirably," Espérance tells him. She steps off of Acestes' back onto the ground, while keeping her sword at his neck. "Turn over," she tells the Jesby.

"This is absolutely ridiculous." Acestes says, once he is turned over and Espérance can start to bind him with the black rope.

Midway through this process, Acestes does something new. His skin starts turning color, and more than color, texture and shape, becoming more rubbery, slick, and probably more easy to slip out the tightest bonds Espérance might be able to tie.

And then, right where the rope touches his skin, there is the smell and sight of burning flesh.

""Serpent's missing eye!" Acestes exclaims, in obvious pain, the skin returning to what it once was. "You torture me!" he exclaims to Espérance.

Espérance rubs her finger and thumb together. "See this, Acestes? It's the smallest violin in the world, playing just for you. Behave yourself and you won't get hurt."

"I do not know what a violin is, but I do not want to find out." Acestes responds.

[Espérance] finishes lashing the Jesby's wrists together. "Now, on your feet."

Huttner produces a large lace hankerchief and offers it to Espérance. "I think we need to gag him." he suggests. "Not only to silence his pleas, but to keep him from warning anyone, or trying any minor enchantments that require a vocative component."

Hugo barks in seeming agreement.

"Not to mention that I'm tired of listening to him," Espérance agrees. "You'll want two of those, though." She proceeds to stuff Acestes' mouth with the handkerchief Huttner just gave her. If he produces another, she'll use that to tie around Acestes' mouth to hold the first one in.

"Your wish is granted, and no deals with ifrits or jinn." Acestes says with a smile, producing a second handkerchief. It looks identical to the first one. Acestes twists his head back and forth, a perfunctory and futile gesture to be certain.

In short order, between herself, and Huttner, Acestes is gagged and can be frogmarched along.

Down toward the square, all is quiet. Huttner slows his gait and his body language is definitely wary. "Do you want me to scout ahead..." Huttner looks toward Espérance and then Acestes. "Or would you and Hugo prefer to..."

"Scout around and make sure there aren't any more Jesbys lurking about," Espérance tells Huttner. "Hugo and I will take Acestes here back the way we came, and see how the others are doing." She trusts Hugo both to help her keep an eye on Acestes, and to know if any further danger is menacing them.

"As you command" Huttner says. He starts moving ahead, checking into doorways, giving a decent if not pitch perfect scouting and tactical review. He is soon out of sight down a corner, as Espérance and Hugo urge Acestes down the road toward the square.

What greets her as she reaches the square are bodies, and blood, and oddly enough, snow. It is melting rapidly, but the ice and snow are still on the ground, and it is difficult footing for the bound Acestes. He does not seem to be faking it, as he continues to slip even after warning growls from Hugo.

Off in the direction Huttner headed down,Espérance hears a scream, and it does not sound like Huttner's voice.

The only ambulatory person immediately visible in the square are in the far corner...and from behind, Espérance recognizes him as he leans over someone else.

Van.

Espérance decides instantly to check out the scream. "You can stand still for the moment," she tells Acestes. "Hugo, guard him!" Then she heads toward the source of the scream, as quickly as she can without slipping on the ice and snow, and keeping a wary eye out for danger (as well as her other companions).

Acestes, Hugo and Van are rapidly left behind as Espérance makes her way south of the square. As she does so, the sound of the scream is replaced, to her ears, to the sound of sword fighting.

Turning a corner, Espérance sees a swordfight in process between one of the Jesbys, one of the women to be precise, and Huttner. Both are wounded, with a bleeding cut on Huttner's forehead, and obvious wounds on the woman's arms, although her back is to Espérance.

Huttner is slowly driving the woman backward...in the direction of where Espérance stands.

Espérance's leap aims her boot-heel at the small of the woman's back.

Espérance's arrival, and leap could not be better timed if Huttner had planned it for her to make her move. With beautiful timing, Espérance lands with the tip of the boot hitting just above the small of the back. This maneuver, genuinely unexpected by the Jesby woman, sends her sprawling forward. When she falls on the ground, Espérance's heel is precisely where she had planned.

The woman, of course, is not quite as appreciative of the maneuver as Espérance and Huttner are.

"That is becoming a standard maneuver for you." Huttner says appreciatively as he approaches the fallen Jesby and her conqueror. "Perhaps something to consider when you learn Common Chaos Shapeshifting."

"Whatever works," Espérance replies. "But I wouldn't want to become predictable. That can get you dead." She lets the Jesby woman feel Espérance's blade at the side of her neck, just to emphasize the fact that she shouldn't move. "Do you want to tie this one up, too?"

"We could just kill her," Huttner says, looking at the woman. She has stopped moving upon the application of the blade to her neck but she gives off a soft cry at Huttner's words. "I am not sure what your culture feels about such things, though. We could offer her to your new friends on the Mountain, just like Acestes. Or simply bind her and leave her here, ensuring she can't reliably follow us."

"I will respect and follow your decision" he adds.

"I am inclined to take her to the Mountain and let the Hari decide her fate," says Espérance. "This is her territory, after all."

"Then that is what we will do." Huttner says. With Espérance's help, Huttner soon manages to bind the Jesby woman. She does give a use-name at one point, Kolfa, and proves to be somewhat more cooperative than Acestes is in being taken prisoner. There are no overt signs of duplicity on her part as she is bound and made ready for travel.

Swan hears someone screaming. She realizes it isn’t her and takes some comfort in that.

And at that moment, Swan finds her eyes fluttering open. She feels like a freight train hit her, but she's felt worse and lived through it. And, Uncle Van is leaning over her.

"Welcome back from sleepytime." Van says, amused.

“No, Uncle Van,” Swan protests. “It wasn’t a dream. It was a place… I remember that some of it wasn't very nice. But most of it was beautiful. And there was hooch and gaspers.”

She groans as the pain becomes real – the humor draining from her voice. “You know, I could have settled down. Had a tree house with a white picket fence. A couple of rug-biters. But nope. I gave that all up for the high-life.”

She tries to move – immediately regretting it. Through clenched teeth, “Are my insides /still/ inside this time, at least?”

A self examination reveals that Swan is healthier than she has any right to be. Her head feels like its being used as an anvil by a forge hammer, but she is no longer bleeding, and she is no longer having her own guts worn as garters.

"I have performed some limited esoteric healing." Van says. "Really, what I have done is accelerate your natural Amberite healing processes. You should be right as rain, shortly. Your friends and allies, however, are somewhat scattered over the area." Van says.

“Well then, I owe you one,” Swan says. “I thought I was wearing a Chicago overcoat there for awhile. Met with Family in dreams. He says ‘hello.’” She closes her eyes and lets her strength leach into the ground.

"Hello?" Van looks confused, and then waves a hand as Swan continues.

“Did we win?”

"I believe the swordswoman from Sawall is dispatching the last of the Jesbys." Van replies. "I was awaiting your resuscitation before determining how your companions have fared in this conflict."

"Do you feel well enough to stand?" he asks.

“Well, my legs aren’t broken this time, so I think I can manage,” Swan says. She allows Van to help her to her feet, grimacing through the raw pain, which radiates from far too many locations.

Out of the mouth of a nearby cross-street come Espérance and Huttner, escorting their bound prisoner. Espérance first glances around to make sure Hugo and Acestes are where she left them.

Hugo has Acestes under very close guard. Given the fact that he is gagged, all he can do is have his eyes smoulder in a glower as Espérance, Huttner and the captured Jesby approach.

Swan keeps her arm around Van’s waist to steady herself as she fumbles for a gasper with the other hand. She mutters foully – having to discard several kreteks that haven’t survived the battle. After retrieving one that is only slightly bent, she lights up and breathes in the blessed smoke.

“New playmates, Ezzy?” she calls to the approaching group.

"I thought we'd give the Hari a choice," Espérance replies. "Where are Alex and Cazaril?"

“No clue,” Swan replies. “Been sort of distracted on account of near death. They should turn up like a couple of bad pennies at time now.” She takes another drag on her gasper before resting her head on Van’s shoulder.

She regards Ezzy’s catch and nods approvingly. “They should do fine.”

""I suppose" the woman says. "that neither Acestes or myself will get to file a complaint under the laws of Vendetta." She looks around the square with a glance of her head. "Serpent's tooth take Saxon!" she swears.

"If anyone had bothered to explain these 'laws' to me before getting me involved in your Vendetta," Espérance says, "you might have a chance. As it is, why should I care a flying fig for them?"

Swan smiles darkly at the woman, “Color me green, but I don’t think you were gonna give me that option. Now, if you got cabbage and connections, maybe we’ll bump gums. Otherwise, better not pick the short straw, savvy?” She taps the ashes from her gasper and chuckles. It is not a friendly sound.

"I don't know why I would have a leafy vegetable on hand for you?" The woman says. "And I doubt you would permit me the use of the Logrus to obtain some for you." the woman replies.

"Introductions might be in order." Huttner says to Swan, glancing at Van. "Or are we waiting to find Lord Cazaril and Alex in this mess?"

“This is my uncle, Van. Van, Huttner. Huttner, Van. We may be from different ends of the pond, but we’re all cuddly,” Swan says, greedily taking another drag.

"I am not familiar with a Van in the list of Princes of Amber" Huttner says.

"And that's deliberate" Van says.

“We’ll give Caz and ‘Lex a minute more and then send the pooch out for them. That work?” [Swan says]

"I think that question should go to Miss St. Vier and Hugo." Van says, with a smile. He glances over at the bound Chaosians. "And then we can all go and settle accounts with the dwellers of the Mountain."

"Sounds like a workable plan to me," says Espérance. "In the meantime, I'll bring Acestes over here so that we can all keep an eye on both of these miscreants." She steps over to where Hugo is guarding Acestes and ushers the male Jesby over to where Huttner is guarding his female counterpart.

Acestes is still far from anything resembling a model prisoner, requiring some manhandling from Espérance and a growl or two from Hugo before he can be brought over next to his female counterpart, Kolfa.

Swan nods lightly, “Bonus. I need to sit my kiester down sooner than later. Even with Van’s glue and paint, I’m a wreck.” She glances over at the female chaosian. “So, did Saxon have back-up or were you button men the whole enchilada? Remember the truth of your answers determines if we feed you to something.”

"I think our fate is already decided." Kolfa says, glaring at Swan and Espérance. "No matter what I say, or do not, you are handing us over to some temporal local authority. But I will answer your question, anyway, child of Barimen." The last three words are intoned with venom and vitriol.

"There is no back up in this benighted shadow." she says. "There are a few forces that were beyond the Gate that you destroyed when you slaughtered my Housemates." she says. "But there are no forces here in this world. Acestes and I seem to be the only ones who still live."

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