After the Knightly Meeting

Some time after Jerod's intrusion into the Knights' meeting, and after it has broken up, Brennan strides off to the meeting he and Jerod have arranged.

If Amber has aspirin or the like, he has already commandeered a member of the castle staff to procure him some. When he meets Jerod in the courtyard, he greets him simply: "Cousin. I trust I'm not interfering too badly in your schedule."

Jerod is speaking to one of the castle guard, having just finished a routine check of the internal perimeter of the castle while waiting for Brennan to arrive. "Not at all." he says, nodding to the guard. "You would seem to have a busy schedule. I trust you had enough sleep last night. My sister is well?"

"No rest for the weary," he replies. It's not a complaint, merely an observation. "And under the circumstances, yes. She was exhausted and frustrated when I left her, on top of the obvious, but she was well. I haven't disturbed her rest this morning, but I promised to check on her today. Before lunch, if there is time."

There is something in Jerod's expression that looks like amusement upon hearing Brennan's comment about Cambina being frustrated. It does not appear there is any maliciousness. If anything, he seems...satisfied? But he does not comment and merely nods.

Brennan offers no comment.

"And your other sister, Valeria? For what they're worth, accept and convey my condolences."

"You may offer them to my sister at your convenience unless you are departing with Corwin. I will offer them to my other sister and my mother when I meet them." Jerod says. "I suspect I will be gone before Valeria rises. She remains in Amber to find her father's killer. Reid is going to have an interesting time of it."

He nods. He's not much for small talk, either, and now that the ritual is out of the way they can get down to business.

"What was it that you wished to speak to me about?"

"Some weeks ago, you approached Conner and I with a plan to pool information to make sure that no threats emerged to the Court. I demurred at the time, becuse you seemed interested in threats from within the Court, and I thought that more external threats were likely."

While strictly true, if Jerod has a decent Water score-- or some political acumen, as I'm sure he does-- he'll recognize a face-saving manuever for both of them. Brennan had other reasons that he's diplomatically keeping off the table for right now.

Jerod's water is good enough that he recognizes it for what it is. Brennan would recognize that Jerod is not hiding his reactions at this moment, and it is clear he considers the face-saving maneuver to be unnecessary. Brennan might suspect he only uses those manuevers in Court.

Sadly, that's exactly what Brennan suspected. Pity.

[Brennan]
"Well, we have an external threat right now. Dara is a beast that needs to be put down. So we have a much better test case for co-operation. I propose cooperation, and I'll offer the following, just for openers: I have reason to believe that Madoc is not the only Lord of Chaos to develop an Amber-centric spy. I believe Borel has, or is, as well."

He holds up a hand to forestall the obvious question. "The source is the obvious one. Take it for what you will. But know that the information was volunteered last night just as we were learning that there was a Chaosi in our midst, before it was clear that the new Borel had crashed the party. Far before last night's... altercation."

Jerod suspects he knows what source. It saves him the trouble of questioning her later (for the moment). The information is noted.

[Brennan]
"I've followed it up with Merlin, but there are plausible reasons why he might have been kept in the dark. There are then very plausible reasons to believe that his life and liberty are still in danger. Because if I were Borel now, and I had a use for my son and an unexposed spy, I would do everything possible to make sure that he made his way to Paris.

"Be careful, Jerod-- as I'm sure you always are."

Jerod's turn, if he has anything.

Jerod nods, digesting the information. None of the information would appear to surprise him, though one might suspect that Jerod is good at assessing new information - and that only radically unusual items will cause a change in his behaviour. The comments made concerning an additional spy seem more to confirm his suspicions that to raise new ones. (only one spy by Chaos?...seems pretty thin on their part. He'd have expected more.)

"That may prove useful. Assuming Merlin knows this, Corwin probably does as well. I will try to verify this on our trip out. Let us hope that our Borel spy does indeed travel with us to Paris. If Corwin does have a Pattern of his own, their ability to wield magic or travel may be impeded. It will shift the balance to our favor."

Then Jerod smiles. "But while this information may be useful, it would also seem to be somewhat redundant. If you told Merlin then Corwin should know and he'll prepare in Paris. It would explain why the trip has been moved up. He wants a confrontation on his turf. And I'm pretty sure you'll be giving this information to my sister the next time you two cuddle up. If you haven't done so already. That covers the bases here in case you decide to join the redhead brigade in getting Brita back from wherever. The angles are covered, so cooperation would seem to be unnecessary. Unless the value of cooperation is to acquire my support, and thus try to limit my future actions.

"You wouldn't be worried that I might decide to take it upon himself to take care of a problem to my good friend, would you?" Jerod is mildly amused but not threatening in even the remotest respect.

"Corwin's priorities differ from yours, Jerod. And information exchange is itself cooperation. You wouldn't be playing dumb, would you?"

Brennan is neither mildly amused, nor in the remotest respect acerbic.

"Corwin's priorities will include protecting his own, including his son. As for what my priorities are, I think very few people have any clue as to what they might be."

If Jerod would seriously like to argue that his priorities are the same as Corwin's, he may do so at his leisure. Thus does Brennan let the comment pass.

"I only play dumb for those willing to believe it." Jerod says. "If someone around me expects something from me, who am I to refuse to give it to them. Life is much better at correcting people's attitudes, usually with a two by four.

"As for your, definition, of cooperation, let me provide you with a little tidbit, in the spirit of cooperation. Your little friend Aisling is safe for the moment. If Martin wanted her dead, she would have been a long time ago. He doesn't waste time with pleasantries like I do. Since she's still breathing, I would look upon that favorably. And if she's smart, she won't push her luck around him."

"I thought it was your definition, actually," Brennan says, "this ability of our generation to work together and share information. But no matter-- while I'll take your offering back to my comrade in the spirit it was offered, you mistake me. I propose cooperation specifically regarding Dara."

"It is doubtful I will be seeing much of her, unless she intends to make her way to Rebma." Jerod says. "My time in Paris will be limited. Only long enough to take care of some unforeseen business before heading home.

"Of course, should the opportunity present itself, I will be certain to put a blade into her if you'd like. I dislike her removal of Brita. A nice girl with just the right amount of temper. Somehow I suspect I won't get the opportunity though. Dara's a lot tougher than she looks. A terrible pity Uncle Caine's aim was off last night."

"Indeed. And mine."

Brennan reaches an abrupt decision.

"Very well, Jerod. If there's no information you can share, I shan't take up any more of your time."

"Nothing suitable to our current situation." Jerod says. "I'm sure if something comes up, my sister will be certain to provide it to you. Good hunting."

And since the meeting appears to be done, Jerod heads off looking forward to his audience with the Queen.

And Brennan with the redheads.

Aisling, expression neutral, takes the most obvious route from the Red Room back to her own room to check her mail. Might as well meet up with anything that's lying in wait for her.

There is no mail except that which you already know about. Ce'e is waiting for you when you come in.

"What is it, Ce'e?" she asks, regarding him sidelong, picking up the returned letter to Benedict with the very tips of her fingers.

"My tutor, Crane, says that you will be required to fight against the offspring of the King. He told me that I would not be violating my oath to the King as a knight by wishing you to win, but I am confused. Why do you have to fight Martin? Are we not enemies of his Enemy Borel?"

Aisling lets out a breath, vastly relieved. Visions of someone doing something terrible to Ce'e (does she assassinate them?), or some hitherto-unknown shapeshifter among the Amberites giving her "a taste of her own medicine", or Ce'e toppling forward with a knife in his back and something smug and nasty behind him, all can be banished. And he reported his concerns so clearly and concisely!

"I will order some brunch and tell you of the situation, my affine. First, though, tell me what you observed in the third of a watch immediately following the departure of Borel. You may organize your thoughts while I arrange things with a servant."

While she waits for the servant to arrive, she examines the returned letter to be sure the folding and seal is still intact. She tucks it in her pouch when satisfied, to burn later. When the servant has left with the brunch order, she scans the area outside the window and then sits at the little table by it, gesturing Ce'e to another seat and signifying he can start his telling.

"I was with Crane and he was explaining dancing to me."

This sets Aisling to looking baffled. Ce'e doesn't dance? How, then, did he interact with other beings, physically, joyfully, before she claimed him? There's so much she doesn't understand about all this...

[Not the how, but the why and with whom.]

"We saw Borel attacked and her counterattack, and they departed via powerful magics. Crane told me it was my duty as a knight to help the wounded, so I began to do so. I saw you once, helping your wounded cousin, and I knew that you were well. As Sargeant Barrell ran out of work for us to do, I came looking for you, my Lord."

Aisling nods. Well, that's a bit sparse, but covers the necessary points for the moment's discussion. She's of two minds about whether she's happy he didn't see her going for Martin, and so takes up a slightly orthogonal line, "Did you note the several ways in which Dara attacked the king this evening previous to the various attacks on her?"

He nods back, closely imitating your movement. "I did not note her presence until she made herself known. I only saw one of her two affines."

Aisling tilts her head a bit and spreads out her hands on the table, and then she smiles a bit. "While Borel may have left some affines in this place, the evidence suggests that at least one of the two beings we learned of is instead an allied Lord. Brennan says that Bleys's magic suggests that the red-haired creature who gave Dara escape may be a brother of his, a son of Prince Brand.

"Dara attacked the king by causing his people in the ballroom to fear for their safety, due to the screams and crashing coming from a side-room, which I suspect to have been an effect of the capture of Brita by a Chaosite. This was an attack in that, to best fulfill his oath, he would be inclined to expend energy alleviating these concerns. Further, it diverted him from his own goals, which were to..." at this point a knock comes on the door, and Aisling holds up a hand to signify a pause, stands, and calls in the servant bearing brunch.

When brunch has been provided and the servant vanishes, she takes her seat again, hands busy preparing rolls and jam and cold cuts, while she carries on her thought, "It was further an attack in that it was meant to stymie Random's goals for the evening, among which most likely were to offer a pageant of order and happiness with himself at its core.

"Borel's words were also an attack; she offered terms as if to one who had no recourse but to accept; she hijacked his event to her own ends; she accused him of kidnapping... There were various other injurious implications," Aisling takes a break to chew stuff, giving Ce'e a chance to toss something in if he wishes.

Ce'e's entire attention remains on Aisling, and he waits for her to continue.

Well, he's asked questions in the past... He's probably just staying low hoping that without further distractions she'll get to the point. But the point needs prior explication, Aisling thinks stubbornly, it's all part of the whole, if I spin him just a razor-thin wire connecting point A to point B it'll be a rotten day for both of us the day I need him to walk that path...

"Martin's position with relation to the king is not so obvious as it may seem." Does she really have to discuss sex? Is she just doing this for titillation? She quashes her doubts, picking her way forward softly, "Creatures of Order do not have the ability to reproduce the way that we do. It is somewhat surprising to me that they can reproduce at all. All things here, I am guessing, tend to be held to being themselves by the Pattern; but the females have the ability to ...host in themselves children, in the first stage of their development. This is called "pregnancy". It is sometimes a result of their version of sex.

"However, since the will that holds them is not their own, things of Order do not have control of their creation of offspring. Sometimes, then, accidental offspring are created, that the parent beings have no use for or interest in. These children are called "bastards". Martin is one of these.

"Martin was an enduring scandal for Random. The story is that Random left with the chosen daughter of the Queen of Rebma, and she returned alone to her mother later, produced Martin from herself, and then killed herself. Random, so far as I have heard, never bothered to even look at his child until three weeks ago. This was a scandal because the people of Amber consider it wrong to by cruelty drive another being to death; and because, perhaps hearkening back, they feel that it is cruel to not come up with a purpose for even unexpected children.

"I tell you this to clarify that Martin has nothing to do with Random, and your oath to the king has no bearing on your attitudes towards Martin. However, Random is now trying to not appear cruel to his child, and there are further complications in popular expectations now that Random is the king. The people wish to see that there will be no strife in the castle to distract from government. They wish to feel that, were something to happen to Random, there would be no strife as the next king was chosen. Generally, a child inherits its parent's position. Therefore, the people wish to see that Martin and Random are friendly, and that Random is willing for Martin to be his heir, since Martin is the only known child of Random, and this mitigates his lesser status as a bastard.

"Random has made moves clearly suggesting that he is willing that Martin be his heir, and that there is no strife between him and Martin over past cruelty. He set Martin first in the order of precedence. He has Martin at his side, and Martin joins him and Vialle when no other does. Thus, Martin now has a position of great power. Thus, people wish to be his ally, and to not align themselves with things that attract his displeasure.

"Random may well wish that things between him and Martin are as they appear. However, I feel sure that he will not begrudge it of you, if you would prefer that I win a fight between us." Aisling takes another eating break, chewing thoroughly and looking off into the distance past Ce'e, frown lining her face.

"Than I am relieved for myself and worried for you, Lord." He hesitates a bit. "It would be a violation of my oath to the King to attack the King's offspring and eat his new power, even if I thought I could.." He sounds unhappy.

Aisling smiles at him, soft and warm. She wants to reach out and pat his hand (gratitude/comfort/reassurance), but that's not something that Chaosites do, so she tries to convey it with the smile.

"It would," with a slight nod. "I do not want you to attack any of the royal family. I am very happy that you have such a knack for being overlooked. You can do me the most good by merely being around other beings, and so presenting to me a different view of this environment than the one I can collect, so I can better steer us out of any troubles. And if you have ideas of how to steer us out of troubles, I will be pleased to hear them.

"For the present trouble between myself and Prince Martin," and she goes back to hard and angry at that, though there's no obvious change in her mien, "It seems likely that I will have to fight him. In Amber, they choose to pretend that harsh words or dealings that arise between two Noble beings require that these beings fight; and that then the argument be over, not referenced again by the two. In cases where the harsh words may not seem so to the populace at large, fights are not required, but I suspect Crane has a fair estimation of the unlikeliness of that happenstance in this. There are two other options that I see in the situation: the king may forbid this fight; or our agents may sort the trouble out before the time we set for the fight.

"This societally-imposed fight is known as a duel," Aisling says, her lip nearly curling. "It does not dress the gaping wound Martin dealt me. It requires that I reveal my fighting abilities. Accepting it merely allows me to avoid a second such gaping social wound, at cost of some small physical wounds." Her jaw clenches shut and her narrowed eyes glitter for a bit, long enough, no doubt, that Ce'e could make a comment if he were so inclined.

"Then it sounds as if you must duel him. I do not know what to think, Lord. Is it a good thing or a bad thing?"

"It is a bad thing."

Aisling begins to draw the usual coverings back over her fury.

"I will tell you what occurred." This re-covering is, for the moment, a slow process: she is stiff with a different variety of anger, jaw locked, eyes slitted and bright with tears she's burning off.

"I was a /fool/ for sentiment, and saved bits of the particularly touching communications my father sent me. These were gone from the place I had hidden them, when I returned. Martin and Dara had found that place. Dara had some time alone there; Martin had five years after her. I am distressed at the potential to use these letters to sorcerously reach Madoc. The day after we arrived here I sent Martin a letter requesting a meeting to discuss the things I left. I have had no reply."

She lays her hands to the side to signify a sidebar to the talk, "This was not necessarily significant. He was away for much of that time, and busy for the rest. It was, however, nearing the point of a snub."

"Last night, when I stood from tending Lucas, I had the opportunity to speak with Martin. Forgoing the usual polite circumspection, as I had been advised, I asked him of the letters; but I made a large mistake by not explaining why I asked. I feel this is because I had good reason to believe that Martin viewed me with disfavor, and, being in the grip of emotion, I did not counteract my instinct to avoid giving information to enemies. However, I did not realize that Martin was the sort of being who would use me as a scapegoat. He did this, in a clear voice before the remnants of the court, and further claimed that I had more than I deserved.

"To have the Prince blame me for the surrounding carnage was a grievous blow. I attempted to react in a noble manner by offering forth the information then on how the letters could help Amber's cause, and by then leaving before any further mistakes occurred. But I did bring up Merlin in such a manner as to indicate that any scapegoating could apply to him as well; and privately between the two of us I impugned Martin's humanity by suggesting that he might not care about my fears for my father.

"Of course, since Martin had just publicly claimed that I was bothering him with trivialities, it could easily be viewed as an attack to speak clearly the information proving that the issue was not trivial," Aisling frowns a bit.

"Martin scoffed at my claim that I worried about Madoc, and clear to the court called me a liar and a traitor to Amber.

"This is the gaping wound of which I spoke, wherein Martin applied his vast personal power to cripple me. No social swordplay can wash me clean of the slander that was the first court-wide pronouncement of one of the two confidants of the king." Aisling is still for a moment, eyes a bit narrowed, but clearly doesn't want any interruptions. "So at that point my thoughts turned to full-out defense.

"I made here another large mistake. The king is more powerful than the Prince, and has sworn to protect me, but I did not call on him.

"I emphasized Martin's own connections to Chaos and pointed out his falseness for blaming me for Dara's work, and I mocked his lack of haste to do anything useful about her.

"He was then preparing to challenge me to a duel for suggesting that he was false when Brennan, Jovian, Jerod, Folly, and Paige," ticking them off on her fingers, "intervened, and soon Martin was being dragged off, for he had been injured in Dara's attack." Aisling looks down at the table for a moment, blank, and then looks up to Ce'e with slightly raised brows, _Any questions?_

"Can you not eliminate those parts of yourself that are irritating to the Prince? Or absorb someat from a being that is inclined towards him? Can I...help?"

Aisling might guess that he means to offer himself as a sacrifice to be eaten, but even affines like Ce'e do not mention such things, even when they mean them.

I wonder if he got that self-sacrificing streak from me. I wonder where I got it, Aisling thinks at the same time as she's thinking, He's right... I've been thinking about this like an Amberite. And at the same time, her day is brighter just for having him there, and then train of thought number one suddenly terminates, Waitasec, I know exactly what sustains that streak. /despair(duty)/

She reaches across the table /what the hell/ and collects Ce'e's hands between hers, giving answer to his feelings instead of his words, "Things are bad now. They may be bad for a long time. There's a good chance they'll get worse. But I do have a plan to try and get us past this. If I can get the king or the queen to give me a demonstration of trust... If I can get the Lady Folly to help work things out between me and Martin... There's nothing unforgivable 'sbeen done yet. No one's dead. ..." she pauses, inquiring of her sleep-muzzed brain, surely that can't be all? The brain quiesces. "And I will continue coming up with other plans.

"I am happy with how you serve me, Cloudeater, just as you are. Even if you were not so talented, you would still help me, make my life better, just by being at my side. It's just so nice to have someone to talk to..." her eyes a bit shinier than usual, but in a good way. "It helps me sort things out to present them to you.

"I haven't given up. If I ever do, I think we'll both be able to get out of here-- walk down some Shadow path and go do something sweet with our lives. Perhaps we could raise hounds," Aisling suggests, blinking to deal with the eye shininess and smiling, clearly not having given much thought to a non-Amber future.

He nods. "I will go where you will, Lord."

He's probably freaked out by the contact. Aisling returns her hands to her own side of the table, smile drifting away, and she turns back to the business of the day. "To answer the last of your original question, I am not certain that Martin is an enemy of Borel." She pauses, and determines that she just doesn't want to go into it now.

An Amberite would change their breathing patterns or open their eyes in surprise. Ce'e freezes, and may have forgotten that he is always supposed to breathe.

"Now return to Crane, and request that he devote this afternoon to explaining to you the entire process and politics of dueling, with reference to the troubles between Martin and I. You will no doubt participate in duels in your time here. I will expect a report from you this evening."

He nods again, and rises and departs.

Aisling rises as he does and sees him out, checking the hall. Then she does a thorough check of her two rooms to see if any creature was lucky enough to have overheard all that.

Assuming the answer is no, her circuit ends back at the table, sitting in the chair where she shed her wings, head in her hands, reviewing the conversation just past. Why do I have this ruinous desire to touch and be touched by other beings? She drops her head down to rest on her crossed arms on the table, What the hell kind of %(*@!) Chaosite am I, anyway?

She breathes steadily.

It would be very easy to nestle her head comfortably into the crook of her elbow and give in to sleep... But there's damage to control, deals to make, relationships to utterly screw over... She could still catch Merlin, if she hustled. Plead that he send her news of her father, if he can. If he didn't feel like mocking her worries. Reporting her weakness to his Friends. Assuming it was yet another attack. Even if he did get news, he'd just lie about it, like he did before.... ...Better to let it rest. She's in no condition to come near Merlin today.

Paige? She imagines Paige full of self-righteous anger masquerading as tips, "How dare you cause Martin trouble? Don't you understand how the poor thing /suffers/? You're not long for this world!!" Or the bad on the other end of the spectrum, Paige eager for the shared bitchfest, later reported to Martin's cabal, yet more poisonous misunderstanding/mindclosing misrepresentation...

That's ridiculous, Aisling's sensible part kicks her nightmare-spinning part back into a cupboard. Paige isn't like that. Still... Maybe later.

She sighs, and raises her head, and drags over the letter supplies she left this morning after the hurried note to Caine (No reason to give up on that just yet). Time to attend to the suggestions of her fellow knights. She unwraps another turn of the brightly colored paper that hold the ink stick, rubs a good dollop on the stone, mixes in the proper amount of water, and begins sketching out the letters that will bring her and Brennan and Caine and Gerard together tomorrow.

Also brushed out are letters to Llewella and Vialle, while she meanwhile absently disposes of all the food that the servant carried up for brunch. Who else will be in Amber? Cambina? ...Let that settle for a bit. Flora? After Lucas, when I have a better idea of the direction of that wind. Solange? Hm... Yes, a letter to Solange would be fitting; she creates one.

Upon sending the letters off to their fates, she then embarks on the portion of the contacts that she feels would benefit from being done in person, and starts this with Conner, the conversation she feels is the least likely to suddenly shatter like hot obsidian dropped in the sea.

***To be continued, when Madeline's well of invention springs again, and she gets over feeling embarrassed for nattering on so! Thrill! at her luck in finding Fi out to lunch! Sigh! as she composes yet another missive! Nod! in sympathy as she finally gets a bit of a nap! And be sure not to miss the appendices, which contain /the actual words of some of her letters!!/***

Robin looks around the hallway, white teeth chewing on her bottom delicately on her bottom lip. She figures she's done better this time, there's actually people passing to and fro in this corridor. And an amazing lack of dust and cobwebs.

The Ranger's nostrils flare slightly, she can smell breakfast and she knows it's somewhere around here. But the air in this place! It's either absolutely still and stagnant or it's trailing in strange misleading patterns that end up in walls as far as the Ranger can tell.

Ah well, nothing for it. Robin flags down a passing page. "Excuse me? Can you tell me where the Cinnamon Nook is?"

The page, a young man of coffee complexion and tightly curled black hair, stops for a moment. He blinks his brown brown eyes a couple of times at the sword-bearing female Ranger. Robin can almost hear the gears grinding in his head as his expression changes from 'Duh!' to 'Royals, go figure.' Obviously the staff is starting to recognize Julian's perennially lost daughter.

"It's the doorway directly behind you, Your Ladyship."

"Oh! Thank you." Robin chuckles ruefully as she turns around toward the large cherry-wood double doors behind herself.

As the girl opens sets her hand to one of the handles, she guesses she's got the place right, but the hour? Robin figures she's either early, on time or late. It'd be up to Jovian to let her know which.

As the door opens, Jovian is pouring his th-- uh, fou--...well, however manyth cup of klah from the second pot found to contain that substance in the history of Amber. He glances up and smiles, finishes pouring and hands the cup to Robin. "Try this," he urges with his first genuine smile of the morning.

It is, as elsewhere noted, predominately cinnamon flavored, with a base note of chocolate and the barest hints of coffee. It is already mildly sweetened, and there's a creamer on the table. There are also two place settings, a carafe of cranberry juice, and a serving plate loaded with biscuits, sausage and bacon with appropriate accoutrements. Likewise a bowl of fruit, though that may have been there before.

"Hey, Jove." Robin greets her brother with a happy grin and a kiss on the cheek as she accepts the cup from him.

Second genuine smile of the day.

Holding the cup under her sensitive nose, the Ranger sniffs with eyes closed. As the steam from the cup curls up around her cheeks, the girl raises a curious eyebrow. Well, now. If it tastes as good as it smells...

Opening sparkling eyes, she takes a sip from the cup. A look of delight washes over her face and she kicks back a huge slug. Robin laughs as she wipes off her klah-mustache. "Okay. This is not what I had in the cave that morning."

"Not close," Jovian chuckles. "It doesn't travel well - especially in the wet, extremes of temperature and Chaos." That he can joke about traveling in Chaos may be a good sign, or he may be sublimating hard. He's Julian's son, so it's hard to be sure.

He is at the place beside the head of the table. He gestures to the seat at the head, pours himself a cup of klah and sits without waiting for Robin to do so.

Robin plumps herself down into the head chair and looks over the spread. Nice! Setting down her nearly empty klah cup, Robin sets to work. Ignoring the flatware, Robin whips out her eatin' knife and splits a biscuit. With a lifetime's expertise, she snags more than a few strips of bacon along the flat of the knife and a sausage with the tip. In economical practiced moves, the whole mess is then sandwiched into the biscuit.

Third genuine smile - or maybe the first just never gave ground - for the zest with which she attacks life. He helps himself similarly, pausing for a little maple butter on the biscuit.

"How's our fine Danu this morning?" he asks, with a teasing little grin.

A big white grin answers her brother. "Deep Green," she croons happily, "He's... fine!" Robin's eyes flash. She shakes her head in amazement as she chuckles ruefully. "I tell you, Jove. I had to be dead not to notice that walking around the Castle. Oh my!"

The girl is practically incandescent with happiness, love and fire.

The serious, duty-bound dragonrider has probably never met his sister's eyes with such joy as this. Learning she was lost on the Black Road, it became a wondrous thing to see her alive at all. But to see her this alive....

Robin wrinkles her nose playfully at her brother as she takes a big bite out of the biscuit-sandwich. If she's all twinkly-eyed at breakfast, it's only because Jovian decided to pull her ashes out of the fire back in Danu. So really, it's all his fault.

If there's one Troy ounce of wistfulness in there somewhere, it would take a particularly skilled refiner of souls to pick it out. And do Amberites really have souls, anyway?

"So he's going to be away, what? Two, three weeks?"

One shoulder shrugs casually as Robin swallows. "Dunno. We'll be in different places, so there's no knowing how things will go. That's why we had to get the important work done before he left."

The girl's not thrilled by the prospect of the two of them splitting off into different shadows, but the important work did get done. So whether it's a day, a year or a century before she and Vere meet again, they're bound. Though Robin's well aware that she's going to get very... cranky if the her-time starts creeping past a month or so.

"I know what you mean," Jovian commiserates. "So much to set straight. I have trouble saying where to begin." It's not quite a thousand yard stare, but his smile slips into a wistful regard for a knee-high patch of the opposite wall.

A sympathetic pout pulls at Robin lips as she looks at her brother, the Calusan. She reaches out the hand not holding the biscuit and pats him gently on the hand, a gentle croon pushing through her lips. "Ah, Jove... Listen, I owe you more than one. Is there anything I can do to help?" _Even if it's just listen._

"Hey, quit it," he answers, holding the offered hand. "We don't count like that. If they want to," and by this he means the rest of this screwed up family, "then they can, but we don't, OK? You need, I'm here. Because I want to be."

A beautiful smile spreads across Robin's face. She just wanted to give her brother the out if he needed it, after all the Ranger suspects that she's more than a little high-maintenance.

"Thanks, Jove. Me too." She chuckles, "I mean, I'm here for you too. And no, I don't 'count' on family." Meaning Dad and Jove. And maybe, maybe Gerard and his brood too. Time will tell.

And then Jovian sighs, knowing he's ducking the question. "I don't know if there's a lot you can help with, Robin. Some of it is me doing it to myself. Some of it's the nature of the beast...Kourin will get used to the idea of our lifespan or not and there's just so much I can do about it. And some of it I don't know what to do with - as screwed up as flowers sprouting fire," he concludes with a wan chuckle.

"Hmmmm." Robin takes another bite and chews ruminatively. "Well. From just recent experience, I know that it helps a whole lot just saying some of it out loud. Relieves some of the pressure, the icky overwhelming feeling of it." A wry grimace dances across her face as the girl remembers last night's hysterics. And Jovian's wonderful listeningness.

"And if you - and Kourin, and of course, Hoshith and Canareth - want I can talk to Kourin, maybe. After all, I sometimes count as a girl too. I might be able to help."

Jovian chews on that thought and a bite of biscuit for a moment, settling on a safe answer. "Thanks, Robin. I'll let you know. She's supposed to meet me in an hour to go to the encampment. I'll see how she's doing then...." He trails off, evidently not looking forward to his afternoon very much.

"Ah Jove..." Robin squeezes his hand sympathetically. "Listen, girls are easy. Take her a present. Tell her you were wrong - no specifics mind you - just wrong in general. Tell her you love her and will do anything you can. That should at least get her talking again." A hopeful little smile lines Robin's lips. It hasn't escaped her attention that there are only two place settings here.

"I'll do something to make her dragon happy, that usually works," Jovian adds with a wan chuckle.

"Aw, Faranth shat a brick," he groans. "I almost forgot. Ossian. He needed to talk with me about a trump today."

Aside, mentally, to Canareth: //Please ask Hoshith if she and her rider will be going down with us today. Tell her there's a bath and oiling in it for her, but she's got to help carry the oil.//

//They will.// He sounds worried.

//What's the trouble?// Jovian carefully schools his expression, keeping consternation out of the face he shows Robin.

//Last night. The weyr is unsettled over it.// the dragon explains.

//We'll have a wingleaders' conference today, make sure no one's getting crazy ideas. For now we keep cool and don't do anything sudden, make sure they know.//

//I have done so.//

As Jovian gets that 'I'm chatting with my bonded' look, Robin sits back and consciously decides to turn the conversation away from the unhappy-jovian topics.

"As far as those flowers... some of that will be dealt with when we get the final diagnoses and treatment plan in on Heather Vale." She says matter-of-factly. "And I expect the rest will get settled when we make our final approach on Daeon." She shrugs, that one's still a little up in the air, but Robin has confidence in herself and her father in concert as Arden-managing masters.

"Got your work cut out down in Arden, huh? Well, it's good to be busy. Between reintegrating the veterans and tightening the border with Arcadia - how long is that border anyway?"

"It varies." There's another of those shrugs. "With the Warden back in residence, I suspect it's going to shrink pretty rapidly. We'll probably be looking at holding a long stretch. Course that include some winding. We'll see."

The thought of the upcoming war brings a feral green gleam to Robin's eyes. After the Unicorn only knows how long of very, very carefully not doing anything, the Ranger is more than ready for some action.

"Dad's still planning on not taking sides, right? We're just interested in keeping the mess from spilling over?"

"No, no sides. That'd be messing with the natural order in Arcadia. Rather avoid that if we can. Too much going on as it is." Look innocent. Bite, chew, chew. No covert missions planned here, no sirree.

"Especially with Dad's intention to raise our new sibs himself," Jovian replies with a Julianic eyebrow and quirk at the corner of his mouth - walking right through Robin's blank wall. "Which should make Calliste all happy. You're going to need to secure the hell out of that border, little bird," he adds, gesturing with his cranberry juice glass.

An evil grin reveals Robin's white teeth and her eyes flicker with green impish-ness. That's what her life is and she's looking forward to getting back to it.

He swallows contemplatively (a neat trick if you can do it), with a pondering distance in his eye. "By the way, have you thought about what we're supposed to do if Daeon doesn't want to come back with Dad?"

"Uh, yeah.... I've thought about it." She looks contemplatively over at her brother, raising an eyebrow at the 'we're.' So, Jovian wants in on this one. Robin presses her lips together and nods to herself as she pours herself another cup of klah. Fair enough. Jove knows Daeon, fought beside him. She doesn't and didn't.

"Jove. You and Dad got issues enough without me stirring up the mud. I... it's really important to me than that you two get along and honestly? I never want Dad to even suspect that his kids are ganging up on him behind his back." The girl swallows nervously, her eyes dropping to her plate.

"But yeah, if Dad's handling Daeon the way he's handled you... I'm not sure... He might be... a little off-track..." It costs Robin a lot to admit that she might think her beloved father may not entirely 100-percent correct.

"Don't know about that, kiddo. There is a similarity there - I gather Dad let each of us choose the life we wanted to lead early on, and each of us in turn chose the life our mothers preferred. And whether he'll admit it or not, I'm sure he resents our choices." Jovian covers an uncomfortable moment's pause by reaching for a biscuit. "But I've lived my outside life for fifty years - Daeon for a couple hundred anyway. And I've come back to the fold more or less willingly. Might make a difference."

He looks a thoughtful question at Robin, then decides to voice it anyway. "I wonder where you'd have ended up in turn, if he hadn't let us go."

"What do you mean?" Robin's brows knit in puzzlement, though something nervous dances in her green eyes.

Jovian pauses to consider. "Daeon is Daeon. The more he changes, and all that rot. But Dad could have brought me home to Arden, taken on my early education. Maybe made as much of a Ranger out of me as he has with you. But I disappointed him. If I hadn't, maybe you would have had more choices before you. I'm not saying that's bad - you turned out pretty damn good and you're happy with your life. That's what matters."

Green eyes blink blink at Jovian. Then like sunlight she breaks into delighted laughter. "Oh, Jooo-ve! Aren't you sweet?"

The girl bounces up out of the chair and plops a big kiss on the crown of her brother's head. "Silly. Now you listen to me." Robin gives Jovian's chin a fond shake.

"Dad didn't 'make me a Ranger', Jovian. I'm a Ranger because it is truly and really what I want to be. See, Jove -- I'm Pattern-initiated. I've been Pattern-initiated for decades. If I wanted to be anything else, believe me, I would be." In the green of her eyes flashes -- for just a moment -- the arrogance of Oberon's line. "All of Shadow is my playground, Jovian Shadow-flyer. And I have made my choice. It is Arden. And Prince Julian's rangers."

But Robin can't maintain it and breaks down into giggles. "So everybody else is just stuck with it."

"By the way, just so you know -- Dad is hardly disappointed in you. He's so proud he's fit to burst. You should've been standing next to him when you were knighted." A big happy grin lights Robin's face as she returns to her seat.

The eyebrow is distinctly filial, but at least this time the ironic quirk at the corner of Jovian's mouth is gone. He holds his peace for now.

"But that's just what I mean." She grows contemplative. "I've got to find some way to get that across to Daeon too. That he loves both of you and that he desperately wants you both to live."

She ruffles her shoulders sadly. "I'm not really sure what I'm going to do. I don't know Daeon at all. And a lot depends on whether Dad's there or not." She looks up at the bronze-rider.

"I still trust Father absolutely. If he says conk the guy over the head and let's go. Then that's what I'm going to do. Buuuutttt, if Dad gives me room to maneuver, I'm hoping to see if there's something I can do to reach the uber-goal of the guy not dying. As opposed to dragging him back to this little paradise." She waves her hand at the room and the whole horrible Castle/Family that it implies.

The dragonman nods contemplatively. "I don't know if this place would kill him. I don't know whether he can evolve. But I hope you'll keep me posted, anything you find out about him. I won't get in your way about it, but I sort of need to know so I can keep the other Rubies out of your way too." He twiddles his new signet ring where she can see it, ruby catching the morning light, for emphasis. For some reason the idea doesn't seem to thrill him as much as it ought.

"This place would be horrible for him, Jove. And it probably would kill him. It's going to be a damn near thing with me and I gather that Daeon is even... wilder. People like us shouldn't be kept inside walls where civilized behavior makes the difference between life and... being manipulated into an ugly death." Robin tchs her tongue disgustedly.

"Don't worry, mon frere. I will definitely keep you posted. Your family. Though yeah, I'd appreciate it if you intermediate with your club buddies." She smiles wryly, then looks at Jovian more closely.

"Good," the veteran nods. "We'll share information - I should tell you, all of us who went to Chaos are concerned about where those damn fire-lillies came from. What they can do, and what can be done with them. It would mean a lot if you could keep me in the loop with anything you find out."

Robin nods distractedly as she tunes in more closely on Jovian's mood.

"Trouble in the Red Room?" Concern hums through the girl's voice.

The wingleader actually winces at being found out. "What gave it away?"

He takes a deep breath, composes his thoughts and feelings, but does not meet Robin's gaze. "We spent some time this morning debriefing our former Chaosian spy. It was...an ugly time." It plainly hurts him to say even that much, though he holds his tone even.

"Awwwww." Robin fiddles with her knife against the plate, making little scritch-scritch noises. "Poor Aisling. It's so out of its element here." A sympathetic croon lifts out of the girl. She knows how it is to be thrown into an alien place where everything is so strange and so hostile.

"I... I wish there was some way we could make it feel more comfortable. Safe. Welcome." The Ranger shrugs her shoulders, she knows what she means but she's not sure how to achieve it.

It will not escape Robin's notice that every time she uses the pronoun 'it' to reference Aisling, the tension in Jovian ratchets up. The flinch of a man suppressing a pained reaction - like having a wound sutured without painkillers - is almost visible but not quite.

"Okay." Robin says in a small voice. And sets the knife carefully down on the plate. "That was wrong." She looks down and folds her hands into her lap.

She sighs and looks over to Jovian with bbiiiigg green eyes. "How 'bout I don't try to 'help' and just listen, instead?" She smiles at her brother with a swell of warmth and support.

"It wasn't wrong," he manages with a sad smile. "We want the same thing. It's just...shit and crackdust, Robin, I'm having to watch so many people treat her like some kind of monster. Like an IT. I've known a lot of creatures less human than she is who never walked on more than two legs."

He turns his face down and away, closing his eyes tight, jaw muscles bunching. It just might occur to his sister that it's hurting him out of proportion to simple defense of an ally.

A soft croon of sympathy lifts out of the girl. Gently, so she doesn't startle her him, Robin slips from her chair. Like a light breath of forest air, she slides around behind Jovian. And enfolds her brother in hug that is warm, enfolding and alive.

The girl rest her cheek on top of his head and just is there. His sister who loves him.

He leans into her, silent for a moment as tension slowly drains from him. "It was pretty fardling horrible," he admits in a small voice. "I wanted to stop it, but that would have been wrong. Still, they could have tried to keep some human decency about it." His eyes still haven't opened, but at least his fists have unclenched.

"So now you know, too," he concludes after a pause, and by that he seems to mean more than what happened in the Red Room.

"Mmmm-hmmm." Robin confirms gently. She might not know the whole shape of it yet, but yeah, she's got the gist. The girl nuzzles the top of her brother's head sadly. Poor Jovian. A sympathetic croon fluffs his hair gently, and Robin's hug becomes a strong accepting squeeze.

"Only adds to the stress with Kourin too, though I'm not sure she's picked up on it. But that's such a mess anyway...shells, it is on both sides." He opens his eyes at last, to reach for his klah and have a long draught of the cooling brew. "Hell with it. I'm going off somewhere to be a crazy recluse. Want to come along? We could open a florist shop, sell cut firelillies to society ladies. Good way to thin the herd of society ladies...."

"MMMMmmmm. Barbecue." A deep chuckles accompanies Robin's contribution to the plan.

Jovian grins crookedly at his sister and the idea for a moment, then lets it go. "Too long a day already, I'm getting punchy. And it's just begun."

"Jove." Robin's voice is full of warmth and confidence as she loosens her hug, moving her hands up to the back of the dragonrider's neck. Strong fingers begin to rub Jovian's neck and shoulders. "You have a good heart, a strong soul and fine mind. Not to mention a hell of a bond-mate. You will find your way through this. Even if it seems all muddy and horrible right now."

She smiles at him, absolute faith in him shining in her eyes.

"We'll do what we can with what we can control, little bird," he smiles back. "Just like always. And what we can't control will keep us from getting bored." Jovian shakes his head, chuckling at himself. "Out of this whole cast of crazy characters, leave it to your brother to fall for the Chaosi spy."

Robin chuckles back, a twinkle in her eye. And drops a kiss on her brother's cheek. Then continues working on his shoulders and neck. Behind Jovian, she shakes her head with a little laugh. Robin herself has never been the 'control' type. Influence, yes, but control? Not even of herself. Loose, limber reactions -- that's Robin's style. And she hopes it will be able to help Jovian, now and in the times that come.

"So," he starts again after a few minutes. "Have you talked with anyone about a trump? I'll be catching up with Ossian, I can mention it to him if you haven't."

"Reid... I gave him my permission to make a sketch." Robin wrinkles her button nose at the thought, of the sketch not of Reid, as she finishes up with her brother's shoulders. Patting him lightly, she returns to her seat.

As the Ranger drops into the chair, she folds her legs comfortably under herself and takes a slug of her lukewarm klah. "He and I are going to be in contact regarding the important, right-now Arden project. From what he said though, it takes serious time to make a full-out Trump. I don't think I'm going to be around enough for Ossian to manage. Unless he's a lot faster than Reid." Which, somehow, Robin doubts.

Jovian nods. "I gather Merlin had to make a sketch of Aisling to get us out of Chaos. Didn't seem to take a long...urrr...arbitrary parcel of non-time. Maybe I can get Reid to do an extra you, and Ossian to do a spare me."

A rueful - and sympathetic - chuckle shakes Robin at the non-time. Yep, she's been there too. And it was probably harder on her brother than her.

"As long as it doesn't take too long, mon frere. I need to leave the Castle. Today. Hopefully before noon. Daeon and his flowers are waiting. So is the Reid business. Reintegration without Brita." She ticks her tongue at that.

"And... and Prince Bleys already cornered me this morning. I've got to get out before any of the others get a read." Robin scrunches up her nose as though smelling something nasty and shudders dramatically.

"I presume Bleys wanted your first-hand account of Brita's abduction, but what's the Reid thing?"

"Well, yes. That's what Bleys said he wanted. And it might even have been in the top five things on his mind." Robin allows. "But you can bet your sweet bippy that's not all he went away with." The girl pulls an extremely sour pout.

Jovian's expression darkens with ambivalence, but he says nothing. ~That's one I owe you, and one I owe you~ flashes across his mind, but not his eyes.

"The 'Reid thing' is that Reid ran into some trouble the last time he was in Arden. Dad asked me to investigate the Green side of it. And to stay in touch with Reid regarding the paved side of it. So I will be." Robin smiles at her brother. _Love you, Jovian. But that's all I can say right now._

Her brother nods, mybe not satisfied, but accepting. "It would be good if you could mention to Reid, then, about making a sketch for me since he'll already be working on one. And I'll hook up with Ossian before I leave the Rock for the day."

Robin smiles her gratitude to her brother for not pushing and reaches over to pat his hand. "Thanks, Jove. When I talk with Reid again, I'll mention it." She nods her assurance that she won't 'forget.'

"Oh, will you say hi to Ossian for me when you see him?" A fond smile dashes over Robin's lips as she reaches for another biscuit.

"Sure, I'll do that," Jovian nods, smiling again, snagging a bit more bacon.

"Thanks, Jove." Robin grins happily. And with quick practiced gestures arranges another biscuit cum bacon for herself. "Oh! And please say good morning to Canareth for me."

Otherwise, happy munching sounds and the occasional shared laugh with her brother constitutes the rest of Robin's second breakfast.