AStickySituationIndex | Time Under Chaos | Game Logs | A Sticky Situation Continued from Investigating the Queen
As they left the room and moved down the corridor towards the holding area, they saw Goran coming towards them. To both Delluth and Tear, he seemed to reek of the Logrus - and something organic, and even more unpleasant. "Goran!" Petra exclaimed, hurrying her pace when she caught sight of him. "Are you alright? Is anyone hurt?" Goran held up his hands to stop her. "Don't touch me. You don't want this on you," he warned, the stink wafting on the air as he moved. "I'm all right. Vincenzo can tell you more." He jerked his head toward the door he just exited. "Just watch your step." Solitaire's cheeks flushed as the heady scent of the Logrus wafted over her like musk. She licked her lips, tasting it on the air. But the sickly stench of tallow hit a second later, causing her stomach to do a queasy somersault. Her nose wrinkled and she covered it with her gloved arm long enough to catch a clean breath. She set her candle down; there were more than enough open flames for her to utilize should the need arise. She strode toward him with a domineering gait. "I swear, Master Goran," she chided, "I can't leave you alone for a moment these days. You look wretched. And smell worse." He gave her a wan little smile. Up close, she noticed he was more pale and haggard than usual. She knew him well enough to guess he was probably putting up a good front. The little Baroness began fussing over him like a mother hen, examining his condition. "You need to lie down," he announced, removing her velvet gloves. "Mistress Petra? I'll need a room and some clean water and towels." "I'm fine, Tear. Really," he protested, though not vehemently. He made sure not to touch her with the ooze. "So says the man covered in rendered human fat," Solitaire snorted. She cocked her head and gave him a thin smile, "Although, I suppose there are worse fluids that could get on you working here." Goran's amused snort caused him to wince. "Ow," he complained. She put her hands on her hips, staring up at him with dark, authoritative eyes. "I've had enough lies for one night, Master Goran. You are not fine. I suspect you're lucky to be alive. And not just because someone obviously isn't. "And my name is Solitaire, if you would." A flash of confusion crossed Goran's face. Just how hard had he hit his head? Solitaire continued to inspect Goran to be certain nothing was going to fall off him; well, nothing that originally belonged to him, anyhow. She paused now and again to rub her brow, swaying unsteadily on her heels, as if slightly drunk. Her cheeks grew increasingly flush the longer she stayed in his proximity. Petra was giving Goran the eye herself. She glanced across the hall and stepped over to open a door into a cozy sitting room with a bedroom visible through the open door across the room. "In here. We are in the staff hall. These rooms belong to no one." "I will have someone bring a change of clothes." He allowed the women to lead him into the room. "No need. There should be some hanging in the closet that fit," he said fairly certainly. "I will need someone to find some gloves though. Something fairly heavy. I have to go back in to help once I get cleaned up." "No," Solitaire said sharply, "You don't. All you're going to do is lie down. Just like you should have done after you were shot. You're hurt. More than you probably know." He turned to Delluth. "Stick around, Professor. We might need your expertise," he said, his expression tense. "And yours," he said to Tear then, though his expression was a little softer with her. Delluth had followed in Tear's wake, a little relieved to see her behaving so normally. But most of his attention was on Goran: it seemed like he'd been on top of what happened - an explosion of Logrus energy? - and the fact that he was walking around was startling. He turned his enhanced gaze on the man and considered possibilities. When Goran spoke directly to him, he said absently, "I want a sample of whatever that organic stuff is, to start with. And do you know you're positively soaked in Logrus energy?" "Lovely," Goran muttered sourly. "Can we please get him in a bed before you turn him into a lab rat, Professor?" Solitaire said in a quiet, but firm tone. She pointed down the hall, shooing Goran along. Once he was moving, she smiled faintly at Petra. "We'll take care of him, Mistress Petra. You might want to take Masters Damien and Mandor and find out what happened here." Snarky, authoritative, confident? It looked liked Tear, it sounded like Tear … but was it? "I am certain he is in good hands," Petra replied. She gave Goran a look. "Stay put. If we need anything, we can come to you." Goran nodded obediently. Damien, who as yet had been silent, cleared his throat and said. "Just a moment... Goran, what precipitated the 'explosion of logrus energies?'" Petra scowled at him for badgering her staff, sniffed indignantly, and swept out of the room towards the holding area.
As Petra departed, Goran looked back over his shoulder at Damien warily. He turned, preferring not to have the man behind him considering what he had witnessed on the docks this morning. "We questioned a man who caused trouble. He had a token or somesuch in his pocket. It exploded while we examined it," Goran explained succinctly. He did not seem inclined to elaborate. "I'm sure you can talk while lying down," Delluth offered as a compromise, and helped Solitaire usher the injured man into the bedroom. But as he did so, he couldn't help saying, "If it had truly exploded, your hand would be injured. The 'explosion' was purely energy, and whatever happened drew Chaos energies from a very wide area - we felt it all the way up in the palace. It was most annoying. So we'd like a more detailed description of events. "But that can wait a moment." "I used the word 'exploded' because I wasn't sure what else to call it," Goran explained as he stiffly removed his jacket, revealing a sheath containing a very nasty-looking dagger strapped over his shirt under his left arm. "There was no fire or shrapnel or anything. Just...'energy', like you said. Powerful stuff. Knocked us both, Niccolo and me, back against the wall. The token, or coin, or whatever the hell it was, turned into this." He held up his hand indicating the smelly mess that covered it. They seated Goran on the edge of the bed, and Delluth looked at him with his weird black-covered eyes, then blinked that away and looked properly human again. "I'm a medical doctor, and I can examine you more effectively in the manner we use in the Courts. But, that requires a minimal mental contact. Our standards of practice, and of honor, require us to never misuse this contact by rummaging around in a patient's mind, but I don't necessarily expect you to trust that." And he waited for Goran's response, holding his gaze steady. Goran automatically glanced over at Tear, as if for reassurance that this was necessary and that if it were, the Professor was trustworthy. Before he could assent or deny, however, Damien spoke. "I'm not so certain it -can- wait, Doctor... are we very certain that this explosion is the finale, and not opening act?" Goran could see Delluth frown and consider ignoring the question; then he looked toward Damien. "I'm quite sure it's only the opening act, my lord. And I'm equally sure that a few minutes of delay will make no difference to your ability to affect the play's progress." Solitaire rolled her eyes as the two men talked and laid her gloves across the back of a chair. She took the warm water that Petra's staff had provided and set the bowl on the nightstand. After wetting a hand towel, she began cleaning Goran's face and neck. "Professor, if you and the Warden would prefer to have this helpful conversation outside, I won't complain," she said through thin lips. "I have a patient to attend to." Goran started to speak, but was silenced by a wet towel across the face, which he accepted as gracefully as a 10-year-old forced to come in from the rain. She tossed the soiled and greasy towel to Delluth. "Your sample," she said, preparing a fresh one to continue her cleaning. "And I'll examine him," Solitaire added; her voice a touch softer this time. "Master Goran and I are friends. I'm sure he'd be more comfortable with me poking around in his thoughts." Her violet eyes turned to Goran, raising a quizzical brow. "Before we do anything, I'd like to clean up," Goran said a bit testily as he rose from the bed. "Te... SOL-itaire, there's a bathroom in here. It'll be easier to use than the water bowl." He started to move in that direction, but paused when Damien spoke again. Solitaire nodded lightly and ushered Goran along, following at his heels like a mother hen. She nearly ran into his back as he paused to address Damien and Delluth. She moved to his side, balling her tiny fists in frustration. "A duke of chaos has lashed out against Amber... I would like to have some of the details before exploring poor Goran's head-- especially folk who have proven themselves succeptable to the influences of Chaos energies.. What precipitated the blast, more specificially?" Damien said with patience which was almost certainly feigned. "What the hell do you want?!" Goran snarled at him. "I was looking at the token. It blew up. I smashed into the wall. I don't KNOW what caused it." He turned and stalked off toward the door across the room. Delluth's effort to hold onto his patience showed. "Let's back up bit and get several things cleared up, shall we?" he said, speaking loudly enough for Goran to hear, if he were listening. "Goran, halt there," Damien ordered as his eyes narrowed. His right hand wasn't quite on his rapier, but it was brushing invisible lint off of his fine shirt below his left nipple in the direction of its bejeweled hilt. Goran stopped short and held a moment. Solitaire, who was a little more to his side than the others, could see his jaw tense dangerously. Slowly, he turned around to stare at Damien icily, his left arm pulled back slightly to allow quick access to the dagger. "What?" he hissed. "First of all," Delluth said, as if nothing had happened, "the 'explosion' was most likely a side effect of something else. Second, what happened to us Chaosians was a theft of our energies to fuel whatever was being done down here. Third, I know how to investigate mysterious events; I've done it before - admittedly, only a couple of times, but I have a few ideas." His look at Damien had become quite irritable; he transferred it to Solitaire. "Fourth, I can't imagine how either of you didn't hear 'minimal contact, NO rummaging,' when I was speaking to Mister Vladic." Solitaire's eyes narrowed. "No," she said firmly. "Master Goran is off-limits. You might be better served investigating the sight of the energy release. I will examine him and under these circumstances, I think it is best for everyone. And that's the end of it." She raised her head defiantly, keeping an eye on Damien. The position of his hand had not gone unnoticed. Goran being slightly behind her noticed how her shadow began to solidify into a nest of coiling serpents. That uneasy feeling he'd sensed before the explosion returned as the Logrus began to answer her call. "Doctor, it is your reputation and good health I am concerned with, not your integrity-- suppose an associate of yours from Chaos engineered this? That is not a position into which you wish to be placed. Also, I should think Goran just lied about his knowledge concerning the proximate cause," Damien said with a voice, more than his eyes, directed towards Delluth. "Goran, if you are to tell us lies, make them sweet ones... would you care to try responding to my most polite request again?" he asked, his eyes never leaving the auburn-haired man. Goran cocked his head and a smirk appeared on his lips. "Well, now, my Lord," he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "you apparently have some idea of how I should respond to this question. To save us all time, why don't you tell me just what it is you expect me to say?" "If you put some more effort into it, Damien Somebodysson, you might actually succeed in insulting me," Delluth added. "I'm well aware of the risks. And I'm sure the Duke would be laughing his ass off if he could see this." Solitaire stepped in front of Goran, flexing her fingers in agitation. With her arms bare, the tale-tell black veins of an Invoking were unmistakable beneath her pale skin. "Have a care, Master Damien," she said in an icy voice. "We don't have our backs to you this time." Oily darkness formed at her fingertips. A droplet fell and struck the floor with an audible hiss. Acrid smoke rose lazily from the small acid burn in the carpeting. "Solitaire!" Goran snapped, warning her back. His eyes, however, never left Damien. "Let him answer the question. I repeat, Lord Damien. What do you expect me to say?" This time it sounded like a challenge. His fingers remained loose, ready to grab for his knife again if necessary. Delluth was watching closely, rocking forward slightly on the balls of his feet. The restless tendrils flickered to and fro around Solitaire, tracing defensive patterns but making no move to extend beyond the realm of her personal space. The carpet was likely never to be the same again though, as a second droplet of acid dripped from the end of her nails. Damien casually withdrew a trump from his pocket without looking at it and said, "You have lied to me... I will have the truth from you, on my own terms, or the Baronness will mourn those dearer to her than you are. Choose." "You can't be serious," Delluth protested. "Where'd you learn to question people - from melodramatic plays? Bad novels?" He shifted his position slightly, moving closer to Damien. "Shove it up your a$$, my Lord," Goran growled. "I gave you the truth. If you know more than I, then frankly I wonder how you know it." Goran smirked at him. "Or do I? Just how much did your lover tell you in pillow talk? Or did you plan this all on your own?" Solitaire was stiff and silent, but her face seemed to be working with intense emotion. Like Delluth and Damien, she could hardly fail to notice the gathering of Pattern energy. Damien stepped forward slowly, hands palms out, to place a hand on Goran. There was no violence in the gesture - it was quite deliberate and seemed inexorable. He said nothing, simply staring at Goran. There was an ominous cracking sound from the ceiling overhead - one that had been treated with plaster. A heavy lump fell odd, striking Damien on the shoulder with sufficient force to knock a lesser man to the ground. Damien staggered and remained on his feet, but that gave long enough for Goran to draw his dagger and wield it defensively. The plaster that had struck Damien's shoulder fell down his arm, its sharp edge slashing through cloth, ripping through flesh even down to the bone. The young Baronness swayed, as though stricken with a wave of nausea. Her lips continued to move ... her eyes staring beyond the gathering. It seemed that something was proving harder than she had expected. Delluth, beside Damien, suddenly moved closer as he was momentarily off balance, and swung a blow with crippling force to the back of Damien's neck. It drove him staggering forward, and would have dropped most Chaosians to their knees, their vertebrae shattered. But Damien recovered quickly ... staring down at the ripped and torn flesh of his arm. He started to giggle as his saw the hideous gash ... but this quickly turned into a macabre laugh-moan. And then they all saw that no sooner were the muscles under his skin exposed than flesh rushed up to fill the void. Suddenly Solitaire could move ... She curled her tiny hand into a ball, as if beckoning to him. But it wasn't the man she wanted to come to her, but the card now held loosely in his hand. Damien's injured arm jerked out as he fought to keep hold of it. Delluth stepped back warily from the spectacle. "I do trust," said a cool, urbane voice from the doorway, "that there is some reason why you three all seem so intent on murdering the Lord Of Garnath." It was Mandor. Delluth recovered his poise - in fact, he recovered more poise than he usually exhibited - and crossed his arms over his chest. "If I'd known I would have to cope with a dangerous lunatic, my lord, I might have gone home instead." "A dangerous lunatic?" echoed Mandor, still as polite and urbane as ever. "Really? And what form did this lunacy take? Did he rant and rave? Did he lay violent hands on any of you - as you appear to have done on him? Or did he merely wish to question one who had been present when the attack occurred?" The haggard-looking security guard held his defensive posture, the long blade of his dagger glistening dangerously in Damien's direction. He appeared to be protecting not only himself, but Solitaire as well. The man glanced up at the Prime Minister when he spoke, but returned his icy stare immediately to the injured man. He did not speak, preferring to let the Chaosians in the room do the talking for the moment. "It appeared --" Delluth began, only to be interrupted by Solitaire. Her Master's interrupt broke Solitaire's concentration long enough to dispel her current Invoking. She stepped toward Damien, lip curled back in hate, the acidic venoms still dripping from her fingertips. But before she struck him, the young woman stepped back and hugged herself. By the fact that her skin didn't blister, she'd obviously dispel that conjuration as well. She shivered; her body racing with adrenaline. Enough of it remained for her to turn on Mandor, violet eyes ablaze. "I might ask why your Dog attacked my friend and threatened the lives of my family!" "And what," said Mandor, "was the nature of this attack? I do not see any signs of it on any person in this room - apart from the Lord of Garnath." Solitaire, skin sallow with nausea, stepped to Goran's side and tried to take his hand. She continued to shiver with shock, but fought to hide it as best she could. When Solitaire's fingers touched his free hand, Goran grasped them lightly with his little finger, but his concentration remained on Damien. In a quiet voice and with a didactic tone, Damien lectured, "Projection Bias is a defense mechanism in which one attributes to others one's own unacceptable or unwanted thoughts, emotions, and/or in this case actions. Projection reduces anxiety by allowing the expression of the unwanted subconscious impulses/desires without letting the ego recognize them. For example, an avowed pacifist who has just engaged in an assault may insist that their would-be victim attacked them even when all evidence is to the contrary," he said as he tucked away the trump and daubed at the blood staining his arm with a white linen handkerchief. "Oh," Solitaire said. "Well, when you put it that way…" She bit her lip nervously and glanced up at Goran, "I think you and the Professor really hurt him. He's quoting Freud. I'll bet he has a concussion." "The amount of blood on the floor does seem to suggest that real injury occurred," agreed Mandor. "As for concussion ... well, it may be that the copious amounts of plaster that dropped on him are concealing the extent of his injuroes, but I'd say the worst damage is to his shoulder and arm. Or did someone hit him on the head too?" "I would suggest you cease menacing the Prime Minister, cousin," Damien said mildly to Goran, adding "... and I knew because you lied so badly in the evidence you gave." Delluth's brows rose higher with every phrase Damien spoke - not in surprise, but in a sort of cynical appreciation. "I'm not menacing the Prime Minister. I'm menacing you," Goran corrected calmly, then he shrugged. "As for the relationship, cousin," he sneered, as if the word was extremely distasteful, "it would've come out eventually. You still haven't told us how you knew the truth wasn't entirely complete. Perhaps you had some forewarning, eh? Or involvement?" Solitaire blinked at that. She stared up at Goran, her lips working around the silent word, cousin. Her eyes narrowed slightly and then she pulled her hand away. With a sad shake of her head, she stepped toward Damien and raised her hands in a non-threatening fashion. And then she said the most peculiar thing. "You need healing," she said in a calm tone. Goran could not hide the crestfallen look that crossed his face when Tear left his side and moved to help Damien, though he did manage to steel it with a determined set of his jaw and a shift of his posture. "Yes," said Mandor. "I would have thought that would have been obvious even to the most dim-witted - despite the fact that the Lord of Garnath has made a splendid start to recovery himself. After your earlier actions, Baronness, I would understand his feelings if he declined to allow any laying on of your hands." "Then I shall return to the treatment of my original patient," Solitaire said, dismissively and went back to Goran's side. "You may wish to attend to it soon, Prime Minister. Any half-wit can see he's losing blood." He moved aside slightly - and now they could see that Niccolo too was standing at the entrance to the room. "Perhaps, my Lord, you would like to ask again the question that excited such a violent reaction," he said to Damien. "And perhaps this young man would like to answer it again - without lies and without attacking any of us." "A point of fact, my lord Prime Minister," Delluth said coldly. "What set off this regrettable incident was Lord Garnath saying, 'I will have the truth from you, or the Baroness will mourn those dearer to her than you.' That was a threat, not a question." "Then you define a dangerous lunatic as one who is angered when lied to?" said Mandor. "And such a display of anger is justification for violent physical assault? How very alarming that must make your social life. "I will ask again - what was the original question that occasioned the lie?" "If it please the Lord Prime Minister, I asked Goran 'what precipitated the 'explosion of logrus energies?' ' and were I a betting man, I would say he lied by omission," Damien supplied as he leaned against the bulkhead of the Queen and rubbed his neck with his good arm. Solitaire coughed politely, "If I may…" She began to speak, mimicking the inflections of each speaker skillfully. "Damien… A duke of chaos has lashed out against Amber... I would like to have some of the details before anyone explores poor Goran's head—especially folk who have proven themselves susceptible to the influences of Chaos energies... What precipitated the blast, more specifically? "Goran… What the hell do you want? I was looking at the token. It blew up. I smashed into the wall. I don't KNOW what caused it. "Damien… Goran. Halt there." She smiled faintly at Mandor, "You know I can recite the entire conversation, if you wish, Prime Minister. You trained me thusly. But in short, Master Damien refused to allow me to examine Master Goran. He accused him of lying and moved in an aggressive manner. When I moved to defend my patient, Master Damien threatened to harm my family if Goran did not answer his questions. Goran refused again and Master Damien attacked him, resulting in a... commotion." Solitaire looked up at Goran and nodded for him to continue. "Baronness," said Mandor, "you are many things, but a physician is not one of them. If you wish to flutter around as a ministering angel, I will supply some injured orphans who should excite your pity, and remove you from interfering in an interrogation that needs to happen urgently. Believe me, between you all, you have delayed this to the point of such danger for Amber that you are in danger of ranking yourselves among her enemies rather than her friends." "Oh yes. I forgot. I still have a year of medical school left," Solitaire said in a glacial tone. Her eyes snapped between Mandor and Damien, "And you would have had your information if you'd kept a better hold on your pet's leash. But then again. I guess a lot of things are slipping through your fingers these days." Damien tugged sharply at his damaged sleeve, and it came free with little resistance. The arm which was revealed had pink and purple blotches, and was still stained with wet blood, but once he wiped that away with the remains of his right sleeve there was no indication he was bleeding, or had been bleeding recently. It proved strong enough, as well, to remove his intact sleeve. Both bits of cloth joined the plaster and blood on the floor. "As it happens," Delluth said to Mandor, as if Solitaire had not spoken, "I would define as a dangerous lunatic anyone who, in the first place, is stupid enough to use threats of violence as a first resort in a simple investigation, and second, anyone who is idiotic enough to threaten the family of my friend in front of me. People who don't threaten my friends are, I assure you, quite safe from me. "But this is all getting very tiresome. Perhaps, if you're through insulting my honor and my intelligence, my lords, I might have a look at the location where the reason we're here took place." Mandor simply shot him a long, thoughtful look. Of course, Mandor was still standing in the doorway, so he couldn't simply leave at this point. Goran listened patiently to the professor, then nodded respectfully to Mandor. "My Lord Prime Minister," Goran began calmly, putting the dagger back in its sheath. "If I might explain my side. I did give Lord Damien a brief account of what happened, but I wished to clean up before I took the time to begin a full report, being not entirely certain whether the matter I was covered with was harmful or not. Instead of waiting a moment for the full story or asking me specific questions, however, the Lord chose intead to call me a liar and threaten to harm the Baroness's family if I would not immediately give him the account which he believed to be correct. "If you wish a full report on the events as I saw them, my Lord, I will provide it. To you. Not to him." Goran said. "Good," said Mandor. "At last we are getting somewhere. The rest of you may leave. My Lord Garnath, I suggest you seek medical attention. The young lady who has just appeared to hover outside the doorway (OOC - he means Portia who followed him) will doubtless be able to direct you to someone suitable if you are reluctant to trust the Baronness which, in the circumstances, would hardly be surprising. Professor, I look forward to your report on the scene where all this occurred, and your views on what caused the man's death. Signor de Medici - yes, I have made it my business to find out something of the background of the Queen; I am sure you are quite shocked - you may remain here if you wish." He stepped aside to allow the others to leave. Damien nodded, appreciating the PM's desire for punctual brevity under these emergency circumstances. Delluth gave Solitaire a meaning look, and took advantage of the opportunity, pausing only to allow the de Medici person to come in. Niccolo appeared completely unsurprised, and lowered a safety catch into place, before slinging the crossbow over his shoulder casually. "Actually, Prime Minister, I would have been disappointed if you did not know, at the very least, my name. There has been ample opportunity to do so, considering my affairs." He shrugged slightly, and tugged his blazer into more suitable alignment. "I will remain. I am glad that you agree." He eyed Goran and the state of the room and the floor, and shook his head in lament for the damage. Goran glanced apologetically toward Niccolo, but directed his next words to Mandor. "My Lord," Goran ventured with a deferential bow of his head, "I respectfully request that the Baroness be permitted to remain as a notetaker for my report. She has already proven her ability in that regard and it would benefit everyone if memories do not change as time passes between each telling." For a moment, Solitaire appeared hopeful. It didn't last long. "No," said Mandor. Goran hesitated. "As you wish, my Lord," he acquiesced with a slight nod. Solitaire's faint smile disappeared. She stepped forward, cold anger darkening her features. The shadows at her feet hissed and shivered with her suppressed tension. "Then know this, Mandor of Sawall," she said. "I consider Goran Vladic to be my blood kin. As my family has already been threatened by your associates, any further actions against them will be considered an act of violence against my House. And will respond, as is my right." Mandor seemed absorbed in selecting a thin black cigarillo from a silver case. Goran's lip twitched in a faint show of pride at his young friend's spirit. She glanced over her shoulder at Goran, trying to manage a smile, but wasn't up to the task. The hardness returned to her eyes and she pushed her way out of the room. (Delluth and Tear proceed to Really Most Sincerely)
While the others discussed the arrangements for Goran's interrogation, Damien knelt beside the spreading pool of blood and poured a few ounces of liquid from pair of bottles into the pool, which now included both sleeves. All could smell the pungent aroma of ketones and bleach. The blood, it was clear, did not appreciate this chemical insult, and rapidly began to bubble and discolor. Niccolo watched with casual interest, and glanced towards the ceiling, shaking his head once again. To Niccolo, he said as he stood, "Too dilute to present a fire risk... but with remarks about lunacy flying about, one can't be too careful with treponema pallidum..." adding a smile as he returned the twin stoppers to the paired vial. Niccolo nodded in understanding, and leaned forward slightly. He smirked, his words bearing a hint of his Cornaran accent. "If 'The Black Lion' is truly a concern of yours, Sir...perhaps one could arrange for a small shipment of penicillin to be delivered to your residence." He paused and gestured to the plaster, "As recompense for the unfortunate lapse in maintenance." Damien chuckled and shook his head. "Between you, I, and the walls... it is quite a thing to be criticized for striking a traitor in the back, to be ambushed in a like manner while acting as the crown's agent, and to be called mad on top of it for showing some... fortitude. Ah, Fortuna is a cruel mistress, is she not?" he asked with a raised eyebrow and shake of his head. Turning to Portia, he said, "I shall be able to attend to myself if you would be so kind as to show me to an appropriate room and provide me with food and drink." Portia turned from the other two and eyed Damien a moment. She pursed her lips and looked down the hall to where Allegra was standing studying a painting. "See Allegra?" she asked, indicating the other slender Cornaron woman with a tilt of her head. "The sitting room just before that painting will suit your needs. There is a bar inside, and I will send someone along with dinner shortly." "Si, Grazie," he said without the Thari accent she might have expected, and headed down the hall to the indicated room. (Damien goes to A Sticky Situation: Damien)
When they were finally alone, (i.e. Mandor, Niccolo and Goran), Mandor offered Niccolo a cigarillo from the case, and then moved forward and offered one to Goran. Goran dismissed the offer with an offhand wave. "No. Thank you, my Lord." Niccolo produced his own cigar from is pocket, slim, though not so slim to be called a cigarillo. "Thank you, Prime Minister, but I prefer my own. I have another if you'd care to keep one to sample later." He pulled a clipper from his pocket, and properly notched the end. With a shrug, he tossed the bit of tobacco atop the other debris. "I wouldn't worry too much about the fluid," he said. "As far as I can tell, there's no sorcerous content. Merely human body fluids of various kinds. Not doubt distasteful, but not dangerous." Goran's lip curled in distaste as he glanced down at his garments. Mandor moved back and took up a casual posture, half-sitting on the edge of a table. "Now," he said, "perhaps you should tell us the truth you have been guarding so carefully." He lit his cigarillo with a flick of his fingers and drew deeply on it. Niccolo looked expectantly towards Mandor, "Could I trouble you for a light?" Mandor flicked his fingers again, smiling faintly, and it was lit. Goran glanced over at Niccolo as one might check with his lawyer in a police interview. But from the auburn-haired guard's calm, serious demeanor, he obviously had no intention of pleading the Fifth. "My Lord Prime Minister," he began with a resigned sigh. "The truth is, frankly, not much more extensive than I explained to your ... to him." He nodded toward the spot where the altercation had taken place. "I was called to assist in restraining an Eregnorian noble who was causing trouble in the salon. He had taken one of the girls hostage. Signor ..." Goran paused as he indicated Niccolo, suddenly realizing that in all the commotion, they had never been introduced. "... de Medici ... and I subdued him and took him away for questioning. "When I searched him, I found in a secret pocket a token, or coin, or some such. It was sort of a greenish metal, unusually cool to the touch, and had a symbol inscribed on it. Helgram, I think, though I can't be certain of that. I examined it thoroughly, trying to figure out what it was. As I stared at it, it seemed to try to invade my mind, so I covered it and tried to force it back mentally. It seemed to retreat - then BAM!! It blasted us across the room. Some kind of energy force." Goran glanced over at Niccolo for confirmation. "The token itself turned to this in my hand." Goran paused then, in case Niccolo wished to add anything or Mandor wanted to ask questions. Niccolo nodded, "Mister Vladic is too modest. The Eregnorean fellow, was armed ... and as has already been said, was subdued. We, and by this I mean myself and the Head of Security, in the Marchesa's absence, were going to determine if he deserved to swim home or not." He paused, "Mister Vladic searched the man, standard procedure, considering that he had been armed ... and came up with the coin ... I was about to ask him about it, when things became strange." Niccolo shrugged elegantly, "I am a businessman, not a metaphysicist ... so I can only tell you what I felt ... the room went cold, there was a kind of pressure in it, and I would swear by all the Gods that there were -- fingers? tentacles? Something." Goran nodded sharply, in agreement with this detail that had been added to the story. "Ah yes," said Mandor. "I would have expected that." He appeared unruffled. Niccolo observed both men carefully, though his demeanor remained casual. Niccolo had made it a habit to observe the silent language of a person's body, as well as the words they spoke. Sometimes, one did not jibe well with the other. "And then, as Mister Vladic succinctly put it -- 'Bam'." He gestured at the mess on Goran's clothes, "But, as curious as that is ... that is not the most curious thing that happened." "Please," said Mandor, "continue." Niccolo smoked for a moment, and then took a breath before beginning, "Explosions, generally speaking, damage the body in just a few ways, Si?" He lifted one finger, "One of them is the concussive force of the explosion itself. With enough -- how you say? forza...strength...with enough strength, the concussion alone can cause enough damage to kill a man." He lifted another finger, "Secondary effects would include fire, debris and even shrapnel...all potential killers." Niccolo paused to smoke his cigar, "This 'Bam'...there was concussion, Si, but no secondary effects...and yet, the Eregnorean is certainly dead. At first I thought the concussion did him in, che no, the body was...drained..." "You should see it for yourself, Prime Minister...it is, to put it politely, remarkable." He shooks his head, smoke floating about him. "As curious as the explosion was, that seems almost mundane by comparison ... at least to me, Si?" Goran nodded again, content to allow Niccolo to take the lead in the explanation. "Have you considered the possibility of some kind of implosion?" asked Mandor. Niccolo shook his head, "No, I had not. Correct me if I am wrong, but that would be an inward collapse...it might explain the poor fellow...but hardly explains what knocked us about." He paused, "And what would make a man -- implode?" "In certain circumstances," said Mandor, "the more ordered end of the universe reasserts itself ... somewhat forcefully. It's a phenomenon I only became aware of ... when Amber fell. I imagine this was a reaction to such an ... event." Goran listened to the exchange with an expression of confusion. "If the man simply imploded, as you say, my Lord, why would the token have turned into the mess you see here?" He held up his hand to demonstrate. "Do you have any idea what the token might have been?" he asked. "Yes," said Mandor. "You can regard it as a very special kind of trump, if you like. Whatever its appearance - and there are many forms - it is composed of the essence of the person it represents. You may have heard that a trump captures a little of the soul of the one it portrays. A pleasant fiction. But one perhaps based on what you handled - an Infernal." Niccolo exhaled smoke and tilted his head, "If the - token was composed of the essence of the person it represents, why then did it not contact a person?" He paused a moment, "It seemed very much like a trap, though I do not think it was meant for Mister Vladic, but certainly someone, si?" Niccolo shook his head slightly, "And further, Prime Minister, how is one supposed to identify an 'Infernal'?" Goran looked on intently, very interested in the answer to at least one of those questions. "It is a trump composed of the essence of the one who carries it, not of the one whom it represents," said Mandor. "It makes for a unique bond between the depicted and the carrier - the one who holds the trump is, in effect, soul-enslaved to the one whose image it bears. Not a usual balance with trumps at all, of course. "The craft of creating Infernals is ... arcane. And difficult to obtain." He was frowning. Goran's brows rise in alarm and he glanced down at his hand briefly, perhaps hoping the soul-enslavement power ended with the Infernal's destruction. Then it was back to business. He looked back up at Mandor. "My questions from a security standpoint, my Lord, are who and why. Specifically, why would whoever was on the other end of that leash send someone to the Ramblin' Queen?" "I doubt if they did," said Mandor. "The most effective leash is the one that allows control combined with flexitivity. Look on it as having a spy in deep cover." "Ah," Goran nodded in understanding. He looked inquiringly over at Niccolo to see if he had anything to add or ask. Niccolo smoked his cigar in silence for a moment, and looked to Mandor, before he asked, "Could this kind of Trump be hidden in the body of the 'servant'?" "Sometimes," said Mandor. "As you've seen, it has a more intimate connection than many trumps." Continued in Gathered on the Queen
|
