Edm01 - Black-Throated Wind

Edmund stares into the fire, deep in thought. Absentmindedly he takes the glass and drains it.

"Was it... assassination? I don't know how much you're aware of this, on my Shadow Earth there was a horrible, bloody war I fought in, a few years before you found me. A civil war. At the end of it the leader of my nation, a man named Lincoln, was assassinated by a coward while attending a play. The coward couldn't deal with his side losing the war. He was swiftly found and dealt with, as were his companions. It was this quick justice that prompted me to join the Marshals. And I got good at it." He idly touches the pistol at his waist. Probably useless here, this close to Amber, but a comforting presence nonetheless. "If this Leonil needs to be found and brought back for questioning, well, I volunteer my services. I've been practicing my Shadow Walking skills and think I'm fairly good at it now. I have a little experience with monsters, magic and such."

Edmund sighs and his shoulders relax. "Excellent luck, indeed. Well then, interrogate him, of course. Find out if he is working with anyone or it was simply stupidity and an accident. Confirm anything he says. I've never met the man, don't know almost anyone here, really. So I have no judgement on him. I do wonder what the price of regicide is, even when accidental. Death? Imprisonment for life?"

"Beyond the obvious... I don't know. Assure the people the crisis is under control? Throw a bone toward your trading partners? Loosen up a trade deal or two?"

Edmund continues to stare into the fire. The dancing flame is soothing to the nerves. "Is there a file on him? What do we know for certain?"

"I see, yes. Finding any allies is paramount. Either way, the poor bastard is cooked. Pity, really. There's so few of us and an infinite amount of Out There. Every loss costs us greatly. Brought it on himself."

Edmund decides it's time to take a seat. He finds a comfortable chair and sits, leans back facing the fire. Allows the heat to wash over him, begin to dry his sodden clothing. He closes his eyes and contemplates the situation. "I don't know enough to have any opinion on kingship. The politics of this place is so different from what I know. In some ways it must be easier than a Shadow kingdom or nation. In other ways... difficult? Impossible? Words fail me. I know you all have your quarrels, your disputes. Ones anchored in your upbringing long ago. I can't begin to understand the depth of it."

He spends a while thinking about his previous time in Amber. Meeting Random and Vialle. Enjoying a banquet. Learning about the castle and family and that... thing, in the basement. A god? Piece of a god? Power in it's own right. The rituals surrounding it. The weight of a mountain on top of it. His mind latches onto what Julian just said. "Random has a son? For some reason I thought he had a daughter, or both. Yes, he must be informed. You can't do it through those cards you showed me? Or maybe those were destroyed in the blast as well. I would like to be useful here. Tracking down people is something I've gotten good at these last few years. I could search him out and bring him home, if you'd like. I'll need to know more about him. Perhaps his room at the castle will provide clues."

For now, though, this chair, this fire, is wonderful.

Not much time to do what he wants to. Damn it! Not what I expected a day ago. Can't be helped though. Edmund retrieves his pack of clothing, changes into a basic gown borrowed from the Lodge's stores and does a full laundry. Hangs everything to dry by a fire to be ready by the morning. Ahhhh, nice smokey flavoring to my clothing. He checks on Pinewer, sees if he is being treated well. Gets a complete meal in the dining hall. Fills up on whatever he has been lacking for the past week. As he eats he considers getting a look at Leonil. He's here, could probably see him. What for though? Julian and his men are more than capable in questioning him. The less I know the less I'll care when they hang him. Or behead him. Or hang him then behead him.

He completes a few other "maintenance" chores, mostly cleaning and oiling ones. Then turns in for the night. Space is probably limited, so he'll sleep in the common quarters with the men.

Edmund smiles as he accepts the pistol. He examines it with a practiced eye. "It's beautiful. Thank you, father." He spins the cylinder, clicks back the hammer a couple times. Sights down the barrel. He opens the box of silver bullets and loads six into the pistol. Places it into a holster, puts his old gun away into a bag along with the boxes of extra ammo. "I will take care of it." Edmund greets Pinewer with a handful of treats. [Sugar cubes? I'm not sure.]

"I'll be back as soon as I can. Pray that Martin is reasonable." With that he mounts Pinewer and starts off.

Now for the true test of my abilities. With only Julian's description of Martin in his mind, Edmund focuses on a mental image of the man. Martin, Martin, Martin. Son of Random and Vialle. Martin. Where in eternity are you? Martinnnnn... He lets his imagination go. Considers the importance of his mission and thinks about the Pattern sitting in the dark. Where? Where? With that he attempts a shift or two. If too difficult then he'll stick to known and established roads through Arden and wait until he is further out. It might take a few days of riding before he is far enough away from Amber to truly go where he wants to.

It's nighttime, too dangerous to ride or even walk. Could easily twist an ankle or break a leg. So here I stay for a while at least. Edmund stands and stretches his muscles. He slowly and quietly walks over to Pinewer and retrieves his axe. He looks out into the blackness and knows he could never see whatever stalks him. He can only hope that it too has trouble seeing him. He can't even see his horse, just too dark. Not even the stars to help. He finds his axe merely by knowledge and touch. He returns to the place he was resting at, beside a large tree. Another sleepless night ahead of him. He makes sure his pistol is loose in it's holster. A small idea comes to him. Edmund reaches into a pocket and retrieves a small container. He partially opens it. If he hears the wrong sound...

His mind drifted up and down. Trying to remain alert and expecting trouble at any moment. Yet the boredom set in as each hour passed. The desire for meaningful rest ever present. Come on, get on with it!

It was dawn before he realized it. Perhaps the clouds thinned suddenly. Perhaps his mind simply rolled back to alertness. Maybe a bird gave a searching call. Edmund looked around and could see clear enough. Trees, bushes, Pinewer, the falling rain. He began to relax. He shut the lid of the small matchbox he'd held all night long and puts it away. Nothing. How could it be nothing? Was this a test? Still feel the eyes. But they could be anywhere. Or nowhere. Imagination? And who's eyes? An enemy's? Julian keeping tabs on me? Judging my performance? Maybe he knows exactly where Martin is and is timing my discovery? Know too little. Just go.

Edmund scans the area once again but sees just the trees. He opens a canteen and takes a few swallows. Starts to chew some hard beef. He replaces his axe in its carrying loop. He mounts his horse and rides from his resting spot. Time for some tests. Once daylight is plenty he speeds up Pinewer in an attempt to out race whatever could be watching him. He rides that way for an hour, then two. He shifts Shadow whenever he can, again testing if his watchers can likewise Walk the realms. He tries whatever tricks he can to distance himself from those who watch. As the day gets longer and Shadow riding gets easier he again focuses on Martin and hopes he is getting closer.