Aegis Investigation Part 5

[rassafraggin]

While the Lady or Princess or whatever she is was escourted by her maid and handmaidens off into the palace to get cleaned up, Maggie has chosen to wait for her crew and their guests outside in the courtyard. Perched on a low pillar like some expectant gargoyle, only less monochromatic and growly, she hugs her knees to her chest and watches the roadway as it rises from town to the palace gate. The guards do not seem overly phased by having her lurking there though they do keep an eye on her as well as the road. Well trained fellows. A faint breeze stirs the dust in the courtyard and plays through the flame of her hair. Speaking softly, she sighs, "I hate waiting."

And that's why they didn't swing by the hot springs, get waylaid by nymphs and satyrs, find themselves trapped inside a faerie kingdom, earn their freedom by defeating a shadowbeast, and finally, locate a coin laundromat, before making their way up that long and winding road over lush rolling hills. The first sign that this particular band of travelers is the one worth waiting for is most likely the horns that come over the rise, followed by a bull head, distinctly blue, and massive furred shoulders and torso. All this before any of the others are even glimpsed. The afternoon sun bounces off the bright hair of the next one seen, and his gold vest to a rather lesser extent. Then there's the redhead, sparkling auburn but perhaps also with a shimmer to him that has nothing to do with this land's balmy climate. Last but never least is the dark-headed, trim figure providing balance to the tallish but still diverse crew. As they clear the last rise with an intent on approaching the main palace entrance, the guards at the gates prepare to cross spears, and a runner is sent to alert Captain Jayce in case reinforcements should be sent. These are no typical rough adventurers..

Maggie would have keeeeled them all had they gone by the hot springs, gotten waylaid by nymphs and satyrs, gotten trapped inside a faerie kingdom... Though she would have been compeled to try a daring rescue, blazing sword brandished high if only to scare off the fairies long enough to free them all. Which might have been a sight to see. When the horns are spotted, Maggie sits up straighter. Astonishment lights her eyes as the bull's head comes hoving into view. "Blue?" Tilting her head she tugs a bit on one ear, watching the head and shoulders grow larger as they get closer. When Merri's hair comes glinting and sparkling over the ridge, Maggie's smile begins to blossom. It grows slowly as the rest of the man becomes visible. Oh, she is pleased to see the others, but there is a quality to her gaze that is his. Rising, she begins to saunter toward the gate. She speaks to one of the guards, "That is my crew. The Minotaur is George. I spoke with Captain Jayce about him earlier. They are cleared." Stepping back, she does not stop the runner, for she would get her own confirmation were the tables turned.

Merrisol keeps a brisk pace, although not so quick as to make Shao have to jog, and not too slow that George would need to shuffle. So.. a regular march.. not that long, really. He outstrips the others however, when he sees the palace gate guards and then the woman tarrying beside them. "Captain Flame," he inclines his head in a formal, upright sort of greeting, although his gaze on her is warm and shimmering as though perhaps from exertion under the forever-summer sun. "Apologies for the extra delay. Had I thought it not prudent to suddenly appear anywhere within or outside the castle instead of paying the King's road the proper respect, I would have certainly suggested transport by trump." Perhaps that is only half the truth, though. After that last try with Shao, he's not certain there isn't a mass restriction for pulling another through, and if he had difficulty, then George would himself become wedged between locations.. how awkward would that be..!

Standing near the guards, Maggie looks from one to the other, lifting her gaze to meet those sea-green eyes as Merrisol steps closer. "Mr. Merrisol." She returns the nod, the gesture formal and welcoming, "I am very glad to see you." Her gaze lingers a moment on his, giving her words slight weight and emphasis though she broadens the look to add, "All of you." She nods then, revocusing on him, "I completly understand. I would have called to bring you through but did not want to startle anyone. Especially considering your new friend." Looking up at George, she lifts both brows. The guards relent and let Merrisol in, though insist on waiting for the runner's return before allowing the Minotaur in. Shao and Quinlan kindly wait outside with their new associate. Turning, Maggie motions for you to walk with her and angles back toward where she was perched. Rather than sit on it, she leans and lowers her voice so it does not carry to the guards, "Has anyone come forward with information on the body?"

So, they are finally at the palace, and waiting around the gates for official confirmation that George will be permitted inside. Merrisol goes on ahead to update Maggie, standing nearby after she came out to welcome her peeps and her peep's peeps.

Quinlan has gotten into Pathian formal wear, all green silk layers with a ruby cut into a nine-rayed star for a shoulder pin. To make things somewhat easier on George, he's offered a necklace bearing the same sigil to the fellow. "It'd basically mean you're, um. In my service. For the time being. I'm not sure how much, if anything, they know of Pathi, or if we're all just legends."

Merri shakes his head slightly to the question. "No, everyone but the blacksmith's apprentice had gone on about their business. But.. Quinlan did scan the oddities before we cut Salias down and stored him as carefully as possible in a cool spot. Could you ask the Lord Marshal to find a reliable medical person to send over and perform a more thorough examination? To check if the placement of mold in the body can be at all linked to the Queen's illness. That might be what the words Black Death had alluded."

Maggie is leaning against a piller or post inside the gate talking quietly with Merrisol. She nods every so often though her astonishment grows. She flickers Merrisol a quick nod, "Sure. That is a good idea. I can't get over the feeling that Black Death should mean something to me. Though maybe it is just one of those pairings that sound familiar even when they aren't." She looks back toward the gate when a runner returns with word from Captain Jayce. After a short conference, the guards nod and part their spears to let the rest of the party in. Maggie's smile is grim, "Hope your new friend is worth it. I'm responsible for him." She flashes Merri a brief, if significant glance.

George looks down at Quinlan when the chain and emblem are offered. He takes it in his big hand and seems to consider. Looking out over the gate, the guards with their bristling spears and swords, then back down the the mage. Slowly he nods and hunkers down to kneel in front of the mageling. "You'll have t' put it on, dude-man. My fingers're too thick f'r that kinda work. My people ain't really known f'r delicate stuff, y'know? I ain't heard've Pathi, but I ain't been home 'n a long time. Maybe 17 years're so. So, I didn't get much'f a' education, if y' know what I mean."

Quinlan smiles, and puts the chain - carefully, so as not to snag on the horns - over George's head and around his neck. "Your people *might* know it as Atlantis," he says. "But don't sweat it."

Merrisol glances to the side to see the mage and minotaur bonding further. "Aside from busting down the temple he'd been trapped in by finagling priests, he hasn't done anything remotely violent," he tells Maggie, then steps back to view the environs that sprawl away in either direction and on multiple levels with open terraces, towers, and stairs, stairs, stairs. "What are the chances we could be furnished with a couple of rooms, a hot bath, and fresh clothing? Shao-san is concerned about bringing any contamination with us.. and I would agree. But mostly, I'm rather sticky." It's true.. upon closer examination, it appears Merri has been fingerpainting with some amber-toned glue or candle wax, and is randomly splotched over clothing and skin.

Maggie follows Merri's gaze to the mage and minotaur. Her expression remains astonished, though she nods, "Okay. I guess he can be forgiven for breaking out of a trap." She keeps an eye on the guy for a moment or two, then looks again toward Merri, "Oh... I think that will be possible. Maybe even required. I heard Lady Pasiphae say something about rooms, hot water and 'appropriate' attire for the heros, so I think you are covered." She pauses for a beat, "At least I hope you will be." She does not twitch a smile at the phrazing. Really. And the impulse dies when she gets a look at what Merri is covered with, "Oh. Ick. It looks like... Congealed honey."

George waits for the chain to be slipped over his horns and head, then stands again, "Thanks, dude-man." When that name is dropped, he chokes and looks almost alarmed, "No way! No... Freakin'... way. Atlantis? But, I thought Atlantis sank. Like... A thousand years ago or more. How can you be from Atlantis? You ain't that old, dude-man. No... No freakin' way!"

Quinlan looks over to the two semipirates. "...If you wanted a bath and clean clothes, I can arrange that," he says simply. "The rooms, of course, not so much. But I don't smell any chaos on you." To George, he says, "Not sank, just...floated away. And I'm older than I look, but probably not as old as you're thinking." He smiles. "As I said, don't sweat it."

Merrisol nods, looking relieved by the confirmation, although he does pause over the superfluous comment, looking at Maggie closely for a moment. He's about to speak when Quinlan's offer of magical sponge bath and perhaps the sort of tailoring that granted George his lovely swaddling shorts... gives Merri further pause. "Ah. Well thanks.. Quinlan. That's good of you. I'll just do it the hard way, though, this time," he relays politely, after listening curiously to the bit about the mage's apparently advanced years. His gaze had slid to the side, almost back to Maggie, but then with a blink, goes elsewhere.

Superfluous to him, maybe, but covering in this forsaken place is never a given. Consider poor George's plight. Maggie's expression remains bland. She does turn to Quinlan and nods, "Since you, Shao-san and Merri are the 'heros' I would love to be clean and properly garbed. Thank you." She has no qualms about magical assistance, it seems. Having heard Quinlan claim advanced years once before, the comment is not a surprise. She just doesn't believe it. Moving from the pillar she perched on previously, she takes a few steps closer to Quinlan, "What do you need me to do?"

George shakes his head at Quinlan, "Floated away? But ain't islands fixed in place? Like... mushrooms on a stalk? That don't make no sence, dude-man." Looking up, George spots Maggie and sort of shuts up suddenly. Nervous around women, maybe.

Quinlan grins. "I can do a lot of things that don't make a lot of sense. It's all right." To Maggie, he says, "I can clean, and adjust what you're wearing to something closer to this shadow's preferences. And give you a scrubbing. I doubt local perception of me can get *that* much weirder. If you like."

Merrisol turns at the hips, observing as Maggie goes over to Quinlan for some special attentions. Quin's description of the extents of cosmetic magic is attended and absorbed, and after some mental debate on whether it's all right to watch, Merri appears to come to a decision, turning the other way to walk and find some head of household to speak to on his and Shao's behalf. Assuming Shao isn't also in line for the mystical salon treatment.

Maggie glances Merrisol's way, frowns, then looks back to Quinlan, "It isn't... I mean I won't be indecent during the process, right?" Dash it all... The notion had not crossed her mind until Merri turned his back on the proceedings. A slow blush creeps up her cheeks to color them crimson. "If so, I'd rather..." Unlike the Heros, her options are limited. "Find somewhere private."

George nods to Quinlan, "Shhheah. You do. All'f you." He folds his arms over his chest and ducks in under the gate's arch, careful not to snag his horns on the stonework there. Walking into the center of the courtyard, he lowers to sit heavily on the ground. A troubled look crosses his brow, "You look like y've sucked on a picklepus there, Cap. Y'a'right?"

Quinlan shakes his head. "Just...a bit unusual. I'll advise you to squeeze your eyes shut and hold your breath. Shouldn't take more than one breath. So, you do that and signal me with your hand when you're ready. Okay?"

In a moment of visual irony, the court tailor walks in across the way, coming upon Merrisol and the house official. He's got his measuring tape trailing after him and looks between his new subject and his tape, twice. He nods to himself, says a few words, then walks off with the other servant, leading the way to a staircase going down out of the courtyard. Merri pauses, almost looks over his shoulder, not only because it's the natural thing to do to mark one's companions before departing. It's also tempting! He goes down after the servants instead. Boo.

Quinlan actually blushes as the tailor shows up, and shakes his head. "Best go with them," he says to Maggie. "I don't know just what their legends of Atlantis actually are, and too much weirdness may put these people on the defensive. If we don't need to be weird, probably shouldn't be."

Maggie takes in that breath and motions with one hand. That must look peculiar. Glancing over her shoulder, she watches the Tailor lead Merri off. She releases the breath and folds her arms in front of her. Cocking her hip, she waits until the Tailor has taken Merri below then turns her head to look at her blushing cousin, "I am not a Hero, Quin. Apparently, women don't qualify. Or they don't qualify with Pasiphae. So, you all get the treatment. Go on. Enjoy the bath and regarbing. I'll stay here and keep your Minotaur company."

George watches Merrisol vanish after the tailor and frowns a little, not at all used having someone not reply to a query. Well, maybe the guy didn't realize he was being spoken to. Slowly he peeks over his shoulder at Maggie and it dawns on him that there are at least two captains in the courtyard. Shoulda been more specific, there, George.

Quinlan blinks. "...Oh. Yeah, that. They're...yeah." He rubs the back of his neck. "All right. A magical bath is better than no bath. Take two?"

Maggie glances back at Quinlan, one brow lifting, "Are you okay?" She watches him for a moment, then glances around the area. Spotting a guard post, she nods that way, "Back in a sec, Minotaur." Speaking to Quinlan, she motions to the post, "I think we could borrow that shack, if you want to be out of the open."
George nods to the others, remaining where he sits. A minotaur, larger than life (if life is about 9 feet tall) and blue as a summer's sky. With lovely and fashionable green shorts. He folds his hands in his lap, waiting for his companions to return.

Quinlan nods, heading toward the shack. To George, he says, "Be right back."

Stepping into the shack, Maggie speaks quietly to the guard there, "Pardon me. Would you mind if I borrow this building for a minute? Or ten?" She smiles sweetly, but does not bat her lashes. Some things are held in reserve and not offered to just anyone. The guard nods and slips out. Once it is clear, she turns to face Quin. She will let him close the door, or not as he likes. Drawing in a breath, she closes her eyes and nods, ready.

George looks over his shoulder after Quin and Maggie, nodding, "Right, dude-man. I'll tell Little-dude to follow Captain Merrisol when he is ready." Or something like that.

Quinlan nods to Maggie, and once she is ready, starts murmuring spells. It's easy to see why he thought this might unnerve the natives. Water springs from his hands to *coat* Maggie in a warm but rather aggressive scrub cycle. Head to toe the water scrubs her and her clothes clean - and then the mage just banishes it to wherever it came from, leaving her clean and dry. Once that's done he starts a different spell, altering her clothes to a more Pathian style - closer to what the locals wear, layers of cloth draped over the body. When he's done, he lowers his hands. "Better? Admittedly a weird way to get clean and changed, but not *completely* useless to the traveler."

The sensation of being scrubbed this way is highly unnerving. Highly. Yet, she avoides drawing in a breath that would include water and ... Ick. By the time the noting hits, the water and accumulated muck of their adventure in Posiden's temple is gone and she can stand to smell herself again. Not that she goes around sniffing her armpits or anything. Waiting through the shifting of her clothing into something more appropriate is interesting. When it is over, she opens her eyes and looks down. Smiling at Quin, she nods, "That is really amazing. Thank you. It is nice not to feel gross."

**Time Passes and everyone assembles in the courtyard eventually.**

When the group is ready to present themselves and are clean and fed, a group of guards will meet them in the court yard with their Minotaur and lead them to a foyer where the King's Lord Chamberlain waits. The King's cousin is likely taking her time to make herself prettier than anyone else in the land. As you move through the courtyard, its not hard to notice that a group of priests are hurrying down to the city below the waves. You are discouraged to follow ... politely. The Lord Chamberlain is tall, stately, dark-skinned and thick boned. He peers at the lot of you as you enter the foyer. It seems he has been appraised of the situation but nevertheless he states. "You are those responsible for the rescue of the Princess?"

Fed? What a good idea. As they move through the courtyard, Maggie notes the priests hurrying down to the city below the waves. Her brows arch, but when she is discouraged from following, she nods and turns to follow their escourts. The natural grace of her movements is augmented by the drape of her new garments. She wears a greecian style gown that is gathered and pined at one shoulder, then swoops down beneath the opposite arm. The fabric at the top is a fine green cotton. It falls in folds and pleats over her torso to her waist. There, it is belted with a leather belt that holds her scimitar in its sheath. Below, she wears a draped skirt of deep brown leather. A leather short cloak and sandles completes the transformation. She fits in far better than before. Clean, her hair falls in waves and curls of auburn and flame to below her waist. Turning her attention to the Lord Chamberlain she inclines her head, "We are, sir, yes."

Quinlan hangs back for this, waiting with George until after Maggie and Merrisol speak. Don't mind the scrawny guy in the shower curtain and the big blue minotaur in biker shorts.

"My reports indicate that you were with Lord Ygrayne's party when you landed in our Harbor." The Lord Chamberlain continues in a slightly holier than thou tone. That said his gaze falls briefly on Quinlan, obviously not part of that report. Those sharp eyes return to Maggie. "Captain Flame. The King is very grateful for your part in the rescue of the Princess." His eyes fix on the Minotaur for a moment, but he says nothing about George for now. "The Gods will of course have their revenge eventually though we are certain that Aphrodite will be able to smooth things over for a while as long as the temple is rebuilt greater than it was before." Hint. "In any case." He shifts and turns towards the archway which will eventually lead the group to the King's Throne Room. "His Majesty, King Agapios will see you now. Walk this way." He turns fully then to stalk off down the hallway to the throne room, with clear expectation that the group will follow.

Maggie nods slowly, "We were pleased to be able to offer this service to His Majesty and the people of Thyasis." She does not look over at George who stands slightly behind Quinlan, arms crossed over his chest. She remains focused aheas but flickers a glance to the man and nods, taking the hint. Another side quest. With earlier words echoing in her head, she darts a glance briefly over toward Merri. It might be an apologetic sort of glance or one that holds many meanings. Her gaze turns to Quinlan when the Lord Chamberlane looks his way though she does not offer any explaination for his presence. Murmuring a soft, "Of course," tone slightly touched with resigned good humor she turns to follow the man down that hallway.

Once the Lord Chamberlane has turned and begun his walk, George looks at Quinlan then Merrisol for direction then shrugs and begins to mimic the Lord Chamberlane's stalking gait. He did say to walk that way, didn't he?

Quinlan reaches out a hand to stop George as he starts mimicing. "He means follow," he says, friendly and quiet. "Not copy. Stay by us, okay?" He moves to follow the Chamberlain.

George pauses as he feels Quinlan's hand on his arm. Looking down, he listens, then nods, "Oh. Thanks, dude-man." Nodding, he falls back in behind the mage, "Gotcha. I'll be right here."

The throne room of Thyasis is a large enclosure with two great, ornate thrones and a few smaller ones. The walls are decorated in bright gold and red frescos. There are several large basins to the right side and room in the immediate area for important people and space behind them and to either side for the rest of the court and still more space beyond for the plebes. It is well guarded, well lit, bright and filled with clear signs of abundant wealth. The King has firm control over the city state through prosperity. The King himself sits on the largest of the ornately carved thrones. He is a man of stout stature, wrinkles and folds of skin. Likely once very handsome, old age has claimed him but not robbed him of his senses. He sits alert, attentive and in full command of his court. His hair is long and white, braided and decorated with all kinds of baubles. Even his beard. King Agapios' voice thunders across the courtroom, it could probably be heard two shadows away. "Bring them in at once!"

The Chamberlain hurries through. "Yes, yes your majesty." He quickly pauses and bows low. "These are the ones responsible." He sweeps his hand towards the party.

OOC Martin says, "There are several large basins to the right side and there is space in the immediate area for important people and space behind them and to either side for the rest of the court and still more space beyond for the plebes."

Merrisol is doing the strong and silent thing to Maggie's right, nodding when questioned but leaving the actual talking to his Captain unless given The Nod. Did Lady Pasiphae think perhaps that he or Lord Ruben was the leader of the pack? Guess again, missy.. Maggie's the Hero and the power was in her all along! Annnyway, tailors everywhere who haven't seen Merri in his red coat, seem to think his colour pallet involves blue. Blue edged with gold, his raiment seems to consist of one long runner of flowing cloth, wrapped once around the hips, split in the middle to cross over half of the torso in front and back, and the rest gathered through a broach to fall in classically measured folds from the left shoulder back down to the hip. It just might have been a shower curtain at one point.. since the person behind it is otherwise naked. Haha, just kidding.. he's got strappy sandals too.

Stepping in as directed, Maggie takes a moment to look at the throne room proper. It is not a prolonged look for in her experience monarchs prefer to outshine their surroundings. Too bad for ol' King there that the man who does outshine the throne room is all decked in blue and gold to Maggie's right. When called for, Maggie leads her merry band forward though she does give the Lord Chamberlain a quick glance at his choice of words. 'Those responsible' are almost never the words that spring to mind when discussing rewards or acts of cunning derring do. Unless one would rather the derring had not been done. Still she puts on a brave face and moves forward. Placing one closed fist on her upper chest, a gesture she picked up outside, she bows her head over it, "Your Majisty." Nuff sai? At least until she can guage the temperature a little accurately.

Quinlan follows Merri and Maggie's example, bowing as they bow, but watching the king curiously. The phrasing, perhaps, caught his attention.

"Hmph." The King's gaze sweeps over the group. Unlike his cousin, he seems to hold no prejudice towards women being capable. "The Gods are good, Pasiphae is returned to us." He nods, eyes his Chamberlain. "The Temple will need to be rebuilt, and sacrifices made as soon as possible. That is all." He waves the Chamberlain aside who looks like he may have wanted to interject something. The King is the King and his word is law so he continues without thought to the other man. "If you bring me news of Queen Moire, state so now, and explain." He points at George. "This." He seems not to care who speaks for the group as long as someone does.

George is a near innocent, yes. In the way of a creature fed only young men and women for 17 years. Still it is the niceties he is lacking. Watching Maggie, Quin and Merri he too does the bow thing.

Merrisol appears to think the word 'responsible' can never be a bad thing. Look at him, standing there so proudly at attention, clean and anointed, and totally unarmed. He glances at Maggie subtly and imitates her gesture of respect, but not her suspicion. What could go wrong in a throne room full of guards?

Okay, so it might not have been a bad thing. Maggie is a suspicious sort, truth be told. She waits for the King to finish with the Chamberlain then steps a half stap forward. "When we left Rebma, Your Magesty, Queen Moire was still in a sleep from which she would not waken. We were hoping to find some clue to how she came to be ill here as her falling into the sleep coincided with a visit. As to George?" She steps back again, "My First Mate, Mr. Merrisol will fill you in on the details." Turning, she gives Merrisol The Look and The Nod, then faces the King again."

Quinlan purses his lips, then says in a careful tone, "Your majesty, has there been any...unusual outbreaks of illness in your realm of late? Perhaps people behaving...oddly, or bouts of temporary insanity, or something of that sort?"

The King looks displeased to hear the status of the Queen, perhaps he cares about her. "I see." He gestures to Merrisol. His voice is slightly down an octave and is distracted from Merrisol by Quinlan. "Such things do happen, infrequently. Always the gods like to play with us. If it is recent times in which you speak, yes. The sickness does not last long, however. We have no cases similar to the Queen's." A man in full control of his faculties and intelligent to boot. Clearly not a King by brute force alone.

Geroge blinks as he is refered to as 'that'. He almost steps forward to answer for himself when Maggie authorizes Merri to speak. Looking at the First Mate, George seems a little antsy. Looking down to Quinlan, the Minotaur stage whispers, "Other than calf-napping, right?"

Quinlan smiles up at George. "Right," he says quietly. "Shh for now, okay? We'll fill you in outside." He takes his own advice, too, nodding acknowledgment to the King and letting Merrisol speak.

George nods to Quinlan and tries out the tall, silent and drop-dead gorgeous thing Merri was doing eariler. He has two out of three down so the third can't be that difficult, right?

Merrisol takes a half-step forward as he's encouraged to speak, and comes alongside Maggie. "Sire. The being now included in our company has been a captive of the caretakers of the temple of Poseidon for seventeen years, I gather. Their numbers and faith are built upon the threat of his retribution in the name of their god, should tithes and sacrifices not be offered in a timely manner. It was for one such sacrifice that your royal kinswoman was taken.. a bold move, but I suspect a political one due to her high stature. Once our group went in and destroyed their plans, the magic seal was broken and George regained his freedom." Merri ends the explanation there, simple enough with a bit of supposition thrown in, but he sounds convinced that it all went down that way.

The nature of Gods and temples and their denizens and such does not seem to be much of a surprise to the King. Agripos listens in a magestic manner. "Very well. He may join his kin, as it pleases him. They will be able to re-educate him to their ways." The King looks at each one of them and his gaze skitters back to Quinlan. "We have not much to tell of the Queen. She simply collapsed. We have recently had some people falling ill, as you say, though the physicians have not been able to determine the cause. It is my understanding that Lord Ygrayne wished to examine her chambers and question the staff. Is that still what you need?"

Quinlan considers the question, since it seems to be directed toward him. "...Perhaps. Of greater value, however, would be the itinerary of those who have fallen ill. Where they have been, just before falling sick."

Listening to Merri, Maggie learns a thing or two, but tries not to show it. Nodding, she turns to Quinlan, but adds, "We would also appreciate the chance to examine her chambers and speak with the staff, Your Majesty. Perhaps speak with the physicians who examined the people who have also fallen ill." She looks back to the King, her gaze mild. "Thank you for your help in this, Sire."

George? He beams at the King. The expression is possibly a bit unnerving what with those tusks and large teeth. But, he means it well, "Gosh. Thanks, Y'r Kingness. That's great." Looking down, he remembers belatedly the 'silent' part of Quin's advice, "Oh. Right. Shhhh." Still, he is beaming. Just... beaming.
"So be it." The King nods. "Later this evening, there will be a feast in your honor. My cousin will be in attendance." He turns to the chamberlain. "See that they are given access to the Chambers of the Queen and have the head physician ready to answer questions." His tone suggets that he expects people to attend, and that his Chamberlain will ensure that the physician is willing to answer questions. "Notify this person's tribe." He indicates George. "And have someone sent to collect him after the feast. I expect they will be pleased for his return."

"It shall be as you wish, your majesty." The chamberlain bows and makes an attempt to usher the group away as the King has spoken.

Quinlan laughs quietly, just a *pleased* sound, as the King's spoken. "Thank you," he says. The tone suggests he'll remember it, later.

Merrisol has since stepped back. Watching the King, and then the Chamberlain closely, he waits for the others to offer their thoughts, and any singular replies to such, before bowing according to their custom, and making to withdraw from the small court.

Stepping back, Maggie touches her fist to her chest and lowers her head over it once more, "Thank you, Your Majesty." She watches the King for a moment more, then studies the Chamberlain as she turns. Walking back, she remains relaxed and attentative. As she steps out of the throne room, she speaks softly to the Chamberlain, "Have you served His Majesty long?"

When the group is ready, the Chamberlain quickly leads them off to the Chambers that Moire and her daughter stayed at. They are ushered through the palace, driven forward by guards and need. There are no site-seeing stops but the palace itself is quite a breathtaking marvel of architecture. Once or twice you notice a servant with scales all down her arms and webbed hands and long brilliantly black hair. "Around 63 years, Captain Flame." The Chamberlain states in a I-will-chit-chat-with-you-only-because-i-have-to uppity tone of voice. He's not especially friendly, but he at least provides information.

Quinlan follows along with quiet interest, though those that know the legends of ...well, *some* of his family... might be a bit worried at the particular type of amusement he's showing toward the Chamberlain as they go.

"Mmmhmmm. That is a long time, yes. So... you would know most of the servants and the rhythm of the palace. You would notice if anything seemed off." It is not a question, but a statement. She does look around, but does not dally. A servant or two is offered a smile though nothing more. Don't want to keep the Chamberlain from his regular duties. "With that in mind, Lord Chamberlain, was there anything out of the ordinary when the Queen and her daughter stayed here? Anything at all? Even if it is nothing more than a niggling sort of a thing that makes no sense?"

George beams at the King once more, then bows and turns to follow his friends out of the audience chamber. He almost seems to bounce in delight and every now and then he whispers, "Home. Goin' home. A'/right/." It is intended to be a whisper anyway.

Merrisol stays close enough for now to catch everything the Chamberlain says, while he takes in those remarkable sights, both architectural and personnel-wise. Long black hair catches his eye, particularly when he sees it again, and must think a moment to figure out whether it was the same woman or not. The monitored discussion between the Captain and the Chamberlain is gradually abandoned as he drops back in the company until he's alongside George. He claps the happy bull's back in congratulations, since the creature seems to enjoy such buddying antics.

Quinlan laughs quietly at George's delight. "Right, just don't repay the guy by breaking his stuff. Palaces are really breakable," he advises. "And if you know anything about what we're looking for, just say."
"Everything was precisely as it should have been. Her Majesty simply collapsed as though her head was suddenly in great pain." The Chamberlain takes out a key and unlocks the doors. "Only her daughter and her maid were present. The maid is one she brought with her from the great realm of Rebma." He pushes open the great double doors to the equivalent of a non technical shadow Spa Suite at a 5 star resort. Whatever luxury had to offer this was certainly the grand-daddy of them all complete with a swimming pool that seems to drop off into the ocean itself. "There are two rooms, one for the Queen and one for her daughter. The Queen fell by the pool." He points to a location where there's a small shrine built. "I shall go fetch the physician and will be back with you shortly."

Nodding, Maggie watches the Chamberlain as he speaks rather than look at the room first, "One moment, please, sir. Has the suite been cleaned since the Queen took ill?" She does not step in nor face the room just yet.

"It has not been cleaned, we left it as is. Except for the shrine." The Chamberlain states.

George turns that beaming grin to Merrisol as he fades back and claps him on the back, "Yeah, ain't it great!?" He returns the favor, clapping Merrisol on the back. While he is still trying to be gentle, Merrisol looks to be made of sturdier stuff than the mageling, "I can't thank you sn' yer friends enough, Cap'n Merrisol." Nodding to Quin, the bull man's smile fades, "Now... I don't think I know nothin' bout these goin's on. Not too many'f th' folk I ... Uh... Met... Did much talkin'. It was more... chantin' an' screamin'."

Hnngh. He doesn't stagger into a wall or anything, but the clap does inspire a sway in Merrisol's stance. Even so, he speaks amiably with the Minotaur while they wait to gain entry to the appointed chamber. "Well George, since you'll be with us until your folks come from.. well it must be some known place.. to claim you, we could use your help despite not knowing the details. Do you remember our time on the pier this morning? How sensitive is your snout. Would you know that mold smell if there was a whiff of it here in the palace?"

Quinlan sniffs the air delicately as they walk, as if trying to place a flower or perfume. He walks around the area, taking the scents in. "Don't worry about it, George. Just thought I'd ask, you know. It's all kind of important to us. You just focus on the good news that the King has said you can go home."

George turns a bit more surely to Merrisol at that question. He thinks about it, screwing his eyes shut for a moment's contemplation... "Y'know, Cap? Yeah, I think I could. I've gotta real' sensitive schnoze. Which ain't all its cracked up t'be, no how. Y'know?" He seems about to go into detail but tilts his head at Quinlan, "Uh. No... dude-man, I wanna help. I ain't done nothin' yet t' repay y'all f'r settin' me free an' I'm honor bound t' do that. M'kin won't take me home if'n I don't. Though I guess I could come with y'all until th' debt's paid..." He looks thoughtful at that notion, "I'll... Yeah, I'll help with this'n see what m'ma or m'pa say when they get here."

Frowning after the Chamberlain, Maggie crosses her arms in front of her. Noting Quinlan's sniffing, she inhales deeply and a frown begins to darken her gaze. Shaking her head, she turns to look into the chamber. "Okay. Nothing was cleaned by the shrine. Which means, really, that anything could have been cleaned and not reported. So." The crime scene has been violated already. Swell.

"Good lad." Merrisol smiles when the demi-human insists on helping. "Now I don't mean that you should get in close enough to snort the stuff in," he cautions. "Even small amounts might be harmful if it takes hold in your lungs. Just let us know if you do smell it." He rolls his shoulder experimentally as he goes over to the doorway for a look-see.

Quinlan smiles. "I've got a good nose too, George. Just for different things." And indeed, he's still scenting the air, pausing where the pool meets the ocean. "This is the place," he says quietly. "It's here. Or was." He starts looking around. "Careful, but it's *here*." He indicates the area where the pool meets the ocean. "We might find...something. Hopefully useful."

Maggie watches Quinlan move through the suites. She glances up as Merri steps up next to her. The look flickers over her shoulder to wehre George as begun sniffing around too. Nodding, she looks forward. "Good idea. Though I swear someone is going to bring us a huge role of tissue." When Quin speaks, she nods and moves carefully in, "Okay. Let's see what Quin found. Be careful, okay?" She always says it. She even means it. She knows it sounds like she's harping. As she enters, she takes the time to observe the surroundings.

"Tissues.. they've probably never heard of The Sniffles, around these parts.. unless the food's real spicy. We'll probably find that out, too," Merri puts in, then follows Quinlan over to the pool with Maggie. He glances over the dimensions of it, and the source of its replenishment, before going to lean out over the ledge where the water leaves in a cascade over the ocean blue. What was that about being careful? "What if it wasn't a sudden illness that felled her, but an assassin? A poisonous strike, then right over the side.." he muses over his shoulder.

Quinlan frowns. "It was the mold," he says quietly. "The stuff you showed me before. Tainted by the Road. That's what I'm smelling. Bits and pieces...we've got to find it, and remove it." He sniffs the air, but it's plain the odor he's looking for isn't a pleasant one, now. "...Can't tell if it's a trail, like it grew here naturally, or if it was an isolated, planted patch."

Noding to Merri, Maggie frowns, "Let's hope it wasn't an assassin. That would be harder to find, I think. Without an expret, anyway." And her expert is awol, durn it. She moves with slow deliberation toward Quinlan, moving with a glance of suspician at the shrine with its polished, clean as a whistle newness. Lowering her gaze and slowing as she gets closer to the pool, she looks along its slop toward the line where the pool fades and the ocean begins.

Quinlan wrinkles his nose, rubbing at it the way one does after inhaling a spicy or otherwise affecting odor. "Gah. I can smell it. Can't see it though." He backs up. "Better eyes than mine, maybe. The stuff is like burning tar at close range."

George looks into the suite at that moment, but does not duck in yet. His horns are a bit high for the door. "Uh. Mr. Cap'n Merrisol? Y'know that stuff? Y're right on top've it." See? Helping. He looks at Quinlan in time to catch the noserub, "Y'a'right, dude-man? Y'look like y've smelled a stickleback porky-pig."

Merrisol stands back from the drop after a couple moment's scanning the outer rim. "The samples we collected on our first trip out were found in dark crevices of rot. Look in damp spots where the light doesn't reach," he suggests, "Wood.. plaster. It's tenacious, corrosive, and prolific. If it was here, it should have spread and eaten away at surfaces.. does any of this look like new construction? The apothecary Salias said it took hold in his shop after he worked with it, and he had a devil of a time eradicating it.. or course then someone burned the shop to the stones." He looks over at George with a faint smile. "Ah. Thank you."

Quinlan pinches his nose. "I believe you. But if this is where Moire dropped, it's probably this specific patch of the mold we need to study." He looks the area over. "...The Road is a line, more or less...does it seem likely that the Road has reached the palace here?"

Frowning, Maggie moves a bit closer to the edge of the pool. She leans over, but avoids touching the water. Scanning the curve of the pond, she shakes her head, then pauses, "Wait. Kerf, look. Just below where you are standing. Don't look at the pond, but look at the reflection of the underside. Right there." She lifts a hand to point. "Is that...?" A bit of black moss? Clinging to the underlip of the edge of the pool... Maybe.

At the door, George beams at Merrisol and gives him a thumbs up. Stepping back from the door, he turns to sort of stand guard.

Is it..? Merri follows the trajectory of her finger, and takes to one knee to lean over the poolside, head tilted. Maybe? Yeah. The crest of his hair falls forward to almost dip past the water's surface, and his gaze slides from the edge until he's looking dead on at his own reflection. With a sharp inhale, he jerks back so suddenly, he over compensates and keels onto his hip, then rolls back up onto his knee as he recovers. "It's there," he pants to Quinlan, glances at the exit where George stands happily, and adds, "And perhaps you're also smelling the water itself. The Queen of Rebma would make use of this pool daily.. right?"

Quinlan shrugs. "No idea. But I'd imagine as a native Rebman, she'd never want to be far from water. So probably."

Maggie says, "Kerf!" As he jerks back, Maggie rises and moves around the pool toward him. She slows when he recovers, stops, regroups. He id given a long look, one filled with speculation and dismay. Sequestering that chestnut away like a squirrel, she will try to crack it later, though suspects it won't take a sledghammer. Maybe just a single rap from a ... Shaking her head, she refocuses, "Right. Right. No idea if the black road itself has touched here. Maybe that Chamberlain would know. Or, we should see it, right?" She eyes the pool's edge, "So, that is it. And we need to collect it. Can you float it out of there, Quin? Or does manipulating something that is tainted put you at risk too?"

Merrisol headtilts as he gazes up at Quinlan still. He can feel Maggie's eyes on him though.. did his skirt hike up too far?.. and readily looks at her next, nodding to assuage her concern, he's a-okay. He takes to his feet again as she addresses Quinlan, doing the practical thing and going in search of physical implements with which to scrape and deposit the fuzzy slime. While he's at it, are there any bath supplies, therapeutic salts and the like? Presently he asks Quinlan, "What did you mean by the Road being a line? Like a horizon line? The greatest concentrations I've seen of this mold are down by the water.. spreading under the docks. Hard to believe the water itself is polluted by chaos."

Quinlan makes a face. "I honestly don't know," he admits. "Most of the time I use my ability to smell Chaos to *avoid* it, not get closer to it. But I do know the Road changes form to fit its environment, at least to some extent. In Alhambra they call it the Black Sands. It'd make sense that in a marine enviornment, it'd be a water-borne thing."

Maggie says, "Don't try then, Quin. We don't want you to be exposed any more than necessary." She turns to follow Merri's progress around the room then leaves him to his search, "If the black road manifests here as a water born mold, then these people are in deep trouble." Kneeling again, she searches for other splotches of the gunk on the under rim of the pool where it meets the ocean, "Here's a question. If the stuff comes in on the tide, why isn't there any up near the other end of the pool? Is there something in the pool water that kills it? Or, am I just missing something?""

Merrisol collects an emery board and a water cup as things likely found in a luxury suite for girly girls. "As soon as you can get in touch with Lord Martin to request that medical examination, Captain.. we should also speak to the Queen's lady maid... assuming she went back to Rebma with Princess Faiella. She might still be here, though." Kneeling poolside again with his tools, like a cabana boy assigned to a fancy dress party, he ripples the waters a bit with the file, and gets to work prying the viscose matter from its perch. He'd had to stab the stuff with a sword last time.. might be necessary to do some property damage here. "Why do you suppose they cleaned the Shrine if it was so important not to touch the room itself?"

Nodding, Maggie watches Merri work and not only because he would make a fine cabana boy. "I sent Martin a request for the medical exam." Okay, maybe that isn't fair. Turning, she walks toward the shrine and looks at it again with the same distaste as before, "I'll ask him about the Queen's lady's maid." She continues looking at the shrine rather than Merri or Quinlan, "Yes, that is an excellent question as well. It is why I asked the Lord Chamberlain to send in the person who cleaned this thing."

OOC> Martin says, "The palace is on the side of a mountain which kind of collapsed into the sea resulting in the city and part of hte palace half in/half out of the sea."
OOC> Merrisol ohhh I see.. so is the pool in contact with the ocean, literally?
OOC> Martin says, "Basically it was up high on a mountain and some god got pissed off and slammed the mountain into the sea. and so now the city is half and half."

Quinlan watches carefully as Merri works. "...If someone planted the mold, the someone seems likely to be tainted themselves."

George peeks in to watch the proceedings. He lowers his head and very carefully edges inside, then stands near the door anyway. "This room's pretty an' all? But, it don't feel right. Like most'f this town. Somethin's wrong here."

OOC> Martin says, "As I'm looking through, I see that you pretty much have what is to be found here. The Head Physician can come in but he hasn't got any other information to give you all."
OOC> Maggie wants to know why the shrine was cleaned.
OOC> Martin says, "Just letting you know cause it's nearly 9:30pm here already. As for the mold you find now, it's a bit more diluted (i guess you could call it. It's not as thick.) than the other stuff in the docks, but it's the same stuff."
OOC> Martin says, "The shrine was not cleaned. I meant in earlier post that there's a little shrine that was dedicated to Moire so obviously that is newbut the rest of it hasn't been touched."
OOC> Merrisol had a couple of questions, 1) Does he know the term 'Black Death', and 2) Want a record of medicine administered while she was here, since the apothecary was hired to make a fine powder medicine.
OOC> Maggie says, "And is it correct that there is no mold at all up away from the ocean?"

The Head Physician does indeed arrive to attend to the group's questions as he is needed. He's a smallish bookworm type.

Quinlan tilts his head toward George. "Could you explain the feeling?" he asks. "What it is that's not feeling right? Or how that feels, or where?" (Trust your feeeeeelings, Luke...)

Since no one can really answer her question, Maggie rises and heads for the suite's bathroom. Looking through the things there, she finds two empty vials and an eyedropper. Taking these to the pool she uses the eyedropper to pull a sample of water from the water away from the ocean. That vial is closed tightly and put into her right pocket. Next, she pulls a sample of water from the ocean side. Again the vial is tightly closed. This is tucked into her left hand pocket. Dexter, clean. Sinister... sinister. Looking up, she smiles at the physicain, "Ah, thank you for coming."

George looks at Quinlan as he approaches, then stepa out of hte way of the physician. Shrugging his massive shoulders, he looks uncomfortable, "I dunno, dude-man. It's just somethin' that's been comin' over me. Y'know? Like... Like somethin's off. Outa whack. Ain't right. Like... Well, like its one thin' superimposed on another an' neither one's in focus quite. But, that don't make sense."

Sluurrrp. Merri balances the mold, which is more like a jelly now, on the emery board, and puts the whole thing into the cup, along with a scoop of the water. A fancy cocktail to go with the toga party theme. He's just standing up again to survey the ocean depths where some palace sinks beneath the water line, when the George voices the sentiments he and Shao have been saying all day. Merri turns back to lend support to the Minotaur's misgivings, and catches the arrival of the Physician. He readily goes through introductions of the whole group in order to get right to questions.

"Head Physician Gennadios." The man explains how to refer to him as. "What is that you have found?" He peers at Merrisol and then at the rest of the group. "The Queen is still the same I am told."

"The means by which the Queen became ill," says Quinlan. "Wouldn't advise touching it." His attention turns more to George. "It's all right. It doesn't have to make sense, I believe you. Are there any triggers? Things, people, places, that cause the feeling?"

George looks uncomfortable, "S'more like... Well, y'know when yer listenin' t' something? Like... It's s'posed t' be funny but it just misses an' ain't? Like... people do stuff that's just a hair wrong? Or... Jump t' a c'nclusion an' y' know they'd get it right usually but they don't? It's like that."

The sluuuurrp is really rather disguesting. Maggie winces, glancing at Merri in sympathy. She listens as he handles the introductions and nods to the physician, "She was as of our ladt communication with the Prince Marshal, yes." Glancing at the others, she adds, "We would like a list of all the medications that were provided to or taken by Queen Moire and her party during their stay, please. Also, do you know the term 'Black Death'?"

The Physician looks slightly affronted when he sees the black thing but he does not comment. "We have seen many types of illness here in Thyasis, much is the will of the gods. So yes, we have and I shall provide you with a list. Dear Queen, and poor Princess. We shall do what we can to help them, of course."

Merrisol looks down at the cup, then up again. He doesn't offer an explanation, though Quinlan fills the man in for him. And Maggie asks the right questions, or at least the ones he's been on about himself. "And the phrase 'Black Death'?" he prompts when that question seems passed over. "To what does it refer?" he specifies.

Maggie darts Merri a half smile as he catches that omission as well. Turning her gaze back to the physician, listens but has one more question once that one is answered. Just one.

The Physician nods, "Of course. But we have had no sickness such like that in many centuries." Gennadios studies the rest of them. "In fact, we've had some cases of sickness as we've previously mentioned but nothing that could not be cured and no deaths." He looks understandably puzzled.

Quinlan walks toward the door, tugging George with him. "I think I know just what you mean, actually. Anyone being like that around you lately?"

Merrisol nods, settling his weight back. "Could be it was just a turn of phrase, after all," he says to Maggie with a slight shrug. "What do you get when you mess with the Black Road... Black Death." Ba-dump-*tish*!

George nods to Quinlan, glances at the Physician, then to Quinlan, "Yeah. That dude." He motions to the Physician, but follows Quin to the door, pausing in the opening as he needs to be careful of his horns.

Nodding, Maggie speaks quietly, but clearly, "Okay. So, you are not really familiar with the term 'Black Death' as it relates to this mold." She nods to Merri, "Maybe so." Then she lowers her voice, "Then again. Sir, you said that the Princess was sick. What makes you say that?"

The physician looks quite surprised. "I will get that list to you as soon as possible." He nods to them all. "Sick? No. She is not sick as far as I know. I was merely noting how her mother's illness must be affecitng her, poor thing."



Merri hides the evidence in his room, procures a jug of strong grape juice and sits someplace that allows dangling limbs into water, and goes through the findings with Maggie. Each time one of them says the word Black a swig is taken.

About the fourth or fifth time the word 'black' is said, Maggie takes a swig, but gets the giggles. It is good strong grape juice.

Merrisol shakes his head. "If the taint was in the ocean, it'd be an epidemic."

Maggie nods, "Good point. Though they are seeing more ..." She pauses and frowns, "Oh. Merri. What if it got into the ocean recently? From here? They did say that they are seeing illnesses and there is the mold by the docks, right? Or did that come from the apothicary's shop?"

He muses, "The Queen's in a coma.. everyone else who gets sick can be cured. It was a deliberate overdosing of black road mold," swig, "probably that powder medicine made by Salias. Poisoned at poolside." He nods. "Started in the pool, washed out on the currents to the docks, and started appearing under the piers. Huh." He takes another drink because he's still referring to black mold even if he's avoided saying it.

Maggie nods, listening. She leans back on one hand, thinking, "Right. That is how I see it too. So, let's see. Someone brought it to Silias in powder form. Either it is innert that way, or the person was chaos tainted. He made it into a medicine and sent it on its way here. Presumably with the person who provided it to him. She took it, probably orally. Unless he made it into a cream. Did he say? It would be horribly ironic if it was a burn cream." Hah. No blacks in there. She takes a swig anyway. For the black humor.

Merri leans his head back, closing his eyes to think back. "No. It was black mold and green mold, and he milled it into powder..." Swig! "I don't know if drying it out and crushing it means all it needs is some water to spring back to life." He pauses, then pointedly pulls his legs from the water. "Lord Ruben swam around in that water last time we were here.. checking the entire hull for black mold.." he realizes, forgetting to swig in his distraction. "Breathing the water, as Rebmans do. He needs to get himself checked. But... that's what happened to the Queen.. most likely. She breathed it in after it tainted her pool." He does tip the bottle back then, to reward himself.

Maggie shudders and draws her legs up out of the water as well, "Oh, no. Quin should sniff him to see if he's tainted. Maybe that is why he was not around recently." She looks really concerned, lifting her gaze to look back toward town in case Ruben is finally heading their way. Not seeing him, she looks back. "Okay, that makes sense. But, we s..." Looking down, she frowns, "Wait. If she breathed it in from her pool, wouldn't the entire pool be filled with it? I'm sorry, Kerf, I'm getting tangled again. Let's go back to the apothicary. He got the black mold and green mold from someone." She swigs, swallows, "Milled it into powder. Brewed something from the powder... So he mixed the two? Then the powder was made into medicine and taken to Moire. She took it. When did he make the medicine? The day she collapsed or earlier?"

He meets her gaze reassuringly, not -terribly- concerned for Ruben, as the other man exhibited no symptoms that he could see, days after his dip in the waters. He lets all the questions wash over him, frowning, and pauses again to think it over, blinking slowly. "I don't know when. We may never know, unless there is a notation for black mold medicine right in her medical records. But there was no brewing.. the medicine was a powder. It was powder medicine. He got the mold from someone.. he... said he couldn't see the man's face.. and.. he was either trying to disguise his voice or.. was trying to make his voice sound like he wasn't from around here. He paid in gold. And he came back later to finish Salias and get rid of the shop, too. Salias escaped or.. was let to live, I'm not sure of that either. But that's about the time he was found, wandering the harbour road with a head wound. Queen Moire had already been ill a full month by then, if my mental calendar is correct. Martin came to tell us about the Queen while we were still getting the ship in shape to get back to Amber." He scoots back from the edge of the water, and instead of getting up, lays back with a sigh.

Maggie nods, "Oh, right." She turns from the water and moves closer, but does not lie back. She crosses her legs and leans an elbow on one knee so she can look down at him. Nice night. The moon is riding high. The eternal Summer breezes blow gently. The view is stellar. Too bad there is mayhem on her mind. Or maybe that's a good thing considering where they are. "Okay... And someone got Silias and cultured black mold in his body, hanging it on the pier where we docked the first time we were here. With the words 'Black Death' carved in his body. As a warning or as a clue?" Taking two swigs in quick succession, she thinks about it for a long time, "So, we need someone who does not like Queen Moire, has Black Road contacts and either has access to gold or can walk in shadow. Someone who either had access to Queen Moire's chambers or to the Queen herself. Yes?"

Sounds of revelry from the palace are distant, even though they haven't gone out that far afield. Kerf opens his eyes to find her propped beside him, and gazes back at her languidly. "Doesn't have to be the Queen's enemy. Who looks bad from this.. Martin. If he takes to the Throne under these conditions, it'll always be whispered that he poisoned his own Grand-mum for political gain, taint his rule. But he must take the Throne or Rebma stays destabilized. It's not the Queen's enemy.. it's someone who doesn't want Rebma to come back into powder. Powder? Unh. Power. Powder.. stirred into Queen's pool. Most concentrated, maybe why Quin could smell it but couldn't locate it, an' George could smell it from 'cross the room, said I was standin' right over it. Most deadly breathed into lungs.. went into her blood, went into her head.. caused the coma. Others may have drank quantities but it wasn't respiratory, and was diluted by the time it diffused in pool.. is why they could be cured. Not the Queen. Hell Fish, is anyone writing this down? I'll forget all of this come mornin', my luck." His last words trail as he relaxes, sinking into a grape-induced coma. Toga parties are the best parties.

Listening, Maggie can't quite help the grin that steals over her lips, "Power powder." What with the revelry from above and the strength of the grape juice, she is long past wanting to get silly. And yet, the notions make sense. Someone who does not want Rebma to rise again, or wants it to remain weak if Martin rules. But, who would care? Someone who does not want Martin in a position to support his father's rule in Amber? She frowns then hisses, "Oh. Oh, bloodly hell in a handbasket. Caine. He has access to black road stuff. He is tainted. He is going after the throne and Random is his primary rival." Looking down, she intends checking her reasoning with her lover. Her best friend. Her First Mate. He is snoozing. With a sigh, she moves to stand, then croushes to draw his arm up about her shoulders. Once that happens and thank goodness for Dad's blood right now... She slips an arm abou this waist, "Come on, handsome. Let's get you to bed." There is a part of her that really rather hopes Persiphae sees her taking Kerf off to bed. Not that she'll stay after she tucks him in. That would be improper. Though she should watch long enough to be sure he isn't going to be sick. Right then. She'll sit in a chair long enough to be sure he doesn't need help, then will find her own room. Right? Right.

Stagger stagger stagger. He wakes up enough to avoid being dragged bodily through the halls and down stairs, skirting around other revelers who seem to find the pair of them both amusing and fascinating. Kerf eases himself back amongst the silk cushions and linens that make up his bed, peers questioningly up at Maggie for a couple of uneven blinks, then lets go of her hand. It doesn't seem like he'll make any other move or sound unrelated to deep sleep, but then he does. "Lady Jira. Black tail. Might mean Black Road. Maybe.. she knows something, if it's Caine. Or can find out. Martin says she's taken a property in Rebma." He ratchets up an eyelid, watching her settling into a chair. "Watchin' me sleep? Don't be creepy. Come t'bed."

* * * * * * * * * * *

Shao pages: So what's the next stop for the Wave Dancer?
You paged Shao with 'It is docked in Amber currently. We are on our way down to Rebma by staircase if you want to join us, but if Shao wants shore leave that's okay too! Taking the staircase rather than Martin's trump because it is official investigation business and want Martin distanced from that.'.
You paged Shao with 'So, once we got to the Palace, which was situated on a half-collapsed mountain meaning some of the palace went right down to the water line and below, the men got spiffy new grecian clothes and went with Maggie to a private audience with the King. He wanted update on the Queen's health, and explanation for the destruction of Poseidon's Temple and George's presence. He allowed that George could go back to his people, but hinted that we had to rebuild Poseidon's Temple even greater than before to make amends. He had no advice to offer on the subject of the mold except to remark that there have been other instances of malady noted in the realm, but curable, no death.'.
Shao pages: Did you get the cure?
You paged Shao with 'Haha, no.. we didn't even ask for that XD'.
Long distance to Shao: Merrisol whoopses.
Shao pages: hahahhahahah it's okay.
Shao pages: It wouldn't help much more than help with the analysis of the mold, not cure Queen Moire.
You paged Shao with 'The Chamberlain brought the group to the Queen's luxury quarters down on the water line. He had nothing to say either. Quinlan and George smelled the presence of mold in there, and after looking around we found evidence of it by the private pool that edged out into the ocean. It was by that pool that Moire had collapsed with head pain, and from there sunk into her coma.'.
Shao pages: ...so that would mean the stranger who asked Salias to mix the molds may not be a bad guy.
You paged Shao with 'The Head Physician came by to answer questions but likewise had no new info to give. He'd heard of the term Black Death, but it hadn't been around for a long long time, and I assume he was referring to the Plague. Martin was tired and didn't want to be spending time answering pointless questions by that time. :D'.
Shao pages: That happens.
Shao pages: I have a plan, I think.
Long distance to Shao: Merrisol not done
You paged Shao with 'We've come up with a new theory that implicates Caine and explains most of the occurrences.'.
Shao pages: !!!!
You paged Shao with 'The body of Salias was brought home with the Dancer for autospy Feldane-style, but it's not the main focus of evidence anymore.'.
You paged Shao with 'But if you also have theories, we should hear 'em. :)'.
Shao pages: The way I see it, the investigation has two fronts, not one. Front A is to find the cure, which OOCly serves us little to none as long as there is no player for Moire. Front B is to find the poisonner. Even if there was mold in the Queen's pool does not mean she wasn't poisonned.
Shao pages: As for the theory itself, it's best I expose it ICly.
Long distance to Shao: Merrisol okays.
Shao pages: Even if we find the poisonner, that doesn't mean we'll have the cure, it just means we'll be in danger.
You paged Shao with 'Technically we were assigned to assist House Ygrayne in finding out what happened to Moire.. not find a cure.'.
Shao pages: It doesn't hurt to find the cure as well.
You paged Shao with 'Okay, I just don't think Martin is asking for that, so it's extra side quest he may have to come up with.'.
You paged Shao with 'He has to take the Throne for the good of the realm, since Faiella is too young.'.
You paged Shao with 'But Moire's coma on his watch is the thorn in his side.. that's why he sent us to Thyasis, to clear him of suspicion so he can take the Throne.'.
Shao pages: We seriously need an IC place where we can speak, the three of us, without being spied upon.
You paged Shao with 'Probably not anywhere in Rebma then. I don't know if talking underwater has any privacy at all.'.