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Solange walks up to the bridge. She addresses whomever she finds, Captain or the Officer on Deck.
"I want to try to get rid of the storm coming up on us. That would require the Fairwind to lift anchor, go ahead of it aways, and skirt along the edge while I do my thing. Question for you. If I'm not successful, is it going to be a problem riding out that storm while not anchored?"
"That depends on the wind and the rocks, Lady Solange. We're fine with anything that doesn't run us aground. Also, we're likely to end up somewhere we don't expect, but that's fine, we can get back with your help from that."
Solange nods.
"We can prepare sea anchors if need be to slow us if we can't find protected shallows to anchor in. If it gets bad enough to break us apart on the open sea, it'd do so here as well."
"Preferably I'd like to remain in the area and dispell the storm or, barring that, ride it out. If it gets bad enough to break the Fairwinds apart, we'll take us out of here," Solange assures him.
"Lift anchor if you would, Captain Lamprey, and I'll see if I can dispell it."
The captain says "Yes, My Lady." He turns to a sailor at the wheel. "Have Fort weigh anchor, and set a course directly away from the island." He turns back to Solange. "We'll sail away for a bit and when you're ready, we can start turning her, and you can raise the wind behind us. We'll go on light sails then..."
The ship gets underway, moving out of the rain and away from the unnamed island. Shortly Solange has it back on an Eastward course and headed towards or past the island where Lucas left the Ship's Gig.
Things are going well, and Solange thinks she's got the ship moving back towards the clear-skied vista she came by in the first place, when the ship almost lurches into shadow. It's as if the Fairwind was pulled somewhere, against her will, or as if it was sliding through shadow on its own. The sea is very rough and it's a very good thing the hatches have been battened down.
The rain is torrential, and it's driving from the North now, pushing the ship directly at Lucas' Island. The crew is working feverishly and it seems as if they will manage to change her heading enough to not run aground.
With a sickening ripping sound, the Fairwind shudders. The treacherous reefs below the surface must have changed with the shadows as well, and the ship begins to list to port. Maybe running aground would have been safer.
The ship may founder shortly in this storm. And it'll never make it back to Amber. What do you do?
"Dàirich," Solange curses, utterly soaked and squinting against the sheets of rain.
She tries to abruptly shift back to the clear-skied vista. She's done abrupt shifts like this before (i.e. turning the corner in a certain hospital) and will put all her fire into it.
She reaches for it, and it comes with a massive crack, a blinding flash, and the smell of ozone. The momentary dazzlement of the senses that is required to move quickly comes with a blast of lightning, and then the ship is elsewhere.
Lucas is standing close by. He's dressed in appropriately wet weather gear, and he has a card in his hand, protected from the worst of the elements by the curl of his fingers.
Neither of them can see, but they can smell smoke, and the deck is tilting beneath their feet.
"Dàirich," Solange repeats. She flails out a hand to steady herself and strikes someone's arm, which she then grabs. "I can't see a blessed thing. Lucas, is that you?"
"Yes," says Lucas, his voice remarkably steady, even if the words come urgently - the bored patrician drawl is gone; Solange has never heard his Thari so little accented. "I've got a trump of my room in Amber here - I lost the connection when I was blinded by the lightning." A beat. "Solange - do you know where you shifted us to? Because I don't want to make a idiot of myself here if we're already snug in a children's paddling pool in downtown Xanadu."
There is a growing tension in his voice, as though he is focusing.
"I tried to shift us back to the clear skies we departed from," she replies, her tone puzzled. Her grip tightens. "This isn't what I was envisioning. At all. You ever experience something like this?"
"Since we're both blinded - I hope - temporarily, and you have not the faintest idea of where you shifted us, I'm sure you'll not be surprised to learn that my answer is a provisional 'no'," says Lucas.
She can feel the muscles of the arm she holds tensing under her grip.
"If your little plaything comes lumbering in our general direction," he goes on, "I'd be much obliged if you could fend him off. I'm going to try a rather more gentle shift - a sandbar to wedge us on. And may there be no moaning of the bar either, please."
"'Little plaything'? He's larger than you, I'm sure," Solange mumbles, irritated, though she doesn't let go of his arm. She raises her voice. "Captain Lamprey? Kyril? Anyone else about?"
"Lovely," mutters Lucas. "Invite them all. Throw a party, why don't you? We can all play blind man's bluff together. Or pin the tail on the donkey - I could get really creative with that. Solange - it might have escaped your defecit attention, but I'm currently trying to save all our lives, and my task would be a dam' sight easier if you didn't do your best to ensue half the crew stumbles into me with merry cries of, 'Oops, sorry, didn't see you there!'"
He draws a breath and she feels him tensing once again ...
"Get over yourself, Lucas!" Solange snaps back, completely breaking his concentration. "I smell smoke and I want to make sure they're all right. We're not in any immediate danger that I can see... I mean, determine. Gawds, my kingdom for a working flashlight right now!"
"It's not going to do a lot of good if we're flash-blinded," says Lucas. "But we can test that easily enough."
He reaches his hand into his jacket pocket and withdraws his tinderbox which he presses into Solange's hand (as she is still holding his sleeve).
Solange takes the object as she lets go of his sleeve. "What...?"
"Try and get a spark from that," he suggests. "I'm going to concentrate on finding a sand bar ... just to make sure the danger doesn't become any more immediate than it already is ... "
"All right," Solange replies, realizing the object must be his tinderbox. She drops cross-legged to the ground, opens up the lid, and fumbles through the contents, looking to start a spark.
As Solange drops to the deck, she feels that it is unsteady, tilting, and not in the slow way associated with rolling seas. She hears the fire now and it doesn't sound like it's subsiding, and the shouts of the sailors. They say they're launching the ships boat. Solange feels a hand on her shoulder. "It's Sailor Tallow! Can you see? Come get in the boat, we're sinking!"
Lucas feels someone bounce off of his shoulder, then a hand grabs it. "Who's there? Are you blind, too?"
Another voice, deep and gravelly, interrupts. "This way, Captain, to the boat!"
For what it's worth, they aren't getting any wetter, and maybe the warmth on their skins is from the sun.
Solange lets Tallow lead her away. She keeps her grip on the inderbox. "Tallow, where's Kyril?" she asks urgently. "You were talking to him by the railing when the storm hit..."
"Overboard! He's either safe on his own or not, my Lady."
"What?!" Solange snaps back. "Dàirich," she says for a third time, this time the most vehemently. She fumes, knowing there's not a damn thing she can do about it until she can see again.
"Did lightning strike the ship? Is that why it's on fire?" she asks Tallow. "Are we back where we started? I think I feel sun on my face."
As Tallow leads her away, she strains to see even the faintest glimpse of light.
"Go," says Lucas to the Captain. "I'll follow."
He rests his hand on the Captain's shoulder as the man starts to follow the speaker. But his touch here is light, and his other hand is moving along the inside of the deck, feeling for an opening or a door handle that he can use to slip inside away and be concealed.
Of course, he is fully aware of the inherent absurdity of a blind man trying to hide - it would be just his luck to be attempting a sneaky manoeuvre here when half the crew is watching, open-mouthed.
Lucas finds the opening of the hatchway below, and steps down into it. His foot is submerged to the ankle in water. It is shockingly warm.
"Mmmmm," says Lucas with the pleasure of one who has missed the really decent Turkish baths of Shadow.
He waits for a few minutes in the darkness to see if the water is rising and if so, how fast. Anything above knee-high and he's outta there. He checks, however, if the water is salty - sea-water. And the presumed darkness will be soothing for his eyes.
Lucas waits, and the captain's shoulder moves on. "Someone get Lord Lucas!" shouts the Captain. Lucas feels hands on his waist and he finds himself being picked up and handed, like valuable cargo, from one sailor to another.
Shortly, both Lucas and Solange are aboard and the boat casts off. It seems very heavily loaded. After perhaps 10 minutes of Tallow calling cadence for the rowers, the boat stops and drifts. Both Solange and Lucas are starting to see patches of darkness and light now, and it's very likely that vision will return shortly.
Both Solange and Lucas have killer headaches.
The first time that Solange needs his professional services and Kyril has inconveniently gotten himself thrown overboard. "Are you sure Kyril isn't in one of the boats?" Solange asks Tallow hopefully, then, "Can you describe where we are?"
"There's only the one boat, my Lady. We left the other one," says a strange voice.
"So we did. I'd temporarily spaced that," Solange admits.
Tallow speaks up. "He's probably fine, if he can swim. We're in a lagoon. The ship is sinking in a bay." He snorts. "It looks like we got to safety, but only just."
Lucas makes himself as comfortable as he can and waits.
The captain is giving orders. "My Lord, My Lady, we'll be going ashore in a few moments, but I want the men to have another look for anyone tossed overboard."
Eventually, sight returns to both Lucas and Solange, although the headaches remain. They are in a placid bay, with a central mountain behind them. There are people on the beach, and the crew expresses hope it's the two men who went overboard.
Lucas directs the men to looks for flotsam, and to drag towards the boat any of his boxes that are bobbing about - and then rope them to the back of the boat. There should (by the laws of probablity that operate in the general area of Lucas) be one or two at least, one with a malevolent-looking and slightly damp parrot perched on the higher end. (OOC - if not, let me know. But Lucas will need a change of clothes or five, after all. One has a reputation to maintain).
The parrot and the clothes are found. The parrot knows more French than Lucas expected. One hopes it did not teach this to the children.
Eh bien. It's always useful to have a parrot who can quote your favourite sections of Rabelais. Lucas can't think how he managed without one all these years.
Solange is happy to let Lucas fuss about his belongings. If she needs something later she can always find it in his stuff. She nurses her headache instead and mentally sings praises to the Powers That Be that she has her sight back.
He also takes a look at the man with the strange voice to see if he recognises him, for he should know all the sailors by now.
It's sailor Oboe. He's wounded.
Tallow frowns, and speaks quietly to the royals and the captain. "I recognize this island. I recognize that volcano."
The captain looks at him questioningly.
Tallow says one word. "Asir."
"Lovely," says Lucas. "You know, cos, I think, embarrassment aside, I might have preferred shifting into that paddling pool in Amber."
"It wasn't my intention to shift us here," she defends herself. "I'm not sure why it happened."
She looks at Tallow. "What is this place? I notice with some trepidation that you're not smiling..."
"Asir Island. Bad luck. Things aren't right here."
"What fun," says Lucas in a voice devoid of any amusement.
Lucas reaches inside his jacket and withdraws a folding telescope which he snaps into useability, and then courteously hands to Solange.
"Thanks." She takes it and immediately looks to the beach. Is one of the men there Kyril?
Yes. The one lying down. The other is a sailor and he's waving at the boat. Apparently he can see the spyglass.
A worst-case scenario rises unbidden in Solange's suddenly active imagination. She waves back perfunctorily to let the sailor onshore know he's been seen, then silently returns the telescope to Lucas and turns away.
"Now," he says to Tallow and the Captain, "unless we are about to undertake some supremely stupendous maritime feat and row to the next nearest island, I imagine we will, perforce, be going ashore here. So let's bring her in."
"Head 'er about lads, as his Lordship says."
Lucas scans the ocean with the spyglass to see if he can spot any remains of the ship - or more flotsam or even jetsam.
The ship is on the bottom of a lagoon. While the water is somewhat murky, you can see that she's on her side and no more than 10-15 feet below. There is some floating debris, but not much that looks useful.
Then he turns his attention to the landward side as they come in. His interest is less on Kyril and his companion than on questions of the defensibility of their position, and whether they are likely to be attacked - and by what - in the near future. He is also looking for signs of habitation. After all, somewhere on this island there's a place that - according to Tallow - built the ship that they found on the other island. They're not going to be playing Robinson Crusoe here. Or even Swiss Family Robinson.
If it's Asir Island, it's known to be inhabited.
Lord of the Flies remains a distinct possibility, of course.
The island is verdant, although the central peak is clearly volcanic.
The rowers turn the boat in the placid pool and aim at the coast. Shortly the men recognize the sailor that Solange saw with the glass and seem happy about it. The boat comes into the gentle waves of the beach and Solange can see that Kyril is still lying in the sand. He's not moving.
Solange jumps out of the boat as soon as it's feasible to do so and rushes the beach toward Kyril. Once there, she drops to her knees in the sand beside him and assesses his condition.
Unconscious. Breathing. There's a headwound, but it's not bleeding much.
Solange exhales in obvious relief that he's not dead, as she first feared. She probes the area of the headwound gingerly to determine whether or not he has a skull fracture.
"Again?" she chides as she probes, though she knows he can't hear. "What is it with you and getting knocked on the head?"
Kyril groans and bats ineffectually at her hand. "What's it with your family and getting me knocked on the head? Should I open my eyes, or is that as bad an idea as it seems?"
"Yes," she replies emphatically. "Stay still and rest, dammit. There are a few wounded, but I believe you're the worst off right now."
She kisses him lightly on the lips before standing.
Solange orders a couple of nearby sailors to set up a lean-to to protect Kyril from the sun for she doesn't want him moved unless necessary. She tells them to keep a watch on him and inform her immediately if his condition changes.
"Don't. Get. Up," she orders Kyril sternly, then turns to leave. "Back in ten."
Lucas follows in a more leisurely fashion, pausing to direct the men to bring his luggage ashore and pointing out the one more likely to contain medical supplies, and the one that could contain some weapons - or things that could be utilised as weapons.
(One could do some nasty damage with that cocktail shaker, after all)
The men begin opening Lucas' luggage, digging wet clothes out and generally working for speed rather than neatness.
The captain pulls Lucas aside. "Can you get us home, your Lordship?"
Solange joins them. "We can send everyone back through my Amber trump," she suggests to Lucas. "We've lost the ship. I don't see any reason to continue our current quest."
Lucas appears to hesitate for a moment, and then formally bows his head.
"If such is your desire, coz, then please go ahead. Doubtless it will be best for the wounded. For my part, I intend to remain here for a little - with any of the crew who wish to accompany me. But the choice shall be theirs."
Solange nods. "All right. We can send whoever wants to go back home through the Amber trump, but I want to take Kyril to see Father. I don't have a degree in medicine, but I do know that it's dangerous to get a concussion again before you've completely healed from a previous one."
She pauses, then reaches into her trump case and hands Lucas her Amber trump. "So you don't have to use yours," she explains. "I'll want it back later and I'll keep the trump of you in the meantime."
"Thank you," says Lucas. "I'll keep it safe. And first, before we make any elaborate arrangements ... let's see if it works here."
He focuses upon the trump.
The cold trump feels good in his hands, a stark difference from the tropical morning around him. Amber of the trump lies before him, and soon, the real Amber is an unmeasurable closeness away.
It's raining outside the castle gates. Lightly.
Lucas looks up.
"All right. We can do this. Captain, see which of your men wish to go - and if any are prepared to stay with me. Solange - I'll pass you through first, and then you can receive the wounded, yes?"
"Can you see if you can just pass them through?" she requests with a glance up the beach in Kyril's direction. "I really don't want to leave. If that doesn't work, I'll go through and receive them."
"I'll try," says Lucas. "Captain, will you organise your men? And let's have a first volunteer ... "
The captain does so. The men are instructed in how to act when they appear suddenly near a crowd of excitable soldiers. The captain needs to report the loss of his vessel to the admiralty, and so has to go back, duty overriding desire.
Tallow volunteers to stay, and asks how many men Lucas wants. If it's a reasonable number, he finds them.
"Three," says Lucas. "Strong, steady, uninjured ... and unmarried. In addition to yourself."
He looks closely at Tallow. "Are you sure you are prepared to stay?" he says bluntly. "You have expressed the greatest concerns about Aesir. I will have no-one who does not truly want to stay and explore this mystery with me though it's true your experience would be welcome."
"The Navy prides itself on not losing members of the royal family, your Lordship. I'd be hard pressed to explain my choices to my not-particularly-secret superiors if I didn't. Besides, the sailors have an established worldview that requires officers, petty officers, and themselves. They'd be unhappy taking your orders without me parroting them."
"Very well then," says Lucas, never one to pass up the opportunity for an excellent straight man.
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LXIII: A Message from the Cards | Index | LXV: Finding the Paresh
