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Offline Evie

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Balance of Power--Chapter Nine
« on: September 17, 2015, 09:15:09 pm »
Previous chapter:  http://www.rhemuthcastle.com/index.php/topic,1576.0.html


Chapter Nine

Late morning
Tre-Arilan
Just west of Rhemuth
December 18, 2021


“Good morning, Healer . . . O’Flynn, is it?” James Arilan looked startled as he happened upon the young woman who was wandering through the guest wing corridor, apparently counting doors. It took him a moment to recognize who she was, despite that unmistakable shock of ginger curls bobbing around her shoulders.  The Healer wasn’t wearing scrubs today, so he’d briefly wondered if he had yet another unexpected home invader, but he’d almost immediately afterwards sensed her benign intent.

The Healer turned, her sunny smile almost blinding. James stifled a laugh; the T-shirt she wore over very nicely-fitted jeans read “Old Healers never die, they just lose their patience.”

Noticing the direction of his gaze, she gave a wry smile.  “Yeah, this probably wasn’t the best choice of shirt for me to wear today, when I’m here to check on Lady Violet. Let’s just hope it’s not predictive!” Belatedly remembering the question, she blushed, the heightened color adding a rosy glow to her cheeks. “And yes--sorry, my lord--I’m Healer O’Flynn.  Or Heather, when I’m off duty.  Which I am, technically at any rate.”  She looked back down the corridor in bewilderment. “Ah . . . Which room have you stashed her in, again?”

“Third on the right. Shall I escort you in?”

“Oh, no, that’s quite all right, Lord Arilan, I don’t wish to be a bother!”

“You’re not a bother at all, especially if you are here with the welcome news that you’re about to discharge Lady Violet.” He grinned. “She’s awake this morning and especially cranky. Consider yourself forewarned.”

“And how is your cough, by the way, my lord?”

“Much improved, though you’re welcome to check me out thoroughly.” James gave the pretty Healer his most inviting smile.

She laughed. “No need. I can see you’re feeling much better now than when we met yesterday.”

“Well, allow me to introduce you to your patient, since she wasn’t in any state to recognize you yesterday, then I’ll slink off to nurse my wounds.” James opened the door for the Healer and gestured for her to enter.  Following behind her, he informed the querulous patient glaring at them from her guest bed, “Lady Violet, Healer O’Flynn has stopped in to check on you.”

“Oh? Then she can let me go while she’s here. I’ve got things I need to do at home.”

“Let’s have a look at you, then, shall we? Then I can let you know if you can leave this afternoon or if you need an extra day or two of bedrest.”

“There’s nothing at all wrong with me,” Violet declared. “I’m just tired, that’s all!”

“Well, that’s to be expected; you had a very nasty case of hardly breathing yesterday, and oxygen deprivation will do that to a person.” Heather O’Flynn produced a stethoscope from her purse. “So I’ll just have a listen to your breathing . . . .”
 
Violet pointed a bony but immaculately manicured finger toward James. “You can leave, my boy! I’m sure you’ve seen enough women’s breasts, you needn’t stick around to ogle mine.”

James rapidly made his exit, there being no other safe response, and in any case he felt he needed to beat a hasty retreat lest he burst out laughing in the irate septuagenarian’s presence.




Afternoon, Rhemuth Standard Time
(Middle of the night, Camberian Standard Time)
A private home
St. Michael’s Province, Camberia
December 18, 2021 (December 19 in Camberia)


“Have you found the boy yet?” Malcolm Atherton paced the floor of his palatial home in Jorian Heights, idly enjoying the panoramic view outside through the window wall of his great hall while questioning his vassal over the phone. The mansion was built on the edge of a large, extinct caldera. Gleaming white, warded homes looking like scattered pearls shone through the lush greenery of the foliage filling the sloped bowl of the landscape before him, the roads connecting them winding along crater base and slope like tangled chains. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the faint shimmer of the protective wards that surrounded his own property and kept it protected from the more lethal forms of indigenous wildlife, not to mention a few equally lethal neighbors. He turned from the picturesque beauty to focus on his lackey’s reply.

“No, Your Grace. I’ve attempted to scry for him several times, but I keep getting the same vision: a damp, confined space with near-total darkness. There’s nothing to indicate if he’s still in Marley or has been relocated elsewhere, although I had a business meeting in Rhorau last night and could only catch a fleeting vision of him from the Rhendall region, so my best guess is that he is still somewhere in the Marbury area.  At least he’s someplace close enough to Rhorau that I could manage to see a glimpse of him at all, so not likely to have been moved out of Northeastern Gwynedd.”

“That still covers an awful lot of territory. You’re certain the boy’s not dead yet? He’s running out of time.” Malcolm had great difficulty reining in his impatience. “If you can find him, he could be very useful to me.”

A long pause. “The weekend is coming up, Your Grace. I can drive throughout Marley and the surrounding area, see where I can sense the child more vividly. That should help me narrow down some possible locations. But finding him will still be like finding that proverbial needle in the haystack. Unless, perhaps, you might have some personal belonging of the boy that I could use to help me focus in on him?

Malcolm thought.  “I’ll see if one of my other vassals can gain access to the lad’s home, perhaps while the mother is at work.”

“Also, Your Grace, about travel expenses . . . ?” There was a discreet cough from the other end of the line.

“Consider them covered. I’ll have some extra funds transferred to your account. Around GR 250 ought to cover mileage and food for the weekend, I imagine?”

“Two-hundred and fifty Gwyneddan royals ought to do quite nicely, Your Grace.”




Early afternoon
The Saint George Street Mission
City of Rhemuth
December 18, 2021


Father Devlin O’Shiele was in his downstairs office when the desk phone rang. “St. George Street Mission,” he answered somewhat absently.

“It’s the auxiliary bishop on the line, Father,” Maggie informed him. “I know you requested no interruptions unless it was urgent, but shall I go on and put her through?”

He sat up straighter, pushing the budgetary report he was working on out of his mind. “Yes, please.” He waited until the call was transferred, then said, “Father Devlin speaking. How may I help you, My Lady Bishop?”

There was a faint undercurrent of laughter in the voice that answered him. “Well, you could satisfy my curiosity by informing me of why someone calling on behalf of Her Majesty has just requested a secondment for you. I’m having the most astonishing visions of you providing her with safe sanctuary in St. George Street, but surely that’s not the case, is it?”

He was torn between utter astonishment that the Queen had had someone contact his bishop to request a temporary assignment to her service and amusement at the ludicrous mental image that Bishop Sarah’s words conjured up. Amusement won out, and he laughed as well. “No, it wasn’t quite like that, Ma’am.” His mind raced as he tried to figure out a safe version of the truth to tell her. “The man charged with her security during this emergency period just happens to be a friend of mine. He rang me up yesterday morning to ask if I might be available to provide pastoral care to Her Majesty, since her original chaplain was one of the casualties of the Rhemuth Castle attack. I suppose she’s just decided it would be easiest to keep me on to fill in until she’s found a permanent chaplain.”  He paused. “So . . . ah . . . what did you say?”

Again, that merry laugh rang forth on the other end of the line. “Well, I was hardly going to turn down Her Majesty’s request, now was I?” Sobering, she added, “I’ll send Father Lachlan Reilly to the Mission to handle things there for the duration.  Until the end of January, let’s say, and then we can re-evaluate once HM settles into . . . well, wherever it is she’ll be settling into now--Eirian House, I presume?”

Unsure whether he was free to confirm her guess, he simply made a noncommittal sound, quickly adding, “And when will the secondment become effective?”

“As soon as you can manage to bring Father Reilly up to speed. I’ve just got off the phone with him, so he should be on his way over there shortly.” She paused before adding. “Please inform Her Majesty that she is very much in my prayers.”

I could use a few of those prayers as well, My Lady Bishop! he thought to himself.




Early afternoon
Royal Metropolitan Police Department
Missing Persons Bureau
December 18, 2021


“So anyway,” Lady Maureen told the detective to whom her son-in-law had introduced her, “although I can’t exactly see in my dreams where the boy has been confined, I’ve tried to sketch out a rough idea of what I could gather by feel, since I’ve been dreaming from the child’s point of view.” She handed over a drawing pad full of rough sketches.

DI Alexander Montague skimmed through the sketches. Although, as Maureen had indicated, they were sparse on details, the drawings all showed the boy confined in a very narrow space. He had some room to move around, but not much. A pipe near the boy’s feet seemed to be the source of what little air and light reached the enclosed space; in some sketches, there was enough light to reveal plywood walls on that end of the . . . room? No, it was more like a large box. Montague shuddered. Had the abductor simply built the lad a makeshift coffin, with no intent to go back for him? But that made no sense either. Had that been the plan, then why go to the bother of installing a vent?

He tapped a few keys on his computer keyboard as he replied to his Deryni visitor.  “And you say you think this is the missing O’Malley boy?  Well, let’s see who is primary on the O’Malley case . . . . Ah, here she is.  Mary Hamilton, up in Marbury.  She has a reputation as a thorough investigator, though perhaps somewhat hampered by not having some of the resources at hand that we Deryni have.” He smiled at Maureen. “Let’s see if we can help her a bit, shall we? May I send these on to her?”

“Oh, absolutely! That’s why I brought them in; I hoped they might help. The only thing is, I’m not entirely sure it’s the same boy. What if he’s a different missing child?”

“Whoever he might be, he’s clearly in need of rescue,” Montague said. “Hm. Let me try something. Doesn’t always work, and it would really help if we had something belonging to the boy, but these sketches might help narrow things down a bit. Follow me.”  He led Maureen over to a small room containing a small table and several chairs, as well as a large bookcase containing various reference books and manuals situated along one wall. From the bookcase he selected a large atlas, returning to the table to open the book to reveal a large map of Gwynedd and the surrounding nations. “Let’s start here, shall we? It might help to see if this missing lad is even in the Kingdom at all.”

He reached into his shirt pocket, pulling out a chain from which dangled a long, conical pendant. Holding the chain over the atlas with one hand directly above Valoret, he lay the other hand over the open sketch pad, closing his eyes and focusing his thoughts on the boy’s location. After nearly a minute, the pendulum began to swing diagonally upward and somewhat to the right. Sensing the motion, he slowly opened his eyes.

“Interesting.  That certainly seems to be pointing to the right region of the Kingdom, although it could be pointing beyond the Northern Sea as well. Let’s see if we can narrow the focus a bit.”  He flipped a few pages until he found a page of the Old Kheldour region that encompassed Rhendall, Claibourne, the Kheldish Riding, and Marley.  With the pendulum centered over this second map, he closed his eyes and tried again. This time it took a little longer for the pendulum to swing, but once it did, it began to move again, not quite in the direction of Marbury or even Marley, but more south-southeast of center, more towards Eastmarch or perhaps the Iomaire Plain.

He frowned, opening his eyes to confirm the direction of the pendulum’s swing, and said, “Well, that’s not quite what I expected. So he’s been taken out of Marley, but hopefully not too far out.  Let’s see if I can triangulate for a closer fix on his position.” Turning to another page revealing the central segment of Gwynedd’s eastern border, he held the pendulum over the center of that page, somewhere over the Llyndruth Plain, and tried again. This time after the brief wait the pendulum began to swing due north.

“Iomaire area, then,” Montague told Maureen, “or at least that’s my best guess. I doubt it will give me a precise location from this far away, though I suppose it’s worth a shot. He turned to a map of just the Iomaire Plain. “Excuse me, my lady, but I’ll need a photocopier for this step.  Chief will have my head if I mark up her atlas.”  He brought the book over to the photocopier and made a copy of the Iomaire Plain map, then returned the book to its shelf. “Lady Maureen, look in that drawer by your left elbow, would you, and bring me a sharp pencil and the ruler?”

Maureen procured the requested items from the specified drawer and brought them to Montague at the table.  He sat with the photocopied map before him, taking a few deep, centering breaths.  “All right, let’s see what this tells us.  I like to do each pass at least three times to make sure I’m getting an accurate read. If we were closer to the target area, I could be fairly sure of getting a fix on his position, but at this range he’s going to be much harder to pinpoint.”

The detective set the ruler along the bottom edge of the map, then lightly laid his fingertips on top of it. Closing his eyes, he focused his thoughts on the boy. The ruler crept slowly up the page until it reached a spot roughly two-thirds of the way up.  After it remained motionless in that spot for a few seconds, Montague opened his eyes and, reaching for the pencil, lightly traced the upper edge of the ruler, leaving a line across the page.  Turning the map ninety degrees, he lined up the ruler with the bottom edge again, repeating the process.  This time, after the ruler stopped and he drew his line along the upper edge, he marked the spot where the lines crossed, and then turned the map again, repeating the process.  After several turns and passes, Montague had three sets of crossed lines on the page.

“Yes, that’s what I figured,” he told Lady Maureen after he had opened his eyes the final time.  “The grouping is close, but the crossed lines don’t exactly converge. It would be interesting to see what results might be gotten from within Iomaire itself, especially at local street map level.” He smiled up at Maureen.  “I’ll send this on to DI Hamilton along with your sketches. Perhaps someone on her end of things can narrow down the search from there.”




Early afternoon
Patrick and Eilonwy Adams’ flat
City of Rhemuth
December 18, 2021


“That looks a right mess,” Eilonwy observed as she peeked over her husband’s shoulder at his laptop screen. “What’s all that data supposed to mean? I thought you were still working the Rhemuth Castle attack.”

“I am,” Patrick assured her, “or at least this is related.” He stretched, stifling a yawn. Poring over Capt. Coris’s data was boring work, though that was not entirely Alicia’s fault. He suspected that the Chief had unloaded this assignment on him at least in part because learning how to read the complex code strings was a far more tedious task than the Chief was willing to learn. Alicia could have generated a far more readable version of the report, Patrick knew, but given that she shared his own pique at the Chief of Anti-Terrorism’s piggy-backing of his personal anti-Unregistereds obsession onto the more serious concerns at hand, she had probably gone out of her way to make her required report as obtuse as possible. Not that Unregistered Deryni were never a security threat to the Kingdom; after all, any Deryni would have a much easier time getting away with criminal behavior if their unique DNA code was not already to be found in the official registry to be cross-checked against physical evidence left at a crime scene. But in Patrick’s experience Unregistereds were no more likely to cause serious threats than anyone else maintaining an illegal presence in Gwynedd. There were reasons far removed from any malicious intent why a Deryni might choose to avoid being included in the Registry. Given some of the ways that official registry had been used against some Deryni individual and families in the past, not to mention some of the potential uses that various politicians and government officials had proposed over the years, one could hardly blame even otherwise law-abiding Deryni subjects from being leery of the Registry. Had the Chief broadened his focus to include human terrorist suspects, illegal immigrants, people whose criminal histories would have precluded them from having clearance to enter Rhemuth Castle, people known to have had a grudge against the Royal Family, and others who might warrant a closer look, this assignment would have made much more sense. Fortunately Alicia, being a more sensible sort than the Chief, had included those data as well, while at the same time concealing in plain sight certain information that neither Deryni planned on calling to the Chief’s attention because there simply was no job-related reason to do so.

The data thus far were telling him very little that he hadn’t already figured out by other means. He cross-referenced the lab results with the list of victims known to have been at Rhemuth Castle, striking those persons from the list after a quick perusal of each to see if they had any known reasons for disaffection with the Royal Family. One name and code string stopped him briefly in his work--it was the firstborn of the Prince of Meara’s infants, who might well have grown to be his King someday were it not for this brutality that had cut his life far too short. For a moment Patrick allowed himself to remember that these were all people--innocent victims of a horrific crime--and not simply names and code strings on a spreadsheet. He murmured a brief prayer as he blinked away tears and continued on with his work.




Mid-afternoon
Tre-Arilan’s guest wing
December 18, 2021


Heather O’Flynn ventured back out into the long corridor, taking a tentative peek down one end of it and then the other, trying to remember which way led back to the ground floor. While she was not the best at figuring out directions, she was normally not quite this hopeless at it either. She suspected that Lord Arilan’s unexpected appearance from behind her earlier had disconcerted her to the point of not paying proper attention to where she’d been going. He was undeniably gorgeous, she’d give him that. Problem was, she was fairly sure he knew it also, and in her experience that rarely boded well. She wasn’t here to stroke an already over-inflated ego, no matter how attractively it was packaged.

Hearing voices just out of sight at one end of the hallway, she ventured in that direction. Sure enough, as she peeked around the corner, she found herself looking out onto the long gallery with its large staircase leading downstairs to the ground floor.  At the central part of the gallery, facing the wall opposite the stairs and gallery railing, she saw two figures staring up at a collection of framed portraits.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Lord Arilan was saying as the petite woman beside him pointed out a particular painting, “we believe that to be a likeness of Lord Sextus Arilan, first Earl of Braxton. You see that landscape behind him?  According to family history, he proposed to the Baroness of Kinlochan up in that tree. Or, depending on which version of the story is told, she may have actually proposed to him.”

The woman laughed, and as she stepped forward slightly to examine the portrait, Heather was mildly startled to see she was the Queen.  She had remembered the Queen was in temporary residence at Tre-Arilan, of course, but for some reason finding her there in normal, everyday clothing was still a bit of a shock.  She was well used to the sight of Dr Formacek in her white lab coat and black trousers, and she was also used to seeing elegant photographs of Princess Sophia in her glamorous evening gowns or in lovely tailored dresses and pert hats well suited for the visits she made to  various charitable organizations that she sponsored. Her mind had managed some time back to almost completely dissociate the person of “Dr Formacek” from “Princess Sophia.” But now the Queen of Gwynedd stood before her wearing a casual cable-knit tunic-dress and leggings, looking for all the world like anyone else about to venture out for a nice stroll, or perhaps heading out for a bit of shopping. The brief fantasy of herself walking through the Market Square District arm in arm with the Queen to shop for boots, scarves, and bangles flitted through her mind, causing her to giggle.

Both turned towards Heather. Her face turned warm. Sophia tilted her head, an inquiring smile on her face, waving her forward. “Come join us, Healer O’Flynn. We don’t bite.”

I might, but only upon request,” Arilan affirmed.

The Queen rolled her eyes at him. “Behave, James.” He laughed. Directing her gaze back to the Healer, she asked, “How is Lady Violet this afternoon? She was doing well enough this morning that I sent Elspeth off for a much-needed nap.”

“She continues to improve, Ma’am. I was half tempted to go ahead and send her home, but . . . . “ Heather broke off as she remembered who she was talking to.

Sophia arched a dark brow. “But?”

Heather’s receding blush returned. “Well, she was carrying on so, demanding I allow her to leave, I decided to delay an extra day so she wouldn’t think a temper tantrum would make me give in and bow to her wishes.”

Both the Queen and Lord Arilan laughed. “Quite right, Healer. Although I do think she should be back to her old self by morning,” Sophia said.

“Unfortunately,” James muttered, gaining a mildly admonishing look from Her Majesty, although her lips twitched with what appeared to be suppressed amusement.

“While you’re here, Healer,” the Queen asked, “would you say that Lord Arilan and Father Devlin would be fit enough at this point for strenuous activity? Not so much physically strenuous, as I understand it, but psychically draining?” She glanced at her host briefly before adding, “Lord Arilan is planning on re-energizing the Transfer Portal at Eirian House along with a few others--he has in mind Father Devlin, Mr Carbury, and I believe the Earl of Culdi?” She awaited James’s confirming nod before continuing. “But considering the ordeal that Lord Arilan and Father Devlin have so recently been through, I should hate to overtax them if waiting another day or two would be better.” With a wry smile up at her host, she added “I’ve strongly advised waiting until the beginning of next week, but someone is being rather stubborn about it.”

Someone would like to see you safely ensconced at Eirian House before any other unexpected arrivals decide to come wandering in looking for Your Majesty with not so benign intent,” James replied. “I’m beginning to think somebody’s diverted the M4 to run through my undercroft.”

Heather thought the problem through, a mildly puzzled frown on her face. It would be best if Lord Arilan and Father Devlin were to wait a few more days before engaging in strenuous activities, psychic or otherwise, but on the other hand . . . . “My Lord, is there a reason why you and Father Devlin don’t simply drive Her Majesty to Eirian House? It’s not that long a trip, only, what, 30 or 40 miles from here?  At least if you just cut through the outskirts of Rhemuth rather than going all the way back into the City and north from there, it’s not so long a drive. You could stay on the back roads to avoid all the traffic and police checkpoints.”

Sophie shot a triumphant look up at James. “See, that’s what I said, isn’t it?”

“Right, Ma’am,” James retorted. “Because no one would possibly recognize the Queen of Gwynedd through a car window.”

“You can’t Ward a car?” Sophia asked.

“Not unless you’re planning on leaving it parked in the garage,” James informed her. “A Moving Ward at walking speed is difficult enough to coordinate without having to sustain one while flying down the back roads of Gwynedd at speeds up to 60 MPH. And while my car has magically-enhanced bulletproof glass, it is also fairly conspicuous. Not the best vehicle to maintain a low profile in, I’m afraid.”

“What about Father Devlin’s car?” Heather asked.  As both Lord Arilan and the Queen turned questioningly towards her, she waved her fingers in a circular motion around her own face, mouthing the words of a spell. As her light auburn hair and fair features transformed, giving her the illusion of being a dusky-complexioned, brown-eyed brunette, she added “If you wouldn’t mind having a temporary makeover, Ma’am, I’m pretty sure we could manage to get you to Eirian House without attracting any attention at all.”



Next chapter: http://www.rhemuthcastle.com/index.php/topic,1581.0.html
« Last Edit: September 22, 2015, 10:27:17 pm by Evie »
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Offline NavaWazr

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Re: Balance of Power--Chapter Nine
« Reply #1 on: September 17, 2015, 10:43:57 pm »
We know the master villain now. Lady Violet is a hoot! And... I want a makeover!!!! I want Healer O'Flynn to get rid of the wrinkles and the pudge and make me gorgeous for a night out on the town!
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Offline Shiral

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Re: Balance of Power--Chapter Nine
« Reply #2 on: September 18, 2015, 01:18:50 am »
Something tells me our heroes better rescue that poor child before Atherton's man does. Hopefully, he'll be searching the wrong part of the Kingdom. I like Heather, and I'm warming to Lady Violet. Of course, a woman who got a lungful of gas 24 hours before is entitled to a bit of grousing.

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Offline revanne

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Re: Balance of Power--Chapter Nine
« Reply #3 on: September 18, 2015, 03:50:45 am »
I fancy James has something of an eye for the ladies although Violet's response to him might be wishful thinking.

I wonder if it is possible to learn Heather's trick - could be useful. Bother - I keep being tripped up by the small problem of not being Deryni.
Let God rise up, let his enemies be scattered;
    let those who hate him flee before him.
As smoke is driven away, so drive them away;
    as wax melts before the fire,
    let the wicked perish before God.
(Psalm 68 vv1-2)

Offline Demercia

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Re: Balance of Power--Chapter Nine
« Reply #4 on: September 18, 2015, 06:54:45 am »
Poor little boy, what a terrible experience.  I take comfort from the fact that the Camberian spy is described as inept and the police investigator has a good reputation.
The light shineth in darkness and the darkness comprehendeth it not.

Offline revanne

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Re: Balance of Power--Chapter Nine
« Reply #5 on: September 18, 2015, 07:21:19 am »
Off topic Demercia, but you need to replace your explanation of the rules of cricket with a similar one for Rugby now the world cup is about to start.
Let God rise up, let his enemies be scattered;
    let those who hate him flee before him.
As smoke is driven away, so drive them away;
    as wax melts before the fire,
    let the wicked perish before God.
(Psalm 68 vv1-2)

Offline Elkhound

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Re: Balance of Power--Chapter Nine
« Reply #6 on: September 18, 2015, 07:40:19 am »
Off topic Demercia, but you need to replace your explanation of the rules of cricket with a similar one for Rugby now the world cup is about to start.

Rugby is pretty easy.  You find out who has the ball, and if it is a member of the other team you jump on him and pound the cr@p out of him.

Offline Evie

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Re: Balance of Power--Chapter Nine
« Reply #7 on: September 18, 2015, 12:41:08 pm »
We know the master villain now. Lady Violet is a hoot! And... I want a makeover!!!! I want Healer O'Flynn to get rid of the wrinkles and the pudge and make me gorgeous for a night out on the town!

Wouldn't that be a handy skill?  I wouldn't mind the occasional makeover myself.  ;D

Something tells me our heroes better rescue that poor child before Atherton's man does. Hopefully, he'll be searching the wrong part of the Kingdom. I like Heather, and I'm warming to Lady Violet. Of course, a woman who got a lungful of gas 24 hours before is entitled to a bit of grousing.

Yes, it's likely Malcolm isn't looking for the child for the most altruistic of reasons. And I would probably be as crotchety as Lady Violet if I'd had several lungfuls of poisonous gas followed by a slow recovery time.  Then again, even at the best of times Lady Vi can be a bit ornery.... 

I fancy James has something of an eye for the ladies although Violet's response to him might be wishful thinking.

I wonder if it is possible to learn Heather's trick - could be useful. Bother - I keep being tripped up by the small problem of not being Deryni.

James definitely has an eye for the ladies, though for ladies old enough to be his grandmum, not so much.   ;D  Not that this has ever stopped Lady Violet from making clear her opinion that James makes for delightful eye candy. He probably finds the feminine admiration rather disconcerting, coming from that quarter.

Yes, being Deryni would have some lovely uses, wouldn't it? I keep daydreaming about that handy Transfer Portal.
Poor little boy, what a terrible experience.  I take comfort from the fact that the Camberian spy is described as inept and the police investigator has a good reputation.

Malcolm has several operatives (both willing ones and unwitting "sleepers") planted in Gwynedd, unfortunately, so this could turn into a race, both against each other and against time.
"In necessariis unitas, in non-necessariis libertas, in utrisque caritas."

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Offline Elkhound

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Re: Balance of Power--Chapter Nine
« Reply #8 on: September 18, 2015, 01:05:05 pm »

Offline Jerusha

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Re: Balance of Power--Chapter Nine
« Reply #9 on: September 18, 2015, 07:33:39 pm »
Given the fact that Portals have been the entrance methodology of the bad guys, I'm not sure I would be in a big hurry to activate the Portal at Eirian House.  Father Devlin's car seems to be a much better alternative.

I don't want to imagine the horror of being trapped in a coffin underground.  Even after rescue (hoping this will be the case) he will be in need of much support afterwards.  Father Devlin will be much needed.
From ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggity beasties and things that go bump in the night...good Lord deliver us!

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Offline Evie

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Re: Balance of Power--Chapter Nine
« Reply #10 on: September 18, 2015, 08:32:40 pm »
Well, keep in mind you can't jump through just any Portal. First you have to get its signature, or at least access to someone who knows it. Though you can be certain that the security of any Portal set up at Eirian House would be at least as good as that which Carbury set up at Tre-Arilan, if not more so.
"In necessariis unitas, in non-necessariis libertas, in utrisque caritas."

--WARNING!!!--
I have a vocabulary in excess of 75,000 words, and I'm not afraid to use it!

Offline Jerusha

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Re: Balance of Power--Chapter Nine
« Reply #11 on: September 19, 2015, 08:58:25 am »
I'm sure Carbury would be willing to consult on the construction. 😀

I hope there isn't a "sleeper" waiting unknown at Eirian House.
From ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggity beasties and things that go bump in the night...good Lord deliver us!

 -- Old English Litany

Offline Laurna

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Re: Balance of Power--Chapter Nine
« Reply #12 on: September 19, 2015, 12:58:00 pm »
I am loving the scenes with Heather O'Flynn. I can so relate with her stepping out into the corridor and not knowing which way to go. I do that at the hospital all the time.  And I love her not letting Violet go home just yet "I decided to delay an extra day so she wouldn’t think a temper tantrum would make me give in and bow to her wishes.”   Oh to be a doctor and to have that privilege. :D I am certain Lady Violet could use the rest.

It sounds like the party is moving to Eirian house soon. I do hope security has managed a thorough sweep of the premises. Multiple times.

Interesting little talent to find something with a location spell and the rulers, even better than the pointing pendent. Although a pointing pendent might help me find my car in the parking lot because sometimes I forget where I left it.

Offline Evie

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Re: Balance of Power--Chapter Nine
« Reply #13 on: September 20, 2015, 02:24:15 pm »
You know, there's a phone app that will help you track where your car is parked.  I tried using it, but it didn't work for me because I kept forgetting to activate it whenever I parked my car!  ;D
"In necessariis unitas, in non-necessariis libertas, in utrisque caritas."

--WARNING!!!--
I have a vocabulary in excess of 75,000 words, and I'm not afraid to use it!

Offline Marko

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Re: Balance of Power--Chapter Nine
« Reply #14 on: September 20, 2015, 05:53:59 pm »
I see some similarities between this Lady Violet and a certain Dowager Countess.

 


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