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From the deck Solange gazes out at the island as it sits in the early morning sun, a green jewel in the turquoise sea. Her attention is diverted as she watches the boat with Lucas lower into the water. Kyril comes up to stand beside her as the men turn the boat and row toward the shore.
She smiles at Kyril, then leans forward to rest both hand on the smooth wood of the rail. "He asked me to watch over his wife and kids before he left," she says, a bit bemused.
"I gather he thinks this is a very important mission if he's risking his tender pink hide to go on it." His eyebrows are raised, just a bit.
"He does," she replies, still gazing out at the island. "And so do I," she continues in a softer voice.
"You know, I didn't really care much where we were going..."
Solange turns to face Kyril as he talks, leaning her back against the rail.
"...or why, when I signed on, and I've pretty much achieved my goal of settling or not settling things between us. Big surprise, yes? Thought so. But now I'd sorta like to be able to earn my keep, which means understanding not just what we're after, but why."
He looks at Lucas' dwindling shape in the longboat, and back at the clouds rolling in from the coast.
"So, a few years ago a ship left, and didn't come back. It was followed by another ship that also didn't come back. Somebody came by here and saw a wreck, but they came back. Now the King's very own niece and nephew are on leaky boats chasing down a second-hand report of a shipwreck from a few years back. So, Solly, inquisitive minds and all... Why are we here?"
Solange glances around briefly, finding it entirely probable that no one is nearby to listen in on their conversation. Satisfied, she returns her attention to Kyril.
"Here's the short of it," she explains. "The first ship you mentioned was a Paresh ship. Lucas came across information that strongly suggested at least one of the Paresh knew a thing or two about traveling through time. The person in question was on that ship. Lucas and I want to determine whether or not he can indeed travel through time. And if he can...then can we?"
Solange pauses. Her hands gripping the railing go white-knuckled, but her eyes stay fixed on Kyril's face. "I want to warn Father about the Sundering, tell him not to be in the castle when the earthquake strikes, and prevent his accident from ever happening in the first place."
He whistles. "Wow. You're ambitious. What if it works? What would happen to the city, and all the people who knew him like he is? What would happen to my memory of being medically examined by a man in a wheelchair?
"I don't know. Perhaps it all resets somehow so it never happened."
"In fiction, time travel like that always goes bad. I'll help, of course, but we definitely don't know that this plan is anything like safe or smart, you do realize that?"
Solange chuckles. "In fiction, time travel always goes bad," she repeats. "That's good. I'm ready to call a halt to the entire expedition now."
Still grinning, she turns back around and looks toward the island. "We're in fact-finding mode right now, nothing more. Just looking at options."
A pause, then she asks, "In Lauderville. How has the tech progressed since I left? Do you think there's anything there to help him?"
He shrugs. "You all are close enough to us that we're compatible. We have things we could try if someone had injuries like that in Lauderville. But nobody who had injuries like that in Lauderville would've lived, much less lived for years."
Solange looks at him over her shoulder.
He looks very serious. "I think he's in a dangerous place, where he can get used to his current state. It's hard to fight, and be in pain, all the time."
She grimaces. "I can't imagine what he deals with on a daily basis. We have to find the solution ... Heal him ... " Solange trails off and catches Kyril's eye. He sees sorrow and desperation in hers.
He pets her arm, not saying anything.
"You're a very talented doctor," she continues softly. "Perhaps that's part of why you found your way to Xanadu. I mean, well, I'd like to think it's all about me, that I'm the reason you're here," Solange smiles at him. "But maybe it's really about Father, maybe you're part of the solution."
He smiles, lightly and sympathetically. "I don't believe in fate or reasons for things that can't be found. They said in Xanadu that people were 'just showing up', and I did that. Maybe it helps that I've been outside Lauderville before. Maybe that part's dumb luck. But what matters is that I am here, and we'll do everything we can for your father.
She reaches for his hand and squeezes it in gratitude.
"I'm not sure I could have picked a better position: personal physician to my girlfriend's father, himself a physician, to treat injuries that only he could have survived. I'm not liking my chances of getting this published in a peer reviewed journal."
"Maybe you'd have better luck in a supermarket tabloid," Solange suggests wryly.
"Do they peer review those here? Who are their peers, anyway?"
"Now that would be amusing: peer reviewed tabloids," Solange smiles. "They can be reviewed by Frog Boy and the woman who lost twenty pounds eating jelly doughnuts."
She turns back to look at the island, tension tightening her shoulders as the offshore breeze blows the hair back from her face. After a few moments, she asks, "Did Pacifica win the war?"
He looks at the island as well, and takes a long time to answer. "Maybe. We won the last battles, but I'm not sure if, in order to win, we didn't destroy the Pacifica I was from. Jury's out on whether we can put the genie back in the bottle."
"I don't know that I'd go back." He seems sad and angry at the same time.
"I'm sorry. Our Patternfall war reflected throughout shadow. But on the other hand, there's a stable, flourishing reality once more in Xanadu and that stability will also reflect outwards. There's every reason to believe Pacifica will recover."
He opens his mouth, and then shuts it. "I hope you're right. There's a long way to go." He shakes his head. "Storm's coming in. Fast." The sailors seem to have noticed as well. In fact, the first drops are starting to hit the deck.
"Let's go find the captain." Solange pushes herself away from the rail and starts walking toward the captain, or whoever is on deck and currently in charge.
"Lady Solange, I was just looking for you. We're safe here, unless it gets really bad. We're on the lee side of the storm. I'd be happier if we were further out. And if we had the full crew aboard. That's coming up fast, but we've got time to recover the sailors ashore."
"Thank you, captain. Please excuse me, though..." Solange forestalls the conversation with a raised hand while she turns partly away and answers the trump. "Yes?"
"Well met, coz," says Lucas. "Are you having a rough ride out to sea, or did you fancy seeing the nether side of the island?"
His tone is relaxed and as urbance as though they'd met at the dinner table at Amber.
"The latter, I believe," Solange replies. "We see the storm coming in. Would you like me to try to shift it away, or would you just like to wait it out?"
"We'll wait it out," says Lucas. "I might need you full of beans and raring to go later on, and I'd hate you to be all pale and interesting from playing games with the weather instead.
Solange shrugs. Apparently she doesn't think it'd be a problem.
"There's been some ... anomalies here. Interesting - a wrecked ship that wasn't here a year ago - but which seems to have been beached even longer ago. Graves on the foreshore - which have been grubbed up. And those seem even earlier than the wreck."
Her eyes narrow at the mention of graves. "Can you make out the name of the ship?"
"No," says Lucas, "but it hailed from Aesir Island. I believe the Hardwinds had trading interests there, didn't they? Do you know any details?"
She thinks briefly, then shakes her head. "No survivors still around?" Solange asks.
Lucas shakes his head. "None that we've seen, although the storm moved in pretty quickly. The presence of graves indicates there must have been some to bury the rest."
Solange nods.
"However ... whatever disturbed those graves, I don't think it was peckish survivors returning for a snack. One hopes whatever it was prefers its meat cold ... but desecrating the graves might have been its last resort. After it had exhausted ... other options."
"I suppose I don't need to tell you to be careful," Solange replies, her eyebrows raising. "Perhaps it would be wise to check back in with me every quarter hour or so?"
Lucas smiles. "Are you sure you won't be performing any activity that lasts longer than a quarter of an hour in the near future?" he asks. "One would so hate to be de trop."
"Not on deck I won't," she replies deadpan, glancing at Kyril. She returns her attention back To Lucas. "Anything else? If not, I'll wait in giddy anticipation for your next call."
"Nothing else," says Lucas. "Just - take care yourselves. I don't think the only danger here is on the island."
And with that he ends the connection.
Solange turns back to the captain and Kyril. "They've found the remains of a ship and some accompanying graves, the latter of which have been disturbed. He wants to continue investigations so he's decided to wait out the storm and check back in every quarter hour or so."
The storm stays steadily off the far shore of the island, with nothing more than wind whipped drops threatening to bring it westward across the island and onto the Fairwind.
The Captain frowns. "Better to bring them back here before it hits."
Solange regards the storm, then looks back at the captain. "You have more experience in weather-related matters than me. Do they have time to bring the boat back before the storm arrives, or were you thinking I should suggest to my cousin to bring them all through by trump?"
He looks momentarily alarmed, then calms himself. "If the storm keeps holding off, they can come back by boat. I don't want to lose the boat, and we will for sure if we abandon it. If we can't get them aboard without sorcery, then we'll turn to that."
Kyril looks confused, but doesn't say anything. He may just be amused.
"I'll relay your recommendation. A moment please..." Solange sighs. She extracts Lucas's trump from her pocket and regards it, willing it to come alive. "Hello, hello..."
Lucas finishes his cigarette and strolls back the short distance to join the men.
Lucas steps back to the sailors, who are just far enough inside the cave entrance to keep the rain off themselves. It's pouring outside the cave, and getting darker by the moment. Tallow nods when Lucas returns. "My Lord, Oboe found this in the bones."
'This' is a large skull with a combination of canine and human features. Tallow lowers his voice. "Weir, my Lord."
"Indeed," says Lucas, taking and examining it thoughtfully. "Anything to indicate how it might have died? Very tough, weir - or so I've always been led to believe."
The men look blank.
He glances around. "You know," he says conversationally, "This is all starting to remind me of the time when I spent a slightly fraught weekend in the Resident of Bungapour's bungalow. The waters of the Gwadlipichee rose unexpectedly, and I ended up sharing a rather small bedroom with the Bishop of Bequar and a leopard. Of the two, I rather preferred the leopard - once it had been appeased with a goat it curled up quietly and went to sleep, but the Bishop would go on about a family quarrel he'd had with our somewhat reluctant hostess over a Crown Derby dessert service that had been bequeathed to him when it should have gone to her or the other way round. I don't remember the details, but I do remember that by Sunday tea-time I was on the point of waking up the leopard and pointing her in the general direction of the bishop with the whispered information that I suspected she'd find him even more delicious than goat ... "
Tallow is listening, as is Oboe. It's clear they don't get all of the references, but they ask no questions.
While he is talking amiably enough, Lucas is nonetheless examining the skull with some care and attention, trying to determine what killed the beast (silver bullets lodged in the brain pan being somewhat in the nature of a Clue - grawing marks being rather more worrying unless they were clearly inflicted post mortem).
No marks, but there is a pretty complete skeleton. Disease, old age, and starvation are probably the leading contenders for cause of death.
He also makes sure that the sailors who are meant to be keeping a look-out are indeed still doing so. After all, his party might not be the only ones to feel this is a snug place to take refuge in a storm.
With encouragement from Lucas and Tallow, the lookouts become much more attentive to looking out.
Lucas looks out to see if the storm is showing any signs of lifting...
Nope, It's practically Monsoonish. You have to speak quite loudly to be heard and you can't see more than 5 feet outside the cave.
...and then spends the time they are trapped bonding with the sailors (no, not like that, it's only a shallow cave after all), swopping tall tales - although, with Lucas, one can never be quite sure how tall the tales are. Did he really spend ten days in the belly of a whale? Whether he did or not, his reasons for leaving possess a certain plausibility.
"The decor," he says with a shudder. "After ten days of unrelieved puce, it was a case of either the gullet went, or I did."
Lucas feels a tell-tale tingling. It hasn't been a quarter of an hour (in fact there's almost no time for tales of Whale-inhabiting).
Lucas accepts the trump call. His eyebrows lift slightly at the sight of Solange (even though she is rather more preferable than the likely alternatives ... ).
"Dear coz. Suddenly I am reminded of all those times I prudently withheld my telephone number from delightful young women, mendaciously promising to call them instead. What occasions this communication? I realise that the wit and banter around the Captain's table at dinner may seem a little leaden without me, but really, you do have to give them longer than ten minutes. I'm sure they'll grow more amusing as the evening draws on."
Solange smiles. "Don't flatter yourself. The captain recommends that you head back to ship before the storm hits."
"I have to flatter myself," says Lucas sadly. "There's no-one else around capable of appreciating me. But as for the storm ... our Captain thinks it may get _worse?_" He contemplates the stair-rods sheeting down for a moment. "I don't see us making the longboat in this, quite frankly. It would fill before we'd launched it."
Solange frowns. "The storm hasn't hit from where I'm looking at it. It's stalled on the far side of the island. Did you slip in shadow?"
"I think it's more likely that you did - the ship is no longer visible from where we are. Ah well, that solves the problem of struggling with the longboat in a monsoon. We'll come through to you directly, if we may, and then worry about recovering the longboat once the storm is past. Although I begin to suspect that once we return, we'll find it a whitened wreck, having decayed through the decades. There's definitely something decidedly odd going on here."
"That would be an interesting turn of events. Come through, then, when you're ready."
Lucas signals the sailors, preparing to hand them through before following himself. Tallow and the two on watch he intends should immediately precede him.
If necessary he'll explain something of what will happen - but he's also prepared to leave it as "just one of those things the royals do".
The men are unsure, but Oboe goes first and the others follow.
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LXI: Exploring the Wreck | Index | LXIII: A Message from the Cards
