SESSION ELEVEN (8-30-97

CASTLE AMBRE

A Trump call awakened me: Jessie, but she felt odd. Renewed Logrus insanity? A false identification? I hopped out of bed and grabbed Windfall and Falco before accepting the contact. Jessie indeed. She said suspected that she had been poisoned and naturally thought to consult me. I had to tell her that neither I nor my staff mages had much experience with Chaos poisons. Perhaps Bleys could help. She said she would try him.

The only Chaos poison I knew of was the antimetamorphic weapon poison that Jessie had given me to use on Kilrae. I had three throwing knives coated with the stuff and the rest was being analyzed for duplication by my people. The poison Finndo’s troops had used was native to our end of the cosmos.

Much later I arose again and took full advantage of the Castle baths. Then I Trumped Random and he told me that Lord Feldane had been injured in an assassination attempt aimed at Iago. He admitted that Iago was an agent of Benedict; he didn’t know whether or not Iago was a kinsman. I suggested that a large reward for helping release Oberon would aid Iago’s cover.

I found Dworkin, and Iago, in the Pattern room. Dworkin was holding forth about agates and Iago had the half-glazed look of someone who had been trying for hours to sort information from gibberish. I introduced myself (unnecessarily) and embraced Dworkin much as I would my grandfather in Ferrara. It didn’t sidetrack him at all. Dworkin claimed that agates had appeared that were alien to his creation (Ambre and Shadow, Shadow being the result of having two poles of reality). They were not from the Abyss and not from some other Shadow: Chaos could anchor only one cosmos. Dworkin praised me for my understanding when I mostly parroted back what he was saying. He gave an agate to each of us to carry about in th hope that this give him some clues to where they came from. Sure. If the Creator said that alien agates were a big problem so I believed him. Understanding was not necessary. Dworkin went back to studying the Pattern.

I told Iago to let me know if I could help him out with his mission or his cover.

I Trumped Bleys next. He was in military camp, half armored. I asked about Jessie’s problem and he recommended Delwin as an Ambreite known to frequent Chaos.

Begma and evening the score for my dead agents was next on my agenda. I brought in a dozen yamabushi commandos and a wizard, intending to make waves and invite action. Official assistance should be available since PM Orkux owed me afavor or six. . I selected an inn, unfortunately one that Faux Otto had wrecked, and was recognized as, one, his kinsman, and, two, a reasonable person—one the innkeeper could complain to safely. I didn’t pay for Faux Otto’s damages as that would be seen as admission of Otto’s guilt.

I Trumped in more wizards (for communications) and send the troops out in three groups to look for impostors. Around 2 AM I was summoned by one group. Someone who looked like Draco had morphed into an Otto and broken up a bar. Some burly mercs had tried to stop him and had taken some injuries but forced him to flee out a window. No traces of Faux Otto, Trump or Logrus. An angry almost-mob gathered to condemn thuggish Ambreites. None bothered me directly: I had a rep in Begma and half a dozen Zen killers backing me up.

I brought in some gold coin and deposited it with the Chief Constable of Begma-the-City (while indicating that I’d gut him if he stole it) and posted a reward: two pounds of gold for one of the impostors ALIVE. Assume that "Draco" or "Otto" breaking up inns or bars were fakes.

Octavian was not answering Trumps but Draco was. I let him know about the reward. He asked me to set my mages to making spell devices to neutralize these shapeshifting impostors. He seemed to think they could manage automatic-capture devices; I expected something less than that, sufficient to slow them down for greedy mercs with saps.

So, back to Tella with the troops and consulting with the mages. We decided that the antimetamorphic (AMM) toxin would be better than any spell to inhibit shapechanging, and that it would combine nicely with a non-intrusive net-spell. I set them to it and tried altering Probabliity for breakthroughs and general serendipity.

Back to Ambre, where I was informed by the Castle guards of a disturbance on the docks that might involve impostors. (I suspected that I was on the list for character assassination and had spread the word that I was interested—and would pay—for information) Deputy Sheriff Syric was there with some of his men. He eyed me suspiciously and whipped out his glowing mace, just in case. I drew Windfall in return, which convinced him I was no fake. He told me some mercs claimed that Iago had hired them to attack Draco (or Faux Draco, it was unclear which) and they had jumped a Faux one. They said they knew he was a fake because they had seen Draco earlier and the real one was all beat to hell. I Trumped Iago, who denied hiring any mercs for any purpose for weeks. Syric sent them off to jail.

Syric took the opportunity to recruit me for a meeting with Charybdites. I went in disguise, as did Ambrose and Jessie (demonformed). The meet was at the strange ruined ring city with a Broken Pattern in it. We traveled in Syric’s flagship and walked in without troops. It was a trap, a really good one. It wasn’t the real ring city at all, but a fake put in our path by a Pattern Master (!!) and barred to shadow walking and Trump. Luckily they hadn’t know about Logrus Master Jessie and she pulled us out—a very unpleasant sensation, but better than arrows. Syric went grudgingly and last, so he caught several (mostly spent) arrows in his ass. Syric rarely recognizes the moment for a strategic retreat.

Syric tried to use his Pattern Master abilities to smash the place, but it was GONE. Good trick, that. That is how we knew— Syric knew and he told the rest of us—that a Pattern Master had allied himself or herself with the Charybdites. Jessie managed to save Syric’s ship and took care of his wounded tochis as well. We Trumped back to Ambre.

I Trumped Bleys, who had been mentioned by the Charybdite speaker as a major enemy, and told him of our misadventure. He suggested Flora or Fiona for our rogue Pattern Master. "Bitches, both of them," he said. I’d had no idea beautiful Florimel was so dangerous.

I told Draco (who really did look like hell) about the fiasco, too. They had mentioned "those psychopaths" along with Bleys, which I took to be a reference to Draco, Otto and me. Otto still wasn’t taking Trump calls.

Jessie recruited me for an expedition into the Abyss to milk a worm for an antidote to her poison. Dworkin had confirmed that she was, indeed, poisoned, and Jessie’s mother had pointed her in the direction of a cure. I was interested in the Abyss and also felt that this sounded sufficiently dangerous and closely related to her survival to balance the books between us. I also got her to agree to share some of the antidote and the toxin.

Jessie, me, Draco, Syric and Jessie’s personal demon were in on this one. Syric manipulated the Abyss with Probability because he could also cloak it from the Logrus users. He lined up floating rocks and attendant safe atmospheres in a path into the deeps. The selected Wyrm was two miles long and docile, thank the Virgin. While milking we were accosted by demons riding horse-sized masses of tentacles who convinced us (we didn’t want to fight all of them, especially there) to make a boulder-path to a "castle" they wanted to assault with a secret weapon. We watched part of the fight and Draco grabbed an imp for a souvenir. We got away safely with the wyrm milk and knowlegde of how to cross the Abyss to or from the Flipside.

Later, Draco, Jessie went to Begma to search for Charybdites and found them in a jail. Jessie killed them.

SESSION TWELVE (9-20-97)

SHADOW TELLA, INSTITUTE OF THOTH A few days after speeding the place back up we had a breakthrough on the AMM (antimetamorphic) blade venom. This formula was highly effective vs. normal shapeshifters but not against Logrus Masters. Probably no good against Patterner shapeshifters (there have to be some) either. Arranged for medium-scale production of darts, crossbow bolts and crosspistol darts poisoned with AMM and a powerful narcotic.

(Unfortunately, I didn’t specify what kind of narcotic. I was thinking of a knockout drug but what my boffins gave me was a moderately fast --30 seconds to a minute—hallucinogen. Details, details.)

I’d already made two new Niccolo Trumps, so I brought my troops and junior wizards to the Institute outfitted them in nondescript Golden Circle clothing and issued weapons. I grouped them in fours, one wizard to three fighters, the fighters armed with shortswords and throwing darts and, in each team, a crossbow pistol, a steel net and a chain bolas, with all darts and blades envenomed. They were eager for this assignment: hang out in inns and bars and wait for trouble. Three teams and one Trump of me per shadow.

I Trumped Draco and Octavian to get things going. Draco took some crates of darts and agreed to cover Shadow Karth with his soldiers (though ‘not a Trump artist’ he somehow had enough Trumps for his communications) and Octavian hung out with me.

We sailed to Deiga first where we encountered an anti-Ambreite riot and saw Aunt Mirelle chased off by a mob. I placed the teams and Trumped us to Begma. Within the hour, I was Trumped by my panicky lead Deiga wizard and pulled him through, wounded. I got him to Tella for treatment he told me that he had been attacked by a mob for carrying an Ambre Trump.

Wonderful. The Opposition was entirely too alert. I picked up most of the Shielded Trump sheaths on hand and handed them out (LOANING them to Octavian and Draco), popped back to Deiga and gave one to the new lead wizard there with a caution.

Back in Begma, we lucked into a Character Assassination (CA) incident with a Dracoformed inn-trashing shape shifter who bonked Octavian and demonstated super-Niccolan strength and running, but fell to my net and didn’t care to argue with Windfall. Octavian did a "light mindrape" on our captive and found that he believed he had been hired by Oberon (!), carried a standard Ambre Trump deck (!) and that he was (finally) starting to hallucinate.

I Trumped Oberon, who brought us through and mindprobed the captive Faux Draco, easily ignoring the drug effects. I contacted Draco and brought him through so we could all observe the interrogation. Shifty had been recruited at the Castle gates by an Oberon impersonator who employed some mild Compelling. The guy was from a shadow about halfway to Shadow Earth. The King decided on a public trial in Begma and ordered Draco to attend.

Off to Rogma then with Octavian, where we encountered no problems. Draco Trumped and said he had encountered and eliminated an assassin aimed at aunt Flora, one armed with a variety of poisons. He gave me (der Poisonmeister) a vial of green stuff that was supposed to do serious harm to Ambreites.

We joined Draco in going to Karth by boat. On the way, Draco took a Trump call (cautiously, with me ready to Disrupt it) and suffered a mild info-ream. It felt like someone in the Octavian range. We discussed Trumping out and stupidly decided to continue our sailing.

Draco told Octavian about the Pattern Shaddow Trap he had got caught in earlier and, sure enough, we were sucked into one. Every shift we tried took us deeper into a world of shit. Draco’s dragonboys flew us to a resting point where we decided to go with the flow faster (hopefully) than our tormenter could react. We Hellrode—Hellran, actually—at maximum speed in turns and got through several nasty shadows with moderate hurts and all Draco’s men alive.

We Trumped to Ambre and were shot at and then charged with swords by three assassins in Guard uniforms. Draco Trumped out but Octavian thought they were real Guards and tried talking, so I stayed. Octavian took a sword thrust to fry one assassin, while I killed one and subdued another but was wounded in the side. Draco Trumped me and came through. Real Guards came running, then Eric and Danesh; three dead Guards were found under bushes. We spent the night in the infirmary. I got Eric to cover me should I get Trumped by my agents while laid up. (Not that I was sure Eric was not behind the attacks.)

I talked to Bleys in the morning and learned that he and Jessie had delivered Deela the Desacratrix to the Castle dungeons. Deela had been a Charybdite general, probably their best. I spent the day resting and eating.

Jessie Trumped me in the evening and asked me to join her in invesitgating Syric’s orphanage in Ambre City. The Prince of darkness had an orphanage? That I had to see. Syric, as Deputy Sheriff, had raided the orphanage the day before. It was well known as a major numbers operation, employing the orphans as runners. All well and good, teaching the tykes a trade and all. What interested me was the notion of Syric taking over some of the rackets in town. The man couldn’t resist any scrap of power in any form. We ascertained that the kids were still doing the leg work and asked a likely looking neighbor of the orphanage for details. (Jessie had talked to Syric earlier and was sure there was more to it than gambling.) She was right. Gold bought us the deeper picture: extortion, protection, legbreaking, murder for hire and child prostitution. Ongoing since the takeover? He wasn’t sure. The kiddie bordello was accessed through a nearby baker’s shop using a code phrase. Jessie shifted into her idea of a suitable customer and went in while I monitored her by Trump. Gold changed hands and she was introduced to a naked twelve year old girl chained to a wall. Jessie cut her loose and I pulled them out.

A light mental probe showed us the faces of the hag who still managed the place and several employees. Whore-duty was a means of punishment and lucrative sideline to the main operations. Jessie wanted to raise the Castle authorities but I wanted to keep it simple: walk in and kill every adult in the place. She liked that idea. She was worried about the girl disappearing while we were busy. Who was diligent enough to watch herfor an hour? Gerard. He answered his Trump from aboard a ship and protested that he was not much of a baby sitter. Just while we clean out a nest of child prostitution—WHAT? PULL ME THROUGH! WHERE IS IT? We pointed. He swelled even larger (I swear) with rage when he recognised it as an orphanage and stalked over to it with his great hands clenching. We followed. I remembered the bakery as Gerard kicked the door in; I ran over and intercepted the baker (immobilized by breaking a leg), the manager and a henchman (with a dart through the leg) but two got away. The darted henchman turned out to be one of Syric’s shapeshifters. Gerard tore up the orphanage offices and bagged a couple of the villains. He took custody of the manager, baker and henchman. Jessie and I Trumped to Bleys in the Castle. Jessie spread the word with great enthusiasm and some embellishment. I was more circumspect and accurate. Many were outraged or pretended to be. Dad took some flack for gambling via the organization and there were suggestions he used other services as well. Dad gambles with everybody, said I and bullshit to the second.

Draco Trumped me the next day and came through with aunt Flora. She had a poisoned gut wound, not too bad (for Family), and had to eat half a pound of charcoal to help clear the stuff out of her system. Draco and I speculated on the possibility that she had arranged the attack to throw off suspicion that she was the Trapper/Character Assassin (probably one and the same) but had been hurt worse than planned. Possible.

I convinced Oberon to lend me a book on Ambre poisons on the basis that I was being consulted by Family and wanted to be prepared. Back in five days. This is one librarian I don’t want to mess with.

I took off to Tella and studied the book. I transcribed the trickier parts of the book in my highly eccentric Italian shorthand (with a few key chemical substitutions that I memorized with a mnemonic rhyme) and hid it among the erotica folios. Then I returned the book to Oberon.

I ordered up new blade venom with the strongest muscle paralyzer available and more darts. Plus a dozen more Trump sheaths.

I Trumped to the Shadow Earth for a visit with the Estensi and to check on something I should have years ago: did I have any children there. No, fortunately. The famiglia was currently prospering but I learned that it, and Italia in general, were lined up for a heavy dose of disaster.

A quick analysis, using the principals Bleys taught me as a lieutenant, told me that independant Italia had no chance, short of me bringing in two hundred thousand good troops and conquering Europe for Ferrara. Of the potential overlords, France was best:

allied to Ferrara, half-done taking the peninsula already and more fun than the Germans or the Spaniards.

The best way to ease France’s path was to foul up the others. The Pope, the King of Spain and the Holy Roman Emperor, and such of their lieutenants and heirs as were practical, had to go. That should cause sufficient chaos for an easy French victory and consolidation. I should do something about the Turks, too, if I was going to mess up the Empire. And maybe shift probability to start a big fashion for bathing. If I were to, say, run my tongue along some charmer’s thigh, I preferred to taste skin and fresh sweat, not six months of grime. And plumbing, too. Cut down on the cholera and the stink. Damn, but I’d forgotten the stench of Christian countries.

I started a systematic recon of my targets, noting upcoming dates of royal or papal processions that might serve to shift the bastards away. While in France (for the food) I felt a hint of Logrus but could not find the source. Merda.

SESSION 13

SHADOW EARTH, MADRID

The King of Spain was the first convenient target. I intended to shift him and his entourage a few shadows away while they returned from the Running of the Bulls. It worked up to a point:

I took us right into the Shadow Trap waiting for me. Apparently, my minor shifting about while reconnoitering had drawn it to me.

The King and his troop were slaughtered by Saracens. I Shifted away down an alley and attempted to achieve the speed necessary to escape these things. A werewolf unhorsed me and I killed it. I put Random’s Trump in my left glove so that I would know when it became usable and ran on. I evaded, killed or survived more weres, an acidic swamp, serpents and bats.

The Trump cooled to half-normal; I tried it. Random seemed surprised, but pulled me through to a windowless tower apartment. He left me there to bathe and bandage myself. A cute servant girl took my things (except for Windfall which I kept on the floor beside the tub) off through a vanishing doorway to be washed and cared for.

I relaxed in the tub and almost fell asleep... an odd smell. Gas!

Nitrous oxide! I reached for Windfall—gone. Shitshitshitshitshit! Nitrous oxide sinks—I upended the couch against the wall and jumped on top of it. Fresh air, almost. Several deep breaths, then I hopped down, broke a leg off a chair and banged the wall every two feet until the sound changed. There!. I dumped the tub and heaved it at the spot I thought concealed a door. The 400 pound tub didn’t hurt the spell-door, but it did crack the stone around it. I NEGATED the door and waved my hand through it, then took up my club and did it again, leaping through and scattering some servants. They screamed and ran, dropping trays, and I acquired a butter knife.

I ran naked down the spiral stairs and Shifted Falco to me—I ran into a servant carrying my pants and lesser sword. He ran off while I dressed. More stairs as I Shifted my Trumps to me—they were spread across a massive desk in the next room down, an office. I barred the door and scooped up the cards. Shouting, clanking, running feet—big ones. Loud, deep shouting and heavy banging on the door. I crouched behind the desk and waited. Two ogres with huge falchions broke down the door and charged in. I threw the desk at them, knocking them back, and jumped them. I took a sword and two knives off the corpses and "Random" entered the room. I cut him with the falchion (he was not as good as Dad) then tossed the clumsy thing and switched to rapier-and-dirk. He got me with a Neural Disrupt and a nasty cut in the side. I did the same to him and killed him. Guards ran in, then back out. I nailed one in the leg with a dirk. He told me where to find the rest of my gear, including Windfall, thank God.

I doctored muself up and rested for most of a day to let the wound knit. The food was terrible.

I left the keep, shifted the island to a peninsula and Hellran into a forest. Wolves howled. I went faster. Something HUGE persued me, crashing through full grown trees. I ran through a five foot gap between two big sequoias, which only slowed IT down. I found a big ravine with a nice, small bridge and ran across, killed the troll, and stopped on the other side to see what in Hell was after me. It was a more-than-dinosaurian hellhound, fifty feet tall and maybe one-fifty long. It spopped at the ravine.

Little darts zipped around me. I rolled for cover. One hit me in the cheek when I risked a quick look—little pixyish guys with tiny bows. I tore out the dart and Negated the successful archer, reasoning that such creatures were usually highly magical. He exploded, the others panicked and I charged past them, frying three or four more as I went and taking a dart in my left hand.

Shortly thereafter, Dad’s Trump went cold, all the way this time. Before I could use it OCTAVIAN TRUMPED ME REALLY HARD. I almost fell down. When I could think again, he told me I looked like shit. No lie. He pulled me through to him, Bleys, Draco and some troops. They had been looking for me. I told them about the improved Pattern trap. It was close to trial time. I went home to recover. I found a suspicious smudge on a door knob (paranoia sucks) and fled to Oriana. She and her people pampered me for a few days, at Tella’s 10x Ambre time rate.

Draco Trumped me and told me Bleys had determined that Florimel (!) was responsible for the Traps and that they had reported to Oberon. Bleys stole the credit, Draco said, but neither he nor Octavian were complaining that Bleys would get most of Flora’s eventual ire. Oriana and I went through to Ambre on Draco’s Trump.

Most of the familoy attended the trial of Syric. Brand and Sean were absent. Pantry Man was no doubt watching from his lair. Oberon was the judge, Gerard served as prosecutor; Caine was to have been defender but was replaced by Delwin, which caused much comment. Gerard was indignant and far more theatrical than I would have credited. Delwin attacked the credibility of the witnesses, particularly Jessie. He didn’t do so well with me as I hadn’t been insane and kept strictly to the truth.

Many of the witnesses had been Compelled and both Oberon and Fiona (the truthsayer) claimed that they could not overcome the compulsions or even determine which had been meddled with. Why they bothered to tell these clumsy lies, I don’t know. Certainly they could have worked out something better in advance. I was intensely curious as to just what Syric had used to bribe the two of them, since blackmail was out of the question.

Indeed, Syric’s weaseling was inspired until he tried to pin the whole thing on Iago. Iago, or, as it turns out, Raiclee (a woman!) had too much proof of innocence. Many witnesses were dead. Also, Syric tried to introduce PART of a letter into evidence, a letter Raiclee was familiar with and insisted be read in its entirety.

At the end, both Raiclee and Syric had to walk the Pattern to eliminate any Compulsions and be checked out by both Oberon and Fiona. Both were telling the truth and uncompelled: Fiona and the King were MOST confused. Or so they said. What a farce.

Some interesting points:

Syric was rumored to have a bastard half brother.

Delwin was Syric’s ally.

Caine claimed there was no child prostitution at the orphanage.

Syric’s mother was Sand.

Raiclee had nailed several of the assassins in Ambre.

Chaos has a Serpent that is to them rather what the Unicorn is to us.

Raiclee claimed that Syric had hired assassins to hit her, Draco, Octavian and me.

Dorothea was very upset to find that her lover Iago was a female, semifeline shapeshifter. Quite the social quandry.

Syric and Delwin left posthaste.

Snippets from dinner conversation:

Raiclee said she thought her father was either Caine or Brand. Ouch.

Fiona looked annoyed. Nearly everyone avoided attracting her attention. Octavian risked it.

Bleys told me that Delwin and Sand both disliked Oberon and so stayed away. Sand liked her privacy; he thought she was likely embarassed by her relationship with Brand. Delwin was much involved in the Courts of Chaos.

Raiclee said that some of the arch-assassin Roger’s men were still after me. I told her that killing attackers was getting to be little more than exercise for me.

Later there was a commotion in Flora’s rooms, followed by their official sealing. Draco and Octavian went to see Pantry Man and learned that Oberon had interrogated Flora and then exiled her to the Flipside under Connor’s ‘care’. It seems that she had conspired with Finndo and then been involved with the Charybdites. She made them a fake Torc, they found out and got hold of the real one (some of them may have walked the Pattern then, as the Torc makes that possible), then Brand acquired it. They blackmailed her into harassing Draco, Octavian and me; they would have preferred us dead but she would not go so far.

Jessie agreed to trade poisons, antidotes and information for Trumps.

I returned to Shadow Earth and switched to more direct methods, since the Pattern Trap was still out there. I brought my best bow and some Turkish arrows and went to Rome. Pope Julius was the primary foe of my mortal family. I hit him while he was making a speech from a Vatican balcony, right through the heart. He didn’t die, he was a damned shapeshifter and I left via Trump as I picked up a whiff of Logrus. Shit.

At least Holy Roman Emperor Maximilian went as planned. Turkish arrows nailed him and most of his entourage as he hunted.

I returned to Tella and contacted Random and Bleys about Chaosians on Shadow Earth; Dad was quite concerned. I made some Trumps: Rogma, Deiga and the Castle Ambre roof. My troops in the Golden Circle were fine and Impostor activity was low. I dropped by Ambre and briefed Danesh on my usual disguises, so that he could warn the roof guards.

SESSION 14

I went to Deiga, Rogma and Begma to check on my Character Assassin hunters. They reported no new incidents. Ambre’s Rogman ambassador told me that no CA events had been reported anywhere in the Golden Circle for a couple of weeks. Maybe the execution had done the trick.

I Trumped to Bleys and asked if he would do me a favor: eliminate the Shadow Trap that was following me around. He said that destroying it would cause problems; I should try to cut a deal with Flora. He mentioned a speculation that a Shadow Trap on the Ambre side might cast a mirror image on the Chaos side. Damn. Conversation turned to the recent trial of Syric. Bleys was not nearly so disdainful of the proceedings as I. He suggested that Gerard might have been covering something up. Good old Gerard?

Lord Feldane’s wedding occupied the afternoon. I promised the happy couple a portrait and made some preliminary sketches. Fenris and Parsifal had an argument, largely in some kind of Courts ur-Thari, that ended with Parsifal storming out. Fiona was escorted by one of her Jailer-copies. I couldn’t get a proper Trump fix on him or it; Fiona probably has it shielded. Draco spotted the Jailer and went straight to Benedict for information. The Jailers, he told me later, were practice dummies created for use by Oberon, Finndo and Osric. Ben told me how to kill them: nail them dead center in the chest but don’t miss; even an inch off is no good. OK, lop off the arms and legs and THEN skewer it.

Draco, Ambrose and I fenced with Bleys. Even with two or three on one he kicked our butts. Chain weapons are a Bad Idea in this kind of fight. I thought that a good fourth fighter- say, Jessie- would have enabled us to win. Bleys did break a sweat, though.

Draco was interested in going after Deela the Desacratrix.

I bought two kegs of Reman Ale, two cases of Bayle’s Best and a donkey to carry them, and Trumped to Castle Odious. Connor was glad to see me. He was unusually clean and well dressed, for him. Flora’s influence? Maybe not: Flora had run off. We played cards and drank. He got plastered, I was careful. Dana the captive, castaway Hendrake approached me about getting away. We made a deal: she agreed to a No Vendetta oath, like the one Draco had got from the rest of the Hendrakes, and she would work for me against any House except Hendrake. She would "run away" the next afternoon and Trump me a day later.

The following morning I headed out and found Flora’s cave. She told me to keep my distance and we communicated by shouting. Oberon or Pantryman had cut her off from the Pattern and she wanted access to one to restore her power. I tried to think of a was that wouldn’t get ME exiled to Slatternland as Connor’s catamite. She went into the cave and did not return when I called to her. She had vanished and, Seeking, I felt her in the direction of Castle Odious.

She was dead on the Pattern in Castle Odious, with two of Draco’s knives in her and Draco and Connor looking on. Draco said he had Trumped her, she Dominated him, killed the guards and Trumped through. He regained consciousness when she was passing the Second Veil and prevented her from escaping. Apparently nothing stops missiles from striking Pattern walkers. I was not too fond of Aunt Florimel at that moment (though I regretted the loss of that glorious body), so I confined my objections to the fact that now she couldn’t dismantle our Shadow Traps. Draco countered that Oberon, Pantryman or Fiona could get rid of them. Yeah, I really want to owe any of them a favor..

I left, found Dana and Trumped back to the Mainside. I left her at Ygg, where, interestingly, a whole pack of Jailers/Practice Dummies was camped out. They looked us over, then ignored us. I’d have to think of some sort of mutually beneficial deal with Dana. I wanted more information on the various Houses in the Courts, she might want something harmless that I could provide. I didn’t trust her offer of service for a second.

I tracked down Dad in Texorami (I had to make a Trump of the place) and found him maudlin drunk over Flora’s passing. So much for recruiting his help hunting Chaos Lords on Earth. Parsifal, Octavian and Draco did go along with me and my Yamabushi commandos. Deep in the Vatica we found that Draco was, indeed, Cursed with terrible luck, and we suffered with him. And I’d always suspected that the Blood Curse business was bullshit. Draco saved me from a Logrus Tendril attack; apparently one must raise Pattern FIRST. Half my Yamabushi were dead before we could Trump out, all of us wounded and Draco hurting. Draco convalesced in Tella. Octavian recruited Fenris to check out our foes: two L-masters, one in the Vatican and one farther north, both stronger than Fenris.

Octavian wanted to talk to our foes directly. I admit that talking had not seriously crossed my mind. To me, Chaosians were vermin on our side of the border, unless they were family and pro-Ambre, or good looking women and leaving our territory. Fenris was king-sanctioned potentially useful vermin. Not at all an unfair attitude: they certainly thought of us as vermin in the Courts.

Octavian mind-muscled his way into the Vatican while I monitored via Trump. Il Popo claimed to be a nephew of Swayvill King of Chaos sent to Earth on a royal mission. Octavian couldn’t come up with a way to attack the Antipope without getting slaughtered by the guards. I pulled him through at the end of the meeting and we went to Ambre. I reported to Oberon while Octavian and Draco went to Pantryman. Oberon Trumped Benedict. Benedict sent us in again as a distraction, we got shot up a bit, the Unpope died and we took off. Octavian mingled with the crowd watching the Vatican burn but Draco and I went off to Ferrara.

Benedict told us that the two Chaos Lords were bozos from some minor House. Idiots. Tried to scare us off and got Benedict instead.

SESSION 15

Oriana was unusually energetic and excited. When asked, she told me she had walked a Broken Pattern. I was a little surprised, having heard that it was fairly dangerous, but happy for her. We made love some more and later went off and did some cautious (of Shadow Traps) experimentation. Her BP powers so far consist of basic shadowwalking and the increased vitality, which presumably includes youth extension. She can also manipulate a shadow from the center of its BP. Ah-ha. I wanrned her about the nefarious Charybdites and Character Assassins. Hopefully, Fiona or Florimel told her about the BPs, not a Charybdite recruiter.

I delivered the promised portrait to the Feldanes and toured the famous library. All of the exotic botany books were gone, dammit. Next, I took in the gossip at Castle Ambre. The only point of interest was the immanent arrival of an embassy from the King of Chaos.

I Trumped Jessie to ask what Trumps she was interested in acquiring. She said she had secured the services of another T Artist and some other deal would have to be arranged. I was taken aback at this sudden petty mercenary tack in our hitherto easygoing relationship. Also at her bad judgement. One, no other Family Artists were as easygoing and friendly as I. Two, no Court or Shadow Artist had access to the realms of Order and the Family that I did. It took me a moment to alter my attitude from Friendly And Helpful to Strictly Business. At this point arrows started whipping through her tent. She asked if I would like to go through. Whatever for? She said she was in the field helping Bleys against Deela. Oh, Family business. Sure.

As we hopped out of the tent, Jessie told me that Bleys was away on patrol, leaving her in charge. Uh-oh. Enemies were in the compound, so I ran around killing them. Jessie brought up the Logrus and skewered foes with tendril-lances. A sniper (crossbow) nailed Jessie in the ass. I grabbed up a longbow and shot snipers out of trees. I looked for enemy officers and saw Deela on horseback at extreme (for that bow) range. I nailed her leg to her saddle and she rode off cursing. The attack petered out too soon, probably trying to lead us into an ambush. I Trumped my storeroom (awfully damned crowded now, time to make a second closet) for my armor and my much heavier bow. Suited up, I checked the perimeter and then ran a sweep: we caught five wounded.

Bleys returned. I volunteered to help for a while. He sent me off to punish two Solimarese nobles who were helping the Charybdites, without revealing Ambre’s involvement. I disguised my company as Solimarese cavalry (that is, kidnapped a local for the designs, Trumped to Tella and had a hundred surcoats and Chary amulets made up) and approached the first target. Local troopers at a village made us as not-Solimarese, forcing me to capture the place. I surrounded the target mansion at night and entered alone in full stealth. I killed all four guards and broke into the lord’s rooms. He was not there, but a lovely woman was. She claimed the lord had ben summoned away. Her mind was a bit too strong for easy domination, so I knocked her out. I Trumped Bleys out of a sound sleep and handed him the naked beauty; at this rate I would soon be Bleys’ favorite nephew. Out the window and over the guarded-by-corpses wall. We burned the place down, recovered the guard left on the village and took off through Shadow.

Octavian Trumped me at our first camp and convinced me to aid him for a while with agate-matters. I Trumped the company to Tella for R and R, then joined Octavian in Ambre. He showed me that our agates were now linked to us, they would follow us around, somehow, though one never actually saw them move. Octavian had a whole bagful to my one. Dworkin had given him the idea that they would form a mandala of power. He thought an artist, or a Trump Artist would do it better. We tried and found that in a meditative state, we could assemble a design that gave off some faint but definite power.

We brought in Raiclee, who knew a bit about the agates, and offered a horde of City urchins ten coppers an agate to bring us more. We made a large design out of the 3000- odd agates, which radiated a fair amount of indifinable energy. Raiclee brought in Dworkin to view it. He ordered us to get the rest of the agates—six in the surf, one on Shadow Earth, one in Chaos (House of Hendrake? -asked Raiclee. Yes) and several in the Golden Circle. He did NOT want the full design assembled: Someone from Outside wanted in and he wanted no visitors. Octavian would guard the hoard, Raiclee would hit the Hendrakes and I would get the one on Earth, but first I had to finish up an errand. Jessie showed up with nine sad-looking demon bodyguards. Rocks? -she asked. We explained. Demon bodyguards? -we asked. She said she had been named Crown Princess of the Courts of Chaos and wanted to hide out in Ambre, and wanted something to do. She jumped at the notion of helping me burn a mansion.

While Jessie and I were coming to an agreement, Octavian was Trumped by Corwin. The Eric-Corwin feud was coming to a boil. Octavian made a few calls.

We shadowshifted to near Solimar, and I do mean "we": Jessie had walked the Pattern. I brought in Bleys’ troops from Tella while Jessie did something to help her poor Order-singed demons. We moved to Solimar, scouted a bit, surrounded the place with Bleys’ men and did an aerial assault on the mansion. Jessie was unaccountably clumsy (distracted, perhaps, by thoughts of her new, even-more exciting life in the Courts) and was wounded but, did manage some tendril-borne psychic contact with our target baron. I picked up an annoying wound in my left heel. There were several wizards in the place, which caused Jess and the demons (my ride) to retreat, the wimps. We should have stayed and wiped them out. Wizards are not that hard. I missed Draco and Octavian. Relatively safe over the wall and in the trees, I Trumped Bleys to see if he could prevent the mages from teleporting or Trumping away, but he had nothing useful hung. We did burn the place down, though. Bleys told me that the lords had sold out for money, but refused to pass on any more information from the "charming and cooperative" lady. He did offer to help me should I need it. Next time, I’ll send the prisoner to Octavian, or Oriana. We left.

I stopped by the Castle Ambre infirmary, picked up a horse in Tella and Trumped to Earth. The agate was in Egypt, in the Great Pyramid. I found a way in and bulled through a series of psychic wards to the stone. Unfortunately, I acquired a double shitload of Compulsions in the process, amounting to RAVING PARANOIA. The tiny, remnant sane part of me tried to get me to walk a Pattern, and actually led me to the Ambre-edge of Arden. Then I lost control and fled deep into Shadow to a No Magic, No Trump world. There I waited for the Family, and everyone else, to come and kill me. Octavian and Raiclee eventually appeared. I captured them easily (killing Octavian’s dog) and held them as hostages against the rest of my persecutors. They nailed me, somehow. I think Raiclee ran ‘roots’ through the dirt to pierce me for psychic contact, and Octavian hit me with a short range mental blast. He might have teleported, despite the lack of magic. In any case, I came to my twisted senses with one foot on the Pattern. I walked it, barely, and collapsed in the center. Slept. When I awoke I apologized. They told me that they had encountered the pyramid’s defenses and had guessed what had happened. Too bad no one thought to warn me. While I consumed an epic meal, Octavian harangued me about putting the agate design together. I vaguely agreed, despite Dworkin’s warning to the contrary.