((Gabe - yup it is, did Iran last time we went near the scroll stuff. Maybe I'll post that old thread... prolly end up in Iran again, who can tell.

[i:7df4641667]Airborne, somewhere between Paris and Cairo[/i:7df4641667]

Julius sat in his smart Darrant Industries Learjet. On the desk in front of him was his skull and a book. The book was a detailed treatise on the conduct of Hermetic Tribunals in the oldest days. In particular, the section he was examining related to the Provence Tribunal and the page he was reading had a picture of a skull upon it. "[i:7df4641667]Intellego Vim[/i:7df4641667]" Muttered Julius, making some arcane signs in the general direction of his skull. "Online" It said. Julius swore. He was convinced that his skull and the one in the book were one and the same item, but accessing it's "original programming" was proving to be incredibly difficult. He read through the passage again, the Hermetic Latin roughly translating as "the primus of the tribunal tapped the skull with his staff to retrieve prior precedent." Tapped it with his staff, Julius pondered. If that meant he needed some other item to activate this skull he was truly in trouble, the staff of the Provence Tribunal could be anywhere, if it even still existed. But then, the Primus of a Tribunal could be different every time, being elected from all voting wizards present on a particular... Julius stopped and grinned. Opening his mouth he took a deep breath and spoke, in Hermetic Latin. "Provence Tribunal now in session. Magi present, Julius of House Tremere. Propose Julius of House Tremere as Primus. All in favour?" Julius raised his hand then continued. "I declare Julius of House Tremere Primus of the Provence Tribunal for this session." Julius removed his sigil from around his neck and tapped the skull with it. "Articles of the Provence Tribunal, archive online." Said the skull, it's deathly tones now speaking in Hermetic Latin.

Julius smiled, turning to a list he had prepared of similar devices from other Tribunals. "Report status of interface with the following:" he began, reading through the list.

As his Learjet was on final approach to Cairo Airport, Julius gave final instruction to the skull. "Interface with archives from Tribunal of Thebes and Tribunal of the Levant. Correlate all references to cyphers used by Cult of Thoth." The skull's eye sockets flashed, "Working." It said.

Cairo, that miasma of Arab and African culture, stirred together with the ancient heritage of this land, creating an atmosphere utterly unique, whilst at the same time, remarkably similar to other cities across the region. That mish mash of old and new, the sunglasséd rich with their Mercedes and BMW's vying for road space with the more ancient vehicles. Occasional animal drawn wagons passed along the roads and even in this metropolis camels were everywhere. Great altar of the tourist trade, a camel was a reasonable living for an Egyptian, $5 would buy a photograph of the camel, $20 a ride on it's back. Julius passed many such on his way to the museum and it seemed as if each one knew him. Malkavians have their madness network, Nosferatu pass their knowledge one to another and it seemed that camels also had some strange way to communicate. In their eyes Julius could see recognition, in his heart he knew that each camel was waiting, biding it's time until it could kick him, bite him, spit at him, or in some other way, perform an act of camel barbarism upon his person. Of all creatures upon the earth, the ones he could not abide, were camels. He hurried swiftly past, towards the museum.

By the time of his arrival the museum had shut for the evening. Julius looked about for the signs, which, to the initiated, would indicate the way to the front door of the areas he was most interested in. None were obviously apparent, indeed it wasn't until he cast a subtle detect magic spell that he could see the signs at all. Faded, unmaintained and barely visible, when they should have been obvious to any Tremere, with no effort at all. This was not a good sign. He headed slowly to the apparently seldom used side door. He traced a symbol on the door and knocked 3 times, as was the custom. Nothing happened. Julius frowned, this was not what he expected from a chantry of House and Clan Tremere. He knocked again. Finally a window opened in the door, a hooded face, scarcely visible in the shadowed corridor beyond peered through it, "Whaat.. what, what do you want?"

"I seek entry" Replied Julius. "The museum is closed" came the sharp retort as the window slammed shut. Julius knocked again, his patience wearing thin. Once again the window opened, but this time, the face behind the window was illuminated by magelight issuing from the palm of Julius' hand. Their eyes met and the weak will of the doorkeeper was easily subsumed beneath the power of Julius' dominance. The door opened and Julius entered a dark corridor. By the glow of his magelight, he could see a damp stone floor, puddles of water here and there along it's length. The beautifully painted wall plaster had seen better days, chunks missing in places and where it was still intact, the paint flaked and crumbling. Spots of mould were appearing on the ceiling and the occasional drip, drip of water could be heard within. Julius wrinkled his nose at the damp oppressive smell of decay and turned to the doorkeeper. "Take me to the Regent." He ordered perfunctorily.

Having managed to use the threat of causing a scandal on the doorstep to playfully bully the Gate security into letting her use a guest bedroom to freshen up from her travel, Morathi did a cursory sweep of the room with an astral projection. As she suspected there were a few cameras and listening devices scattered about, so those responsible for the Chateau's security could monitor their surprise guest.

Entering the bathroom and noting the tasteful blend of modern comforts with the original Chateau's decor, she focussed her attention on the new structures, gently calling upon the path of the levinbolt to convert a minute amount of vitae into a surge of natural static electricity that she released into the shower's door frame. Smiling with amusement as she heard a soft 'Pop' whilst the hidden camera in the frame burnt out, she respected the need for security but she prefered to enjoy her bathing unwatched for now, she already had an audience within to cater to and pamper.

The voice had been sulking ever since its recent brief taste of a winter's day and now she would treat it to the feel of a nice relaxing shower. At first it had felt strange sharing her body with the spirit within her new heart, especially as she suspected the voice was originally male once upon a time, but now it was like living with an invisible lover, its appetites for the sensations it had been denied within its crystalline prison were great, but the spirit had to respect the whims and needs of its host as well. This lead to the occasional internal spat when indulgence had to be balanced with performing her duty, but a balance had ultimately been attained for the timebeing...

Unzipping her Motorcycle leathers, and peeling the form hugging armoured material from her body, she stepped into the shower and proceeded to wash the dust from the road and the scent of high performance oils, petrol and supple leather from her hair and body, replacing them with the sent of cherry blossom as she used the provided shower gel. Her hands gently washing and massaging her body, feeling the spirit within savouring the wamth of the water, the sensations of skin caressing skin, recalling the feel of sensations her own vampiric body had started to forget as memories of her own brief mortality had faded with age. Thus, in indulging the spirit, she was in a way also reviving experiences from her own lost mortality.

Finally sating the spirit's desires for the timebeing, Morathi stepped gracefully from the shower, towelling her body and hair dry and dressing in her ankle length white dress, she moved back into the main guest area of her room and proceeded to finish drying her raven-black hair and brushing back into a tidy state, completing the transformation from leather clad biker into the graceful and refined operatic singer Lucilla Troy...

Whilst awaiting La Comtesse’s answer to her request for an audiance, Morathi browsed the room's bookshelf and was pleased to find an early edition of Joyce's 'Ulysses', proceeding to spend time waiting by reading it aloud for her unseen audiences within and without...

[i:8b2cbab73b] August…. The Cascadia Elysium [/i:8b2cbab73b]

The west wing of the old Royal Palace of Prince Rhiannon was not used much anymore. Having been designed by Eveshka herself, it was still the most beautiful part of the complex, but with the advent of Prince Valek and the demise of the powers of “light,” it had grown into disrepair. Now just the central Elysium was used, and even then only for major court functions. Yet, the west wing still held the old archives left there since the Garou attack that took down the Toreador regime. It also had the security measures in place, not that anyone really payed them much attention anymore. This was why it took Gabriel’s security team a minute to figure out just what the little flashing red light next to his mug of coffee meant.

“What the hell?” said the man as he looked at the monitor and saw a shadow moving among the dusty display cases. He picked up his headset that was sitting on the desk next to the novel he was reading. “Station 4 to central, I’ve got an alarm in the old throne room, going to check it out.”

“[i:8b2cbab73b] Copy, Four, report in when you ascertain the source of the alarm. [/i:8b2cbab73b].”

“Roger.”

Four got up and headed down the hall to the old Throne Room. He tried the door and found it to be locked. He rooted though an assortment of keys until he found the correct one and unlocked the graceful double doors leading to the main receiving room. The moon shone through the skylight, dimly lighting the room with an eerie blue light. He turned on his flashlight and looked for the main light switch. He had never been in this room before, he was one of Gabriel’s newer hires. He finally found the light switch only to discover that it did not work. From off in the far corner he heard a slight noise that sounded like steel being drawn. His instincts finally told him that something was wrong. Unfortunately for him, that was a mere heartbeat before his head was severed from his body. He didn’t even scream.

Ten minutes later, after he failed to report in, several more armed guards came to investigate. They swept the area with flashlights and with closed circuit video cameras so as to negate any vampires using obfuscate or the like. They found nothing. They moved back into the former Harpy’s office where a portrait of Rhiannon, Ivy, and Eveshka still hanged.

“Got him,” whispered one of the video carrying guards. And so he did. There on the minute LCD screen was a man standing completely still next to a suit of armor: a man who could not be seen with the naked eye. The guard with the video moved out of the room as if he did not see the man. When the guards had reached the main receiving room again, they called for back up. A few moments later many more armed men came running with Gabriel at the head. They moved into Eveshka’s former office to find a figure all dressed in black rifling through documents and files. He looked up almost instantly.

“Don’t move,” said Gabriel softly. The man did not obey the command. With blinding speed he ran towards the corner of the room and appeared to run up the wall to the ceiling above. With a crash, the man disappeared up through the skylight and off into the night. All of this took place in the time it took Gabriel to move his hand to his shoulder holster (assuming that is where it is J ) and start to draw his pistol.

Gabriel walked over to the still open file cabinet and found what looked like photo copies of an old papyrus scroll with notes written on it in immaculate and very feminine looking hand writing. He continued to leaf through the files and found a few mentions of one Dr. Mulah Malik of the Sorbonne in Paris. On one of the copies, the note taker had circled some of the odd runic scribbling and had written (in a different hand than the flowery handwriting) various different characters of a similar nature equal to the number of characters on the original. It almost seemed as if the note taker were experimenting with potential evolution of the script. The last one looked almost like modern Arabic. Right below that, written in English, were the words. Shal-Ka-Mense.

((I'll get to a response to you in a bit Mora. Things are sorta hectic in RL just now))

A note arrived at Ms. Troy's room stating that the Comtesse would receive her in the music room.

"What's this? Shall commence? Nicely spelled, probably written by some illiterate Brujah." the Ventrue neonate's bland attempt at humor fell flat as Gabriel and Noshad continued to analyze the various papers pulled from the cabinet. Finally, Gabriel glanced up, his green eyes flickering with specks of red, a direct result of the immense portions of blood he had consumed in order to stay up through the daytime.

"I'm sorry, what was that Philippe? I had completely forgotten you were still here." he said flatly. Philippe, had he the bodily functions, would have flushed red at the insult. A mere grimace sufficed, and the neonate skulked from the room, leaving the Seneschal and his assistant to their work.

The laboratory glistened with freshly polished metal and the sterile gleam of highly shone glass. After the initial investigation of the palace's west wing had failed to provide any leads, the trounced Seneschal had retreated to the crime lab of the local police station. Gabriel had only just begun to dig his talons into the mortal hierarchy of the city, but what he had procured served him well. Mishandling of evidence in the crime lab by several "friends" had helped more than it's fair share of reckless neonates out of a jam, and even a few sloppy Elders had relied on Gabriel's contacts for assistance.

Gabriel rubbed his eyes warily and leaned back against the cool steel of the counter. His blonde hair hung limply over the shoulder of his red, woolen turtle neck. Porcylen skin clung to his tight, Nordic features and did not falter even as he drew his face into a calculated scowl. The thought of an intruder so brazenly defiling the Prince's palace turned his stomach. But who did he have to blame but himself? It was he who had allowed security to become so lax. Kindred entered and did as they pleased in Cascadia with none to appose them. The Prince, a blatant Baali follower, was intimidating, but rarely stepped out from his throne to enforce Traditions.

"It's more than I can stand at times." he whispered, running his hands through his hair with frustration.

"I'm sorry" Noshad Jerrahi glanced up from one of the parchments. The young Ventrue had proved invaluable to Gabriel on a number of occasions and thankfully had yet to realize his worth. A strong proud nose centralized his face and drew all of his other features together. He was handsome and youthful, the curse of Caine had done little to diminish his superficial qualities. Thick, black hair crowned his head, and was cropped short. Gabriel shook his head.

"Nothing. So what do you make of it?"

Noshad shrugged, joining Gabriel against the counter, several parchments in hand.

"Well, it's tough to say. It's definately Farsi, but some are older dialects that I've not quite familiar with. Vague references to Iran, Egypt, and assassins..." Noshad flipped through the papers.

"Assassins?" Gabriel repeated inquisitively.

"Yeah, but what's really strange..." he shuffled through some of the papers, producing a few of the fresher looking documents. "...is this."

Gabriel glanced at the writing, which to his ignorant eye looked like simple enough Farsi to him.

"What's it say?"

"That's just it....I've no clue. It's as if the author has introduced new characters into the writings." Noshad sighed and tossed the papers back onto the desk in front of them. Gabriel gathered the papers into his dusty brown travel-bag and the two Ventrue set out through the hallways of the crime lab, emerging into the dim light of the waning moon.

A limousine sat at the curb, it's engine purring softly as it awaited it's owner. As he went about setting his things in the backseat of the car, he motioned Noshad closer.

"I need you to find this Mulah Malik for me. Dig up what you can on him and report back to me. Don't get too close." Noshad seemed mildly taken aback, but soon regained his composure.

"With all due respect Seneschal O'Brien, I have matters here that need to be addres..."

"They've been taken care of Noshad." Gabriel replied, at last turned and clasping the youth on the shoulders. He smiled broadly, his sparkling smile containing something sinister beneath it....something that screamed predator. The young Persian Ventrue wondered if Gabriel meant for him to notice that quality or not. "I'll meet you at your apartment this evening with all the necessary details of your trip."

**********

Gabriel had been true to his word and arrived at Noshad's apartment in the early hours of the morning. But to Noshad's surprise, the Ventrue Ancillae had come fully packed and ready for travel. Prior business engagements had drawn the Seneschal to Paris conveniently enough, and although it was obviously a lie, Noshad decided it best not to question it.

Within the hour the pair was sprinting up the tarmac under a star riddled sky towards a private jet. As they stepped onto the plane, Noshad cupped his ears from the high pitch whine of the engines and wondered just what he had gotten himself into.

Gabriel smiled at the apprehension the boy had shown in traveling with him, appreciating the degree of caution Noshad exercised even with a known ally. As the jet lurched forward, Gabriel shut his eyes and prepared to catch up on lost rest and to prepare his mind and body for the tasks that lay ahead in Paris....

[i:512697a62d]Below the Cairo Museum[/i:512697a62d]

The hooded figure led the way through the dank corridor into a darkened room. Within the room, several figures chanted, their arms moving in mystical gestures. Julius could sense magical currents forming in the room, some ritual was on the verge of completion. As he moved further into the room, the chanting abruptly came to a halt, the lead figure banging the ground with his staff, signalling the end to the ceremony.

Suddenly, the room was flooded with light. Julius stood in a medium sized storeroom. Various exhibits and packing cases were strewn haphazardly about the room, covered with dust. The light came from flourescent tubes, suspended from the ceiling, some of them flickering and wavering, their fittings carrying more dust than the items stored on the floor. Julius walked slowly towards the hooded figure who had led the ritual. A familiar voice came from the shadowed face, "Ah, Pontifex Darrant, so good of you to join us." it said, as the figure pointed his staff toward the floor at Julius feet. Julius opened his mouth to reply, some scathing comment about the state of the chantry, yet no words came from his mouth. As his magical powers began to drain away, perhaps for the first time in his unlife, Julius knew fear. He turned to run, yet the paralysis which held his tongue now held his feet.

The leader of the ritual approached and drew back his hood. "Did you think I had forgotten, whelp?" Snarled Abetorius. "You should not have returned to my domain. A Tremere magus, kindred, yet still able to use the ancient forms and techniques. I think it is time we found out what makes you tick, yes?"

Julius closed his eyes, gathering what little of his will and abilities remained, focussing himself for one last spell. He looked up to the roof, opened his mouth and with every fibre of his being, screamed one word. "EVESHKA!"

Morathi glided softly through the hall of the Chateau, guided by the sound of music. Music that was very familiar to her. Finding the Music Room, She paused seeing the face that had haunted her dreams on many occasions since they had left on separate paths from York so long ago. She had only visited Eveshka once in the intervening time, but had not disturbed her from her torpor...

[i:e32f595e35]"There was a time when men were kind...
When their voices were soft.. And their words inviting
There was a time when love was blind
And the world was a song... And the song was exciting
There was a time.... Then it all went wrong....

I dreamed a dream in times gone by...
When hope was high.. and life worth living...
I dreamed that love would never die.
I dreamed that God would be forgiving....
Then I was young and unafraid.
And dreams were made and used and wasted...
There was no ransom to be paid.
No song unsung, no wine untasted..."
[/i:e32f595e35]

The music was from 'Les Miserables' it was from the scene where Fantine had been abandoned by her lover and left unemployed and destitute, it was a song that had started with hope in the future... Hope that was to be dashed by fate...

[i:e32f595e35]"But the tigers come at night.... With their voices soft as thunder...
As they tear your hope apart, and they turn your dream to shame..."[/i:e32f595e35]

Morathi glided to join her mentor, softly adding her own voice to Eveshka's as way of introducing her presence whilst they sang the conclusion together in duet much in the same way they had when they had really met for the first time, but this time Morathi's voice calling upon her own sorrowful experiences to emote the grief Fantine felt the way she had been taught...

[i:e32f595e35]"He slept a summer by my side, he filled my days with endless wonder..
He took my childhood in his stride.... But he was gone when autumn came...
And still I dream he'll come to me.... that we'll live the years together...
But there are dreams that cannot be...
And there are storms we cannot weather...

I had a dream my life would be....
So much different from this hell I'm living....
So different now from what it seemed...
Now life has killed...
The dream... I dreamed..."[/i:e32f595e35]

The last note hung on the air with the resonance of the voices blended in duet. Finally Morathi spoke, a slight hint of the song's sorrow in her voice...

"You remembered it too... The night that we first met..."

Morathi's reunion with her mentor was to be abruptly disrupted as Eveshka suddenly looked distantly away from the sheets of music and whispered a name... A name whose import was equally significant to herself as it was to Eveshka, but for different reasons, those of bonds of blood and loyalty to her house and clan...

[i:e32f595e35] "Julius..." [/i:e32f595e35]

Julius lay immobile on the hard table, light shining in his face, his skin tingling. Around him he could hear the sounds of chanting and he could feel magical currents passing around and through him. The arcane chanting slowly began to increase in intensity and as it did so, the tingling became pain, increasing in depth and penetration in step with the ritual being performed around him. Abruptly the chanting stopped. The sound of a staff being pounded 3 times on the floor was the preface to a great wash of power passing into Julius' body, the agony of it causing his back to arch involuntarily. He tried to scream, yet no sound came from his mouth, as the chanting began anew. Pain upon pain, his nerve endings afire, each muscle wracked with the magnitude of his torment, he writhed upon the slab, impotent, silently screaming his suffering, until finally, he slipped into unconsciousness...

...and awoke to daylight.

Julius stood near a coastal cliff, upon green, wet grass. A light mist obscured the distant, winter bare trees, falling as a light drizzle which made everything damp. Julius shivered with the cold, pulling his coat about him and breathing into his hands to warm them a little. A lone figure stood at the edge of the bluff, staring out over the ocean. Julius walked towards him, grass giving way to wet, lichen covered rock as he neared the threshold of the crag. Below, a dark, agitated sea washed up against a short shingle beach. The figure turned at the sound of Julius' footsteps and regarded him mildly, with an indecipherable expression. "Mild for the time of year, don't you think?" The stranger asked. "Where...?" Began Julius, but the stranger cut him off. "That's what they always say first, where, or who, or how, or what. Always questions, never answers."

"Should I have answers?" Julius ventured. "Should? Don't often hear that one." Came the reply. "Don't you know, were you not... no, I can see that you haven't faced... and no-one..."

"Faced what? No-one what?" Demanded Julius, his pulse quickening with a combination of anger, frustration and anxiety. "Questions, questions, you must seek your own answers in this place. I cannot give that which you need."

"Then have you no purpose here?" asked Julius. "Sometimes." Came the reply, "Though this road is rarely trodden." He sighed. "What I can I give you. You are in twilight, my friend. You must travel your own road, perhaps you will find your way from the shadows, perhaps not." He shrugged. "Follow the road, magus." The stranger pointed to the causeway, had it always been there, or had it simply appeared, Julius could not tell. The stranger turned back to the sea.

For lack of alternative, Julius headed to the causeway and disappeared into the mists.

As the jet's hatch opened, Gabriel got his first glimpse of London in over a century. Memories of oppressing clouds of soot and smoke, gaslight torches, and the gentle rapping of walking sticks was replaced with the almost immediate screech of automobiles and powerful office buildings. As the two Kindred made their way across the relative emptiness of the airport, Gabriel mused at how much things had truly changed...while it was almost certain that the Kindred of the city were still very much the same.

The ride to the hotel was short and uneventful, Noshad glancing out the window and marvelling at the "backwardness" of the roads, while Gabriel mapped out his plan in his mind. He walked with complete focus, past the lobby and to the elevators where he began his ascent to his specified room.

Once in the room, he checked it discreetly for bugs or monitoring devices of any kind. Finding none, he threw his heavy overcoat upon the bed and awaited the arrival of his assistants.

He didn't have to wait long before Noshad, accompanied by a favored ghoul, entered carrying a rather cumbersome amount of luggage. Light mists of rain began to rap on the window as the three worked dillegantely to set up the labtop and monitoring equipment.

They worked late into the night, silent and solemn, before finally sun-proofing the room. As Gabriel stretched the final bit of masking tape across the heavy end of the drapes, already Noshad had laid down to retire. The ghoul, a younger named Tyler, was instructed to keep watch, and to gather what information he could during the day.

The next night they would discover what information they could about their mysterious doctor....

((tiz short i realize, but i need Peter to give me some information on him so i know what Gabe is intended to discover.

[i:f03ebc5f06] In the music room of Chateau Usse [/i:f03ebc5f06]

With a conflict of emotions, Eveshka stood up from the piano and walked over to Morathi. Through her heightened Toreador senses, Eve could tell that Morathi was somehow different. Darker? No, not quite, but there was something sinister in her aura that was not there before. The Comtesse stopped and gently lifted Mora's hands in her own before giving her a tender kiss upon the lips. Her face changed from a radiant smile to a grimace of pain.

"There is something wrong with Julius," said Eve with a great deal of concern.

Morathi looked at Eve oddly.

"He's in Cairo, something dreadful has happened. I sense pain," Eveshka clutched her head and pulled at her hair. "Oh my god what is this? You need to go, you need to go NOW."

Morathi smiled at the unspoken questions she had sensed Eveshka wanted to ask about the way she had changed in the time since their last meeting. The kiss reviving memories of York, memories that were interrupted by Eveshka's sudden painful reaction to a cry her own less experienced supernatural senses could not sense. Morathi listening carefully in concern as Eveshka imparted the message, before voicing her own reaction to meeting her mentor...

[i:c2c39cd596]"I sense you can tell I've changed.... I guess you could say I developed a change of heart whilst in New Orleans.... But in truth the changes began much earlier than that... For every action there is always a consequence... Pretium Scientiae.... The price of knowledge.... I continue to pay mine...."[/i:c2c39cd596]

She laughed, breaking the note of regret that had slipped into her voice...

[i:c2c39cd596]"But now is not the time for long stories.... If Julius is in trouble in Cairo and needs help I'll need to make some calls... If you will excuse me Comtesse I will retrieve my phone... I will return swiftly...."[/i:c2c39cd596]

Gracefully Morathi glided through the Chateau and out to where her motorcycle was parked. The motorcycle was a gift from Julius when she was his aide and it served her well, not least due to the secure-encrypted communications and surveillence equipment built into its fairing. Equipment she now used to initiate contact with the Home Office in Vienna, entering her Astor identification prefix that allowed her to report directly to members of the Council of Seven to whom she was accountable.

Morathi decided to contact Councillor Meerlinda. As Julius' aide in York she naturally had some liason with the Councillor's office. And in Morathi's officially disgraced status as far as non-council members were concerned, Councillor Meerlinda was the most likely to be able to offer assistance, being known for her frequent support of outcast Tremere that she had use for...

[i:c2c39cd596][b:c2c39cd596]To: Councillor Meerlinda
From: Astor Morathi
Subject: Status of Julius Darrant, Pontifex of the 3rd Circle

Councillor, It has come to my attention from a reliable source that Julius Darrant has apparently befallen some disaster in Cairo. I am currently making preparations to travel there and investigate in the interests of House Security. However I would respectfully request your guidance on how to proceed with such an investigation, Councillor Abetorius is not known to welcome the activities of members of my order in his backyard...[/b:c2c39cd596][/i:c2c39cd596]

Morathi printed the message, chanting Meerlinda's name softly as she simultaneously ignited the printout in her closed palm and hit the send button with her other hand. A trivial ritual really with origins dating back even to the time House Tremere were mortal mages, but one that ensured that only the intended person could read the message, to any other observer the message would simply be unreadable. She closed down the bike's uplink and retrieved her sat-phone, turning to return to the Chateau and Eveshka.

By the time she had returned to Eveshka, Morathi had called up Willow to arrange through the usual channels a private jet for Lucilla Troy, destination Cairo...

[i:c2c39cd596]"Please have it ready for my arrival at the rendevous point in Orleans... One moment..."[/i:c2c39cd596]

She paused looking to Eveshka...

[i:c2c39cd596]"Do I need to ask my aide Willow to make provisions for a fellow traveller?.... It seems rude to greet you after so long only to have to ask your forgiveness for having to depart in the same breath..."[/i:c2c39cd596]

The question was for practical reasons as much as Morathi's reluctance to simply dash in and out of her mentor's presence after so brief a reunion. Morathi herself could travel safely in a plane without having to ensure it was suitably prepared against sunlight, Eveshka however did not have the same immunities and Willow would need to arrange suitable preparations...

Eveshka was torn in two. On the one hand she had her duties as the ruler of Touraine. On the other hand she had her duties as a friend to Julius. Eight hundred years of existence taught her many things, but in particular that one's first duty was to one's self.

"Mora, I cannot go. I have to stay here. I can give you any and all assistance you require though, including my chief of security. He is very capable."

Morathi looked at Eveshka with mixed emotions. Her first response was to grow angry at the lack support fro Julius. She could also understand why Eveshka would not lend it though. With what limited aura perception Mora had, she could tell that a titanic battle was being waged inside of Eveshka. For that, Morathi felt sympathy for the tempestuous Toreador.

"I will contact you from Cairo, once I figure out what is needed," said Mora. "We can finish out catching up later," she finished, smiling coyly.

Eveshka bit her lip and nodded.