The Rebman Who Would Be Regent

[rassafraggin]

Purple evening has settled over the underwater city. Shadows stretch hither and thither, merging or swirling gently. In the Archives, the waters are softly lit by luminescent fish swimming here and there. Maggie is perched about a third of the way up the tower, eyes scanning the display set out there. Every now and then she glances over her shoulder and down as though seeking someone in particular.

Of late, Jira has been quizing and grilling and interogating people all over about this and that, looking for 'a story'. With the Archive recently opened, or re-opened, Jira has frequented here as well. This evening she swims in, decked in platinum and a vibrant green coin-stitched scarf around her hip. A small, hooked and shifting black knife hangs off of the scarf, just dangling against her unusal tail as she flits in. "I know!" she sighs at the archivist dogging her tail for a moment or two. She doesn't look around so much, but the row of documents she makes for is only a few shelves below Maggie.

While in Rebma... Maggie is dressed in a pair of bikini briefs made of emerald scales, a floaty half skirt of emerald gauze and two carefully afixed sea shells. Her hair is unbound, floating in a cloud of autumn flame about her form. Spotting Jira, she smiles a quick, if faintly embarassed smile. Waiting until the siren has nearly reached her destination, Maggie arches backwards off of her perch and floats downward, "Lady Jira? Do you have a moment?" The archivist is given a quick glance and a smile, but no more attention than that for now.

Jira is giving the archivist absolutely no attention whatsoever. The Archivist is squinting at her, and keeps an eye on her from a distane. Jira rifles through a few scrolls and mumbles, "Just...one moment...." as she unrolls one of them and scans down the flowery script. She frowns at the scroll then with a sigh and lets it roll back up on itself as she glances up. At first her look to Maggie is a bit vacant, but then recognition dawns and she smiles brightly. "I almost didn't recognize you without the silly land clothes," she says, voice chiming musically. She stuffs the scroll back on the shelf and nods. "For you, absolutely. What could I do for you?"

"I am far more comfortable in the silly land clothes, believe me." Her embarassment shows in the rose at her cheeks and lowered lashes. Still, it is easier to swim in these. Eyes opening a bit wider, she smiles, "Thank you." Swimming backwards a bit, hair following in that swirling cloud, she perches once more on a decorative bit of coral, "Two things, really. The first is this. My ship is now refurbished. It is beautiful once more. And, as such, it needs a beautiful figurehead. I was wondering if you would be willing to pose for a sculpture? I thought that he or she could carve you leaping out of a wave. Something like that, anyway..."

Jira's tail curls lazily back and forth as she drifts closer to where Maggie has taken her new perch. She bobs easily enough in the water without taking a seat. "Oh but these suit you so well," she croons with a flash of a grin. "I will bet that you silly coat wearing friend would agree." When Maggie starts to mention a figurehead, Jira starts to say something, then stops short and blinks at the request. It takes a moment, but shortly after she starts to smile, and very nearly preens, jaw lifted a bit and shoulders slipping back. Vanity at its best. "I would be honored to. I trust you'll find a suitable sculptor? Oh, nevermind, details. What is the other thing?"

Watching, Maggie stifles a chuckle in a pleased grin, "Thank you. A fitting figurehead indeed. Oh, yes. I will quest in Shadow for the best sculpture I can find." Mention of her coat-wearing friend sends a flutter through Maggie's lashes and she lowers her head to hide the faint smile that lingers, "Mr. Merrisol? I... Well, I would hope so." Looking up again, she tilts her head to one side, hands resting next to her thighs against the coral, "Oh. Have you ever sailed with a ship, Lady Jira? As part of the crew?"

Beyond the many rows of archways curving round the majestic structure, the very same Merrisol drifts past at ground level. But for his non-typical hair colour he might not be noted amongst the general... pedestrian isn't the right word down here. Flow, right. The flow of delightfully under-dressed swimmers. He inclines his gaze slowly up and down the stacks now and then, and presently gains an angle where he can glimpse the unmistakable fiery cloud not halfway up the tower. With a pivot and twist, he reverses motion and turns, his cape drifting still but snapping to the one side. The siren with her equally distinctive ink blot tail is observed next, and he takes a moment to observe their interaction before deciding whether to interrupt.

Jira looks, well, the only word for it is horrified. "As /crew/?!" There's a slight break to the chime sound that makes the nearest lumiscent fish's glow dim in a visual ripple before returning ot normal. "I have not," she grunts, in that very delicate, effeminate way. "A Siren, as a ship hand...I create, my dear. I am not a creature of labor and common menial profession. The last I was on a ship for any length of time it was as the Courtesan of a Storm Lord in the ravages of Dark Waters."

Blinking, Maggie watches that horror rise and she lifts a hand, "Ah. Of course. Sorry, Lady Jira. I should have known. Though it is a shame. I thought it would be fun to have you aboard. But, I don't have any need for a Courtesan on the Wave Dancer. A contract negotiator, perhaps. But, not a Courtesan." She lowers her shoulders and looks a touch disappointed. "I am not sure what else you might care to do." One leg moves idly through the water, kicking off small eddies that flutter the gauze half skirt she wears. "Ah well. If I think of something more appropriate would you be interested?"

With a languid floaty wave to try and alert them to his approach, Merri sinks to the concourse floor to gather for a calculated launch upwards, focus leaving the interior while he sets his trajectory. Regular denizens would probably not have employed as much propulsion or even attention to detail for the simple act of losing depth, but it's clear he isn't ready to just go with the flow. Mantled cape and hair create some drag, but the rest of him wants up, as he clears two, three, six storeys, closer now to the tower until at the seventh tier, he grabs the underside of the stone arch and lets the momentum invert him. Curling around and over the eighth level entry, he lets go to execute a somersault and resume a forward facing position, while he glides at an upwards angle to more or less the correct level of rising archive stacks before the initial force investment is depleted. "Fair tide, Captain Flame.. Lady Jira," he calls through a small huff of bubbles and floats slowly now into their midst.

"Everyone has need of a Courtesan, lovely," Jira purrs quietly, the horror fading into a soft smile. "Most just haven't noticed it, or if they have, can't affored to keep one." She twists a bit and with one little effortless flip of the end of her tail drifts closer to Maggie and around behind her. Her long fingered hands - without callus one on the nimble digits - reach to gather the fiery locks drifting out in every direction and gather them together, idly twisting the tendrils together. "We are bards, warding away stress and boredom. We are teachers - learned in many subjects. We are skilled navigators of politics and yes, negotiators at times. We are confidants, a shoulder, a thoughtful mind to bounce stubborn or perplexing troubles against. We are a muse when the well runs dry." As she goes on, she twists Maggie's hair up along her head, and plucks a couple of the platinum hairpins, laden with flower cut saphires, and uses them to pin the loose arrangement in place, loose enough that a few locks fall loose promptly to frame around Maggie's face. She leans in then to murmur something to Maggie, close by her ear, before slipping back around her just as Merrisol hails them. Flawless timing, and no surprise at all to see Merri showing on her face. Perhaps she'd noticed his rather involved ascension. "Mr. Merrisol," she returns with a dip of her head. Looking back to Maggie, hse concludes her previous list with, "Should you think of something more appropriate, I'll ask my patron if he can spare me with blessing. I have no doubt that he will."

Nodding, Maggie is sitting on an arch of coral about a third of the way up the archive. She wears a 'Rebman standard' set of clothing, such as it is with the inclusion of two shells approrpiately placed. When Jira moves behind her, Maggie stills, uncertainty in her gaze. "Um." Listening to what is said, she nods slowly, for the list of the lovely Siren's abilities is long and interesting. "I had no idea." Then Jira begins to work with her hair, spinning it into a loose confection of autumn fire secured with platinum and sapphire pins. The softly spoken comment heightens her blush and she leans her head forward slightly, "Thank you. I will think about it." The curls and loops leave the length of her throat and shoulders bare though two locks softly frame her face. Looking up, she watches Merrisol's graceful, if elaborate entry to their level and her smile is warm and quick, "Hi." Merrisol is also dreassed in traditional Rebman garb, and Maggie takes a moment to appreciate the view before nodding toward Jira, "I have asked Lady Jira to pose for our new figurehead. And to join us, though not as a hand. She has suggested as Courtesan..."

Martin swims into the building, he's got a bit of a different set of clothing on him presently but it blends well with Rebman tradition and makes it easy to go from one world to the next when there is a need. Given the fact that he's been so busy lately, that is probably a good thing. He looks with appreciation at the small gathering and waves from the entry way. "Hello!" His enthusiastic greeting ripples through the water. "I was told we had some visitors and when I found out who I had to come by." How he manages to be so calm and almost cheerful in the wake of all that is going on is probably a mystery.

By the time Merri has corrected his sights and rotation to approach the others upright and ready to attend civil discourse as opposed to energetic feats, he's only just managed to glimpse the whispering from Jira to Maggie.. Maggie, whose loosed torrent of red mane has transformed into a sumptuous 'do, sometime whilst he himself was occupied with the derring sort of -do. It gets a good long 'duh..whoaah' double-take as much for its surprise factor as for its artfulness. His gaze tracks laterally to the position Jira has resumed, assuming it to be her contribution to Maggie's splendour, and his bright eyes meet her dark orbs in a brow-raise of curious appreciation. After Maggie has given the entire detail of her purpose, right down to the word Courtesan, Merrisol skips about two beats of unblinking silence before responding, "A figurehead? Ahhh.. all right. How appropriate for a ship named Wave Dancer." He smiles at Jira for an extra moment, then glances at Maggie evenly, there being perhaps a question it it just for her. Distraction comes in the form of Martin then, and Merri slides into a turn to take position at Jira's side, and greet the Regent with a courteous nod. "Lord Marshal."

"It is my path in life," Jira seconds to the suggestion. "Whether you wish one on board or not, that is left to you-" she chuckles to Merrisol and Maggie, with some clear amusemnt in the wrinkle at the outter corners of her eyes. She trails off though as she glances down to see Martin approaching, and drifts back to open the circle a bit more to his addition. "Prince Marshal," she chirps and dips her head to him as well. She is dressed in very Rebman fashion - a scarf with the sole purpose of holding the small shifting knife at her hip and not a stitch more that's not (rather expensive) decoration of one form or another. "Promise, I've been on my best behavior." Martin may or may not have heard of a Jira's insistance on attempting to rearrange several sections of the archive, until she quite suddenly and without apparent cause, completely lost interest in the idea and quietly left. "How is your mother?" she goes on to ask Martin with a small tip of her head, sounding genuine enough.

For her part, Maggie is surrupticiously stealing glances at Merrisol, quite certain that her distraction is kept under wraps. The double-take sparks an almost shy smile. Jira was apparently right again. It isn't until Martin calls that her attention is diverted. Looking down, she smiles at her cousin, but does not leave her perch on the coral. There is no need really as both Merrisol and Jira move to give the man room to join them, "Martin! Hello. Do you know a brilliant sculptor?" Nodding to Merri and Jira she adds, "I have asked Jira to pose for our new figurehead. Leaping out of a wave or something. I think it would be beautiful." She pauses, then adds, "I'd like her to join us, at least for a time. Do you think we need a Courtesan aboard?" That could be aimed at either Martin or Merrisol. Open ended as it is. Jira's question sobers her and Maggie turns to Martin, "Queen Moira, isn't it? And how is her daughter?"

Martin has long since given up correcting anyone regarding his titles and lets them make it up as they see fit. "My Grandmother, Queen Moire is the same, thank you for asking. The Princess is also doing well all things considered. That is one of the reasons I've had time to come here, actually. Maggie, Merrisol...and Lady Jira, pleasure to see you all." He swims over to find a place to hover and look cool in the water near the group. "I'm sure you have been all that is proper, Lady Jira." He tells her magnanimously in spite of the conversation that he has swum into. "I'm sure she'd make a lovely figure head, as far as sculptors go, my stepmother is one and I know of a young Rebman who might be willing to help you out. Have the repairs been completed on your ship, Maggie?"

Merri makes note of the title shift as spoken by Jira, tilting his head to see if it agrees with Martin. It does! "Prince Marshal then," he fixes his error(?) with a slight nod and mulling of his jaw. While Rebma's New Hope speaks to Jira, Merrisol regards Maggie.. and that there is the reason why he had taken his own position at Jira's side. Strategic oogling and anti-oogling? Who knew that was an available lore? "Lady Raphaela might still have the contact information of that icecraft artisan," he stage-burbles to his Captain. "Except that fellow might be more given to whimsy than you need." Right? Considering the liberties he took with the Merri-Maggie sculptures, the elegant figurehead might find itself covered head to toe with splinter-esque fur, necessitating a hasty renaming to The Wookie Dancer. "That is relieving to know," he mentions to Martin. "I do have had some news of your.. step-mother, I believe it is.. when you have time to hear it," he offers.

"Hrm? Oh! Right, grandmother. It's all a bit different in a cloister," she mumbles, dimissing her mispeak with a flick of her finger and nodding to the answer. "That is a shame, to be just the same." she goes on, more to herself than to Martin while the others speak back and forth. Her eye wanders to the shelves while the others chat back and forth, and her hand idly turns to fiddling wiht a length of platinum chain that spans from fingertip to wrist on the opposite hand. After a handful of moments listening the back and forth, Jira snaps out of her daze and smiles to the others. "Please forgive me, I should return to my research. I will make habit of coming by here at least every other day, should you all decide one way or the other." She dips her head, to each in turn, then and starts to propel herself upward with a single beat of her tail.

Strategic oogling goes both ways, so Merri's coice of location is appreciated. Maggie nods slowly, then blushes as she remembers that sculpture, "Uh. I think we'll see about some other artist. I ... don't really think Lady Jira needs the sort of embelishments that particular fellow might come up with." She clears her throat then nods to Martin, "I... Don't think I want to impose on your step-mom, Martin. But, let me know about the Rebman? I'd like to audition him." As Jira takes her leave, Maggie reaches a hand forward, but not to stop the lovely Siren, "Thank you." Her tone holds sincerity and hints of mirthful delight. A flicker of her gaze touches Merri, then returns. "One of us will get back to you, Lady Jira." She watches the Sirun flit away, then looks back, "She is something else." There is admiration in her tone, mingled with quiet uncertainty. Finally, she tilts her head a bit toward them and falls silent.

"She is indeed," Martin watches her leave with slight disappointment. "She's a good addition to any crew, but be careful about her, please. I will check with his house to see if they will be willing to allow his abilities to be used. As to your ship, I have someone who needs to go to my shadow for the sake of the Queen in order to investigate the cause of her illness. He's right, Lady Raphaela knows a great deal of people. My Stepmother, yes." He nods at Merrisol, brow furrowing slightly. "I know she is having some troubles. What have you seen?"

Merrisol nods solemnly in agreement with Maggie's estimation of his craftsman offering, which had been made facetiously to be sure. "No, I dare say not," he smiles like he even knows what Jira looks like, in stark detail. At the very least he is aware of the tail, and as he bids the siren a fair tide, he arches reactively back from the swish that takes her up out of their gathering. Correcting his quarter spin with a jig back into vacated water, he faces Marin again. "Do you remember Master Shao, from the ship, Sir? He has been having some curious visions or.. waking dreams.. about Dame Vialle."

Maggie says, "Be careful about her?" Maggie's attention is taken by Merri's movement and; anchored as she is, she offers him a hand to steady his momentum in the water. "Is she delicate, Martin? Easily hurt? I would not wish to cause her pain of any kind. I just thought she might want a chance to see more of what Shadow has to offer." Then she pauses to look between the two. Slowly, she nods, "We will take your someone, though you will have to give me precise directions. I do not remember your Shadow well enough to navigate there, Martin. But, we will go for Queen Moira's sake. Just say when." She falls silent then to let the two talk about Martin's step-mom.

Martin nods to Maggie, looking relieved. "Jira is." He frowns as though fishing for words to explain, "Not quite right." He fails to completely explain. "No Sirens before her have ever had a black tail such as hers. She has a strange aura about her. Be careful, that is all I'm saying." He regards the two, probably needs a stiff drink, cigarette or both. Unfortunately, no drinks here and he can't smoke underwater. "A Rebman will lead the mission, from House Ygrayne, I'll talk more details in a moment. Merrisol, yes, I remember Shao. I have had a vision myself, my father as well. Can you tell me what he saw?"

Having taken Maggie's hand simply for the fact that it had been offered, Merrisol releases it after a few moments, just before it would be deemed a 'significant' length of time for hand-holding, even if it's Martin and the archivist hanging about the general vicinity; one being too cool to care, and the other too boring to notice, probably. Merri takes in the thoughts about the siren, his own opinion already evident by his body language or lack thereof when in her presence. As the topic rotates, he looks to Maggie, nodding acknowledgement of her decision to lend her ship to her Rebman cousin's aid. "Is that our new shake-down or will there be time for a run beforehand, Captain?" he asks as an aside, before addressing Martin's query. "Yes, Sir. The first was a vision.. though it sounded more like a hallucination. In the ship's galley, he saw coloured fog pour from everything.. metallic, I think?.. until the colours rendered the image of a woman, whom he saw again later in a.. lucid sort of dream apparently shared by others.. and to Shao-san they identified her as Vialle, wife of Prince Random. She was being held.. or perhaps was trapped.. in the room of a castle, with strange sights seen through the windows. There was a strong suggestion of danger, for the dreamers ended up fleeing back into their wakened states." Merrisol takes another apparent breath presently, a few bubbles trailing upwards. "The tale was vivid enough, but aided in truth by the paints Shao laboured over to.. I don't know.. preserve the memory more permanently. The works are something to see. I believe the one painting of the room will be used by your father to.. find that Shadow, I suppose. Shao and I, and two or three others, will be going there as soon as it can be arranged." A flicker of a glance goes to Maggie at that, before he returns his sober regard to the Lord Marshal.

Maggie nods slowly, her expression growing troubled, "Ah. Well... That's... good to know. Thanks, Martin. Maybe being around us will help. We are sort of looney in a fun way. Who is her patron? Do you know?" She holds Merrisol's hand for a moment, then another until he releases it. She draws her hand back toward her then clasps both in her lap as she takes in Merri's opinion held so casually evident in that lack of body language. A soft 'huh' sounds, though she blinks it away to nod, "I would like to take her out for a spin before she needs to do any 'heavy lifting' as it were. Maybe a quick trip out and back. Shao said something about wnating to pick up a load of shellfish to augment dinners." Falling softly silent, she listens, nodding every now and then. "He did draw some fantastic images. Really... chilling." Turning from Merri to Martin, she nods again, "I am more than willing to loan you my first mate and cook, Martin. But, please don't break them. They are very dear to me." She flickers Merri a quick smile, the look once more just a little shy.

"I see." Martin listens thoughtfully to the explanation, his eyes concerned. "I am not surprised it was as vivid as that. I saw a similar situation and it might be prudent to mention that I was able to influence the vision, manipulate it, I suppose through use of sound. I know that my father is capable of finding shadows in that fashion." He grunts slightly. "So am I, but this has to do with something slightly more sinister than a simple shadow, I think. It's the mirrors, they are somehow involved. They always are one way or the other. I will try and talk to him soon and am pleased to know that there is a plan at least." He settles down a little. "Thank you for letting me know, Merrisol, Please give my regards to Shao. I very much appreciate all your efforts to help my Stepmother. As to the other matter, I have asked Evadyr Ygrayne, a Rebman Healer to go to Aegis, to the city of Thyasis. It is the Shadow in the Silver Circle where my grandmother was staying when she became ill. We need to determine whether or not anything in that Shadow caused her situation. I won't break them because I cannot go myself." He glances away for a moment, then back at both of them. "I'm biased. It's my shadow. I need you to go, with some others and a couple of cousins. The mission will be led by him; he will be 'in charge'. I need to be sure that you will respect that. It is very important. The mission will contain mixed blood, Rebmans and Amberites. I don't think I need to remind you that Moire fell ill just when it was convenient." It should be noted his voice is lower than usual. "I do need to underscore what that means should people suspect I somehow caused it when I am about to be declared Regent." He pretends not to see the looks and hand-holding and seems to hope that Maggie will get what he's getting at.

Listening, Maggie's slightly playful look sobers and Merrisol is robbed of her brief regard as her attention narrows and focuses. "Be careful. I shall not be able to help with your stepmom, Martin. I am very sorry. Someone needs to mind the ship and that falls to me this time." Grim and silent, she runs her palms down her thighs, then folds her hands together in her lap. Inhaling a bit, she listens and one brow half lifts, "Of course you cannot go, Martin. No, this has to be an independent investigation so that no one can claim that you had a hand in covering anything up. And we need to look to see who may have sent her to sleep, how and why. i hate politics, but I do understand it. Okay... This Evadyr Ygrayne person is leading the expidition. Very well, though I will want to talk to him. If possible before we go. I will follow orders as long as my ship and crew are not put into mortal danger. I will not order a suicide mission, and I would expect that your Ygrayne person will not order such a thing. If that is acceptable, we have an accord." She also keeps her voice low, leaning a little forward as she speaks, "Yes, the timing does seem convenient. Though I, for one, do not believe that you had anything to do with it." Although low, there is a faint edge of fierceness to her words. The looks and hand-holding aside, Maggie seeks to hold Martin's gaze at least long enough to convey understanding.

"I'll keep an eye on Shao, Captain," Merrisol promises, although it will likely be the other way around. The Penglai never fails to surprise with new areas of expertise. Nothing more is said on the subject of Maggie's concerns, however, as Merri goes back to what is arguably his own strong suit: Paying attention. Even that would be called into question when Martin starts in about the mirrors, and Merri's eyes go wider and stricken with emotional trepidation. His head lowers abruptly, but that's it for any attempt to retreat from the statements. Even if they have to peer upwards from underneath his troubled brow, he continues to attend Martin's input mutely, disrupting nothing. When the High Marshal and Maggie begin their more in-depth discussion about the mission to Aegis, Merri takes the opportunity to fade back beyond their notice, putting his hand upon the nearest shelf, and gazing at the stone tablet situated underneath while his wounded expression normalizes. He's right on time to turn his head and nod to put his own support in alongside Maggie's. "You trust Ygrayne to seek and collect the facts without bias, while the others might harbour their own agendas?" he mutters, apparently having paid attention after all.. or not. Martin's hints are up for interpretation, really. "We will be mindful of that eventuality, Sir."

Martin notices Merri discomfort out of the corner of his eye and looks concerned but he is distracted by Maggie's words and her sentiment. "Thank you." He smiles in relief. "He won't put you in needless danger. He is a younger Ygrayne. I trust him to do what is necessary for the good of Rebma and that is the reason he's being sent. It's a technical matter really, but it needs to be resolved and I need to find out what happened."

This is not the first time that Merrisol has evinced discomfort over something seemingly random. This time, despite the man's care in trying to keep an awareness of it from distracting from teh conversation at large, Maggie takes note. It is a shame that this Rebman clothing does not allow for a pen and parchment anywhere. No pockets. She does not have a squid to jet ink on a flatfish so will have to rely as much as she can on her rather faulty memory. Poor Merri. Letting go of the coral she drifts a bit closer to him while listening to Martin. Merri's far more succinct summation is given a quick nod and a smile though the smile is turned to Martin then though it fades as she speaks. The subject is not really one for levity, "Ah, good. We will give him all the help we can, Martin. Just let us know when your expidition is ready to go. Is there anything else that we need to know?"

OOC> Merrisol says, "I would like to know however, if what Merrisol assumed is what Martin meant. Even if it's just a glare from Martin as though to say 'SShshssshh gorramit, if I wanted it said out loud I would have, gawd'. Or a blank stare is fine too. :D"
OOC> Martin says, "pretty much that."
OOC> Merrisol snicklers.. oh well, -5 fabulous for Merri again!

Drat. Merrisol's not up on his intrigue etiquette. He takes Martin's wordless rebuke with a vaguely chagrined nod, going quiet for the rest of the meeting as penance.

Martin shakes his head, "There's nothing more you need to know. OH... Um. Yvonne will be leading the ship through shadow since she's been there before. You remember meeting her the other day, right? We need to do this in two days when the tide is ready to sail on Tuesday."

When the timeframe is given, Merri's preoccupied mind straightens out and flies right.. right into logistics overdrive. Where did Lord Jacen want that cargo delivered? Can they make that run in order to have a lighter, fleeter ship for the mission? Or is it back to the warehouse? He keeps silent still, but gives a firm nod of acknowledgement that he can make it work for the Captain and Martin's purposes, no matter what.

Maggie nods once, her gaze straying to Merri, austensibly to see if he has any further questions. His nod is assurance enough for her and Maggie replies to Martin, "Alright. We will be ready." Checking her drift she settles against the floor, toes pointed and arms slightly lifted. "If you two will excuse me? I need to speak to Jacen about his cargo run." Turning, she bends her knees, pushes off and 'dives' over the balcony to swim down toward the exit.

Merrisol does have to break his silence after Maggie swims off, although the act of that is almost enough distraction to forget what he was going to say. "Uh.. right, yes, Sir. Before we depart for ship preparations.. I wonder if you'll have any time to talk about the Pattern of Rebma.. or at least, if I may be allowed to visit the site, even if it is shattered and nothing to look upon. It's.. of personal importance, Sir."

Martin nods to Merrisol. "Of course, we will work something out. I will have to be with you, but it can be arranged."