Jem had been staying near Amaranth - a brightly-veiled shadow; the loud noises frightened the younger girl. And often she stared at Alexandrin with wide, scared eyes.
But as the wind picked up - scattering bits of cloth and paper about, along with soot - a piece of red cloth fluttered by. Jem cried out, "Yes!" And went scrabbling after it - with pale arms outstretched to catch the pretty thing.
[Brendan Owen]
Brendan crept between the tents, ducking and avoiding the confusion as best he could. He picked up bits of cloth and other fragments of pretty things as he walked, stuffing them into his pockets.
The wind blew a piece of red cloth by him. He snagged the scrap easily in mid-flight and prepared to put it in his pocket. {Ma could use this to make something really pretty} he thought.
[Jem]
"Yes," Jem called out in distress and tackled the boy in a flurry of pretty arms and legs and veils.
[Lily Gammidge]
She stepped out of her
small tent and looked about at the confusion around her. Apparently,
things were getting unsettled again. She sighed, and began gathering
up her remaining belongings. She had only arrived a day ago,
and, being unable to enter the Bards Hall because of the siege, she had
taken refuge in the tent city. Now, alone and still grieving, she
was being
forced to move again, although she had
no idea where she would go.
There wasn't much
left in her packs. A little money, her flute, some dried meats and
fruits, and some of Elanor's drawings. These last, done on bits of
scrap paper, but exquisitely rendered, were all she had left of her daughter.
As she began striking her tent, she saw the two children rolling
around on the ground, tangled in a red
veil.
"Children!" she said, "be careful! Shouldn't you both be off helping to pack? We have to get ready to leave. Where are your parents?"
[Amaranth/Alexandrin]
What with the renewed shouts about the fire, and the increasing strength of the winds, Amaranth almost missed Jem's sudden dash into the crowd. As it was, she barely caught sight of the girl's veils fluttering through the press of people, to disappear somewhere into the mob. "Damn it!" she cursed aloud, trying to struggle her way through. Where had the addled child gone? And -why- did she have to go and do something like this *now*?
[Darmon]
Darmon mentally acknowledged Yals' sending and sent back ::I will do my best. I see that you are aiding the children.:: With that he spared no more time on matters that could be resolved later. He altered the tone of his song to one that was more of an entreaty. As he played the notes seem to appeal to the wind itself as if to say "Dear friend, won't you please blow in the opposite direction? Won't you direct some rain to those fires and quench them so that the land will not be consumed? Please aid us with your wonderous strength and grace?" -Paladine, please allow my humble skill to suffice and my poor abilities not lack in this time of need.- Darmon added the silent prayer as he played and hoped it worked.
[Wind and rain]
Though the effect wasn't wide spread - rain soaked the tents nearest to where Darmon walked, preventing sparks from taking. And the wind seemed to skirt the immediate vicinity.
[Politi tents]
As the voices outside the circle grew louder, and obviously angrier, Paul rose from his seat with a worried glance in Kallin's direction. The other mage's face had settled into an expression of grim determination, and the threads murmured in concern as Kallin reopened the link to Lanaera in Jord. The "discussion" about the teleport would continue and -- Paul hoped -- conclude soon. He slipped one head through the tent flap in search of Barnabas, to ask what the commotion could be, but the old cleric apparently had left the inner circle of tents to investigate.
Indeed, Barnabas had left, on the heels of Iris, who had darted in to say that a sizable crowd of unhappy people -- headed by Alan Cooper and his three sons -- had arrived at Allenel's main tent. And showed signs of beginning to dismantle it. Only when Barnabas stepped around one side, and considered them over the rising smoke of his pipe, as if he was not at all surprised to be confronted with a mob-in-the-making, did Alan Cooper pause. "Come to help pack up?" he asked calmly.
[Leticia]
The blowing soot had begun to irritate Leticia's eyes till tears ran down her cheeks, and she finally decided to find some water to dampen a handkerchief. She loathed crowds, particularly since she had to resort to pushing her way through the press of people. The only mercy she could think of was that she worn her everyday gown, but that thought made her yearn to hurry to her own tent and get not only her brown silk, but the beautiful gown Mr. van Burian had given her. Tears ran even more at the thought of her few remaining possesions burning up, or being trampled.
She worked her way through the aisles -
towards where they were filling buckets from the casks of water that were
brought in for the tent city's use. The sound of combined, angry voices
caught Leticia's attention and she pushed through half dismantled tents
towards the noise - and was
horrified to see a mob beginning to pull
apart Mr. Gilford's tent. "What are you doing?!" she cried out, picking
up her skirts and running towards them.
[Krelosh]
He faced the crowd and spoke in a commanding tone. "Do not do this! Mr. Gilford deserves more respect then this! He put a lot of work and long hours into setting up the tent city so you would have shelter and food! He could very well have left you all homeless and starving, yet he did not! I suggest that you all put your efforts into evacuating for the fighting moves this way! Montfort has seen much blood spilled and can not bear to see anymore! I beseech you all to think of your families and loved ones and to leave this place else it be too late!"
He prayed his words would have the desired effect on the mob. If not then more fighting was sure to break out.
[Mob]
Alan Cooper and his sons -- poised to rip down the first wall of the tent fronting Allenel's circle -- stopped for a moment to consider the one who had spoken. Finding the man to be a stranger, though unable to identify Krelosh as a drow because of the mage's glamor, Alan dismissed the man with a toss of his head and a shouted, "Now!" to the others behind him.
Perhaps some sought to defend Allenel's tents, it was difficult to tell in the press of people. Those who had suffered the emergency actions of the fire brigade, and those who simply reveled in destruction, overwhelmed those who stood between them and their goal. Barnabas Portnoy, seeing the futility of trying to stay the mob's hand, took the first chance to slip away to the Politi as Cooper and his sons snapped the stays holding down the main tent and began ripping the canvas to shreds. The increasingly strong gusts of wind served only to goad the mob into a greater fury; before long, they would break through to the inner circle of tents.
[Krelosh]
The mob surged forward and started tearing the tent to shreds. With his enhanced dexterity he moved clear of the press of angry people. Nothing could be done now. The crowd was beyond rational thinking and things would only get worse.
The appearance of the Rangers was unexpected and would likely anger the people further. They had to have known that the populace disliked Elves. They should have used illusion to hid their true nature, but that mattered little now.
He moved away from the crowd toward the Politi tents. Suddenly he felt a familiar feeling touch him. A Kindred was near most likely in large tent before him. His curiosity was piqued so he decided to investigate.
He slowly approached the tent keeping all senses alert. He was unsure what he might encounter.
[Rangers]
The Rangers, some mounted, some dismounted, moved into the crowd, trying their best to break the mob up before it was too late. Dallan, still horsed, moved through the crowd, shouting at the top of his lungs.
"Please! There's not much time! Save your children and your wives! Quickly, before it's too late!"
Using their staves and the flat of their swords, the Rangers cut a path through the crowd and reached the tents, hoping to hold the mob back in time to let the lawyer and his friends pass.
It was then that the earth began to tremble, knocking over tents and wagons and throwing the mob into further confusion. Some of the horses began to stampede, breaking free of their masters and wagons and running rampant through the campgrounds.
[Leticia]
Leticia had tried to back away from the
enraged mob, but the sudden press and swirl of them had driven her towards
the front of the mayhem. Her heart beat tripe-time in terror as memories
of the Festival she had died in mingled with the present chaos. The dressmaker
alternated between
sobbing and screaming out, "StopStop!!!
Please Stop!!"
[Geiren/Morrighu/Kit]
As the sound of the angered mob thrummed through the tents like the onslaught of a tidal wave Geiren came to his feet with his sword drawn, and barely restrained madness in his brown eyes. Morrighu was beside him, but not even she was prepared for what he intended to do. For Geiren could sense the nearness of the spectral Hounds - the Hunter's Hounds - that ran through the streets of war torn Montfort, and he called them towards the tent city. None would see the beasts, but where they went folk would flee a unknown nightmare. Something that brushed against their most primal instincts - the instinct to flee and survive. But there was true method in his madness - he sought to drive at least some of the mob away from the tents.. To both Morrighu and Geiren came the sound of hunting hounds - baying in the night.
Kit too heard those hounds and she reacted to her first instinct - which was to flee. She leapt from Linnell's arms and ran through the tents - past the waiting Politi - and out into the chaos.
Morrighu saw the russett shadow go past. Her fingers tightened on Geiren's arm, and she said, "Call off the hounds."
[Nicolai Paevel]
He tightened the reins of Glorystryder and
whispered another thanks for the horse's steady disposition. Nicolai
rode slowly, both searching for his sister, and calling out to those he
past. He called that more wagons were waiting at the council tent,
and that healers were being gathered at
the Paevel Ranch. He stopped as he
neared the struggling fire brigade. "Take the injured to my ranch,
the healers are there and it's safe from the fighting." He called.
Just then he spotted a familiar mare. It was Kisa's, but there was
no sign of her nearby.
[Kisa Paevel]
Kisa Paevel was right behind the Cooper
clan as they attacked the tents. She had gotten caught up in the
rushing mob and charged with the others. She spit at a mounted elf as he
tried to push the mob back, and screamed, "Get out of here! Montfort
doesn't need your kind! Stop protecting his
tents!" She narrowly avoided another elf's
staff and continued to cry out. "Down with the tents!"
[Cherud]
{Down with the tents?} Cherud echoed her words. His body, save his hands, and even voice were fully with the mob, only he didn't touch the tents. Perhaps one could say that he was ignorant, and did not know the precise nature of why the mob was attacking, but he had said before that his tent was his home, and he didn't see any reason for it to be different for these people...who, he had to admit, were complete and utter strangers to him.
[Erline]
He watched the mounting tension calmly. There was nothing he could do that would not reveal him as a mage. Instead he sent his spell skyward and let the rain start to fall on what was left of the fires.
[Kisa Paevel]
She saw one rock fly past her, then another. Kisa ducked down and grabbed a stray tent peg. Her hurled it at the elves who stood between her and the tent. The mob's angry mood had overwelmed her along with the others. Kisa wasn't thinking anymore, she was acting as a part of the frenzied tide of people. She began throwing more debris and rocks, as did several others.
[Amaranth/etc.]
A flash of a fluttering veil here, then there, led Amaranth through the crowd, pushing against people, trying to track Jem through the mob. Large numbers already were pressing towards the exits, shoving others aside, almost stampeding at some points. Another large group had gathered around ...
-Damn,- Amaranth cursed to herself, drawing up short when she realized that she had come upon the complex of Allenel's tents. Or what used to be Allenel's tents, but was swiftly becoming nothing more than another pile of debris as an angry bunch tore it to shreds. There were those who tried to push the crowd back, a strange man with some sort of flicker of magic about him, and a group of Elven Rangers who found themselves cursed for their efforts. Amaranth paused, hand on the hilt of her sword, trying to forget that, technically speaking, she was a member of the volunteer watch.
[Jem]
Jem had been caught by the flow of the mobs and was whining in terror. "AmaMamaAlex!!" she cried out as she was thrown into the debris of one of the other fallen tents.
[Deborah]
Deborah Clausen, chairwoman of the Citizens' Emergency Council, tried to shove her way through, shouting at everyone to calm down. But the yells of those following Alan Cooper drowned her out, and in the growing frenzy she found herself pushed aside, pushed down, under the hooves of the Rangers' horses.
[Lily Gammidge]
Being a halfling in a human riot had both advantages and disadvantages. It was easy to get pushed aside or trampled, but on the other hand, if you were quick you could duck between the legs of humans and horses and slip away unnoticed. When Lily saw the woman go down, however, something of the latent courage possessed by her race rushed to the fore.
She dove under the legs
of the horse and half-pulled, half-carried the woman clear of the trampling
hooves. She looked up with rage at the horseman, but checked her
anger when she saw the look of horror on his face. The horsman dismounted
and lifted the woman up, placing her across the front of his saddle.
As he climbed back up he reached down and, grabbing Lily by
the collar, swung her up behind him.
"Sorry about that, little one!" he said.
"You can save the apologies for later!" the halfling said, "Just get us out of here!"
The Ranger turned his horse and tried to move out of the mob. It was difficult to manouver with three people on the horse, but two of his Ranger companions moved towards him and helped clear a path with their staves. Once clear of the mob, the horsemen, followed by several other refugees, began making their way south, towards the Bards Hall of Montfort.
[Alexandrin]
Alexandrin shivered, and shivered again, as one member of the mob after another passed through his incorporeal form. And as the howl of the hounds grew closer. His sister still simply stood there, doing nothing; the blonde ghost shook his head in disgust, and wondered whether the girl would ever take a stand for anything. As the main tent fell, and the crowd trampled the canvas and makeshift furniture into the ground to approach the inner circle, Alexandrin pulled himself away. If Amaranth would do nothing to give a proper warning, he could.
The ghost slipped through people, through canvas, only a faint ripple in the threads betraying his passage. If Paul Rustin noted the change in the colors as Alexandrin stepped into the tent, he gave no indication. The comings and goings of the ghosts were Morrighu's concern, and at the moment Paul, and Kallin, were focused on weaving the first beginnings of wardings; in their days in the tent city, they had relied only upon the eyes and ears of Brion Hillrover and the others to protect them -- raising spells carried too great a risk of detection. But now, with the panic growing, that risk might have to be taken.
"Bean Nighe," Alexandrin said softly, as if the others could hear him, stopping where the white lady could see him. In his wanderings in Montfort, he had heard her singing, had even lingered at the edges as she had guided the many lost souls of Montfort on. But her song had not touched him, whether by her choice or by another's he did not know. "There is little time."
[Morrighu]
"Greetings warrior," Morrighu said quietly, "I thank you for your warning and fear that you are correct - the time has come for us to either leave or fall to the weight of hate." Her cool, but eternally merciful blue eyes looked at Alexandrin and said, "I don't know what binds you here, but know that you will not be forgotten - someday I will return and aid those who wish to go on - my spirit children and you, if you wish it."
[Alexandrin]
"Blood binds me here," Alexandrin answered, half-watching as the two Politi
mages worked, the older slipping into the inner tent where the girl lay,
the one who lived half in shadows.
"Onoone," he continued, with the elven
word for sister. And with that, he was gone.
[Allenel]
Outside, the time grew even shorter. By the time Allenel Gilford came running with John and Brion and others of the volunteer watch circling him, the first tents in the inner circle had fallen under the press of people.
[Brion]
Brion no longer played gentle with the crazed mob. While he didn't use his sword - his shillalegh swung clean. He knew far too well - that these folks were beyond heeding a subtle touch.
[Brendan]
A rock thrown by one of the rioters struck the back of his head, momentarily dizzying him.
He ignored it as the crowd carried him forward.
[Politi]
And a shimmering wall of light had sprung up around the Politi tents, shifting in a thousand colors. And before it stood Kallin So.
[Leticia]
Leticia had seen Deborah fall and while trying to keep her own feet she cried out for someone to help the other councilwoman.
A shifting of light caught her eye and she
turned to see if something had caught on fire. What she saw brought home
all her horrors - all the sermons from the Church pulpit - the monsters
who were responsible for all of Montfort's pain. For her own death. There
stood the Politi mage!! The
culmination of her terror could be heard
in her voice as Leticia screamed out, "Be Ware - Witches!! The Witches
have come!! Save Allenel - they've come to do harm!!" For it suddenly became
clear to her - they had come to attack those good souls, believers or not,
who helped the people of Montfort.
[Cherud]
Cherud, as a rule, did not hate; hate was a complete and utter waste of time and energy. However, witches, of any sort, were most certainly a logical exception to the rule. He thought of what they had done to Montfort and his face instinctively twisted up. Losing all logic--not even stopping to think that perhaps Leticia might be incorrect, for he, too, recognized them as witches, he raised one arm, shouting at the top of his lungs, "Kill the witches!!!"
[Kisa Paevel]
She glared at the unclean display of magic in horror. As she realized who was standing before it, her fear became anger. The very man who had caused the riots at the festival. The sermons had told her it was his fault, and she had no doubts. "Murdering Witches!" she shouted. Kisa had lost both her father and brother in those riots, and no bodies had been found for the ressurections. She screamed with the power of her fury, "Kill the murderers! Kill the witches!"
She reached back and pulled out her knife, as she surged forward with the others.
[Darmon]
Darmon skirted the angry mob trying the best he could to quell the fires that licked at the people's tents. As he moved he noticed the flatter of brightly colored veils collide into a nearby tent with panicked yelp. -I had better lend my assistance.- A steady rain had begun to fall now as he reached the tent. -I believe my assistance is needed elsewhere.- Darmon stopped playing his pipe and removed a flap of the collapsed tent from the young woman. Darmon reached down and grabbed her arm. With a gentle tug he helped her to her feet. "Are you alright young lady?" Darmon noticed a tall blonde elven woman striding purposefully toward them with a worried look on her face. He clothing seemed quite worn and had perhaps seen better days.
[Brendan]
Brendan fell to the ground as the people moved in different directions. He saw a man and a blond haired woman by the girl in veils. He clutched the veil tightly in his hand and moved towards them, determined to accomplish this task. His head ached for some reason.
[Amaranth]
That shiver of color told her all she had needed to know -- Allenel Gilford, who had sheltered the Politi before, sheltered them again. And even the possibility of seeing Kallin So again decided Amaranth ... she would have nothing to do with the frenzied mob that seemed so intent on killing him.
Fortunately, she could justify turning away, in order to *finally* track down Jem -- rescued from the ruins of a tent by ...
"Don't I know you from somewhere?" Amaranth asked in surprise.
[Nicolai Paevel]
His search for Kisa brought him to the mob just in time to see the wall of lights appear. He heard the bloodthirsty mob shouting and he scanned desperately for Kisa. But the mob was thick and confused, he couldn't make out anyone. Nicolai hesitated, he couldn't ride a warhorse into the crowd without risking deaths. He dismounted and rushed forward. He could see people lying trampled beneath the press of angry citizens. Nicolai saw the volunteer watch joining the scene swinging. *At least nobody's drawn a blade,* he thought as he rushed to the area, *Yet...*
[Cherud]
Anger filled Cherud. So, it appered that some would fight on the side of the witches. He reached into his boot, removing a knife; one that was normally used for woodcarving. Still, it was sharp, and would serve a purpose. Raising it above his head, he gave a cry, completely lost in emotion, having no logic whatsoever. "KILL ALL WITCHES!!! KILL ALL THOSE WHO HELP THE WITCHES!!! THEY MUST DIE!!!"
[Kisa Paevel]
She moved forward behind Cherud. She shouted to the mob, "Heretic Witches are in League with Vampires! Kill them! Kill them all!" She hurled a rock and then grabbed a broken tent pole. Kisa waved the make-shift stake and shouted again, "Kill it! Kill the Creature! Kill the Witches it Protects!"
[Darmon]
He looked at the extremely attractive elf maiden in surprise before recognition of who she was dawned on him. "I have not had the honor of making your aquaintance lady, but we have been in a battle together. As I recall you are very well versed with a bow. I never was given the opportunity to thank you for your aid. It was the night the werewolves attacked and the night I first was transported to this strange place." He bowed slightly to her. "I am Darmon."
[Amaranth]
"Amaranth Talorin," she introduced herself, suddenly remembering that she had seen the half-elf across the yard of Barnabas Portnoy's farmhouse. "And this is Jem." To the side, fifty yards away, the mob seem to have focused upon Kallin So ... and she thought perhaps the mage was mroe than a bit perplexed as to what to do with the scores of people determined to cut him down where he stood.
[Allenel Gilford]
"Gods, Brion," Allenel breathed as they tried to push their way through the crowds. Some whom they shoved would shove back, then stop when they saw the lawyer -- and then try to rally a group to carry Allenel, obviously the target of some assassination attempt by the witches, away to safety. Allenel could not decide whether he was more concerned with having the Politi found lurking among his own tents .... or with the possibility that Kallin So would, with one thought, unleash white fire upon those battering themselves and their make-shift weapons against his shields.
Lanaera Koltke was not pleased. In the past few months, there had been times when she had been more displeased -- even enraged, or so ridden with grief and guilt that she could barely stand. This time, she was displeased. She had been in an unpleasant mood ever since her arrival in Jord, to discover the uniform requirements for Lord Solin's staff. Displeased to find the half-elf Silverfox, who was responsible for establishing such a ridiculous precedent, absent from the city. Furious to find her wayward apprentice (former apprentice, she admitted only to herself, and then with gritted teeth) gone with him. Displeased to find herself saddled with a strange assortment of orphan children, including that insufferably precocious Tobias Portnoy.
And now -- now she was displeased with the mosaic she was etching.
The task had gone reasonably well, given that she was the only Dominta present, and her assistants where journeymen (Emerson, Veril, and Fredia) and two barely trained apprentices (Demetrius Middleton, whom she could tolerate, and Drywen Regelli, who continued to try her patience with her look). But it has taken too long, and even with the extra time spent to etch it into the marble floor of the long ballroom on "Lord Solin's" estate, she still could not puzzle out how to solve her particular problem -- how to craft the mosaic so that it would answer to her the way it now answered to Kallin.
The other mage, when he had prepared the oak floor at Barnabas Portnoy's farmhouse, had changed the patterns so he could channel the mosaic into himself. And by that, he had gained the upper hand in an on-going and irritating struggle for authority in the household. And Lanaera had wanted to turn the tables, to do the same here in Jord. But she could not. No matter how she tried, the channels would not form, would not bend the way she wanted, but settled in as they wished, willfully uncooperative.
At one edge of the floor, Veril leaned against the wall with her fellow c'hanati, watching as Lanaera paced the length of the empty mosaic, back and forth and back again. None of them had been included in the mental link between Lanaera and Kallin, but all had been able to read the older woman's expression and colors well enough to know that Kallin had pushed, and pushed again, for Lanaera to open the teleport. ::She's taking too long,:: Veril observed in even tones, trying to achieve that level of equilibrium which her Dominti, Paul Rustin, always maintained. ::She should let them through now.::
::She should have let them through two days ago,:: Emerson interjected, and shifted his weight from one foot to another. He did not try to hide his impatience; like Fredia, he had been in Montfort during the last riots -- an experience Veril had avoided by leading the first evacuation to Telanya i'Syvo's -- and he was not happy with the prospect of prolonging Kallin's and the others' stay there any longer.
[Fredia]
Fredia - who had been leaning against a wall near Veril - gave vent to her irritation and worry and began pacing; bearing a strong resemblance to a caged animal. ::Something needs to be done - soon,:: she added - her mental sending clipped and controlled.
[Veril/Emerson]
Veril and Emerson exchanged one long glance, but neither reacted to Fredia's statement. It was obvious which way Fredia's loyalties went in any division between Lanaera and Kallin -- as it had been obvious which way Deanna's had gone; but the other two had been very careful to remain as neutral as possible. Though this time, Veril had to confess, she was in complete agreement with her fellow journeywoman.
The minutes stretched out interminably, punctuated only by Fredia's pacing and Emerson's infrequent releases of his pent-up breath. The threads in the room shifted uneasily, and darkened as they spooled around the mages' feet. Veril rolled her shoulders, and continued to track Lanaera as the Dominta made one more circuit of the marble floor.
And froze as the threads shimmered and leapt with the first intimations of a sending from Kallin -- bypassing Lanaera and going straight to the three c'hanati in the room. Her dark blue eyes wide, Veril looked at the other two, uncertain whether to open a link and respond.
[Fredia]
Fredia barely restrained herself from immediately
opening a link to Kallin. She knew that Veril and Emerson had been endeavoring
to maintain some type of status quo since Lanaera had arrived - trying
to keep the household from being torn further apart. And for the sake of
the house she had stayed as far out of Lanaera's way as duty and politeness
would allow. The Dominita did not forgive minor slights easily - and near
rebellion was far from a minor slight.
And before the work on the mosiac Fredia
had been willing to ignore whatever barbs Lanaera threw - she knew the
woman hurt deeply and Fredia grieved with her, and for her. But during
the later stages of creating the new patterns in the marble it became obvious
that Lanaera sought to use this as a play for power. That her ego had taken
a deep blow by Kallin's taking the mosiac into himself. It was then that
Fredia's own grief and anger began to burn back up to the surface. How
dare the woman seek to use this as a time for her personal power!? How
dare she risk the lives of those who fought for the House?! Kallin had
nearly given his soul for them. And Morrighu and Geiren nearly gave life
and honor on their behalf. Not to mention Paul.....and Linnell! How
could Lanaera risk her own apprentice? Or had she already given Linnell
up for dead?
Fredia could stand it no longer - she opened the link to Kallin.
[Veril/etc.]
The threads shifted again, and before she could stop herself Veril had stepped between Fredia and Lanaera, subtly moving the strands into place to shield her fellow journeywoman from the Dominta. Lanaera continued with her scrutiny of the floor, apparently oblivious to what was happening on the edge. With the slightest hesitation, Emerson nonchalantly moved to stand on the other side, lifting the concealing weave and strengthening it.
::Can we expect to be granted an audience in the near future?:: Kallin's mental voice whispered along the link. The words were light, but his tone was ice cold with something approaching fury. Veril looked to Emerson who looked to Fredia, and the former two left the latter to answer.
[Fredia]
::You shall soon,:: Fredia sent - her own anger shimmering along her thoughts and turning the threads warm, like the fire she favored. ::That I promise.::
She closed her link and while taking several deep breaths she prepared her own shields, but kept them dormant and ready. Despite her own fury some common sense held sway, and Fredia knew that it would be foolish to show that she was prepared to defend herself. That would just provoke a worse confrontation. And she already knew with a cold sickness in her gut that if Lanaera's grief and pride caused her to attack without thinking that there was a strong chance that both she and Fredia would end up being outcast from the mosaic. But after the price Kallin and the others' had paid she was willing to pay that sacrifice to bring them home.
When she felt steady enough she spoke - in a voice that was calm and strong. "Dominta - it is time to bring the rest home."
[Lanaera]
For two or three or four long minutes, it seemed as if Lanaera had not heard Fredia speak, as if she were so intent upon studying the channels in the mosaic that she had no attention to spare. But finally, she stopped and lifted her light blue eyes to consider the journeywoman. "That decision is not yours to make, c'hanata," Lanaera answered calmly, with only the faintest undercurrent of threat. And she turned back to stare again at the marble, frowning slightly.
Veril waited, quietly, still holding the link to Kallin half-open, just enough to relay to him what happened in the ballroom. And just enough to catch echoes of what happened in Montfort, ripples of an angry crowd, a taste of storms, and most disturbing of all, a hollow distant sound of hounds baying. As they stood there, the time only grew shorter, and the likelihood that Veril and Emerson would be forced to choose -- forced because of Lanaera's arrogant obstinance -- grew stronger.
[Fredia]
"No, it is not my decision to make," Fredia answered steely, and calm, "But," she said, thinking of the danger that had whispered in Kallin's threads as he had sent to them, "You know as well as I how quickly the tides of war turn in Montfort - consuming all in their path. Will you consign the other's to 'drown'?"
[Lanaera/Veril]
"Kallin will protect them," Lanaera murmured, without looking at Fredia again. Veril winced at the note of profound grief that flickered through Lanaera's shadows, ever-present since Wyland's loss. And in that moment, she lost the link to Kallin, felt the other mage close it without warning -- and that by itself told her that the danger to those left behind in Montfort had suddenly escalated, to the point where Kallin felt it more important to ward than to communicate.
"Now," Emerson interjected, shivering at the unexpectedly loss of the connection to Montfort. "Open the weave now."
And still, Lanaera did not answer.
[Fredia]
For the longest of moments Fredia was terrified into stillness by Kallin's sudden absence from the threads. And when she did speak all she said was, "Please, Dominta - the time is gone."
[Lanaera/Veril/Emerson]
Silence for several minutes more, and just as Veril lifted one foot to step onto the floor and cast her own weave outward in search of Kallin and Paul, Lanaera lifted her head. "C'hanati, come," she almost whispered, an echo of resignation or even defeat in her voice and expression. Without waiting a second longer, the three fanned out across the ballroom floor and raised the threads, glittering lines that wrapped themselves around the mages' arms, and leapt
<out>
only to spin back, the net empty,
<out>
again, and still nothing, until Veril felt her heart shudder at finding nothing catch the lines they cast.