HighwaySixtyHighway SixtyDagny's car takes a couple of tries to turn over, enough that it starts to become worrisome. However, it finally does start, and Dagny is able to turn around and head down the road and, soon, out of sight... And so she can begin her shadowshifting and her long journey. Dagny is headed back to the Shadow Versailles she left. She will first Shift the roads and landscape first, then the sky, then the modernity. She will stop as necessary for gas, food, sleep, etc., especially since she probably didn't rest much on the way there and she will probably need all her wits about her when she gets back. If you would like specifics, please let me know. With a destination and a plan in mind, Dagny's car starts to make progress away from Corwin, her other relatives and his Pattern. and back toward the Versailles that she left behind. The shifting is slow and difficult at first, the roads stubbornly resisting change. Finally, her persistence starts to make progress, and the road turns into "Interstate Sixty" just as her energy starts to flag. She finally is making good progress on the shadowshifting, though. And ahead, conveniently if she wanted to stop, is a large sign advertising the "Fork in the Road Motel". As it approaches, there seems to be a diner right across the parking lot, too from the way station. The choice before Dagny, whether she put it there consciously or not, is obvious. "Whew." About time too. Pancakes and sausage sounded really good right about now. I clicked my turning signal and cruised into the diner parking lot. I parked and, stepping out of the car, slung Mjolnir over my shoulder and took stock of the diner and motel. Passing through the diner doors, I locate the seating host/hostess and ask for a table... The motel and diner look more American in form and function than French. In point of fact, the diner itself looks very much like a railroad car diner, with its silver and blue painted shape, and its moniker of the "Victory Diner". Inside, the diner is quiet, with only a few patrons in evidence, a young man and woman, both blond, obviously a couple, an older woman with greying hair, enjoying a bowl of soup, and a young man with glasses and a shock of white hair eating a chicken fried steak and potatoes with gusto. Upon stepping in, the dark haired woman behind the counter breezily waves hello. "Sit at the counter or a table, and I will be right with you." she says to Dagny. Good to her word, she fills a glass of water and brings it over along with a menu. I chose a seat that would afford me a good view of the door and the windows. "Take a few minutes and decide. Aint no rush unless your stomach is in one." she says and walks over after being called over by the chicken-fried steak eating man. The menu itself has the typical fare that Dagny would expect in such a place. Comfort foods, all. I smiled at the woman and ordered an American cheese omelet with a side of pork sausage, a short stack of blueberry pancakes, home fries, and of course, the elixir of life ASAP. I was particularly hungry after the long drive, especially since I hadn't eaten a decent meal since before Corwin's Primal Pattern. After my order was taken I pulled out a pencil and an interesting but addictive book of number puzzles I'd picked up in a Shadow somewhere. As I worked them, I kept half an eye on my surroundings. The couple are talking quietly, the woman with the soup is now reading a newspaper, and the man with white hair occasionally gives a glance in Dagny's direction but mostly focuses on his meal. When the waitress returns with my coffee, I ask, "Have you heard anything about the motel next door? Is it a decent place, or do the bedbugs actually bite?" "The Fork in the Road?" The Waitress, whose nametag proclaims her as "Meg" says, pouring a cup of coffee. Ordinary black coffee, nothing fancy. "Oh its all right, its a place to rest your head." Meg continues. "None of those nasty porn channels on the TV that most motels have. 'Sides, there aren't many decent places to stay between here and Danver. Some of those other places you'll pass ARE fleatraps." Huh. "Sounds decent enough. Thanks." "You're welcome." The Waitress says with a nod. She heads off. Danver, though? I wondered if I'd find any pamphlets on local sites near the register, on the off chance I had to pass through before driving my way out of this sheaf of Shadows. I added some sugar and milk to my coffee, sipped, and turned my attention back to my puzzle as I waited for my food. Crap and a half, I'd already used a four in that column... In the few minutes that it takes for Dagny's food to come out, a couple of more patrons enter the diner, individually. Both of them sit at the counter. The waitress drops off Dagny's order, everything looking and smelling delicious even before Dagny has a bite. As Dagny tucks in. the waitress turns to the first man, a truck-driving type with a cap emblazoned with "Federal Firearm Association" on it and he orders a bowl of chili. "And you?" she asks the other man, a thin, average height man sliding slowly toward sixty or so in age. "Five double cheeseburgers, ten orders of fries, six orders of onion rings, eight orders of mozzarella sticks, and four chicken sandwiches." "Ralph!" The Waitress calls. "A to go order of..." "No, no." the man says. "I'll eat it all here." A look of shock and disbelief comes across the face of the waitress, and the gun-lover alike, and the entire diner has gone quiet. I took a bite of sausage and regarded the man. I could certainly appreciate being hungry enough to eat all that, but I wondered if the waitress was going to ask to see the color of his money. Well, as long as Captain Hollowpoint was sharing the counter, I didn't doubt that any trouble would be swiftly dealt with. Ooh, maybe he was bulimic? That would be sad. Poor little Shadow dweller. I continued on to my pancakes, savoring the sweet and savory goodness... The pancakes and breakfast are Dagny's foreground to the shadow play in front of her. "You can't eat all of that, mister." the Waitress finally says. "And even if you paid for it, it would be a waste of food." "Hey." Captain Hollowpoint pipes up. "You couldn't eat all of that even with the little lady." he gestures in Dagny's direction. "Helping ya. No sir. A glint forms in his eyes. "I'd bet you $100 that you couldn't eat all of that in an hour. No throwing up, either." "I'll double my order." the man says. "if you make it $300." "Done!" Captain Hollowpoint roars immediately. He looks around to the other patrons. "Anyone else want in on this?" The couple shakes their head. The woman with the soup gives a look of wanting to be elsewhere. The white haired man looks at the man, and then glances at Dagny. He gives her a subtle shake of his index finger in her direction, and then he looks at the two men again. "I'll just watch, thank you." I regard the white-haired man with suspicion. Do I recognize him, or should I be affronted at his temerity? The white haired man does not seem familiar to Dagny, although the look he has when Dagny looks at him suggests familiarity of some sort with her. "What about you?" Captain Hollowpoint says to Dagny. "What about me?" I repeated slowly. "Well, frankly, I think there is so much stupid filling this room that it's getting hard to breathe. I think you need to sit down, shut up, and finish your chili." With that, I will use my influence on the Shadow to make him do so. "Hunh." The man shakes his head, turns and returns to his bowl of red. "As for you, Mayor McCheese," I turn my attention to the hungry individual that started all this, "Quit freakin' showing off, and do the woman a favor, order like a normal person, and if you're still hungry, guess what? You can order more. Amazing thing about these places." I shake my head, and turn my attention back to my breakfast and my book, cursing the fact that I'd left my iPod in the car. The man regards Dagny for a long moment. He looks at Captain Hollowpoint. However, Dagny's expertise has made him uninterested in anything but his food. With a crestfallen expression, he turns toward the waitress and quietly orders a much smaller order. As Dagny completes her own breakfast, he does order two more times, eating ravenously. However, the tension has been defused and the interest in his appetite has ended. Captain Hollowpoint soon leaves, as do all of the patrons except the white haired man, and other patrons take their place and in an orderly fashion, business is mostly normal, save "Mayor McCheese's appetite. When the waitress comes over to refresh the coffee one last time and with Dagny's check, she says. "Your bill has been paid for." She gives a glance in the direction of the white haired man, who gives Dagny a nod. I refused her offer of a refill, but am surprised at her news. "That's unexpected. Cool beans. And thanks." With that, I swallow the rest of my coffee in one gulp, and leave an extremely generous tip on the table. I make my way over to the white-haired man. "Hey. Do I know you?" The white haired man looks up from the remnants of his chicken fried steak and potatoes and gives a grin. "Not yet, although I know you. In a generic sense, I mean, we haven't met before. I wasn't entirely sure, but the way you handled the situation here confirmed it." "Keane, son of the Marchesa Delois, of House Sawall, at your service." I am a little surprised at this. The only people I've met that introduce themselves as "of anything" have been my Amber relatives. I mentally fan through my Trump deck, and can't match his face with any of the cards. And I guess I'm not going to get to go to bed anytime soon. I give Keane a nod. "Dagny Thorsonne, of nowhere in particular, accepts it. I'm not familiar with your House, though. How'd you come to be here?" "That is probably as long a story, Dagny Thorsonne, as the story of how *you* have come to be here." Keane says with a nod. "I suspect, though, that if you are like myself and have had a long journey on the Road." The last word is capitalized in his speech. "that fatigue is a concern of equal weight with speaking with me. If not more so." "The establishment across the street seems of good quality and I have already secured my own lodgings there rather than using more esoteric means. I propose that we part, rest, and meet in next Bluesky..." he smiles. "next morning, and discuss matters." "That was not." Keane adds with a grin. "an impertinent offer of a mating proposal. I meant that you could secure quarters of your own." I smiled, amused. "You could do worse. But anyway, yes, I was planning on heading over to the motel after settling my bill. Which, the waitress told me, you took upon yourself to pay. That was not necessary, but thank you. It's an interesting way to meet girls, if nothing else." I grinned. "I'll see you tomorrow, then." Keane gives a grazing nod of the head. With that, I do my best to perform a sweeping exit, hop into my car, and drive it over to the motel. Taking stock of the place, I enter and walk up to the front desk... The motel is a u shaped building with the main parking lot, moderately full, inside the arms of the "u". The building itself looks relatively modern, perhaps a 1990's sort of style to the architecture, and the cars in the parking lot similarly wouldn't be too out of place on Earth. Inside, a blue carpeted foyer leads to the front desk that Dagny seeks, and a bored looking young man sitting behind its cherry-colored melamine stolidity. He looks up at the bell sound that the open door makes. "Fork in the Road motel." he says, not quite getting apathy out of his voice as he regards Dagny. "You'd like a room?" I raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't have walked in here if I didn't," I replied. "If you've got a queen-size bed or bigger, that would be great." "You'd be surprised why people walk in here." The clerk replies, with a little more pep in his voice. He looks down at a book. "The scintillating conversation, I'm sure," I teased, smiling. "We have three rooms with a king sized bed. I'll give you the closest one." he says, sliding over in his wheeled chair to a rack of keys, coming back to the desk with an ordinary looking key bearing the number "6". "Sign in here. It's forty dinars a night." He points to a faded blue covered guest book. He opens it and presents it to Dagny. A row of names and hometowns fills the current page. The last one on the page, above the next blank spot, is in a neat and precise script, and reads "Keane Delois, Sawall City." Next to Keane's meticulous entry, my signature was going to look like a graffiti scrawl, but I signed "Dagny Thorsonne, New York City" as best I could. As I did so, I scanned the other names and cities, as a point of interest, to see if I recognized any. Most of the names are not very noteworthy. Some of the names, though, are more interesting and recognizable or at least stand out: "McFly, Martin. Hill Valley, CA" "Sawyer, Thomas. St. Petersburg, Missouri." "Gates, Benjamin F. Annapolis, MD" "Jones, Doctor Henry. Utah." And finally: "Fett, Jango. Kamino City, Kamino." I accepted my key and picked up my overnight bag, which I had taken with me from the car. "Thanks. Can I please get a 7am wakeup call?" I asked. When I have received my reply, I head to my room... "Seven AM it is." The clerk says, and this leaves Dagny to head to her room. The room itself, once Dagny gets to it and inside, is a pretty typical motel room. King sized bed. Carpeting in a champagne color. Moderate sized TV set. Table and chairs. No mini-bar. Locking the door behind me, I dumped my gear and moved about the room, making myself comfortable, changing into sweats, etc. Succumbing to the effect the rigors of traveling had upon me, I pulled back the bedcovers, stretched out, and, with a sigh, fell asleep... And so Dagny sleeps. Without the aid of the phone message from the front desk clerk guy, Dagny finds herself waking. The sky outside is still dark. Before Dagny can decide to go back to sleep, however, of its own accord, the television set turns on. What plays must be a movie channel, since Dagny recognizes it as the 1980 version of Flash Gordon, the throne room on Mongo in fact. However, its not as Dagny remembers it. A woman, with blond hair and slightly elven looking ears, is sitting on Ming's throne. There is no sign of Flash, Aura, or any of the other primary characters in the scene. What's more, this woman seems to be looking directly at the camera. And then she speaks, addressing Dagny as if she can see her. "Dagny Thorsonne, daughter of King Luke of Kashfa, I presume." "Correct as usual, King Friday," I mumbled. Why does this shit always seem to happen to me? I threw off the covers and went to stand in front of the television. Focusing more, I added, "And I presume this was so important it couldn't wait till I was properly awake? If you knew enough to find me in my dreams, you could have looked up the phone number of the hotel and called me in the morning." "It is well." the woman says "that you are perceptive enough that you recognize that you are dreaming. Not all of your relations would be quite so savvy. But, then, few would be quite so impertinent as to attempt to compare me to a hand puppet. I do not even think that Fiona's son would dare so." "I'm sure that's because Fiona's son never found it necessary," I replied pleasantly. "I tend to be special like that." Around Dagny, the room has started to dissolve and change, as if Dagny were hellriding while standing in place. The room is slowly being changed to something much more like the throne room in the movie where Dagny's visitor is standing. Aw hell. What now? As the room starts to dissolve, I grab Mjolnir and sling him over my shoulder, readily available if needed. With the sword given to Dagny by Valerian firmly in hand, the changes and dissolve of the room seem a little less abrupt and sudden. They do not stop, however, and after a few moments, Dagny can see that the room around here is merely blending into the room that her dream visitor is in on the television. Instead of shadowwalking to the room, in effect, the world around Dagny, while in place, has become the other room. The blond haired woman stands up when she, and Dagny, are now together in the garish and overdone throne room. That was a neat trick. Wondered if I could learn it? "I recognize my nephew's handiwork well." the woman says once the changes are complete, with a wave of the hand toward Dagny's sword. "It pleases me that the short time I had to teach him have been fruitful." "I know your nephew's name, and you know my name, but I still haven't caught yours, and that hardly seems fair. *Who* are you? And, bonus question, *what* am I doing here?" "Fair enough questions. To answer the question you have not asked first, but perhaps resides in your mind." the woman says. "I know who you are through the dreams that you dream, like this one here. Some things are easier to discern than others." Hum. I wasn't sure how comfortable I was talking to a person who had eavesdropped on my dreams, and who might have a somewhat skewed idea of me based on, say, my dreams about George Clooney. "I have come seeking an arrangement of mutual benefit to us both." she says. "Shall I continue?" I crossed my arms over my chest. "I'm listening." "I have long since been, shall we say, out of matters." Cassandra begins. "I need help in the waking world, especially since my knowledge and influence in your universe are limited. I have waited and hesitated too long to act, and now I find I need aid to accomplish my goals." "You, Dagny, have run into my enemies, and they are your enemies as well, and that makes us potential allies. In addition, I can offer you knowledge and mentorship in return for aiding me." She smiles. "Turning your latent abilities at Dreamwalking into actual ability, for instance." I laughed. "You need help, and you're trying to tell me that /I'm/ the best you could come up with? Please. I find that very hard to believe. I think you've got another angle on this. You'd /have/ to." I studied Cassandra. "If you are who you say you are, and you are being completely aboveboard, I should think you'd have an army on your side, plus the majority of the Amber royal family. You wouldn't need me. Unless I had something particular you wanted. I'd like that explained, please." Cassandra reduces her smile to a more neutral expression. "I leave the army building and the majority of the social work to someone like Valerian, who is much more of a people person. And you are right, an army *is* needed, and I have no doubt that he is working on allies, many allies." Which, oddly enough, probably explained Mjolnir. Huh. The potential scope of this forward-thinking was making my head spin. I hadn't known then, but should have realized now, that nothing--NOTHING! these people did was out of kindness, or on a whim. There is always an angle. This reduced my beautiful dream-given gift to a well-placed incentive to vote for Team Valerian. And I had accepted it out of ignorance and naiveté. Now I felt stupid. "I, on the other hand, Dagny, have always preferred to work through a few choice people with the right...qualities." Dark blue eyes regard Dagny. "You do have something particular I want. I do understand that its almost certainly a deep and dark secret, and truthfully, I did not want to reveal that I knew it. I chose you Dagny, because of the qualities of your bloodline." "Not your paternal bloodline. Your maternal." I chuckled. "My maternal...my mother was a Shadow dweller. If you think anybody worth knowing has climbed out of that primordial ooze lately, you obviously haven't gone Shadowwalking recently. She was just some girl Luke took a fancy to, God knows why, for a little while. I think you must have me mixed up with someone else. Maybe one of Luke's other children." "I have not shadowwalked for a very long time, as you measure time." Cassandra says. "And not for a very long time as I measure time, either." she adds after a moment. "I understand your caution, if you indeed are merely feigning ignorance of your mother's true nature." That pissed me off. "I don't feign things," I said shortly. "I wouldn't bother to lie." "As you say." Cassandra replies. "But, then it is possible that she didn't tell you." Cassandra adds, and then makes a casual gesture with her finger... "I suppose its possible that Carol was unaware of her own nature herself." Cassandra adds. "And by extension, Luke. The signs are subtle, but I can see them in you." I was startled at her mention of my mother's name, and hoped it didn't show. How would she know such a thing, and why? "Signs of what? And what does this mirror have to do with anything?" "The mirror, Dagny, is to illustrate to you what I already have seen." Cassandra replies calmly. "Look." In the mirror, the reflection of Dagny looks just like her. At first. After a few moments, Dagny notices a very subtle change in her reflection's appearance. Her ears are slightly more pointed, and there is a very pale white glow around her entire body. A glance at her own body shows no such change. "I would guess that, briefly, while you walked the Pattern, you reverted to your true form, although you likely had more to worry about at the time." Cassandra adds. "Your mother was, and therefore you, Dagny are,one of the Raksha." "I'm a /what/ now?" This was really getting ridiculous. I looked at my reflection, and then back at Cassandra. I raised a suspicious eyebrow. "How do I know this isn't some manipulation of the dream?" "You are wise to be skeptical of any claims made in a place where I could just as easily make you appear with the ears of a donkey." Cassandra replies. "You're right, I could make any number of claims and make you appear as anything." she adds. "However, do remember the context of this was your line of questioning as to why I was so interested in *you*. And I urge you to discover for yourself the truth of what I say. I for one think that you deserve to know your own heritage." Cassandra gestures, and a pair of chairs appear, facing each other, both Louis XIV style, gilded She relaxes in one and folds her hands as she regards Dagny. Louis XIV style, indeed. As if I hadn't gotten my fill at Versailles. Well, now, dammit, whose dream was it? I concentrated and /willed/ the chair to become a nice, comfy wingback. It takes a moment of concentration and will, but the chair, like the second Terminator, morphs and changes to form the wingback that Dagny imagines. I give Cassandra a smug smile and eyebrow raise, and take my seat as primly as I know how, or as well as one can in sweatpants, a Rush tee, and white socks. "Natural talent." Cassandra comments. "In any event, Most of the Elder races are diminished, gone, sleeping, or changed now." Cassandra continues. "The Sidhe, the True Dragons, the Jaghut, the Tiste, the Thari..." "One of those Elder races, Dagny, were the Raksha." Cassandra finishes. I only recognized three names on the list, so I waited for Cassandra to continue. "Like many of the Elder Races, there is not much known about them and the realms they used to inhabit." Cassandra continues "I do know that Rakshastan, their original home, was an unstable and exotic set of realms between more stable shadows and the formlessness of Primal Chaos. Rakshastan was composed of realms where Meaning and Story held sway more than the laws of physics. They were the lords of these borderlands." "Naturally, as Powers such as the Pattern imprinted form and definition upon the universes, Dagny, these borderlands became less and less frequent and diminished in size, if not extinguished entirely. What became of the Raksha in the main, I only have theories. I have only encountered their like thrice before tonight." "So some must have escaped to Earth and adapted," I mused. "The question is, then, if what you are saying is true, whether Carol was one of those escapees, or if she was Raksha by heritage, like me. What are the Raksha supposed to be able to do? How would I recognize one in waking life? And what does this mean for me?" Cassandra laughs merrily. I didn't see what was so damn funny. Maybe her medication was wearing off. "I am hardly an expert on these matters, even if I know of them, Dagny Thorsonne." she responds. "I suspect that your recent Patternwalk will go far in allowing you to find other Raksha, or the converse." "You were enough of an expert to peg me as one," I pointed out, "and in my dreams no less." "For me, it is easier to peg you in dreams than outside of them." Cassandra replies. "As far as what they do." Cassandra continues "the Raksha are, above all, Shapers of what they are and what is. Elder Races such as the Raksha do not need or use designs of power. Their abilities in Shaping come from within and grow and develop as their scions do." "Your latent talents at Dreamwalking tie into that." Cassandra says. "And now you know the fullness of why I would see to mentor you." "Not really," I replied. "It is very kind of you to offer to hone whatever abilities, latent or otherwise, I may possess. What, exactly, do you get out of the deal? 'Aiding you' is an awfully vague term. What sort of 'aid' are we talking about here?" "Working toward mutually agreeable and similar goals." Cassandra begins. "Trading information. Not everyone dreams, and many have safeguards that I would prefer not to infiltrate, since the side effects can be detected. Knowing that the Emperor of Chaos, for example, is on the move against our mutual enemies is useful to me, if I cannot divine it through other means. Conversely, I may ask you from time to time to deliver a message or two, or supply you with knowledge that I *have* gleaned." "So, in essence, I'd be an interdimensional Gal Friday," I said. "Or the Amber version of /People/ magazine. 'Caught in the Act! Merlin, Emperor of Chaos, having dinner at Il Sole with a female companion. He sipped white wine and dined on the risotto with porcini mushrooms. Afterwards he was spotted dancing the night away at new LA hotspot /Widdershins/. "He can do a mean cabbage patch," commented one onlooker.'" I gave Cassandra a wicked grin. Cassandra blinks uncertainly. She pauses a moment, and clears her throat. What? I thought it was funny. "I'd like to take advantage of the opportunity to learn more about the Raksha. I have little doubt, Dagny." Cassandra says "that, now that you have walked the Pattern, that you may soon draw the attention of other Raksha, such as they still exist." Hum. I didn't know if I liked the sound of that. "If the Raksha are pre-Pattern beings, why would a Patternwalker interest them so much, or at all?" "Because, in the wake of the Logrus, Patterns and other Powers, the Elder Races lost much of their influence and range. Its a story that is reflected in shadow as a potent myth as well as resonation here in the Dreamlands. The Olympians overthrowing the Titans, for example." "You, Dagny" Cassandra continues "have both Elder Race blood AND a Pattern Imprint. That's a combination that will be noticed." "I suspect though" Cassandra continues. "that your instincts are to tell me to bug off, and to leave your dream, and leave you alone." She gives a nod of the head. "While I think an alliance can be mutually beneficial, I have no desire for an unwilling ally. Should you choose to decline my offer, and later change your mind, I am sure you can think of ways to contact me." I laughed a genuine, good-natured laugh. "You /have/ been paying attention to my dreams, haven't you? Well, as much as I like to be left alone to sleep in peace, I also like to confound expectations. Let's consider this a freelance deal, on both our parts, and see how it goes." "Fair enough." Cassandra replies. "Then my first counsel and lesson to you is to find and choose what Dreamers call a focus object...Once you have chosen the object, sleep with it nearby, casting your thoughts each night as you drift toward sleep of the object, so that it binds itself to you." "Ooookay, focus object. I can do that. Now, will you always contact me through my dreams, or do you choose more mundane means? How do I contact you?" "It is unfortunate that we are distant enough that a face to face meeting at this time is exceedingly unlikely And unless you have prodigious talents and resources, reaching me by esoteric means in the mundane world is just as unlikely, Dagny." "No, for now, we will communicate in this fashion. As far as that goes, let's consider that a project for you to work on, when you start your initial forays into Dreamwalking." Cassandra smiles. "See if you can find me. Good luck." She rises from the Louis XIV chair and like the cheshire cat, slowly and silent fades away. "Show-off," I muttered. Now I was stuck with the problem of how to get out of here. I wondered if, when I woke up, I would still be tired, since my consciousness was obviously running around this Dreamworld instead of resting. So, what to do now? Click my heels together three times? Somehow, I didn't think that would work. Instead, I /willed/ myself awake, for a start. Dagny seems to get it in one. Willing herself awake causes the room around her, chair and all, to dissolve as softly and silently as Cassandra just did. Once everything is gone, the entire scene fades to a merciful black. And with that, Dagny falls into a long and dreamless sleep. She is awoken, at last, by the sound of a telephone ringing, which slowly rouses her to wakefulness. Oh, screw. #&#$ing telephone. As it rings, I roll over in bed and check the clock. I'm guessing this is my wake-up call. Sitting up, I reach over and pick up the handset. "Hello?" A recorded voice, female, and slightly scratchy sounding responds. "Good morning. This is your." There is a slight pause "seven ayy emm" Pause. "Wake up call. Good morning. This is your" "seven ayy emm" "Wake up call." "Good morning..." The message seems set to repeat indefinitely. Fortunately, although Dagny had a long night in the Dreamlands, her loss of rest is not as severe as she might have feared. A little less than fully rested? Sure. Nothing that some caffeine wouldn't fix. I replaced the phone on the cradle, rubbed my eyes, and set about showering and getting ready for the day. About 45 minutes later I slung Mjolnir over my shoulder and set out across the parking lot, heading for the Victory Diner. A red SUV towing a large trailer, a few cars and a semi are in the parking lot this morning as Dagny crosses over to the diner. Inside, the truck driver, with a green cap proclaiming his love of the "Danver Griffins" nurses a coffee and a plate of food at the counter. The largest concentration of people are three adults, two men and a woman, a short teenaged boy with dark hair, and a little girl with curls, four or five years old. One of the men and the woman are looking over a map, the teenaged boy is listening to something on headphones. The other adult, with glasses,is helping the girl color in a book, with crayons. He looks up at Dagny and furrows his eyebrows as if trying to place her. He gives her a smile before looking back down and resuming coloring with the girl. Do I recognize him or the girl? Is my spider sense tingling? I decide that the man's nose is extremely itchy and wait to see what he does. Dagny's spider sense as it were is not tingling. As far as recognizing them, Dagny has the sense that she *should* recognize the guy, but who he is...she doesn't know. Her attempt at Pattern Manipulation, though, seems to fail. Or, he resists the urge to scratch his nose. That I did not like. I disliked that I could not place this man's face, and I VERY much disliked that he was not doing what I wanted him to do. "Good morning, Dagny. I thought it impolite to even order before you did." Keane responds, lightly brandishing his own copy of the menu. "However" he continues "the delights of the coffee plant are not widely known where I come from, so I could not resist having a cup while waiting for you to arrive." "That's very gallant of you," I said with a smile. "I hope you haven't been waiting long." Keane shakes his head. "No" He gestures to his coffee cup. "His Majesty the Emperor enjoys it." Keane says. "So there is a small cultivation of it within the House now." And there, unexpectedly, it was. He was a Chaosian. I leaned back in my seat and regarded him with more interest. I hadn't met one of these before. "It's good stuff," I replied. "It ought to be everyone's national drink." For a moment my desire to get immediately down to business debated with my need for coffee, and in the end, breakfast won out. I signaled the waitress. The waitress comes over, gamely. "Ready to order?" she asks in an accent somewhere south of Minnesota and north of the Mason Dixon line. "Yes." Keane says. "I will have the stack of silver dollar pancakes, a serving of sausage, and a glass of orange juice. And definitely more coffee." In the meantime, the family, including the man resistant to Dagny's Pattern Manipulation, have picked up and are leaving the Diner. The waitress turns to Dagny expectantly. I pulled myself away from the momentary distraction of the departing man. I decided to limit myself to one crisis at a time. I'd track him down later. "Sounds good," I said to the waitress. "Make it two...but I'd like apple juice instead, please." "Sure thing." she says in a corn-fed Iowan accent. Maybe Missouri or Kansas instead. After the waitress leaves, I will make small talk with Keane until the food arrives, unless he changes the subject. Keane keeps it light until the food comes, speaking of the weather, the quality of the inn, and the strange patrons at the diner. Fortunately, for the purposes of solving the problem of local hunger, the wait for food doesn't take very long. Healthy portions are placed in front of the two of them, and Keane enthusiastically tucks into the food in front of him. He looks up at her, as if expecting Dagny to initiate the conversation in earnest. I smiled. "I think you said you had a story to tell me, about how you came to be here. I'd love to hear it." "I did." Keane says, stopping his overt eating and regarding Dagny with a returned smile. "Once upon a time, an expedition of Chaosians set out into Shadow in order to find some fostered scions of our House." Keane begins. "As someone who was raised in Shadow yourself, you can appreciate that being raised far from the center of power provides a unique outlook, and a unique set of skills not always available at the heart of things." "I could write a book," I murmured. "Not long after this expedition started, a disaster struck, a shadow-wide event of some magnitude. Things were in flux and contact was lost with the expedition. Given the importance of their mission, following up on their fate is the right thing to do. However, given the damage and reconstruction needed in the wake of the disaster, the second expedition must need work on mean resources." "Those mean resources consist entirely of myself, Dagny Thorsonne. I have come out into shadow seeking those scions of my House, or at the very least, their fate." "You are the second unusual traveller that I have met on my journeys in pursuit of that goal." Keane says, and with that, takes another couple of bites of pancake. "The second?" I repeated. "And here I thought I was one of a kind. I may decide that my feelings are hurt." I sipped my coffee. "But tell me the truth, I have a prettier smile than she did, don't I?" I demonstrated for Keane's benefit. "Given that the other traveler was a male, and I have a two thirds proclivity toward heterosexuality, I can say that your smile is prettier, yes." Keane replies. Well, at least I knew now it was a guy, and less attractive than I, at least by Keane's standards. I could always flip through my Trump deck later to pinpoint likely suspects. "That's not much of an endorsement," I answered, my eyebrow raised. "A partial reflection of one of the two major imprints of reality is interesting. I had not realized they existed out this far from Amber. I would say that the investigation of one, especially if it were viable, would be of no small interest to me, Dagny Thorsonne." "They /don't /exist this far out, as far as I know," I replied. "Like I said, I'm heading towards it. And I'm not really investigating it, just sort of cruising by." I debated telling Keane about the Omphalos, but decided against it for the time being. I really didn't know anything about him, except for a biographical fact that was just too much information, too soon. I toyed with telling him the date of my last period and my favorite brand of tampon, just so we'd be even. I shrugged instead. "Not much of interest in the Shadow. I have to warn you, lovely as I am as a breakfast companion, I can almost guarantee you I'm not nearly as much fun to travel with. I'm difficult, and I like to set my own pace. And I'm opinionated about the music on the radio. I have a feeling," I smiled, "that you'll break off on your own sooner than you are anticipating right now." Keane regards Dagny for a long moment. With a tight lipped expression, he regards his breakfast companion. Finally, he speaks. "It would appear that I have made a serious social misjudgement, Dagny Thorsonne, and have offended you unduly. A terrible habit of mine, and it has spoilt any basis for a mutually agreeable partnership." "I apologize for the..." Keane stops his words in mid sentence as the bell at the door indicates that there are new patrons. In particular, three imposing looking men, with blue double breasted suits and orange-tinted sunglasses. Keane's attention turns from Dagny to them. Alarm spreads across his face. "Found one!" booms the voice of one of the men as they begin to draw weapons that look like a cross between a pistol and a sawed-off shotgun. I looked at Keane sharply. "Friends of yours?" Keane is rising from his seated position already, a hard look in his eyes. Without waiting for a reply, I shift my skin, hardening and densifying it as protection against bullets. As I do this, I stand up and, grabbing the table in front of me, wrench it from its bolts and hurl it at the men. Depending on the size of the table and how close the men are bunched up, I will aim to hit all of them if possible. I will then draw Mjolnir and rush forward into mêlée range. Dagny is able to shift herself as desired. The table is heavy and bolted down, and it groans under the effort of wrenching it out of its bolts and hefting it for a throw. One of the men sidesteps slightly and fires his weapon as Dagny's table launches in the air, the other two move to try and get out of the way of the unlikely missile. With the musical tone of B flat, and with the smell of a beach, something faster than the eye comes out of the gun and strikes Keane in the shoulder and staggers him backward... The trajectory of Dagny's response, however, is only moderately favorable from Dagny's purposes, catching one of the dodging men and knocking him against a nearby wall, pinning him. The third man leaps onto the counter and levels his weapon at Keane. The first one, the who fired the weapon, backpedals with his drawn gun to line up a shot at the approaching Dagny. Swearing a string of blasphemous and anatomically impossible curses in several different languages, I changed direction, rushed forward and take a swipe at the legs of the guy standing on the counter. If I can down him, I will grab him and haul him at Mr. Trigger Finger. "Leave at least one of them alive!" I call out to Keane. "No promises!" Keane calls back. Dagny's swipe of the counter-standing assailant is unexpected, and more vicious than he expects. Ichor of a color not quite that of blood is released from his wound as Dagny's swipe shallowly catches both legs just below the knee. Angrily, he kicks a plate in Dagny's direction, which only prevents Dagny from grabbing him rather than actually hurting him. In the meantime, Keane says something, and Dagny is momentarily deafened by the passage of a force, and sound, as if she were standing next to a train speeding by. This force strikes Mr. Trigger Finger, who manages a wild shot, with that same musical tone. This shot only muses the hair of his target--Dagny. The impact, auditory and otherwise, of whatever Keane threw at the assailant causes him to drop his strange gun. "Damn, Keane!" I called out admiringly. Mr. Trigger Finger is still ambulatory but has just lost his weapon. The counter dancing man is bleeding from wounds and trying to regroup his position. The third, hit by the table, is either knocked out by the table's impact, or is lying doggo. Cursing, I angle Mjolnir upwards, and try to stab the guy on the counter in the gut. I really wanted to keep one of them alive, and it seemed like the guy lying on the floor was going to be it. The counter dancing man tries to tap dance his way out of Dagny's blade. Dagny is just fast enough to wound him again, with a moderate thrust into the suited assailant. With a gurgle, he falls backward, pinwheeling end over end as he falls behind the counter. "We'll see how you fare next time, Sawall!" the leader shouts. Keane throws another of those sonic balls, but the leader is retreating, leaving the scene through the front door in a backpedal, and while he is grazed by the shot, he manages to turn around and stumble out of the diner. A groan comes from the man hit by the table. "Have to keep him from pulling himself out, too!" Keane shouts to Dagny. "I'm on it!" Turning away from the guy collapsed behind the counter, I raced over to the overturned table and rolled it off the guy, checking first to make sure the damn gun wasn't leveled at my head. Keane moves forward to check the status of the assailant dropped behind the counter as Dagny moves to the man hit by her table. The table is easy to remove, revealing that the eyeglasses on the man have broken and fallen away. His gun, too, is just out of reach. Instead, like a serpent, he raises his head up suddenly and spits at Dagny. Dagny is fast enough to see it coming and keep it from hitting her eyes, the intended target, However, the spittle, acidic and caustic, painfully hits her in the throat. "AHHHHH!!!!! F---!!!!!" I screeched. I resisted the urge to clutch at my throat and hysterically brush the stuff away. Instead, I focused my pain and anger on the--/thing/--in front of me. If I could have made his head explode, I would have, and gladly, and it wasn't for the sake of not trying. "You f---ing Shadowdwelling bastard," I growled from between clenched teeth, "you are going to be sorry you did that." Ignoring the pain, and hoping that my newly hardened skin would protect me long enough, I quickly sprouted Wolverine-type claws, leaned in, and slashed the guy across the face, not caring if his eyes were in the path of destruction. Snickety-snick, asshole. Dagny's fingers change to more claw like digits, and the attacker growls as they rake across his face. Wounds open up across his face for the first couple of inches of the rake, until Dagny's claws find less capable purchase. The face of the assailant has started to change, harden and toughen. His eyes, too, have turned bloodshot. His arm shoots up to grab Dagny's arm to try and pull her hand free. The acid still burns on Dagny's throat but has not, yet, gone through her enhanced skin. Behind her, Dagny hears a last gurgling cry from the attacker who fell behind the counter. I knocked his hand away. "Hear that, twinkle toes?" I hissed, /willing/ him to stop fighting. "That was my friend killing your buddy. You don't wanna be next, right? You listen to me. Now get up." I haul him upright bodily and drag him over to one of the tables. He doesn't seem to respond to Dagny at first. However, as moments pass, he slackens, submissively. Defeated, dejected and denied, he doesn't resist as Dagny manhandles him over to one of the tables in the now otherwise-deserted Victory Diner. Keane steps over as the suit-dressed assailant looks with obvious fear and distrust in his eyes. Which have changed color from a neutral gray to a blood red in the time it has taken for Dagny to get him in a pinned position. "I think." Keane says to the pinned man. "That I will let my associate lead the interrogation. After all, all I would likely do is just kill you." The fear in the man's red eyes is palpable as he looks from Keane back to Dagny. "Interrogation? Nah. I doubt that'll be necessary." I turned the entirety of my attention to Keane, deliberately ignoring the beast in the chair. "Just a chat. Poor guy. His one buddy's dead, and it turns out his fearless leader was not so fearless after all, turned tail and left him behind for dead. If I were this guy, I'd be anxious as anything to get out of here alive, and hunt him down for betraying me. I might even give my enemies enough information to exact revenge /for/ me, so my hands wouldn't even have to get dirty." The burning at my throat reminded me that I had a slightly more urgent situation that needed to be resolved immediately. "I've gotta take care of this. Don't kill him while I'm gone. And you--" I looked directly at the guy in the chair, "don't move." I grabbed a glass of milk off a nearby table and headed into the bathroom. Dagny can feel the eyes of the assailant follow her as she heads toward the bathroom. There, I remove my shirt and pour the milk over the burning on my throat, and generally clean myself up. If I am successful in stopping the acid, I will shift my skin back to normal and examine the damage in the mirror. I will dress myself again and head back out. Milk proves to be more effective than water in neutralizing and washing away the acid. And indeed, with a couple of minutes of work and cleaning up, the sting of the acid fades. Shifting back to normal, the damage looks like a very bad sunburn. Peeling skin is certain. Blisters are fairly likely. However, there appears to be no signs of more serious damage to her skin or deeper in her. I gently touched the skin at the burn site. Crap. And ouch. I wondered if a turtleneck would suit me. I didn't think I had enough of a Scooby-doo vibe to pull off a neckerchief. "Are...are...they gone?" comes the voice of a woman from within one of the bathroom stalls. It sounds like the waitress. I started, clutching my shirt to my chest. Oh. Dressing quickly, I answered, "Not all of them. And it's kind of a mess out there. I'd stay in there for now if I were you." Going over to the stall, I knocked on the door. It takes a moment or two for her to open the door, carefully, cautiously. It is the waitress who not so long ago was serving Dagny and Keane breakfast. Her eyes are wide with fear, which soften slightly at seeing Dagny. I smile at her. "Smart of you to hide in the ladies' room, though. Try peeking your head out in about fifteen minutes." If she has nothing more to say, I will go back outside. "Fift...Fifteen minutes." the waitress stammers with a nod. The stall door closes just before Dagny leaves the bathroom. Dagny comes out of the bathroom to find Keane still standing over the suited assailant. "Toanui Jesby here awaits your...chat." Keane says with a feral, toothy grin with far too many teeth for a human mouth. Whoa. "I realized that we only have a few minutes until what passes for 'authorities' in this Shadow arrive, so we should probably move this to someplace else," I said to Keane. "But before we do," I turned to our prisoner, "Toanui, if you're really going to make me ask...who sent you, and why?" The prisoner gulps. He looks from Dagny to Keane and back again. "Tell her which House you're looking for, Toanui." Keane growls. "H...House Sawall. You're of that House too, aren't you?" Toanui says to Dagny. I laughed heartily. Oho! This was rich. I was being mistaken for a Chaosian. I figured I'd ignore his question and allow him to continue to labor under his delusion awhile longer. "This is an unexpected turn of events," I said to Keane. I turned back to Toanui. "And I take it that when you found the, ahem, /scions,/ your purpose was to eliminate them? Why would you do such a thing?" Toanui looks incredulously at Dagny. "You know the Laws of Chaos as well as I do." Do I, now? I nearly retorted, but held my tongue. "A Chaosian who is fostered in the veils of shadow like a cuckoo is no Chaosian at all, if they've never been to the Courts." "Then they should be no threat to you," I replied flatly. "And you go about your life." "And how better to weaken an enemy House than to deprive it of those Scions it has secreted so far away?" Toanui continues. "If one is not caught in the process of course." "How better indeed. Pure genius. The minds behind this must be the same ones that get involved in land wars in Asia," I said drily, with a derisive twist of my mouth. Honestly. Why not just dress up like greasers and socs and dance around pretending to be Ponyboy and Bob Sheldon, and get it over with? Toanui looks puzzled and confused by Dagny's response. "You just wasted my time for the sake of an adolescent inter-House pissing contest. I am going to have to walk around with chemical burns--on my neck, no less--because of this/ nonsense/." Now I was ticked off. "You are creating your own monsters here, brain wave. If you're these real, big, bad Chaosians, than these fostered Scions should be considered offal and not worthy of your attention. Because you chase after them like a desperate psycho ex-girlfriend, you are admitting they have some power over you, and you must eliminate them from the equation. That means you are /weak/." I spat out that last word, and looked over at Keane. Alarm and perhaps recognition starts to cross Toanui's face. Keane turns calmly to look at Dagny in response. "This creature is scum. We need to figure out what to do with him and how to do it, and for that we need time. I suppose we can leave the body for the Shadowfolk to dispose of." I thought of something, and snickered. "If they do an autopsy, they'll have a right little Roswell on their hands. I don't know how you traveled here," I continued, "but my car is across the parking lot. We can take that out into Shadow and come back later for our stuff." I opened my wallet and pulled out a huge wad of the local currency, and separated it into two unequal piles. The larger pile I left on the counter, but I wrapped the smaller, still substantial amount in a napkin, quickly located a pen, and wrote:/ For the waitress in the bathroom. Thanks for the coffee. Sorry about the mess. "/Unless you have another suggestion, of course," I finished. / "I am not a cold blooded murderer." Keane replies. "Although, I was attacked with prejudice by this one." He looks over at Toanui for a moment. "So my advice is simply to bind him and leave him for the local constabulary. We then move quickly to gather our possessions and we shift through veils quickly." "I wasn't necessarily suggesting we kill him. I was thinking more of an inter-Shadow snipe hunt, maybe," I said. "But your idea is fine with me." Keane gives a nod. "What...what are you, really?" Toanui asks Dagny in a shivering voice. "I am no one to be trifled with. That is all you'll ever need know," I replied. I looked at Keane. "Summon your bonds, please. I'd like to get out of here." And then Dagny feels it. The feeling when watching a well made horror movie. A feeling of dread and creeping uneasiness, from her head to her spine. A feeling that screams of alienness and wrongness coming from Keane. An unnatural, for lack of a better word, use of power and energy. Out of that feeling though, and whatever Keane does, appears a coil of rope in his hands, black nylon and thick. I shuddered involuntarily, and looked at Keane wide-eyed. Did other people experience this feeling when I conjured stuff up? I didn't think so. Whatever he just did, he was going to have to explain it. Keane does not immediately stop to explain although he clearly notes Dagny's reaction. So stopped, he puts up no more resistance as Keane binds Toanui's arms to his torso, and then his legs, both above and below the knee. Keane might not be from Earth, but he certainly could get a merit badge from the boy scouts in tying ropes and knots. Toanui's only response, once trussed up, is a soft whimper and a futile attempt to escape his bonds. I take a look out of one of the diner windows. If the place is surrounded by cops or whatever, I will notify Keane. "Bye-bye, dahling," I said to Toanui. "Have fun." "What say we go back to the motel, get our stuff, and meet outside the front door in 15 minutes," I suggest to Keane. Assuming the authorities have not arrived, with a "see ya there," I will turn on Mind Masque, slip out the front door, and, breaking into a light jog, head back to the motel. "Fifteen minutes." Keane agrees. Outside, as Keane and Dagny head toward the hotel, there is as yet no sign of the authorities whatsoever. Keane heads toward the motel in an ordinary fashion, although with a quick pace. Dagny can see that he beats her to the motel, and has taken a room not far away from the one that she chose herself. Dagny's room, and her possessions, are undisturbed when she enters. I hurried around the room, collecting my things and stuffing them in the duffel bag, used the facilities (ahem), and left a tip for housekeeping (not that they had done anything yet, mind you). As I headed back downstairs, I wondered what sort of form my car should/would take. I needed something with elbow room for the two of us and our junk, and my little Alfa, beautiful though it is, would not provide such a thing. By the time Dagny exits the motel, Keane is waiting for her. He's carrying a large cylindrical case, with brass fittings, over his shoulder. "I admit to curiosity and anticipation in traveling with a scion of Amber." Keane says. "Although I suggest that we get moving.The local constabulary will not be...detained for much longer." He smiles widely. "Oh, that was you?" I asked carelessly. "Nice one." I motion to him. "Over here." I lead Keane over to my car, unlock it and toss my bag in the back, motioning to Keane to do the same. "I don't recall mentioning anything about Amber, actually, but we can discuss that on the road." "Indeed, while I may have misstepped in our conversation, I can hope that we might repair and restore our standing to each other." Keane says. In slipping in and out of her motel room, her car has changed subtly, although not to a large degree. It's a two seater, somewhat wider but not less sporty than her former car. It occurs to Dagny that movement and motion are hallmarks of Pattern changes, and altering the car as she drives would be much easier to accomplish. After a moment's hesitation, Keane places his cylindrical case in the trunk. I slide into the front seat and quickly acquaint myself with the controls, if they have changed any. Putting the car into gear I take to the road, but not before I flip on the radio and power up the iPod. "Hope you don't mind Rush and Barenaked Ladies," I said to Keane, as the first notes of "Far Cry" pound out of the speakers.... "You speak of the music." Keane says uncertainly after a few strains of the drumming and distinctive lyrics of Rush fill the air. I laughed. "I do indeed." The shifting away from the Fork in the Road and the Victory Diner goes easily and quickly. There are no signs of police or anything else by the time Dagny has shifted several times. Dagny passes by a blue sign with white lettering saying "Paris" and a red bar with the white letters "A 60". "So" Keane prompts. "You wanted to discuss matters." "I did. You--rather astutely, I might add--guessed that I was raised in Shadow, though I'm obviously not a Shadowperson. But calling myself a 'scion' of Amber might be pushing it a little. 'Bastard offspring' might be more accurate. I've more or less been bumming around Shadow for the past few years...I think you're actually the first Real person I've met that I'm not related to." "I see" Keane says, his eyebrows furrowed in thought. "Now, I wanted to ask...why did Toanui in there think that I was one of you Sawalls? and what was that /THING/ you did in there?" "Fair questions." Keane says. He leans back, letting the wind blow through his hair for a few moments before responding. In the meantime Rush has switched to singing about the Temple of Syrinx. "Toanui clearly marked me as a Sawall, perhaps by appearance or by intuition of some sort." Keane begins. "Since you were in my company in a companionable manner, and proved to have skills and abilities beyond, as you call them, a Shadowperson, he made the deduction that you must be a Sawall as well." "So the Sawalls stick together?" I mused. "I guess based on what I saw back there, the Chaos Intramural Softball League must not have a lot of members." "I am not sure what you mean." Keane says uncertainly. I shook my head. "Bad joke. I meant that since you all apparently don't get along, there aren't many pleasant inter-House activities that don't end in violence. Like friendly sporting events, for instance. So you tend to stick to your group." "We all serve the Emperor." Keane replies. "However, within that the Houses strive to outdo their rivals and gain in power and prestige." I wasn't sure why, but I suddenly found myself thinking of the 2004 presidential election campaign. "To answer your second question." Keane continues with a puzzled expression "I have the honor and privilege of having survived an initiation into the Logrus. What you felt, and what confirms that you are a child of Amber, is my use of the Logrus in the denouement of our auto-da-fe to retrieve the rope." "What is the Logrus?" I asked, curious. "How did you retrieve the rope? Was it like conjuration?" Keane smiles. "I was under the impression that all of the scions of Amber were taught about, and taught to fear the Logrus." he then says. "See, you're back at that scion thing again," I smiled. "Not me." "The Logrus is the home of the Serpent of Chaos, although not all who traverse it meet the Serpent, or at least remember it." Keane continues. "The imprint allows one access to the universe, in a way analogous but very different than the Pattern, Dagny." "That rope was sitting in a veil, a shadow nearby. I summoned it here, with a Logrus tendril." Keane explains. "Should I choose instead, I might pull us through shadow by affixing a tendril at a destination and pulling us and the car toward it." "Huh!" That was actually pretty neat. "Is that how you ended up at the Victory Diner without transportation...you just, sort of, grappled your way there?" i thought about it for a moment. "Why there?" "That is a long story, Dagny Thorsonne." Keane says. "However, the Serpent may allow our journey together to be a long and fruitful one." "In order to properly answer, I must first ask a question." Keane begins. "Have you recently experienced the aftereffects, or even the direct experience, of a strange Storm in Shadow?" "I heard about it secondhand," I replied. "Why?" "It's tied to the motivation for the reason I am out in shadow, and why, as you asked, I was at the Victory Diner." Keane replies. The Barenaked Ladies start singing about a million dollars and still eating Kraft dinner as Keane continues. "That Storm was much more severe at the Chaos pole." Keane says. "Enough that it caused considerable damage to a number of Houses." "Not long before that Storm, however, two scions of my House had been sent out to find a pair of fosterlings in Shadow. You see, Dagny, we do use Shadow on occasion to allow members of the House to grow up away from the politics of the Courts for a while, just as you grew up away from Amber. However, we always send for them in time and introduce them to the House." "There is concern in Sawall that the scions sent to retrieve the fosterlings, as well as the fosterlings themselves, might have suffered harm from the Storm. And then we were told." a glint comes in his eye "that House Jesby sent agents to find the fosterlings first." "And so *I* was sent, to assess the truth of these matters. I was following a shadow trail and was drawn to that shadow." Keane finishes. "Then were those Jesbys following you, or were they following the same Shadow trail you were?" I wondered aloud. "It's possible that a rumor was deliberately started, so that one of you Sawalls would lead the Jesbys to the scions, and they could wipe you all out at once. Which could be what they just tried to do there at the diner, if they thought I was one of the missing scions." "It is possible that House Sawall is a victim of deliberate misinformation." Keane says carefully after a few moments thought. "However, it was soon time for the two fosterlings to be brought to the Courts in any event. At least, as far as I have been told." he adds wryly. "I am no high noble of the House to be privy to *everything*, or even most things, that my House does." "I do have a title." Keane adds quickly. "Just not a high one." "Makes no difference to me," I replied. "Think what you will, but I don't have a title either." I drove for a bit, listening to the lively Canadian-themed music. "So what next? I can drop you off somewhere on my way, unless you really have a burning desire to see Shadow Versailles." Keane says nothing for a few moments. He regards Dagny. "Our conversation on such matters in the restaurant were interrupted by the untimely arrival of the Jesby." Keane replies. He speaks slowly and carefully as if every word were from a minefield he was stepping gingerly through. "I sense that I have made an error in our initial dealings. And I will
not do you the disservice of making a greater point of the likely source
of tension." Keane says. "Or, perhaps, you do truly prefer to work
alone. I do not know you well enough to judge."
"In either case, I would rather us depart on moderately good terms, Dagny, instead of my continuing to be poor company." Keane says finally. I took my eyes off the road long enough to glance over at Keane. "Has nothing to do with that. I just don't know how urgently you need to find your scions." I also didn't know how wise it would be to bring one of these Chaosians around one of Corwin's Broken Patterns. Were they even supposed to know they existed? "After I visit this Shadow we're headed to, I may have to leave immediately." Keane gives a bare nod, but continues to listen without interruption. I would Trump Corwin after seeing how his Pattern was doing, I decided. It had been a few days. "There's also kind of a...situation...in that Shadow. It's being invaded by these, um, creatures called Omphalos who, as I understand it, intend to destroy our universe as it currently exists. Not the safest situation, and one we might not be able to extricate ourselves from easily if their army has advanced to where I need to go. So it's really your call. As of right now," I said with a bit of a smile, "I don't mind the company." "Omphalos." Keane looks alert at the mention of the name. Undisguised interest is in his eyes, but his voice is of a modulated and smooth timbre. "Would these Omphalos be those who employ Gates in the form of bronze doors in order to move their sorcerers and military forces?" "That would be they, yes," I confirmed. "I take it you've run into them before?" "Not directly." Keane says. "One of these Doors appeared at the edge of the Courts some time ago. I was part of a group sent by his Majesty to put it in stasis and study it. Eventually, several members of your family, in a deal with our Emperor, traveled through it to perform reconnaissance on the Omphalos realm." "They are as much the enemies of the Courts as they are of the Kingdom of Amber." he adds. "I should think so!" I said to his last statement. "You were able to put the Door in stasis? Do you know who it was that went through the Door?" "I participated with the team that did so." Keane confirms with a nod. "And I do know who went through the Door." Keane pauses, regards Dagny and then smiles. "Ah, you wish me to *tell* you." he says with a serious tone that belies his smile. Smart ass. I gave Keane a "ha-ha, very funny" smile. "Sent through the door were three of your Family." Keane says. "The redhaired Brandeigh Fionasdottir, the tall and brooding Percival Deirdresdottir, and an adjunct to your General Benedict, Larissa." Brandeigh and Percy! She had mentioned that they had gone through a Door, but not much else. I also had no idea that this had been done through "official" channels. "Larissa I know not at all, but I have met Brandeigh and Percy," I said. Keane gives a nod as Dagny continues. "And I'll tell you this, since they didn't know, and you might not either--the Omphalos have this giant creature/thing called a Talos that I assume wasn't there for peaceful purposes. I Shadowshifted before I was able to see what it could do, though." "A Talos" Keane considers this as the music briefly shifts to more Rush. "The name suggests a golem of some kind." he says. "A construct, perhaps." he theorizes aloud. "Tell me more about what else you faced in this shadow to which we are driving." Keane asks. "Or do you have more questions first?" "An explosion interrupted my morning constitutional," I explained, "and when I went to check it out there was an army pouring out of this Door. There was a woman who was apparently in charge of the operation, and she seemed to know that there were 'enemy spellcasters' in the Shadow. Whether she meant me or local-born magic users, I don't know." "Much of what the scions of both Poles do can be considered spell casting." Keane observes. I pressed the fast forward on my iPod and found Rush's "Natural Science." /Wheels upon wheels in a spiral array/A pattern so grand and complex/Time after time we lose sight of the way/Our causes can't see their effects.../ Hmm. "I didn't care to get involved, so I cut out and headed towards this city called Versailles, which I found to be the place of the Broken Pattern. It was postulated later that the Omphalos invaded that Shadow purposely because of the Broken Pattern's presence. Which is why it could get messy quickly once we arrive there." Keane nods. "So you were in shadow, the Door and the Omphalos army appears, you head to Versailles, in the same veil, where you found this Broken Pattern." "That's it in a nutshell," I agreed. "How and why did you leave there for the shadow of the Road, if I might be so bold as to ask." Keane asks. "Did you traverse the Broken Pattern?" "God no!" I exclaimed. "No effing way. Once was more than enough. And you can be as bold as you like," I smiled. "Why do you want to know?" "Arcane curiosity." Keane replies. "I wanted to know if the Broken Pattern in this Shadow Versailles is stable enough to be traversed." "No idea," I replied. "If you had walked the Broken Pattern, it would provide more haste and urgency to countering the Omphalos. Their mages and scions having imprints of the Broken Pattern would not be a favorable development." "Obviously I don't know if it's different with your Logrus, but it is my understanding that if you're not an Amberite, the Pattern destroys you," I said. "So if these Omphalos are from a completely different universe, I don't see how they could walk it." Keane drums his fingers on the dashboard. "Not broken for much longer. Fixed? What do you mean? You think that the Omphalos are going to repair that Pattern somehow?" "Ha ha...no," I chuckled. "Not to put too fine a point on it, but someone with way more knowledge and ability than I in these matters is apparently going to attempt an indirect repair of some kind. Aside from that, I know no details.""I see" Keane says. "It would not be wise to have a repaired Pattern that the Omphalos could use to walk, or have previously walked personages employ, or used for dark purposes." Keane says. I frowned, considering what Keane had said. "Hum. Do you think that they'd still be able to walk it, once it's been repaired? I thought you said that the fact that it's broken is what allows them to walk it." "Well, yes." Keane replies. "It increase the probability of a successful walk immensely. "However, this repair of which you speak may change its properties. Just as a repair of a joint can lead to a weakness at that joint thereafter. I was merely speculating that a Pattern, repaired, might still not have the same entrance requirements as an original." "Enough speculation for now." Keane says. "I think something is coming." I take stock of what's going on Shadowwise. Anything happening? Providentially, since Keane and Dagny have had a long conversation, the shifting of shadow has not cut it short. Now that Dagny takes a look at their progress, she can see that the car is indeed in the close vicinity of the shadow Paris with the Broken Pattern. She may not be in that shadow yet, but the signs are in a readable French, and signs point the way to Paris a few hundred kilometers ahead. What IS interesting though is that Dagny can see ahead a large lighter than air vehicle which is following the road in the opposite direction than Dagny and Keane. The vehicle is at a height of about a thousand feet. A zeppelin. What Dagny notices though, as they approach closer is that the Zeppelin is starting a descent, and a plane seems to be launching from it. "I don't know how good your eyes are," I said to Keane, "but can you make out any details of that plane?" Pulling the car over to the side of the road, I conjure up a pair of binoculars and hand them to him. Assuming it works, "If there's a guy in a brown fedora flying that thing and an old man in a tweed hat manning the gun, we've got nothing to worry about, but otherwise I want to know what's going on there." I then conjure up a pair for myself, and take a look... Keane stands up in the seat of the parked car and leans forward, scrutinizing the zeppelin and the discharging plane. Dagny's binoculars materialize quickly and easy, and she can look at the zeppelin and plane. The plane has a single, young, pilot, with dark hair and dressed in early 20th century pilot gear, complete with goggles. The symbols on the wings, though, are distinctive and known to Dagny. The symbols are a pair of opening, bronze colored doors. I was going to have to think about the potential ramifications of the Omphalos walking a repaired Pattern later. It was probably too late to do anything about it anyway. I hissed a stream of curse words and looked at Keane. "What do we do now?" "We are not going to let these invaders dissuade us. Or kill us, of course." Keane says. The plane has picked up speed and clearly has started to set up for what looks like a strafing run on Dagny, Keane and her car. It will be here in a minute, maybe a minute and a half. "We fight. And we win." Keane says, his jaw hardening. "You helped me with the Jesbys and we worked well together. Now, together, Dagny Thorsonne, we will stop these jumped-up pretenders to interdimensional empire." Dagny can see Keane's eyes turn a stormy blue color. My thoughts jumped wildly to and fro as I considered our options. "As long as we stay in the car the bullets can't hurt us," I told Keane, "The car is warded." Keane replies with a nod. "So it's more of a question of who wants to take what out first. Zeppelins are usually filled with highly flammable gases, so something to the tune of a rocket launcher--or the magical equivalent--should take that out spectacularly." I decided that my car needed to have a protected machine gun mount, and conjured up a machine gun and ammo. "I will leave you to your technophilic solutions." Keane replies as the gun appears as Dagny has requested. The belt of ammo drapes to the backseat of the roadster. The plane continues to approach as Dagny lies up her shot. To her side, Dagny can see Keane lean forward, staring at the plane and the zeppelin that launched it. When Dagny does fire at the plane, the bullets shoot off with a satisfying sound far louder than any movie. Dagny's aim is accurate, however as the bullets streak toward their target, they stop in midair a few feet from their target. Each bullet explodes in turn as they illuminate the light blue energy field around the plane. At this distance, Dagny can see that the plane, too, has machine guns, which are now training on the car. "Damn! They're shielded!" Keane seemed to be building up to some sort of energy discharge. I would have given much just then to have esoteric powers like that--or, if I'm wishing for things, Bhangbadea's for that matter. Keane is so intent on whatever he is doing, he does not react or acknowledge Dagny's outburst. Seemingly, he is also ignoring the plane, which drops one last bit of height before it will unleash its own fire on Dagny, Keane and the car... "Screw," I muttered. I wondered if the plane had the same kind of shielding I did, in which case conjuring silver bullets wouldn't do a damn thing. I sat helplessly for a moment...until I decided that the winds needed to pick up substantially, and fast... The stillness of the air changes to a breeze, cold and sudden, as Dagny's wish for the wind to pick up is manifested in terms of probability. Since she is remaining mostly still, the wind and the world around them cannot and does not. A cold front, sudden and strong, roars into life, and the wind that picks up rapidly picks up strength.The biplane is not designed for these conditions, especially when they are so unexpected. The plane bobs and weaves as it tries to deal with the sudden crosswind. Its not looking good for the biplane at the moment. Beside Dagny, Keane claps his hands. And with that there is a sudden explosion on the Zeppelin. There is a flash of blue on the red, and then the nose of the lighter than air craft is on fire! It slowly starts veering away from the road. "Beautiful!" I cried. I concentrated on knocking that biplane out of the sky, and perhaps considering the probability of a few streaks of lightning streaking through the sky for effect.... The probability of lightning in a relatively clear sky is hard for Dagny to push. However, a darkening of the sky makes it much more likely that the storm front is now *here*, and that the storm was going to turn violent and dangerous, beyond the danger of the wind itself. The biplane twists and turns in the wind, trying to get away from the relentless wind. This leaves it open to the building charge in the air. There is the smell of ozone, and then lightning streaks across the sky, striking the biplane. Like the zeppelin, there is a flash of blue, but the gigawatts of lightning voltage are too much for the plane's shields to handle. The lightning bolt strikes the engine, and as it lights on fire, the plane starts to dive toward the ground. "Whooooooooooooooo!!!!!" "No need to add insult to injury, in my opinion, although I have relatives who would make *sure* the occupants of both vehicles were satisfactorily dead." Keane observes. I looked at him a little strangely. "Of /course/ we have to make sure they're dead. And if they're not, we get to interrogate them...and /then /make sure they're dead." "Very well." Keane replies with a smile. "You know, the old House Barimen in Chaos had a reputation for taking things to the limit. It seems the family trait followed the Barimens to Amber, and down through the tree of descent to you, Dagny." The Zeppelin is still descending toward a crash. Keane starts concentrating and staring again, but the results are much faster this time. Clearly playing off the atmospheric changes Dagny already wrought, a large ball of electrical energy forms in the air near the rear of the airship. The explosion causes the zeppelin to pitch back and forth before it finally strikes the ground near the site of the biplane crash. "NOW we can look for survivors." Keane says with a smile of satisfaction. "After that last trick of yours, I don't think that's what we're going to find," I replied admiringly. "Charred remains, more like. Nice one." I grabbed Mjolnir and my big purple umbrella from the backseat. I attempted to push the termination of the electrical part of the storm to 100%, just so we didn't get fried on our way to investigate the crashes. "Let's go," I say, heading in the direction of the biplane... Keane doesn't seem to have an umbrella, trusting to his own devices as he gets out of the car and walking across the stunted grass in the direction of the nearby crash sites. Under Dagny's influence the lightning part of the storm starts migrating to the east, a rumble of thunder in that direction. The wind is still up, a storm once started is hard to defuse easily. "You didn't hold back either." Keane observes, looking up at the gray sky for a moment before returning his gaze to the fires started by the crashes. It occurs to Dagny as they approach that a grass fire is a real possibility if the heavens do not open with rain soon. I thought about it for a moment, and tried to push up the likelihood of precipitation. Might as well have some use for this umbrella. The biplane crash is closest, and Dagny and Keane reach it to find that there is a pilot and a gunner. The former is dead, with a broken neck; however, the latter makes soft moans that suggest that while there is blood leaking from his nose and a scalp wound, the gunner is still alive. "/Bonjour, mon ami/," I said softly. "This is just the beginning, I promise you." What it is at this point is the beginning of the promised rain. The drops begin to spatter on the wreck, and on the ground in slow, fat drops that presage a bigger downpour. I motion to Keane to assist me in hauling the gunner out of the plane, and take stock of him/her. What does s/he look like? How is s/he dressed? How hurt does s/he look? Once some of her gear, especially the ineffectual helmet, is removed, the gunner is revealed to be a dark haired woman, looks about Dagny's age, physically anyway, with pale white skin. Her eyes blink as raindrops fall into her eyes. After we pull the gunner out, I will inspect the body of the pilot, going through all the pockets and such, and investigating the seat. Anything? I will also rifle through the gunner's pockets and see what I can find. Keane checks over the gunner while Dagny checks the pilot. The pilot is also female, with a passing resemblance to the still-alive gunner. There is a book, in an unknown script, and a few other miscellaneous odds and ends, including what appears to Dagny to be the Omphalos equivalent of a swiss army knife. I pocket the knife and other articles. Snapping my umbrella open, I rejoin Keane and try to ignore the rain dripping from my hair down the back of my blouse. Ugh. Keane's investigations come up with a similar knife, and a pistol besides. She provides little resistance. I conjure up a set of sturdy handcuffs and cuff the gunner behind his/her back, ignoring grunts of pain and grimaces and such. I look at Keane. "Prisoner of war, I suppose," I said to him. "I'm sure there are regulations governing how we treat these...things. You'd know better than I." "The rules and conventions following such things." Keane replies with a slight smile. "cover several volumes. There are a couple of pertinent things to consider here. The fact that there is no filed declaration of vendetta for one thing." "That's true," I said slowly, studying the woman. Hmm. "Shall we check the other crash before proceeding?" Keane suggests. "Sounds good to me," I replied. I grabbed the woman's elbow and led her in the direction of the crash. The woman provides little resistance to following along with Dagny and Keane. The latter seems positively cheerful, walking in the increasing, driving, annoying rain. None are in any state that resembles being alive. Beside Dagny, the woman bawls in horror at the carnage wreaked on the zeppelin and its human cargo. It rapidly becomes clear that none have survived. "Keep quiet," I ordered the woman, not caring if she didn't understand me. "If you people hadn't invaded this Shadow to begin with, this wouldn't have happened." Although she probably doesn't understand the words, the tone manages to still the worst of the sobs and whimpers. I looked at Keane. "Well, that makes things tidy," I said, "but we probably should investigate it anyway, see if any interesting artifacts turn up." I survey the wreckage. About how many people were aboard the zeppelin? Were they all in uniform? Dagny estimates a compliment of about two dozen bodies that she can see. All that she can see are in uniform. "Do you want to check it out, or shall I?" "Oh, I could watch your new best friend if you want the pleasure of looking through this stuff."he replies. "Really, though, there are better ways than walking through the strewn wreck." Keane says. He presses his palms together and starts chanting unfamiliar words. He does this for about a half minute and then in a theatrical gesture throws his arms outward as a humming in the air begins. In the falling curtain of rain, it looks like a curling tendril of smoke, or perhaps, it occurs to Dagny, a tentacle. This tentacle sweeps across the debris field, growing longer and longer as it extends from Keane. About midway across the field, Dagny sees a brief pulse of red flash. "Neat trick, that," I remarked. "Oh good." Keane says, his eyes flashing brightly. "I found a present for you." "Ohhh, you shouldn't have," I said demurely. "Most guys only say it with flowers." Keane gives Dagny a smile, and then a sincere bow. "Ladies of Quality from the Order side of reality are likely no less amenable to gifts than ladies of the Courts." The tentacle retracts, bringing an object into view. With another courtly bow, Keane guides the item to Dagny's hands. Made of brass, glass and what looks like gold, the item looks like a cross between an astrolabe and a gyroscope. "I'm not certain *what* it is." Keane says. "However, it certainly attracted the interest of my little spell." "How gallant," I murmured, as the gyrolabe(?) was gently placed in my hands. I turn the device over in my hands and study it. What do I see? "I suppose that when we get that translation spell up and running, we can ask her about this too," I said, indicating the woman. "Incidentally, what was that spell looking for exactly?" Keane smiles. "It was a tendril looking for heavily handled intact arcane items. Given their propensity for arcanotechnology, a simple search for something that the Omphalos used often enough to resonate seemed to fit the bill." As Dagny turns it around and around and studies it, its clear to her that its some sort of directional finder. There is a system of cut gemstones in various colors running along bezel-shaped tracks and orbits. As she stares at it, Dagny realizes that the shapes and whatever they are showing might be amenable to being commanded somehow, as an astrolabe can point at a particular constellation and provide data. "Even if it's absolutely useless." Keane says as he watches Dagny. "at least there is some sort of aesthetic appeal to it, is there not?" "True enough," I answered, "though I think it is more useful than not. I wonder if we can find an expert in arcane artifacts after we are done here." "Speaking of which, what do you want to do next? I'd still like to check on that Pattern, but..." I nodded at the woman, "we seem to have acquired some baggage." "We have acquired some baggage, and she should be interrogated, or at least questioned." Keane agrees. "This would not necessarily derail our trip to this Pattern. There are methods of dealing with her." Keane replies. He gestures back toward the wreck. "and, clearly, the deployment of these assets suggests that the Omphalos are trying to consolidate their control over that area. If we do not look now, a trip later might be more difficult." "I agree." I studied the woman, then looked to Keane. "Could you, say, put her to sleep?" Realizing what I had said, I shook my head quickly. "Not /that/ way, just, have her take a nap or something? After we get back to the car," I added, "I don't want to be bothered carrying her." If Keane is amenable, I will walk back to the car, enemy in tow. "There are several ways to do this." Keane says, walking over to Dagny and the woman. He takes the head of the woman in his hands, sweat pouring off her forehead as she does so. Flight or fight response starts to kick in, but as Keane stares and stares at the woman, she slackens her resistance. I was a little embarrassed, and looked down to hide my face. I hadn't meant for HIM to carry her. Now I felt like a deadbeat. I clutched the artifact to my chest and walked alongside him. "Not that strong of a mind." Keane says. "And not that well defended." he says, in a dismissive tone. "I am certain, of course, that YOU were taught basic defenses against such things." Keane says conversationally, as he carries her toward the car, walking alongside Dagny. Fishing for information, were we? But to what end? I gave Keane a sly sideways smile. No questions asked, none answered. Keane smiles back but does not press the point. "You must have had a lot of training, to be able to do what you do," I countered. "Do you have a University of Sorcery or something in Chaos, where you all study?" "A university of Sorcery." Keane repeats Dagny's construction, and then shakes his head. "There are a few Houses, Dagny, which specialize in teaching some disciplines. Ishtar, for instance, teaches the art of Healing." "Mostly, though, unless special arrangements are made, you learn within your own House the disciplines and skills that you need." "For example, my lady mother the Marchesa is considered the best shifting expert in House Sawall, and anyone wishing special training in that area would see to her." Keane explains. "I learned the Art of Sorcery from Lady Theodra, who is a Baroness and vassal of my lady mother." "Seems convenient," I mused. "Where I grew up, you had to figure out how much you could afford to pay, then you had to find a school in that price range that offered what you wanted to learn, and then get accepted to it. Depending on where it was and what you were studying you might live away from home for four years or more." I shrugged. "Me, I went to a state university, and it was close enough that I commuted. No point in spending more money than necessary, you know? Really wasn't fair to my folks. They didn't want me burdened with student loans when I graduated, so they paid for everything." "You paid for education." Keane furrows his eyebrows and shifts the weight of the unconscious woman in his arms a bit "with loans. Of money? He shakes his head as now Dagny and himself, with only the lightest of rain now, reach the car. "I paid for my education, or my mother did, with the most valued currency in the Courts. Oh there is currency as you might think of it, Dagny, but far more useful than money are information and favors." "From where I come from that only works for the very rich," I said dryly. "And politicians." "I have heard." Keane continues "that our Emperor learned at a University in shadow in the manner that you did. He had a prior education in the Courts first, of course." "I didn't know that," I replied. "I'm sure he went somewhere more prestigious than I. Do you know where he went?" "Yes" Keane says as he motions to the car. He places the unconscious woman in the back seat and walks over to open the door for Dagny to enter before him. "Lord Mandor once told me all about it over a game and dinner. It was a university called Burk-lee. I understand the shadow it was in was in the keeping of one of his Aunts on his Amber side." If I was a fainting kind of girl I think I would have dropped right then and there. As it was I was brought up short and the colors and shapes of the world around me became preternaturally sharp, as if outlined in black ink. I froze, plunged into an icy sea of memory. As if she were underwater, Dagny can hear Keane's voice, distantly, distorted. "Dagny?" No. No no no no no. It could not be a coincidence. Could not be! Berkley...Mom...Luke...now Merlin, Emperor of Chaos, and one of my great-aunts...Merlin and Luke are friends... What tangled web of conspiracy and lies had I been born into without knowing it? Without looking at Keane, I said dully, "My mother went to Berkley. That's where she met my father. The Amberite. Then he left. She had me. He said he never knew. Now I find out there were more of them there." I slid into the driver's seat and stared numbly at the wheel. I had to pull myself together. This was all...too huge. I took a deep breath and tried not to vomit. I felt even less human than before. I couldn't say why. I suddenly had a strong urge to shapeshift...perhaps only to distance myself from my feelings, or distract myself from whatever was coming even more unhinged in my mind. So I did. Without changing my basic shape and size I gave myself cool, purple, iridescent skin, eyes as clear and blue as sapphires, graceful features and limbs, and flowing, silvery-white hair. I looked and felt more like a beautiful, ethereal goddess from an animé than plain old Dagny Thorsonne. I drew another deep breath, and felt much less like vomiting. I had a job to do now. I remembered Scarlett O'Hara's dictum, "I'll think about it tomorrow," and resolved to do just that. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. It would still be there tomorrow. "Now," I said, "let's go to that Pattern." Keane has said nothing more than his single word, until Dagny's deep breath and her words. He regards her shifted form. "You are the daughter of Rinaldo, granddaughter of Jasra? Clearly, your Chaosian heritage now shows, and very lovely, I might add." I deliberately chose to ignore this, because the implications of Keane putting the pieces together so quickly were too much to bear right now. "Let's go to the Pattern." Keane says, after not getting a response. He takes a more concilatory, friendly tone. "After that...I daresay as the daughter of Luke, you would be permitted guest-rights in House Sawall." Gunning the engine, I made for the Pattern. And off you go. After the defeat of the airship and the aeroplane, the passage toward the Pattern is clear of enemies. As Dagny shifts closer and closer to the Pattern, the changes become smaller and smaller. Its resistant but not supremely resistant, to Dagny's travel. The car does change, though, slowing down and probably, under the hood, changing its composition from something less chrome and shiny to something more steampunkish. The fact that the car radio and CD player seem to work, but now look like something out of the Edwardian era, is a clue that the rules have changed. And then the shifting stops, and Dagny realizes that they have reached the correct shadow. The road they are driving down has a few cars on it in both directions, enough that Dagny needs to slow down, but up ahead there is a checkpoint of some kind. Cars ahead of Dagny force her to slow her pace. Keane leans forward to get a better look. "Its our mutual antagonists." he says grimly. Well, there were certainly a few different ways to handle this, and I said so aloud. "We can go in there, guns and magic blazing, and decimate the checkpoint, giving away our position but ensuring we'd be able to enter Versailles. We can try to sneak through without them seeing us. Or..." I paused as an idea came to me, and smiled. "Ever see Star Wars?" Keane nods appreciatively as Dagny starts ticking off possibilities. When she pauses and proposes her last idea, both of his eyebrows arch in a furrowed manner. "I have not seen this Star Wars that you speak of, but following your logic, you seem to be implying some sort of subterfuge gambit." "Tell me more of these star wars." Keane urges Dagny as the column of cars moves toward the checkpoint. I briefly summarized the Cell Block 1138 scene from Episode IV, then the Princess Leia/Boushh scenario from/ Jedi/. "Of course she ended up wearing a gold bikini and chained to Jabba the Hutt, so maybe that wasn't quite so successful," I concluded, "but it came out all right in the end." Keane listens attentively to Dagny's story, since the traffic jam, as it were, provides plenty of opportunity to outline it. He nods thoughtfully once Dagny is finished. "So you wish to intimate that you are allied with or actually one of these Omphalos, and I am your prisoner." Keane asks "And by that means, infiltrate the area by means of this subterfuge?" "Actually, I thought we could use princess back there as our 'prisoner'," I nodded towards the sleeping Omphalos (Omphala?), "Unless you're volunteering." I smiled. Keane looks back at the prisoner, then at Dagny and then grins. "Well, I was not necessarily volunteering. However, I thought her role in this..." he makes a head motion back toward the woman "was to serve as verisimilitude; someone that was injured in the attempt to capture 'me'." "And if I am your prisoner, it only requires you to act the part, leaving one less point of failure in keeping up pretenses." Keane adds. "I can summon some props as needed on your suggestion, Dagny. We should hurry, however, this line of vehicles is shortening." he points out. I stared at Keane a few seconds, dumbfounded. "Keane...you are effing brilliant." I impulsively leaned over and gave him a big kiss on the cheek. Friendly, not gross, of course. Keane smiles at the gesture. "How are we going to work you being a prisoner? Should I tie you up and put you in the backseat, and move Princess up to the front? And what are we going to do about the language issue?" "Yes." Keane says with the smile just below a full grin. "You should bind me and place me in the back seat, and our prisoner placed in the front seat with you. As far as the language issue, that is simple." He reaches into a pocket and withdraws a small ring, made of white gold. It looks only large enough to fit on Dagny's pinky. He offers it to her. "Useful for strange shadows. It has a Babelfish spell on it. A little trick Cazaril once taught me." "Awesome," I said, sliding it on. I smiled. "A day and a half, and you've already given me a ring. You're a fast worker, Keane." The accent sounds somewhat strange, a clue that Keane has switched languages. Still, even for the accent, it comes across to Dagny as English. "And indeed you accepted that ring of your own free will." Keane replies with a smile. "My parents will be so pleased," I murmured. "As far as the bindings." Keane continues in that language. "I could conjure them, unless you are in the habit of keeping items in your car useful in binding strange men." "You don't know how strange," I murmured slyly. Changing my tone, I reversed course. "No, I don't. If you could manage...?" The car is now five from the checkpoint. Keane nods. Quickly, he changes places with the still sleeping air officer and gets into the back seat. It is then that Dagny feels a creepy crawly feeling come across her in a short, focused burst. When the feeling subsides, Keane's arms are behind his back, and black ropes have tightly cinched them in place. Only two cars stands between Dagny's vehicle and the pair of soldiers standing on opposite sides of the road. A small shack has been erected, and the uniforms of the guards is similar in overall design as those from the airship and the aeroplane. Both men are armed with guns similar to those she saw in the square in Paris. Hum. Uniforms. I wondered if I could conjure/transform the clothes I was wearing? I concentrated and gave it a try. If not, I'll have to come up with some sort of story if they ask, and quickly. I started to formulate a plan. "It's probably best if we watch our use of the Pattern and Logrus," I suggested, looking at Keane in the rearview. "The lady in charge seemed to be able to tell when magic was being used. I wouldn't want to tip them off and blow our cover." "Hopefully." Keane murmurs "Your little use of conjuration, it was a conjuration and not a summoning, yes?, will not draw suspicion." "I /guess/ that's what it is," I replied. "I just discovered one day I could do it." "You should apply for some formal training." Keane opines. Indeed, Dagny has managed to exchange her clothes for a uniform similar to the uniform of the unconscious officer next to her. And then the car ahead is waved on, and the armed checkpoint guards signal Dagny to pull up to their position. I turn off the radio, lower the window, and roll the car forward... The guards are calm and collected, but the one closest to Dagny's side of the car looks frankly surprised when she comes forward. "Air Captain?!" the guard says, in a somewhat startled tone, making a sketchy salute. The other one does as well, but her eyes look to the unconscious woman, and the tied-up Keane and then questioningly at Dagny. I responded to his silent query with a grim countenence. "He attacked her, I subdued him, and I've got to get her medical attention. Now." Behind her, Dagny can see the baleful look of Keane, playing the part to the hilt. "Immediately, Sky Captain." the guard says, regarding Dagny. "There is an aid station one mile up past the checkpoint. Resistance." the guard says with a touch of ruefulness "has been stronger than expected." "Do you wish us to dispose of your prisoner and see to your fellow officer?" the guard offers. "No," I said grimly. "She saved me. If it hadn't been for her he would have gotten me instead. And as for this guy, I want to take care of him /myself/." I set my jaw in a determined and (I hoped) steely manner. The guards look at Dagny, then look at Keane, the unconscious officer, and then back at Dagny. The second guard, who hasn't spoken as yet, speaks up. "She's *earned* that right, Paell." he says. "Let's just let her get to the aid station. Or were you hoping to get out of this checkpoint duty." "No." the first guard says, still looking at Dagny. "You're right. Go ahead, Sky Captain. One mile to the turn off. You can't miss it." He waves Dagny to proceed past the pair. I nodded to the guard and proceeded ahead, rolling the window back up. A decent distance away I smile at Keane in the rearview mirror. "Nice work. Now, I think we should keep going till we're sure they can't see us anymore, but what do you want to do with Sleeping Beauty once we can turn off?" "What would she do if our positions were reversed?" Keane says. "She would consider us prisoners, spoils of war. Unfortunately, it would be impractical to continue to cart her around, Dagny. Simply murdering her, however, would be unsatisfactory." "It wouldn't be murder...it's war," I replied. "But, as you would." "No." Keane smiles. "I have something in mind for her." Keane, whose hands have become free, come forward and he rubs his hands together with a smile. "You are familiar with veils like these, Dagny." Keane says. "What sort of animal of about her mass would be a suitable candidate to shape her into?" I looked at Keane, wide-eyed. "You can do that? Impressive." I thought about it for a moment. "I could be mean and say /llama/ or something, but we wouldn't want her to stick out too much." I spread my arms in an encompassing gesture and smiled. "This is France, they like their dogs. Perhaps we should give them another one." "A dog." Keane looks up and considers the unconscious soldier for a few moments, and then looks to Dagny and nods. "Then a dog is what she shall be. It is not a common ability to be able to transform the form of others, without resorting to a spell, but I happen to have a little Elvina training." "Whenever you wish to turn off." he adds. "It will be done, and then we can proceed on our way." When I spot a turnoff I like, I follow it, drive to a likely spot, and park. "Thinking about it," I mused, "could you turn her into a tree or something similar? At least that way she'd stay where we left her." Keane looks thoughtful for a half minute as the car sits there, in a deserted copse of trees. They are widely spaced around the car, plenty of room for another tree. "Unfortunately, that's more difficult than another animal." Keane says. "Its easier to force a change into forms more or less similar than the original one." he explains. "A plant is very different than you or me. I might be able to manage the change, but it would have less of a chance at being successful." "She might die, or the change might not hold, or she might mutate." "Unfortunately, that's more difficult than another animal." Keane says. I shrugged. "Makes sense, I guess. Will she retain her intelligence, such as it is, as a dog, or are we going to have to worry about her chasing cars?" "Tell you what" Keane says. "A nice, quiet sedative, and by the time she wakes up, we'll be long gone and either way it won't be a problem. You do realize that if her mind was left intact, it would be a much more cruel fate for her." Keane steps out of the car, picking up the air officer in both arms. He sets her down on the ground. What Dagny sees next is his hands touching her, growing, shifting into the woman's body. With their bodies connected like that, nothing happens for a minute. Then,her body starts changing and morphing. Over the course of another five minutes, under Keane's ministrations, the air officer's sleeping human body is replaced by that of a sleeping dog. A chocolate colored labrador retriever, to be precise. Keane wordlessly removes his hands from the hound, and steps back and regards Dagny. "There, what do you think?" I backed up a step and admired his work. "Very nice. I actually think she looks better this way. You'll have to explain that trick to me later. "Well, first I would have to have you learn the trick of changing your own shape." Keane responds with a smile. "Hey, I did!" I protested. "You said it was lovely, remember?" "To a far greater degree than you already have, I meant." Keane amends with a smile. "And I admit, its difficult to conceive of a child of Order being a shape shifter." "You'll find I'm full of surprises," I smiled. "Now..." Keane recovers "shall we load up and get to the Pattern?" "Yes." Keane says, hopping back into the front seat. He gives one glance back at the sleeping dog, shrugs and then looks at Dagny. "Ready when you are. I suspect, though, that their security will be tighter around the Pattern. But that is one thing we are going to discover, eh?" "We'll deal with that when we get there," I replied. "No sense in getting all worked up about it beforehand." "Perhaps we shouldn't drive *too* recklessly?" Keane suggests. "Who, me?" I asked innocently, as I shifted the car into gear and headed toward the Pattern... "Your choice of travel vehicle through shadow makes it clear." Keane says, as the car returns to the road and heads toward Versailles and the Pattern that awaits. "Not that I am complaining, mind you. However, such methods are uncommon in Chaos. When traveling Shadow, whether with the Logrus on on a Black Road, or a Black Canal, or a Black Thread, we prefer riding beasts." "I'd wager." Keane says as the trees thin out and glimpses of the estate of Versailles can now be seen "that you would not be amiss to a trip on a riding Wyvern, coursing the skies." I tilted my head. "Sounds like quite an experience. I might just take you up on that." Keane nods and smiles. "The offer is then tentatively tendered." He appears to be ready to say more, but then quiets as Dagny navigates an intersection, taking a turn off that she knows will lead her to Versailles. Although the car is not stopped, Dagny notices that there was a hardpoint or guardpost of some sort under construction at the intersection. As the car continues along, Versailles coming ever closer, Dagny starts to feel something prickle on the corners of her mind. Something...or something, is seeking entry to Dagny's thoughts. And judging from the way that Keane has suddenly closed his eyes tightly, he, too, is a target. Bringing my Mental Magic to bear, I raised my "shields", as it were, cleared my mind of all thoughts, and instead mentally projected picture of a cat captioned "I can has cheezburger?" /Nobody's home, la la la..../ The entry continues to press on as Dagny marshals her defense. Although its more than a little unorthodox, it does start to work. In the meantime, though, Dagny starts feeling the characteristically uncomfortable Chaos emanations from Keane. All told, in a minute of effort on both parts, the strange entry backs off, enough that Dagny can stop her unassailable and nearly total-consuming mental defense. The emanations from Keane back off as well from their highest intensity, although like a very dull toothache, Dagny can still feel them in a more mild fashion. "They seem to have a Neuromancer on their general staff." Keane observes. "I can guess what that is. I can also guess that we'll have to deal with him or her again before all this is over. They're either routinely searching for unfamiliar minds throughout the city, or they realize someone is here." I pulled the car to the side of the road and stopped, attempting to figure out the distance between us and the Pattern. "I'm wondering if it wouldn't be easier to sneak in on foot." I was also actively wondering what I was going to do once we got there, if anything. Even better question, why had I not yet given Corwin a big interdimensional eff-off and gone somewhere else? "Your thoughts?" Dagny can eyeball the distance at some miles between their car and the Pattern. There might be ways of getting that information more exactly, but it occurs to Dagny that such methods might give away their position even more firmly. "We've seen a checkpoint, and then there was the one that they were building at that junction we passed." Keane says. "It is my view that we reach this Pattern, assess what if anything the Omphalos are doing with it--they are certainly putting up a lot of security around it, and then we need to leave with alacrity." "We should then report what we find to the government at one of our two poles of reality. Preferably mine, since its closer." Keane says. Satisfied that I had judged the distance accurately, I pulled the car back out to the road and drove on. "Any mayhem we cause going in, or departing, would be all to the good." Keane adds. "You mean like a diversion?" I asked, interested. "Like, a huge consignment of fireworks choreographed to The 1812 Overture? Or we could just blow something up, but that's a little more boring." Keane pauses to answer, and then smiles. "I do not understand your referents, but it would seem that you mean that you wish to be creative in our response to the Omphalos presence." Keane says. "Creativity and art are highly prized traits in House Sawall." Keane says, with a touch of pride in his voice. "We are not House Vangrast, but we do have the premier Museum of Art in Chaos." Ahead, the trees are thinning out, and a propeller driven plane whines far overhead, flying across the road toward the northeast. "Sure. Might as well have fun with it, right?" I reached over and set my iPod to the 1812 Overture so Keane could hear it. "I wonder where that plane is going, and where it came from." Keane doesn't say anything for a moment, listening to the opening strains of the Tchaikovsky masterpiece. He finally looks up at the sky. "Reconnaissance, messaging. Judging from its height..." Keane looks at Dagny "I would say that it took off not far from here. Perhaps there is an airfield near to this Pattern, either captured or created." The out buildings of Versailles are now coming into view just up ahead. close to the spot where Dagny entered the last time. Unlike that last time, there is definitely a garrison at this entrance, rather than the tourists she encountered previously. The ugly squat concrete hardpoint bunker is definitely new, too, and definitely of a more barbaric style than the French elegance. I slowed the car to buy us some more time. "Looks like we have to get past another one. Got any ideas?" "I don't think our tricks are going to work twice. These'll be more competent, I think, Dagny. We perhaps should try a more indirect approach." "Tricks? I'm insulted," I replied with a smile. He purses his lips. "We can't really do much driving on these grounds, can we? Perhaps we should attempt to head on foot from here and plan for a getaway." "Maybe you're right. I'd like to be able to move the car closer to our exit point for a quick getaway, but I'd prefer to not have to Shadow Shift to do it," I said. So I pull the car offroad, and drive as far as I can before I hit trees. Hopefully there will be enough cover that it won't be discovered. "Do you think it would tip them off if I did a bit of conjuration?" I ask Keane. "I wouldn't mind a crossbow and a bunch of bolts, maybe even a firearm." Dagny can find a relatively moderate copse of trees that the car can be parked in with relatively little chance of detection. The car nestles between a pair of oaks. Keane gives a shake of the head as the car is parked and she poses his question. "Conjuration is an Art with a small aetheric footprint, Dagny. It takes intense fields to reliably detect it. There is little chance the Omphalos could detect you conjuring a weapon, here, away from one of their sorcerers." "Groovy," I said, and concentrated. I would like to conjure up a nice Barnett compound crossbow with a scope, and a hip-mount (it'll get in the way of Mjolnir otherwise!) quiver of 25 +1 Bolts of Slaying...er, 25 bolts. Gripping the handle with one hand, I cock the string back with the other and slide a bolt in. I briefly debated adding a .380 to my arsenal, but decided against it for the time being. Never carry more weapons than you have hands, I always say. "Does me doing that set your teeth on edge the way you using that Logrus thing does to me?" I inquire of Keane. "If not, I'd prefer that if you needed something now, you let me take care of it." Keane cocks his head. "You are not using the Pattern to conjure those items. If you were, you would affect me in an even more visceral and uncomfortable manner than what the Logrus seems to do to you." "During the War, the Pattern was used as an offensive weapon by the more facile of your family." Keane says. "But to answer your question." Keane looks at the crossbow. "I think describing chaosian missile weapons might be an exercise for another time. If you could conjure a second set of your creation here, I think we should be suitably armed for subtle work. I think that the air bolts you saw me use in the food establishment might be a little too obvious, don't you think?" "Obvious, maybe, but very cool," I grinned. "Happy to oblige, though." So I did. I then turned on Mind Masque, and asked, "Ready to go?" Keane looks over the carbon copy of the crossbow and bolts which Dagny has conjured to match her own created set. He smiles in satisfaction and then looks to her at her question. "I am prepared to follow your lead. You know the terrain and shadow type. This Versailles appears to be a garden complex with lots of foliage. Lead on, and by the Serpent, may our aim and our path be true and right." Keane gestures to Dagny and nods. (What's the plan of attack?) Dagny's plan of attack is to stay hidden under Mind Masque and sneak through the trees and brush to the area around the Perilous Garden. When she finds what is there, she will then take stock of the situation. Keane does not enjoy or have a similar ability to Dagny. However, Dagny's use of the Mind Masque and her general approach suggest to him that using stealth, cover, and subtlety are what are indicated in the approach through the grounds of Versailles. And so its a slow and careful process. In a bit of luck for Dagny, and there is no sign that it is anything other than an accident, the clouds cover up the sun, and it even begins to slowly rain. It makes the guards miserable and inattentive to anything other than their own condition. As they approach the hedged area that contains the broken Pattern, the hairs on the back of Dagny's neck tingle. There is a slight smell of ozone, and she can hear the crackle of what sounds like static electricity from the general area. The guards closer in are more numerous, and Dagny can see no way that both she and Keane can reach the entrance without Keane, and probably Dagny herself, being spotted. It was then I belatedly remembered the sketch of the Perilous Garden Luke had done for me back in Kashfa, and pulled it out. Now I just felt dumb. And embarassed. Leaning in close to Keane's ear, I spoke in a low voice, so as to not be overheard. "Um...I just realized I could have saved us a whole lot of sneaking around. I forgot I had this on me." I show him the Trump sketch, and offer an apologetic smile. Keane glances at the sketch. He holds the gaze for a moment, and then looks away. "This implies that someone other than you sketched this." Keane observes. "I will not press who. And as far as the sneaking around..." Keane smiles slightly. "If we employed this too hastily, we would not know the route of escape, especially if we need to move in haste." "But, while we're here..." Closing my eyes and concentrating, I will employ Third Ear and "listen" to each of the nearby guards in turn. Anything interesting? The guards seem to be grumbling about the usual things men in such position talk about. The foreignness of the land in which they have found themselves. The lack of women. Oh, and comments about the "generator that the wizard is using on the design of power". The guards seem upset that the process is taking as long as it is. "The guards are apparently aware of some sort of 'generator' that a 'wizard' is using on the Broken Pattern," I say to Keane in a low voice. "I wonder if this isn't our neuromancer. I'm half-inclined to try an assassination." "Or at the very least." Keane says quietly. "some nicely placed sabotage. If there is some sort of arcane generator there, then it is our duty as foes of this force to do something possibly explosive and spectacular to it, Dagny Thorsonne." Keane says. "Whether you prefer a gross and large scale approach, or a small scale and subtle sabotage, we should deal with the device as well as its user." "Sabotage works, and I'd want them to definitely know we are here," I quietly replied. "What did you have in mind? I might be able to cook up a batch of plastic explosives. Would it be possible for one of us to maintain the Trump connection using the sketch while the other stepped through, blew the sucker up, and got out of Dodge?" Keane glances in the direction of the Perilous Garden for a few moments, considering Dagny's question. He finally shakes his head. "Not a sketch. It's not a strong enough connection to hold open in that way. To attempt to do so would collapse the trump energy conduit, and strand one of us on the far side of the contact in the process. A full trump card, or even better, a Trump Gate would be required to attempt that. And even then, its a risky gambit." "What about..." Keane says after another moment's thought. "using your plastic explosives as artillery? I likely could launch the explosives you prepare considerable distance." "That works," I smiled, and set to it. I conjured a small army of sticky plastic explosives with 2-second delay contact fuses that, after exploding, would emit a thick choking purple smoke on top of everything else. My final explosive was to be our calling card--it also incorporated a vast array of colorful fireworks. As Dagny starts manufacturing the plastic explosives, she can feel a soft, noticeable surge of arcane energy coming from her partner in necessity. A cool wind starts to rise in the air, and the now cloudy sky is the color of lead. "Once these things hit, you've got 2 seconds before they'll explode, so you'll need to be careful getting them over the wall or whatever," I advised Keane. "And this last one will be a lot of fun to watch, it's a shame we'll be hightailing it out of here by then." "One should always take credit for ones successes." Keane replies. "I have performed a little weather magic in addition to the air sorcery spell I have prepared to propel the explosives over the wall." He looks around for a moment, ensuring that their presence is not detected, before continuing. "The items will be launched, and we will then leave with alacrity." "If your vehicle is not overly important to you, I can remove us from this shadow with rapidity." Keane offers. I blinked. "I like my car," I replied. "If you want to take off, I can make my way back to my car by myself." "That's not what I meant, Dagny." Keane replies "I can remove us both from the shadow entirely after our bit of sabotage. However, I interpret your response that abandoning your vehicle is non-negotiable. Very well, then." he says with a smile. "We will then return to your vehicle with rapidity before departing the shadow." "Sounds good to me," I replied, and awaited the show. "I am the wind. I am the whirlwind." Keane begins to say. "I am the storm and the element of air..." his voice trails off as the carefully constructed explosives that Dagny made rise into the air. The swirling air around Keane and Dagny feels like a chilly breeze at first, and then starts to blow. Like a December nor'easter blowing off of the ocean into the Big Apple, the air is cold, gusty and ferocious as the bombs start flying in the direction of the perilous garden. The hedges shake from the force of the gusts first, and then as the bombs hit, from the explosions. Keane stands with his hands up and outward, commanding the air as the bombs strike targets again and again. Dagny can barely hear the screams and shouts of alarm over the roar of the wind and the explosions. Fires from the explosions, whipped by Keane's display, start setting the hedge and other plant life in the area in an inferno downwind from the gusts. If Keane had sent the wind in the opposite direction, the fires would be surely headed Dagny and Keane's way by now. And then finally, the last, fateful package with the fireworks, launches in the air and toward the hedge. "Whoooooooooooooo!" I cried, drowned out by the glorious noise. "C'mon, let's go!" I turn and start running back to the car, pausing only to admire the fireworks display as it goes off. The afterimage of the display of the exploding fireworks impacts on Dagny's retinas, as the bursts of green, and red, and yellow brightly light up the grey-skied landscape. The tumult And so the trip back to the car can begin in earnest. It does turn out to be wiser to run, as Omphalos from all over run toward the explosion and the chaos created by it. It takes lots of open field running and skulking to get back to the area where the car was left without incident. Dagny and Keane, however,manage to avoid entanglements with their adversaries to that point. As Dagny and Keane do come in sight of the car, something nags at Dagny. A not quite hidden shadow. A figure behind the tree. Her tactical abilities put it all together, even on the run. The car has been staked out. Slowing down, I tap Keane on the arm and, motioning for him to follow, immediately take refuge behind a tree that affords me a view of the figure. Do I see any others besides the one? Keane leans up on the opposite side of the tree as both Dagny and Keane get a look at the figure. The figure, a man is dressed in what look like ordinary French clothes. As Dagny and Keane survey the scene, its clear that there are at least two other figures visible. One, another man sits in the branches of another tree, with what looks like a gun, and the other is on the far side of the area from the car, crouching behind the rock. That third figure is difficult to determine the gender of, since Dagny and Keane can only see a foot and a bit of a leg. "I don't think they are Omphalos, unless they are acting as undercover agents." Keane says in a voice barely above a whisper. "No uniforms." "That doesn't mean they're not going to shoot first and ask questions later," I answered equally quietly. "Just be ready." "Agreed." Keane replies. "I will provide tactical support." I walk into view of the natives and said, sharply in French, "Here! What are you doing with my car?" Two of the natives, the man behind the tree, and the second, a woman, from behind the rock, pop out, with small guns drawn. "On your knees, Invader, or we will shoot you where you stand." the man from behind the tree shouts at Dagny. "We should shoot her anyway." the woman counters, leveling her gun at Dagny's chest. /If I were the invader, you'd all be singing the Dagnian National Anthem by now/, I thought to myself. It was on the tip of my tongue, but I resisted. Instead, I burst out laughing while simultaneously hardening my skin. "I most certainly will not. You think I'm one of /them/? Good lord, no." I was about to take the tack that I was just an unfortunate tourist...then I remembered I was more or less bristling with weapons... ...and still wearing one of the Omphalos uniforms. Oops. "Forget what I'm wearing. I ambushed one of their Sky Captains and borrowed her uniform so I could sneak in and set off that little explosive fireworks display a few minutes ago. Quite a few of them are headed for the infirmary now, thanks to me." Dagny gets skeptical looks in response but the guns are less firmly pointed at her and Keane. I set my jaw. "And as of right now, I am one of only two people who can do something about these invaders. I am going to get in my car and return with a force unlike anything they or you have ever seen." I shrugged. "You shoot me, you're on your own." "She speaks truth." Keane says. "The two of us combined our resources to cause the destruction behind us. We journey now in order to gather more resources to continue this struggle. The Invaders are as much enemy to Dagny and myself as you. Let us pass." I was surprised by Keane's sudden entrance from among his hiding place in the trees, but I appreciated the support. "Get out of here." the woman finally says. "Before we change our minds. We have work to do. when you come back, we'll have a cafe au lait together before putting paid to these bastards." I nodded. "This town still owes me a coffee, so I might just take you up on that. When the army arrives, ask for Dagny." "Dagny." the woman repeats, as if surprised by a single name. With that, I will motion to Keane and pile into the car. "You realize that I wasn't trying to steal your thunder back there by not mentioning your efforts," I state as we drive off. "I was keeping your presence as my ace-in-the-hole." "My apologies." Keane's face reddens slightly in response as the car heads off, to the main road. "There are shadows and realms where a single woman's words are not often believed without support and correlation....So I emerged to help sell your point and defuse the situation." "Well, you're going to have to suppress that urge when you're around me," I remarked pleasantly, "because it is beyond ridiculous and I find it insulting." "Understood" Keane replies with a bow of the head. "No insult was intended or desired." "Now, if I may suggest..." Keane continues, his tone a chastised one "...shifting out of this shadow before we encounter more of the Omphalos troops might be thought of as a solid strategy." Keane says, offering a small smile. "I was thinking the same thing," I replied, and immediately began Shifting towards a particular "safehouse" Shadow I'd discovered during my travels, Shadow Dayla. Keane leans back and remains quiet as the drive progresses. Without incident, the shadow Paris under the control (however now precarious) of the Omphalos is left behind. Keane just watches the scenery as Dagny drives and shifts toward her destination. As Dagny continues, the specifications of her shadow become more and more sharp, until she feels that she has crossed over into her haven. The GM would like to know at least some basics on what the nature of the shadow is like, or you can supply this in your response. OOC: I'm sorry, I meant to clarify before you posted, so I'll do it now. I'm spending 2 pts on Restricted Access and 2 on Control of Time Flow. Access to the Shadow is only reached through a mountain pass and if a particular song is playing as the barrier is crossed. Dagny has it on her iPod, but she will certainly not make it obvious to Keane. The feature of Shadow Dayla she's headed to is a 3-story country house, clear of trees on all sides so as to give an excellent view of anybody approaching. She'll introduce features of the house as we go along. There are no servants, but everything is supplied by magic. Before entering a room one thinks about what one would like, and it is there. Currently the Shadow is running a little faster than Amber time. That will more than suffice. Thanks. I drove towards Three Willows, the only structure on Shadow Dayla, so named for the triangle of ancient willows closest to the house. The dirt road we are on is, certainly by design, the only path from the mountains to Three Willows. I admire the sweeping view as we drive past, and park in a converted barn that has been turned into a garage. I pull my gear out of the car and head towards the front door. "I found this place during my wanderings," I explain to Keane. "It is a place where we can rest for the night and figure out what to do next." "We could both do with a rest." Keane replies. He cranes his neck around. "You crafted, or selected your shadow with an eye for the aesthetic I see. And privacy." Certainly on my agenda was contacting Corwin and informing him of what had transpired at his Broken Pattern. As I unlock the door, I decide that the house will be simple, comfortable luxury, and that a fire will already be burning in the library on the first floor and tea will be set to draw on the sideboard. Entering, I park my gear at the foot of the staircase. "Please, make yourself at home. The library is through there," I gesture, "I will be right with you after I take everything upstairs." If he withdraws, I will do so, dropping anything of Keane's in the guest suite and airing out the room, and then heading into mine, where I take out Corwin's Trump and attempt to make contact. Keane's only gear was the cylindrical suitcase that she saw when he first got into her car, and Keane amicably heads into the library. There is definitely a tingle of arcane energy on the suitcase as Dagny handles it. This tickle tingle only ends when she drops it in the guest room. As far as the trump call, there is strong resistance to the call at first, a barrier at the far end which lowers...slowly and cautiously. Dagny cannot see anything at the other end of the call yet, but a voice echoes through the mental contact. Dagny cannot see anything at the other end of the call yet, but a voice echoes through the mental contact. "Who?" "Dagny Thorsonne," I replied. "I said I would call you after I visited that Broken Pattern of yours. So I am." "So you did." Corwin agrees. The image resolves, light rising from the bottom of the contact, revealing a wood paneled room. In a King George chair done in black with accents of silver, Corwin sits. "What did you find there, Dagny?"." "I found the Omphalos had set up camp at Versailles, and their magic users were apparently setting up some sort of 'generator' at the Pattern site," I said. "It has been sabotaged. Loudly, messily, and with firework accompaniment." Dagny can sense the amusement across the mental connection between her and her uncle. "One might say that you are taking after me, rather than your father or grandfather for that matter." Corwin replies after a moment's thought. There is a distinctive note of pleasure in his voice. "Stop it, you're making me blush," I said. "Nevertheless, they were apparently attempting to harness the power of your Broken Pattern in some way, and I am certain they will try again. Action, I believe, needs to be taken." Corwin looks pensive for a moment. "Indeed. You raise a point." He pauses a beat. "Now that you have done this scouting of the Broken Pattern for me....what will you do, Dagny?" A raised eyebrow is shot in Dagny's direction. "Immediately? Have dinner, maybe take a nap," I replied. Corwin smiles slightly. "Beyond that, I hadn't really thought about it. If somebody is going to raise an army, though, you can count me in." "Anyone who has walked the Pattern can raise an army." Corwin says casually. "I think we need more than a single army raised by one of our family, don't you?" Corwin pauses a beat. "With which of your cousins are you on good terms? I chuckled. "Well, I can name a few who are on good terms with me. Whether I'm on good terms with them, you'll have to ask them yourself." I started ticking off names. "I spent some time with Bhangbadea awhile back, but I haven't been able to raise her on a Trump since. There was Astin, but I haven't seen him in years...." Corwin listens to Dagny's recitation of the cousins she has met with a thoughtful look. "...As you know, I met Brandeigh and Percy. And actually, I have a distant cousin downstairs now who helped me with the Omphalos--Keane of House Sawall. I believe he also has a vested interest in this situation." "A distant cousin." Corwin looks skeptical. "Is he a cousin only in the sense that we are all related to the denizens of the Courts, or does he have a parent in the Family?" "And do you trust him?" "Yes, I was speaking more metaphorically than genealogically," I replied. "Do I trust him? Well, so far he hasn't given me a reason not to. We've been in a couple of pitched battles and dangerous situations together and it's worked out all right. Am I being used? Probably. I can't imagine any other reason why he's sticking around. So let's just say that I'm not worried for my physical safety so much as looking foolish." "Physical pain only lasts for so long. Humiliation is much longer lasting. Although I intuit that you've not spent lots of time in the bosom of the Family, I am glad, Dagny, you already know this lesson." "I've tried trumping Percy recently, to no avail." Corwin says. "Even though I have been keeping a low profile as of late. You have my permission...indeed, my enthusiastic urging, to find another cousin or two that you trust to help army gather." "For the moment, I would recommend not talking to my brothers and sisters, but you are not especially close to any of them, are you?" I shrugged. "In the meantime, I'll figure out what I'm going to do next. I'll be in touch. If you'll excuse me..." "You may." Corwin says with a nod. Assuming Corwin has nothing of note to add and after the appropriate farewells, I break the contact and head back downstairs to Keane. "All well? Do you need anything?" I ask. Keane is standing near one of the tall bookcases in the library when Dagny returns. He turns, his fingers pushing into place one of the volumes that he apparently has just inspected. I note which book he had apparently been browsing. Keane was apparently browsing one of the library's fantasy novels. "Lord of the Fire Lands" by David Duncan. "Since I find shapeshifting chlorophyll difficult and not very energy efficient...a meal would not be unwelcome." Keane replies with a smile. "Sounds good to me," I agreed, and motioned for Keane to follow me into the simple but well-designed kitchen, and, once there, stood in front of the pantry door. Hands behind his back, Keane follows Dagny into the kitchen, his eyes taking it all in with minimal motions of his head. "When I found this house, I thought this was one of the coolest things ever. All you have to do is think about what you want, open the pantry door, and it's there." I gestured around the kitchen. "I think there are appliances here just in case someone is in the mood for cooking, and they decide they want the pantry to provide ingredients." I nodded towards the pantry. "Go ahead." "Some sort of summoning or conjuration sorcery tied to the shadow, no doubt. Utilitarian, but let's test its efficacy." Keane says. He closes his eyes, nods, and then opens the pantry. Inside is a savory pie of some sort, the scent of meat of an unknown type wafts from the cupboard toward Dagny and Keane. "There is more than enough for one, if you wish to try Chaosian cuisine." Keane offers, reaching for the pale blue dish in which the pie is held, and placing it on an island in the kitchen. "Smells interesting. Why don't we serve it family style?" I suggested, setting out dishes and utensils. After summoning an assortment of sushi and teriyaki and a pitcher of water, I joined Keane at the island, sat upon one of the bar-height chairs, and invited him to set to. "As you like" Keane looks at the sushi and teriyaki, blinks his eyes and then starts employing a knife and a pie server to cut and place a portion of the pie on each plate. The filling of the pie appears to be some sort of unfamiliar meat and vegetable combination, like some sort of Chaosian shepherd's pie. Keane takes a few pieces of the sushi and teriyaki, arranging them all on the plate with his portion of the pie in the center. He takes a piece of the sushi, and samples it. "These remind me of House Euphrates' cuisine." Keane observes. "This is uncooked sea fish with other ingredients, yes?" he asks, taking a second one and holding it between his fingers in preparation of a second sampling. "Some of it is. These are just vegetables and sticky rice," I gestured to a few rolls, "and that," I indicated the teriyaki, "is cooked meat. You can eat the sushi with your fingers, but use these to eat the teriyaki." I demonstrated the chopsticks. "Forks are okay too." I smiled. "I understand" Keane says. He tries a piece of the teriyaki. He is not clumsy with the chopsticks, picking it up quickly, but not overly skilled either. Not wanting to be outdone in the Food Adventurer department, I helped myself to Chaosian cuisine for the first time. I had a feeling that if I asked what type of meat was in the pie, I wasn't going to like the answer, so I kept my questions to myself. Sampling it, I murmur approval. The flavors underneath the savory taste of the meat are unfamiliar to Dagny, but not offensive or obviously poisonous. "So each of your Houses has its own type of food it specializes in?" I asked, after swallowing. "Where I come from it's usually just countries or ethnic groups, not families per se. Do you have special dishes for holidays too?" Finished with sampling Dagny's cuisine for the moment, Keane turns to his slice of the pie, taking two forkfuls before responding. "Each House is different than the others in many respects." he responds. "There is good reason why the polity of the Courts is called an Empire, rather than a Kingdom. Houses differ in colors, outlook, specialties, and even breeding. Cuisine is the smallest part of those differences. So you might say that in a sense, each House is much more than a Family, its a city-state into itself, bound together under the aegis of the Emperor." "To answer your second question." Keane says after one more bite of his pie, and a piece of the sushi. "there are certain foods in House Sawall which are only eaten under certain Days." "For example, a young scion of quality will only eat the meat of the Zhind she has killed on the turning she turns 15 years of age." Keane offers. "She hunts the Zhind, kills it, and returns it for preparation and feasting. No other food is allowed to pass her lips that day." I popped a kampyo roll in my mouth and chewed thoughtfully. "That's quite a tradition. I think for my fifteenth birthday we ordered pizza and rented a movie. I got to pick the movie though. How long did it take you to track and kill your Zhind? Was it an all-day dealie or were you in and out in 15 minutes? Do they let you use magic?" Keane looks at Dagny quizzically for a moment, takes a bite of teriyaki with the chopsticks and then answers. "The method of tracking the Zhind depends on the scion, Dagny. The only restriction is that the Sawall must hunt and kill it on her own" Keane replies. "I was already an initiate of sorcery, although I killed it in a more traditional and sanguinary manner." "As I recall, it was after a rest from the heat of the midday of the twin Green Suns that I spotted the Zhind out on the Grey Plain, went to it, and killed it before it gored me on his horns." "Did not your culture have similar coming of age rituals?" Keane asks. "How does your culture determine if you are fit to be an adult?" Backlinks |
