ADisturbanceOnTheQueenIndex | Time Under Chaos | Game Logs | A Disturbance on the Queen Before he could say any more, a sudden disturbance struck the room. A man, wearing the costume of a Eregnorian nobleman, was on his feet and shouting at one of the girls. The Kashfan merchant who had brought him - who was himself a regular and a popular customer (well-known for generous tips) - was looking appalled and making futile attempts to catch his companion by the sleeves of his dark flowing robe. Vincenzo was moving instantly down the stairs, as were several others that Niccolo could see from other parts of the room. Portia among them, along with Aura and Sergio - who vaulted smoothly over the bar and was covering the distance quickly with long strides that managed to not look hurried. Portia, on the other hand, stalked and looked ready to toss the offender overboard. Aura was making a beeline for Rosa, the unfortunate young woman being yelled at. The man behind the smaller bar turned, retreated a few steps unil he was in position to pass the word to Armand, standing guard at the entrance to the dining room. Armand received the single with a nod. He glided into the dining room with an unhurried pace that nevertheless covered a lot of ground, and up to the table where Goran was eating with Claudio and Allegra. He bent, and murmured a few words in Goran's ear. Suddenly alert, Goran rose immediately. "Pardon me please. Duty. Enjoy your evening." he said, flashing a reassuring smile to the guest before departing quickly. "Good luck," Claudio said. He looked after Goran for a moment, to see if he could figure out what was going on, then turned back to Allegra with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. I expect he'll handle it expeditiously, whatever it is. Do you get into the City much yourself, Allegra?" Goran swiftly left the dining room through a staff door that led from the dining room, coming out under the staircase into another hall. Goran crossed that hall and came out on the left side of the staircase. He stepped through the door and found himself in the salon - and behind the disturbance. The Eregnorian, seeing various parties advancing towards him from inside the salon (i.e. not Goran, who's behind him), reached out and grabbed Rose to him, a sudden glint of steel in his hand, pressed against her throat. She looked terrified. Aura froze. Sergio and Portia both reached inside their jackets, making no attempt to hide the fact that they were drawing weapons. Other staff immediately pulled back from the altercation, taking various guests with them. "So," said the Eregnorian. "You all come rushing to defend this little wh0re. How much will she be worth with a slashed face - no less than she deserves for her impudence?" Vincenzo crossed his arms over his chest and eyed the man coolly. He had seen Goran, but his face gave nothing away. "You would do well to release her," he said lowly, his voice pitched for the group alone. "At once. You are in violation of the agreement you signed before coming onboard. Should any harm come to the Signorina - indeed any of the staff - by your hand, I shall take great delight in delivering your remains to your embassy in a shoebox. Capisce?" Niccolo had been following after Vincenzo with one hand at the small of his back. As a newcomer, he did not wish to interfere in what was undoubtedly a smoothly operating team, but he understood that he also had something of an advantage; none of the guests would immediately take him for security. Quietly, his steps going from a confident swagger, to something approaching the purposeful stalking of a hunting cat, Niccolo was intent on keeping to the perimeter of the room, and the cutting in towards the back of the Eregnorian Twit. As he did so, he tried to signal Vincenzo to keep the Twit's focus on him, while Niccolo worked his way closer. As Niccolo did so, he could clearly see another of Vincenzo's security men, who had entered from a side door, creeping silently up behind the retreating Eregnorian. The tall, auburn-haired security officer's eyes never left his prey despite Niccolo's presence at the side. Vincenzo's goal was just to keep the man's attention on him - and in this he succeeded brilliantly. Portia and Sergio had seen Niccolo (who they both knew) and Goran coming in behind the man, but made no sign that they had. Portia waved back the man's Kashfan friend. He was an innocent bystander in this, after all. He shrank back looking fearful. "Now," said the Eregnorian, addressing Vincenzo, who he clearly took to be the leader, "perhaps you'd care to explain to this little trollop that she is here to amuse me, and that her prim little wishes have nothing to do with the matter at ... " But before he could finish speaking, Goran was close enough to spring. His right hand shot around from behind to grasp the Eregnorian's forearm and he squeezed, attempting to immobilize that arm. At the same time, his left arm shot upwards between the Eregnorian and Rosa in an attempt to pry the girl away from him or, barring that, at least block a slip of the knife. Niccolo was close enough to move forward, yanking the Eregnorian's arm away from Rose with sufficient force that all in the room heard it give a sickening crack and the Eregnorian screamed, even as Rose stumbled forward and Sergio made a grab for her to drag her away. The knife dropped from the Eregnorian's other hand, but there was no second sicking crack of a breaking bone. The reason was clear as Goran stepped away to bend forward and pick up the knife - the unnatural angle the man's arm was hanging at suggested that Goran had neatly dislocated the elbow. Vincenzo let his arms drop to his sides as he gave Aura a nod. The Atlantean moved in to take Rosa from Sergio, putting an arm around the girl and leading her out of the lounge by way of the staff door beyond the musician's stage as Talon started playing again. Antonia and the twins started moving through the room, reassuring guests and getting things back to normal. Sergio sheathed his weapons back where they came from and went back to his post as if nothing happened. He started the waitstaff on the floor in the passing out of a round on the House. Vincenzo then nodded to Portia, who turned to the Kashfan. "You will come with us, per favore." It was said as a request, but it was clearly not. Almost as an afterthought she added. "You are not in any trouble." The brunette gave Niccolo a lingering look, but duty called, and she waited for the Kashfan to follow her through the Staff exit. He went with her, clearly unhappy and shooting glances back over his shoulder. Niccolo smiled brightly as the leggy brunette, Portia, gave him the eye. He inclined his head slightly, accepting the unspoken import of her gaze. The chief of security was giving the injured perp a frosty look that promised more pain if he did not cooperate. "Take him to the holding area by my office and search him." He gave the man a sinister smile. "Thoroughly." He left the decision of whom was going to do the manhandling to Goran and Niccolo, and turned on his heel to lead the way, following Aura's path out of the lounge. Niccolo glanced over to the auburn-haired fellow, and then shrugged slightly. He walked over to the injured man, and toed his side with his shoe. "Stand up under your own power, or my friend here will assume that you cannot. Who knows what he'll break then, hmm?" Purple eyes stared down at the Eregnorean as if he had discovered a spot on the carpet. "Do hurry, you're unsettling the patrons." He raised an eyebrow, hands clasped at his back, and waited to see if the fellow had sense enough to do as told. The Eregnorian writhed on the floor, moaning with pain. Goran didn't bother waiting. After quickly examining it, he pocketed the knife that he had retrieved from the Eregnorian, then reached down to grab the man by the back of his collar. "C'mon," he growled. Though he maintained a hold on the troublemaker's collar, he adjusted the amount of force based on how much resistance the man put up. Once the man was standing, Goran shifted his grip to the bicep above the dislocated elbow. Too much squirming would quickly become painful this way. Niccolo raised his eyebrows, and smiled slightly. He gave Vincenzo a nod, and walked over to him. "Did you say this fellow was a dignitary?" He attempted to appear innocent, "Eregnor is, in theory, a difficult market... perhaps this fellow can offset his foolishness with a little sound advice." The Eregnorian was passive now, but his eyes were dark with mingled pain and outrage at his treatment. "A noble," Vincenzo said a touch dismissively. "It matters not. The agreement was violated. He would do well to remember that he gave us permission to toss him overboard. Even with an arm dislocated, it is still a possibility." Goran regarded Vincenzo and Niccolo impassively. He was quite familiar with the terms of the client agreements and the consequences of breaking them. This would not be the first noble ever tossed overboard, if it came to that. He nudged the man in the direction of the holding area that Vincenzo had indicated, using only as much force as was required to get him moving. The man stumbled ahead of them and into the room. Aura, Rosa, Portia and her "guest" had already vanished through the open door on the other side of the room. Vincenzo followed them, into a hallway that lead to the offices. Goran knew the holding area was a secure room off of Vincenzo's office. The door from the office was the only way in. There were no windows, and a bench bolted to the floor and the wall was the only furniture in the room. Vincenzo pointed Niccolo to the door beside his own. A light was burning in the office that hadn't been used since Goran had come on board. "Ah, I see you lovely assistant has already made herself at home." Niccolo was supremely unsurprised, "Of course she has. There's business to attend to, and inventory to take. We already have a few irons in the fire, as it were, in the region...not the least of which in Amber itself." His smile was a predatory one, "Now, this fellow that you've taken into custody...I understand you are within your rights to simply toss him overboard, Si?" He clasped his hands at his back, "Perhaps we should ascertain if he can offer anything in exchange for a much dryer return trip. I do not appreciate him roughing up one of the Ladies, I'm afraid we can accept no compensation for that." His eyebrow rose, "But as fair-minded men, we can at least inquire if this feckless fellow's mind holds anything of value..." As Vincenzo and Niccolo discussed the Eregnorian's fate, Goran moved the man into the holding room. He helped him remove his jacket, which he placed out of reach on the opposite end of the bench. Then he turned the man around and began patting him down in a search for weapons or other personal effects. He found no weapons. But he did find a secret inside pocket in the man's jacket. As he accesed it, the man became agitated for the first time since his maiming. Clearly, he would have prevented this if he could. But with one arm broken and the other elbow dislocated, he was powerless, and could only watch as Goran reached his hand inside. There was something there like a coin, or a disc. A cool metal - almost unnaturally cool. When he slid it out into the light of the cabin, it became apparent that it was a strange token of some kind, made of a green metal unknown in Amber. The image engraven into the metal was equally as alien, although Goran had certainly seen it before - almost casually, at Tear's home. It was the sigil of House Helgram. Goran held the token in his palm and ran his thumb over the face and around the edges. The coolness of it was reminiscent of a trump, but there was no image on which to concentrate. Still, Goran attempted concentration, with the intention of pulling back immediately if the thing actually worked. The Eregnorian let out a scream of raw horror. "No!" Vincenzo's shaded past gave him a deep understanding of men's screams. He knew horror when he heard it, and he was out of his seat and striding across the room towards the holding cell before the cry had faded. Vincenzo and Niccolo both felt it as a drop in temperature - an abrupt drop. The shadows in the room seemed somewhow to thicken, and grow ... The Security Chief froze. This, he knew, was beyond him. He stepped aside to give way to Niccolo so the Cornaron could proceed him into the room. The other man had an understanding of the arcane that Vincenzo would never possess. Niccolo had been about to say more, when he felt the temperature drop. He feel silent, lilac eyes narrowing sharply. When Vincenzo stepped aside he nodded, "Get further away, keep anyone else out...at least one of your patrons may sense this. Do your best to keep him away." Vincenzo nodded once, and then turned on his heel, barking orders at any staff nearby - including Portia, Aura, and Rosa, as well as Niccolo's assistant next door. Aura didn't need to be told twice. She was more sensitive then most of the staff to the arcane magics of Amber, and Rosa found herself being hurried along in search of Antonia. Portia refused to move past the end of the corridor. It was as far away from Niccolo as she was willing to go. Vincenzo had his own reasons for staying with her. Goran felt the wisps of blackness drifting across his mind ... thin strands of mist, like deformed fingers, impossibly elongated, twisting ... reaching ... writhing in their attempt to get into his mind ... Goran slapped his hand over the token as if forcefully closing a trump contact. He called up the Pattern in his mind and willed its power to force out the probing tendrils. As Niccolo stepped into the room, he saw Goran slap his hand over something. His nostrils flared, he clasped his hands at the small of his back, and with a slight scowl and a hard look in his amethyst eyes, Niccolo brought his Will to bear. Like the inexorable rising tide, power began to build in the room, fighting against the darkness and the grasping tendrils, each passing moment the weight of that power increased, rising like a new sun dawning. The power was unmistakably of the Grand Design; supporting Goran's use of the Pattern, and increasing its influence in that space. The power paused ... hesitated ... It seemed to retreat. Then suddenly there was a blow - a devastating mental punch that packed a force utterly unlike anything Goran or Niccolo had ever felt before, with enough force to send them flying backwards across the room and crashing into the walls. The ship shook, as though a tremour had shaken the ocean bed beneath them violently. Glasses fell off tables. Several people lost their footing. All the candles flickered ... and then burned as normal. Indeed, everything seemed quite normal. But the Eregnorian was lying dead, the blood still bubbling from his mouth and his eyes fixed, glassy and staring. And the disc in Goran's hand had melted into thick, yellow liquor defiling his fingers, which was offensive to the touch and sight and more offensive to the smell. A stagnant, sickening oil with some natural repulsion in it. Niccolo heard Portia's blistering Cornaron before he saw her, with Vincenzo on her heels. The older man grabbed her arm and yanked her back behind him to keep her from entering the room. A harsh look from him kept her back, but only just. Goran scrambled to his feet reflexively as the foul-smelling ooze dripped from his palm. The fact that he did not rise violently cursing was testament to how hard he was struggling to keep his Pattern focus through the blinding headache piercing his brain and the waves of nausea wrenching his stomach. He staggered toward the remains of the prisoner, but paled as he neared the man and leaned a hand against the wall to steady himself. Goran looked up at Vincenzo, deferring further action to the older man while he himself appeared to be struggling not to pass out. Vincenzo stood in the doorway, surveying the scene dispassionately. But both men knew him well enough to see the fire in his eyes. "Che cosa é successo?" he barked as he helped Niccolo to his feet. Niccolo got to his feet, steadied by Vincenzo, and stood still a moment. He still buzzed internally, and did not quite want to let the built up Pattern energy go, but he could let it wane a bit. Then he smiled grimly, "Si!" He paused, "Am I yelling?!" His voice was raised, like a man that had been near an explosion. He was speaking loudly to hear himself over the ringing in his ears. "I'm going to need a drink...or three." He reached out, and used furniture and walls to cross the short distance to Goran, and gripped one of the auburn-haired man's shoulders. "Are you alright? The manifestation is gone, I am certain." He was still loud, his head pounded like a orchestra of drum soloists, and he would have several new bruises by the morning. Niccolo let himself take a seat, "It is gone from the room, Vincenzo..." He glanced up, and looked at Vincenzo and Portia until he manged to get his eyes to agree with his mind, that there was indeed, only one of each. "Come in, close the door." Niccolo felt something wet, and reached up to touch his lip, a little blood trickled from his nose. "That hurt." Then he barked out a laugh, which made him grip his head in pain. He looked up after a moment, his amethyst gaze bright with grim amusment. "Welcome to Amber, Si?" Portia vanished from the doorway for a moment and then returned with a bottle of grappa and two glasses dangling from her fingers. "Si," Vincenzo snorted as Portia moved passed him to give Niccolo a drink and one for Goran if he wanted. "We did warn you." Goran gave a snort that held little amusement. "Life's never dull," he agreed, wiping the disgusting ooze off on his trousers. His eyes never left the body. The Security Chief moved over and crouched near the body to examine it. But he did not touch it. "What did this?" "Logrus," Goran surmised, though he could explain it no further than that. Niccolo had accepted the drink gratefully, rising to his feet after he drank down a bit. He met Portia's eyes for a moment, and then gazed at the body with his purple eyes narrowed. "I do not think our friend's mind could handle the presence of it...it was certainly the Logrus, which is surprising enough...more curious, why did this fellow carry what amounted to a 'bomb' in his pocket." His nostrils flared as he inhaled, and took another drink. "I've a suspicion...but it will wait for Portia." The dead Eregnorian still had blood and flecks of foam at his lips. But his colour was healthy ... almost too healthy ... a reddened face and hands .... and becoming redder with every passing moment, it appeared, even as his feature became more prominanet somehow, the bones showing sharply through skin that looked a little too loose. As the body began to look less like a dead body, Goran recovered his stamina. "I'm not sure it's as gone as we thought," he said in a warning growl. His hand slid inside his jacket and drew forth a long steel dagger, its blade glistening with undulating streaks as if the steel had been forged, kneaded and tempered over and over for strength. He glanced over at Niccolo to see where he stood, then returned his attention to the thing on the ground, knife at the ready. Vincenzo stood slowly, his face unreadable beyond curiosity as he continued watching the body with interest. Niccolo eyed the body with an expression that combined equal parts interest, and disgust. He handed his glass to Portia, "Stay here..." He looked to Vincenzo, "Stand clear..." He regarded Goran, "He's quite dead, but I agree with your caution. No one touches the body. No one." He looked to Portia and Vincenzo, "Just in case...let anyone that might come this way know that." Niccolo moved a bit closer, and crouched beside the body, his lip curling before he shook his head. "Goran, wash your hands...and I'd say change your clothes...get that stuff off you. I don't know what precisely is going on, but I have strong suspicions that it wasn't just an accidental contact with the Logrus..." He paused, "If we handle the body, Goran and I, with gloves can do it...with our defenses up as a precaution." Goran nodded, sheathing the knife back inside his jacket. [Niccolo] rose to his feet, with a groan from his pains, and turned to Vincenzo. "Check the passengers. We might want to know the new faces aboard." Niccolo raised an eyebrow, "Did you not mention a Chaotian aboard?" Vincenzo nodded. "Portia. Go," he ordered without looking back at her. "Alert whatever Security you come across, and our visiting Barimen - keep an eye on." Portia glanced at Nicco. he could almost hear her sigh, but she turned around sharply and stalked off. "I'll clean up and find the gloves," Goran said as he departed behind Portia. As Goran left the room, he saw Petra bearing down upon him, followed by Professor Delluth, Tear and Damien. Still in the room, Niccolo tilted his head to one side, and frowned slightly. "That was quick..." He turned to Vincenzo, "I believe this room is about to become crowded." He smiled slightly, "Let's have a seat, shall we?" He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and withdrew a slim case, with a slight dent. "I think they survived...cigar, Zito?" When the offer was accepted or denied, Niccolo chose a comfortable seat away from the door, and pulled out a small cutter, to prepare his cigar. He leaned back in his seat, once it was lit, and waited for the circus to begin. Vincenzo lit his own, still eyeing the body with near scientific interest. He rolled his cigar absently between his thumb and forefinger. But just as he started to say something, Petra appeared in the doorway, stopping suddenly when she spied the body in a pool of blood. "Dio Santos," she breathed. She entered the room slowly before she looked at Niccolo. "You have not even been here one day, caro, and already, we have ... excitement. What happened?" "Petralina!" Niccolo smiled casually from where he sat, "Si, io portare il divertimento." He raised his eyebrows, "Chi è venuto?" He gestured at the corpse, "Something very interesting. I was not expecting you this early. Did dinner come to an early end?" She rolled her eyes. Whether it was at his address, or his question was unclear as she closed the door to the room "You must be psychic. Vikund annoyed Flora and she shifted the seating chart at the last moment. I did not mind sitting beside Mandor so much, but I would like to know how she can expect me contemplate selling her a painting when she sits me next to Damien." Petra stole his grappa and drank deeply, sighing afterward. "I am never going to another family dinner volunatrily again." Vincenzo snorted, finally tearing his eyes away from the body on the floor to the woman who signed his paychecks. "Why are you back so early?" She gestured irritably with her free hand before handing Nicco his mostly empty glass back. "Mandor was just finished handing out titles like candy - including naming Damien Warder of Arden. Go ahead and laugh. I did. It is the most ridiculoius and meaningless thing I have ever heard." Petra circled the body, frowning at the appearance of it while Vincenzo almost choked on his cigar. A less dignified man would have. "Anyway, he had just finished that and Flora was preparing to usher the women off for... whatever it is she had planned that I am sure was excruciting. Merlin suddenly demanded to know what Mandor had done, and then every Chaosian in the room was suddenly -- weakened. Visibly. Except, oddly, Merlin." She arched an eyebrow pointedly at Niccolo. "But he did state quite firmly that there had been an attack on the Queen." She gestured at the body. "Now, what happened, and why does he look .... sunken?" At the mention of the titles, Niccolo raised his eyebrows, smirked, and blew a few smoke rings. "Dinner sounds...eventful, and about as interesting as I expected. State affairs elsewhere are not terribly dissimilar, Petra, nor is the handing out of superfluous titles a phenomenon unique to Amber's current Court." He shrugged slightly, "Though I am truly sympathetic regarding your seating arrangement." He listened to the news, and lilac eyes narrowed slightly, "Hmm...I am not surprised that the event was sensed, but I find the fact that the location was divined so rapidly to be a bit -- disconcerting." Niccolo sighed, "I see we will have much work ahead of us." He smoked for a moment, and eyed his now empty glass, reaching for the bottle to pour out more. "The Eregnorean, I fear I never got a name, acted up on the floor... your man Goran reacted in an admirable fashion, and we brought the apprehended twit down here. A cursory search revealed a coin or token that Goran retrieved..." Niccolo paused here, his lips pressing together for a moment as his eyebrow rose, "I am not sure what he discerned, or what happened...it could have been his touch...but it -- activated, the Eregnorean babbled something about killing us all...and an Otherworldly force attempted to get at Goran and into the room. It was contained." He rubbed his neck, "Not without a little pain...when the proverbial smoke cleared, this man was dead. His mind suffered, I imagine... as for the -- slack in his body, I believe he is missing several essential body fats. The token was made of rendered fat, and I instructed Goran to wash it off, and change his clothes. I have certain abiding concerns." She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "That is ... disgusting." Niccolo picked up his now full glass, "There is a Gentleman aboard that I believe Vincenzo is monitoring, I've not had a moment to question him yet...an Artist from the distant South." He drank a mouthful of grappa, and smiled beatifically. "I would hate for you to return to boredom and routine, Bella..." "I hate you," she responded mildly. Petra stepped back away from the body to stand beside Vincenzo. "The list for tonight had him coming as a guest, did it not? Where is his companion?" Vincenzo gestured lazily in the direction of the hallway. "The sitting room across the way. Portia was very firm with him when she told him to stay put." "Hmm... " Petra pursed her lips and crossed her arms. "Well, Mandor is onboard. As is Solitaire, a Chaosian named Delluth who has been here before. You remember him, si?" Vincenzo nodded and she continued. "And Damien." Vincenzo scowled. "He is blacklisted, Bella." She smiled thinly. "Si. But why spoil the surprise? I thought you would enjoy it more the next time he tries to visit." Vincenzo barked a laugh and straightened before heading for the door. "I will question the other one in my office. Try not to sink the ship in my absence, monello." Petra just waved him off, turning to Nicco when the door closed. "I have not made arrangements for dealing with dead bodies, Nicco. This may well cause an ...incident." Niccolo eyed the body for a moment, and pinched the bridge of his nose, he blinked a few times, and his amethyst eyes flickering with annoyance. He leaned back in his seat, and had another drink, before speaking. "I see no reason he cannot go overboard, Si? He broke the rules, and conceivably would have wound up swimming anyway, with our without his broken arm." He paused a moment, to puff on his cigar, "We could hold on to him, I suppose, as good citizens...as whatever that was in his pocket was clearly meant as a weapon of some sort, perhaps even something of a 'bomb' meant to sink the Queen. "Did you not arrive with the 'authorities', such as they are? Perhaps they will be interested in taking the body off of our hands. I am inlined to attach an anchor to it, and throw it overboard -- I dislike what could be lingering within the corpse." [Niccolo] regarded her for a moment, "How important was this dead man?" Petra shrugged. "Not especially, I seem to recall. But the last two days have been a bit mad. His friend across the hall - bin Fremen - he is a regular patron. Well liked, and popular with staff and other guests. We should talk to him. Though I cannot imagine he knew anything." "Shall we bring him in here?" Niccolo inquired, "Nothing like the corpse of a friend to loosen one's lips." He waved off an answer, and got to his feet with a slight grunt. "Shall we then? Perhaps Vincenzo has already learned a thing or two." Petra stepped out quickly, and through Vincenzo's office. She paused in the middle of the hall and gestured for Ramon to guard the holding area. "Just do not ask," she ordered him darkly. "And do not let anyone in that is not one of us. If they try, yell." Ramon gave Niccolo a suspicious look, just because he was Ramon, and went into Vincenzo's office to take up his station. Petra didn't bother knocking. She swept into the room to find Vincenzo seated behind the desk, while bin Fremen was pacing anxiously up and down. At Petra's entrance he swung sharply, his dark eyebrows lifting in surprise when he saw Petra (whose absence had been explained by her staff earlier in the evening). Bin Fremen's normally good hunoured expression was absent - his face was taut with concern. "My Lady!" he said rapidly. "A hundred - no, a thousand pardons! His Excellency did not understand your ways here - a thusand curses on my unworthy head for failing to explain this!" Vincenzo lifted a sardonic eyebrow. Clearly he had felt that more information would be forthcoming if he concealed, (for the moment), the true state of affairs - and the Eregnorian's demise. Petra's expression was similiar as she leaned against the front of the desk, head tilted in curiosity as she listened to their guest go on. She had expected Vncenzo to not tell him everything - or anything. It made perfect sense to her. "What fine you will," said bin Fremen. "Whatever gift the sweet Rose will require - ask, and it shall be given - even if she chooses the greatest treasure of my house!" Even allowing for a certain Kashfan tendency to high-flown hyperbole, there did seem to be an unusual measure of anxiety here on bin Fremen's part. Petra glanced at her violet eyed companion. "Nicco, pour this man a drink. A scotch for his nerves, si?" She smiled warmly at bin Fremen, her stance casual and inviting familiarity as one among friends. "Take a breath, my lord. You are working yourself into quite a state. You have - as far as I have seen - done nothing wrong. One can hardly control their friend's -- what is his name?" she waved her hand as if trying to conjure it from the air and encouraging him to be forthcoming with it. "His name is Montcalm," said bin Fremen. "No alcohol, no. Thank you. I must not ... he is the eldest son of Lord Valmont - who claims the throne of Eregnor. His manner - so very unfortunate for a Crown Prince in exile!" "Festive," Petra muttered under her breath to Vincenzo. She smiled again at their guest. "You have known him long?" Niccolo raised his eyebrows, "Montcalm..." He shook his head, "A shame he did not behave as half his name might have indicated." He poured bin Fremen a tall drink, and handed it to him in passing. He opened his mouth to tell him the man that it was exceptionally good grappa, when he stiffened slightly. Niccolo's lilac eyes narrowed. She suddenly paused and looked back at Niccolo so only he could see the look of alarm in her eyes as she felt what she knew to be gathering Pattern. "Goran? Whatever it is, it's trouble. " Niccolo's nostrils flared slightly, and he went back across the hall to Vincenzo's office. He took town the crossbow bolts hanging on the wall, and clipped the case to his belt. Then he took down the crossbow, cocked and loaded it with efficiency, and then went back out into the hall. Niccolo moved in the direction of the disturbance at a brisk pace, alert for greater changes to the energy in the air. A tall, thin man with white hair and a thin, aesthetic face was standing in the doorway, listening to what was going on. Mandor. He turned his head at Niccolo's approach and then raised one eyebrow. "More security?" he said. "But this is paranoid even by the standards of Amber ... " Niccolo smiled very slightly, "Actually, No." The crossbow was clearly ready, but was currently pointed at angle, at the floor. "I just take my investments very seriously." He raised his own eyebrow in response, and called out in a louder voice. "Mister Goran? Are you well? What is the situation here?" His voice reverberated, as though in a hollow place. "I think," said Mandor, "you can ask your questions later, and establish if your investments have taken a knock, once we have established why these people felt it necessary to attack my minister." He moved slightly so that Niccolo could see the extent of Damien's injuries - and the fact that none of the other three was marked at all. Niccolo tilted his head to one side, and listened to the exchange. "I would suggest, Prime Minister, that this has become a poor venue for reasonable discourse." He tilted the crossbow back until it pointed at the ceiling, lightly resting against his shoulder. He looked at the floor, frowning slightly, "And the staff will need to get this cleaned up and repaired anyway. Might I suggest we retire to a less reactionary environment, such as one of the Queen's many conference rooms? Or perhaps the office, wherein the incident occurred?" Niccolo paused, "However, I would like to allow Goran the opportunity to remove a particular foreign substance from his person, before he rejoins us." The man with the crossbow is exceedingly well-dressed, in a very well tailored suit, which is a bit at odds with the case of bolts at his belt, and the sleek crossbow in his hands. "We shall see," said Mandor. Petra returned to appearing unflappable as she moved smoothly to take the offending drink from bin Fremen. She smiled as she set it aside. "Forgive my friend. He is new to these parts." She sat down on the settee and gestured for him to join her. "Now, tell me how your friend came to join you this evening, and what - exactly - happened earlier? Rosa is a bit shaken. I am certain you understand, si?" Bin Fremen dabbed at his forehead with a large green silk handkerchief. "Yes, yes, I understand. I was asked to entertain his Lordship by the Ambassador himself - for he was to dine at the Castle and did not wish to leave his visitor unattended." Petra frowned thoughtfully. "Indeed. Had you noticed His Lordship acting odd in any way?" "Lord Montcalm?" said the harassed bin Fremen. "No - he seemed no different from his usual demeanourr to me. Looking forward to a night here on the Queen - he had heard so much about it from those of us who are your most honoured guests." He mopped his face again with the handkerchief. "I fear he ... is not used to some of the ways of Amber ... where is he now? I trust my offers of recompense will excuse him your most severe punishments. Besides, I doubt whether he can swim." Petra glanced at Vincenzo and then gave bin Freman a sympathetic look. "Did you feel that explosion earlier?" she asked mildly. "That was your friend attempting to blow up my ship. I am afraid he is now part of a wider investigation that is entirely out of my hands. It may even widen to encompass you, my old friend. You did bring him, afterall. If you can think of anything that might explain his actions - anything out of the ordinary, it would, perhaps, go a long way into clearing up this mess. I would just hate for you to get dragged down with him." He looked at her in horror but - interestingly - there was no hint in it that he was alarmed for himself. "Why would he want to do that?" he demanded. "He is the heir with the best claim to Eregnor! I cannot believe he would be involved with that! Someone must have tricked you into believing it was he." Petra calmly regarded him, an eyebrow arched at his outburst. "There were witnesses, bin Fremen. Two of my people were injured because they were in the same room as he. It is possible that [he] had fallen under the sway of an unsavory sort who led him to believe they could help him achieve his Throne. How sinking my ship would accomplish that, I cannot see. Except that many notable people frequent this establishment. Such as Amber's King and Prime Minister, as well as many of their Cabinet. You begin to see why, perhaps, this is out of my hands." He nodded earnestly. "But perhaps ... I need to contact my Embassy. But first I had better see him myself. What has he said when you questioned him? He might be willing to say more to me." Petra sighed and folded her hands in her lap. "Perhaps you did not catch it; my people were injured when they were in the same room but nowhere near him. It was not a typical explosion either, I fear. Your friend, he did not weather it well. In truth, he did not weather it at all." She leaned forward slightly, lowering her voice so that it took on a hypnotic quality. "Your friend - someone you vouched for and defend fervently - was the bearer of an attack from the enemies of both Amber and the current regime. The Prime Minister and his agents are even now onboard and investigating." Petra cocked her head to one side and regarded him intently. "I am afraid you are quite unable to leave until they have questioned you." He paled. "Dead? Lord of the Sand, the political repercussions!" Oddly enough, he didn't seem to mean Amber. He was silent as he wiped his face again, and then said, "Kashfa will lend all assistance necessary, of course. The Ambassador himself ... he will be ... " He swallowed. "Every assistance! "Let us proceed with the questioning so that I might inform him as soon as possible!" Petra nodded and stood. "I will find the Prime Minister and let him know you are available should he require you. If not, I assume you wish to return to the docks as soon as possible?" He patted his face with his kerchief. "Or for the Ambassador to be informed. Really, Madame, I am just anxious to provide whatever help I may. But that Montcalm should be involved in something like this!" He shook his head, clearly appalled. Petra merely nodded again and crossed the room to the door. She paused to exchange a look with Vincenzo, and then was caught by surprise when she opened the door just as Allegra was knocking.
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