Current Log

Months Of The Year:
Horseman (Winter Solstice 1 Horseman)
Cat
Soothsayer
Knight (Vernal Equinox 8 Knight)
Archer
Coins
Tower (Summer Solstice 15 Tower)
Scales
Harp
Boatman (Autumnal Equinox 22 Boatman)
Huntress
Dragon
Warrior

Brennan falls through the trump contact and pulls the thing with him. It changes as it comes, and it was in contact with Jerod and Khela as well.

Jerod, Khela, and Huon are dumped elsewhere, into the early evening chill. Huon lands on top of a pile of armed people, which now includes Brennan.

He grabs the sword from the spear-damaged Khela, staggers to his feet, and starts running down the mountain.

Khela hasn't yet staggered to her feet, but is trying to do so.

From the castle, someone shouts, "Halt! Everyone halt!"

Someone is vigorously ringing the alarm bell.

Brennan masks his confusion by spitting blood, seawater, and bloody seawater out of his mouth while he assesses the situation. Whatever he makes of Khela's situation and wound, he's focussed on Huon, with the green sword, running for the hills. There's no possible way that the castle staff are going to catch him.

Brennan doesn't halt, either. "Come on," he growls, and begins wriggling to his feet. When he does, he sprints off after Huon, hopefully with Jerod and keeping a careful eye on the terrain. If Huon looks like he's going to Trump away, he throws the spear and uses an instant working of Time to reduce the flight time to as close to zero as he can get. Brennan doesn't think that'll be necessary-- who'd take his call?-- but like a very cynical boyscout, Brennan is always prepared.

He also outlines, but does not execute, a similar working to help him and anyone with him catch up to Huon, if Huon is too fast.

"Sorry" is all that Jerod says to Khela as he bounces to his feet immediately and sets off in pursuit of Huon, not pausing as he heads off, pulling a dagger out of his belt at an opportune moment and whipping it at Huon's back.

Huon heads straight for the trees, and reaches them, getting amongst them quickly and slowing pursuit. He's bleeding from the wounds that didn't bleed before.

Jerod holds his dagger until a good opportunity arises and flings it. It should've hit, but doesn't. The trail of blood runs out and it's clear to the two cousins that Huon has indeed figured out that he can shift shadow on Kolvir.

Luckily he's still close enough to follow into shadow. From behind them, Brennan and Jerod hear the sound of hoofbeats. The castle are organizing mounted pursuit.

"Let's go." Jerod says, continuing the pursuit. Huon can shift Shadow, but Jerod's got a talent for following the shifts and he's going to use it. On the way, he makes sure to find a couple of horses real quick so he doesn't tire out.

Brennan smiles when he sees the blood trail-- it pleases him that Huon is bleeding, but more important, it'll keep the trail easy to follow.

Brennan is leery of doing anything that would throw Jerod's work off, so there is absolutely no Sorcery from Brennan, nor even any Pattern shifting of Brennan's own. But at least he can keep a watch for mundane threats while Jerod concentrates. "I'll keep watch," he says. When the horses appear, he suggests, "Horse bows," because, again, he doesn't want to manipulate the Pattern counter to Jerod's activities, unless Jerod so directs.

The animals that appear would be fully outfitted and ready to go, and if Brennan's comments get through soon enough then the bows would also appear. Jerod is not bothering to care about damaging shadow to acquire what he needs - he obtains it quickly and without delay. Jerod also has a distinct advantage in chasing Huon - he's following a target that is a Prince of Amber, probably trying to shift as rapidly as possible to avoid pursuit, while bleeding and carrying a Pattern blade. That alone would allow others to pursue without difficulty. Jerod's difference is that he's going to be sure to watch for the differences in how shadow is displaced, in case Huon decides to try to alter his trail to deflect pursuit.

They are not halfway down the mountain when they come to a clearing that does not exist in Amber. Huon was no more than halfway across it when Jerod and Brennan reach the edge of the clearing. Behind them was there were hoofbeats of additional pursuers.

Ahead of them, and ahead of Huon, were a group of men in uniforms, with rifles. They seem quite surprised to see everyone. Huon looks back, and calls out to them to protect him.

First, what uniforms?

They are unrecognizable. No known friend or foe of Amber or the Golden Circle.

Jerod decides it is highly improbable that gunfire will work and continues the pursuit of Huon, using the momentary pause that Huon has taken to close the distance. He is certain Brennan will do something suitably appropriate and perhaps even nasty in support.

When they clear the woods and see Huon running, looking over his shoulder and calling for help, Brennan's smile deepens. He gives a blast on the whistle he'd stuck between his lips, both to let whatever Family member is following in pursuit know where they are, and so that the answering horn will break the riflemens' morale.

Brennan's spot assessment of the clearing leads him to focus on Huon. If these are Huon's men, or their Shadows, Brennan's not extremely impressed with their weapons-- less so given whatever Jerod is doing with the Pattern, and his own armor and speed across the clearing. He bears down on Huon, never letting him out of his sight, continuing to close the distance. There will be no slipping away into Shadow in the chaos that's about to happen. Ideally, there will not even be any shifting any more obstacles in their way or fighting against whatever Jerod is doing. Instead, there will be mad scrambling to get out of the way of the hail of arrows Brennan shoots at Huon, or better yet some additional bleeding as the result of a failed dodge. If Brennan doesn't hit him, he's trying to get close enough to switch to the spear and tackle him.

Huon deflects the first shot with Khela's sword, and the second hits a solder who intervenes between Brennan and Huon.

Brennan's own Pattern manipulation is defensive-- his bowstring isn't going to snap. His horse isn't going to throw a shoe or step in a gopher hole. He's not going to get hit by a stray bullet, etc.

The troops get in front of Huon and there is a quick attempt to fire a volley, but most of the rifles fail or misfire. If they had had time to so, they would have broken, but Jerod and Brennan and Brij are almost upon them. The rifles have sharp bayonet attachments.

When the rifles misfire, as Huon hides behind Shadows, Brennan's smile widens another notch until it could fairly be considered a Bleysing grin.

Having found a pair of metsubishi filled with ground glass powder in his coat pocket, Jerod subsequently tosses them into the troops in front of him just prior to taking the horse through the ranks.

[metsubishi: hollowed out egg shells or thin rice paper balls containing powders, toxins or other suitable materials for use at medium to close range against single opponents or small groups. Typically used by ninjas. Gotta love Japanese culture..:) ]

Troops start to fall near Jerod and the line is effectively broken. The way is clear, but if Huon's goal is what it seems to be, Jerod does not believe his mount will beat the man to it. He could get there just after him, though.

As Jerod is lobbing his weapons at part of the line and barreling through it, Brennan manages a running dismount and slaps the horse to send it into another part, hopefully scattering the men. Brennan carves a path through the remainder on foot, directly toward Huon. A veteran of many wars, Brennan displays a malicious genius for fighting on a confused field. He uses both ends of the spear as he scythes through them, tripping, stabbing, pushing one man into another... and if at all possible slamming one of the soldiers into Huon.

Brennan's footwork and skill get him clearly behind the line. He's on foot and not far behind Huon, who has also cleared it. He doesn't gain on the Prince but Huon doesn't lose him. Huon is fast and good and running to a line of machines.

Heading for the door, Robin opens it, gestures for Brij to proceed her and immediately has no idea where she's going.

Brij blithely leads the way, turning twice and reaching a grand staircase.

Robin blithely follows, knowing better than hassle a 'native guide.'

There's a young man walking up, and his eyes get larger when he sees Brij and Robin. Brij smiles at him and steps rather closer to him than Amber protocol normally would allow. "Can you help us find Prince Bleys? We're supposed to meet him for dinner."

"Y, yes, Ma'am-- Your Highness! The Prince will be in the Library, then. That's where the Princes gather before meals." He looks dazed, and it seems likely that he'll remember this incident for a long time, but he manages to say "Follow me, please, Your Highnesses."

Robin's green eyes wander back and forth between the page and Brij in confusion. As she struggles to figure out what's going on some of her father's and Aisling's comments regarding clothing drift back into her mind. Ooooohhhhh.

As they reach the next landing the boy looks to the left, raps on the wooden bannister twice, and makes a gesture with his hand. Robin catches a glimpse of another page moving away quickly towards a less-grand staircase. It seems that the castle servants have their own form of Cadence, as if they were Rangers in a very different sort of forest.

A small chuckle escapes the girl at the subtle communication. She wonders if that particular rap means 'Danger, half-naked Royal coming through' and did they use it for herself on the way to the ball or Daeon as he wandered in.

Thoughts of Daeon bring Robin's mood down again and she shivers as she walks through a very different sort of forest - a dead one.

The page opens a door to a tall room lined with books and windows. There are several heavy stuffed chairs, and the walls also have a number of paintings on them. Prince Caine is seated on an orange sofa.

From the sidebar, Prince Bleys turns. "Good evening. Would you like a before-dinner drink?"

"A pear cider would be nice, thank you," Robin answers. If she's going to have to endure this, she might as well start with fond memories. Very fond memories. A quiet smile lines the girl's lips and she drops her eyes, remembering that miraculous, miraculous moment at the masquerade.

"Of course. Brij?"

"You know what I like," replies Folly's mother.

"That I do," says Bleys, making a third drink.

Caine walks over to the bar as Bleys is finishing his bartending. "Something for you? Dry Martini, perhaps?"

Caine smiles, humorlessly. "Have you or your sister learned anything about where we were?"

Bleys shakes his head. "No, and she was called to Xanadu to assist Corwin, who is looking into Cambina's death. It's nights like tonight that I desperately want to believe in a vast conspiracy to attack us, because I'd prefer if the current number of concerns was artificially high."

Robin can certainly agree with that statement. Taking her cider with a nod, the girl wanders away from the convocation of Princes to perch at a windowsill.

Caine turns to Brij. "Bleys tells me you're from Texorami. I've sailed there, of course." He looks at her clothes. "Certainly it has a warmer climate than Amber."

Yep. All sorts of poking going on. As she takes a sip from her cider, Robin decides that she vastly prefers poking with sharp pointy things to poking with words.

Brij looks up at him, with a half smile on her face. "Sultry nights and baking days. I'll certainly miss it if Amber is always this chilly."

Bleys intervenes. "I don't think we'll stay here long, Brij. No one will, really." He smiles over to Robin's window perch. "You've been to Xanadu, haven't you Robin? I'm afraid that neither Caine nor I have spent significant time there. Certainly I haven't been able to tell Brij what it is like."

"I've never been to Xanadu proper, sir. Only to the place that became it. But given the King's fondness for Texorami, I'm sure that there will be much that evokes that Shadow there." Robin's brow furrows, that didn't come out as clearly as she'd like. And was definitely lacking in pokiness. Darn words.

A bell rings, and a servant walks in. "Supper, My Lords, My Ladies." He bows and departs.

Bleys scoops up his drink. "Perhaps you can tell us of the place that became it over dinner." He holds out his arm and Brij takes it.

Caine watches for a moment, bemused, then holds out his arm to Robin.

The girl cocks her head for a moment. Then can't repress the surprised chuckle. Okay, if that's the way it's going to be, one at least shouldn't make Caine suffer with the sulky niece.

Robin tosses back the rest of her cider and leaves her glass on the window sill. As she approaches Prince Caine, there's wariness in her steps and yet a humorous twinkle in her eye. As she gently rest her hand on the Prince's forearm, Robin playfully attempts to determine if Caine is also wearing an forearm-sheath, and if so, what kind and what it's loaded with.

Caine leads her in. He's got a knife at his belt, but no forearm sheath. "She reminds me of Harmony Vesper, back in the day..."

"Mmmm..." Robin hums non-committedly. She didn't know Harmony Vesper back then. "Well, at least this one won't get all old and waspish." She adds with a twinkle in her eye, her mind cast back to Vere's waltz.

The table is set for four, so there is quite a bit of empty space at it. The head and foot are empty and the seats are across from each other in the middle. Bleys helps Brij into her seat and waits for Robin and Caine to sit before taking his.

Caine picks up his soup spoon and pauses, the first bite on the way to his mouth. "Well," says Caine. "A busy day. Anyone have news they wish to share, apart from the death, the missing Queen, the war, the other war, or the evacuation?"

At that moment, the alarm bell starts tolling madly from the courtyard.

Robin's laugh escalates into a whoop of joy and she bounds out of her chair, heading for the courtyard. Saved by the bell! A crisis -- maybe even some killin' this time -- instead of a family dinner. The universe is kind!

Bleys and Caine are on their feet as well, and two steps after them, Brij.

Robin gets to a corridor and turns to her left, towards the bell. "Other way!" shouts Brij, and shortly Robin is heading out into the keep. The gate is open and a Rebman woman stands in it. She's doing something to herself and a green haze rises from her shoulder.

As soon as Bleys appears, the green girl speaks. "It's Huon, Prince Bleys. He has stolen my sword and is running down the mountain."

Venesch comes up with a half-dozen horsemen and Bleys says, "Yes, we'll need half of those." The men dismount and Caine and Bleys and Brij mount up. This operation takes only seconds. From somewhere, Bleys has acquired his own sword and he is riding with it unsheathed.

Caine says "Let's hope he doesn't know he can shift on Kolvir."

Robin, never that keen on math in the first place, makes sure that a fourth horse opens up for herself. As she looks from the Princes to the Castle to the Rebman, her eyes widen in alarm. Oh, no, no, no. She's not being elected to 'stay behind and guard' this time.

Nudging her horse into a tight circle, she leans over to the hazing woman and offers her a hand up. "C'mon, green girl. Time's a wasting." She says with a grin.

[Regardless of whether Khela takes her offer or not...] Robin then kicks her horse into a full out run, both to give chase to Huon and to avoid hearing the order to stop.

Khela grins back. "Best offer I've had all day." The horse isn't skittish, but it does carry two and starts off slightly behind Caine and Bleys. Khela leans in close behind Robin and speaks into her ear. "Don't let me distract you." She leans back and starts to chant, and the horse starts to cover more ground, making up the distance that Bleys and Caine opened up.

There's a clear trail of blood on the ground. After a few moments, Bleys slows and Caine and Robin catch up. He laughs. "He's shifting! Follow me!" Bleys leaps ahead, clearly following the trail into shadow. It's not a hard trail , almost as if someone was trying to make it easy.

Robin could, with Khela's help, overtake Bleys, but he's clearly pretty good at following the trail.

Hmmmmm... nope, Robin decides, it's definitely charge a fever. Robin kicks her horse forward attempting to overtake Bleys. The only nod to caution she makes is to try and gain some lateral distance between herself and the Prince. Thus to hopefully spread the fire, or dodge some of the landslide, or ride around the trip-wire or otherwise wrinkle whatever ambush is coming at them.

There is a piercing whistle from the clearing ahead.

Robin comes out in the middle of a clearing, which Bleys is now circling to the right. Behind her, she hears Caine's horse go off to the left, as if the two Princes have determined her plan and gone with it.

"Lir!," Khela exclaims when the horse comes into the sunlit clearing. A small force of soldiers, armed with guns like those Huon brought to the Isles, are turning to face Brennan and Jerod, who are a half dozen yards away across the clearing. Huon is behind them, and is shouting for help. Her cousins are charging after him.

Behind Jerod, Brij bursts into the clearing on her horse. "Huey!", she shouts.

A savage scream of joy erupts from Robin at the sight of Huon. And the knives start coming. As many and as fast as she can, Robin hurls steel at Huon while guiding the horse with her knees. Sadly all of her throws are non-lethal in intent. Happily, she is pretty nasty about crippling and maiming intents.

Robin is convinced that she's hit Huon, but it doesn't seem to have penetrated his armor. The guards swirl around and the overrunning cousins get in between her and him quickly.

Khela puts a hand on Robin's shoulder for balance and throws a trident with a mighty grunt. It comes down beside Huon.

Robin can follow through the opening Jerod made or she could make her own hole. Brij, who was beside Robin, is clearly following Jerod.

Huon reaches a line of wheeled vehicles and jumps on the smallest, a two-wheeled affair. There are several similar machines beside it.

Jerod definitely knows that the ignition properties of internal combustion systems are not viable (ie: no spark, wrong air to fuel ratio, etc) as he pursues Huon. He is so certain of it that he'll break reality itself to ensure it.

Jerod tries this and, while the world tries to comply, he is pouring power into a space filled with users of power and real things. There is a great crack, and a blinding flash and Jerod finds himself having become elsewhere. What once was firm meadow grasslands is now a muddy mess, and Jerod's horse bogs down. It is only Jerod's excellent horsemanship that keeps the horse from breaking a leg or throwing Jerod.

[Card Draw: The Usurper...]

For good measure, he hefts his own spear and heaves it into (and through) the machine that Huon is absconding with (he still has his father's sword with him) as he spurs his own mount forward for a last burst of speed.

The spear flies straight and true and goes through the machine. Jerod is no longer here to see the result.

Jerod's intention (assuming he believes it to be remotely feasible) is to leap from the horse and hit Huon, knocking him off the motorcycle and to the ground. From there, it's close range fighting, either with weapons or aikido and ground fighting (aptly suited for use against armored targets).

Robin whoops gleefully. Given all the combatants, the melee's shaping up into a classic cluster. And Robin definitely wants a piece of that. Not totally trusting Brij (or the green girl at her back) at this point, Robin decides that she can handle the girls while the boys can handle the poor doomed motoraden.

She pulls her horse in closer to Brij intending to use the former Jerod hole and keeps herself ready to foul anyone who needs fouling. And hopes that Bleys and Caine have the periphery closed by now.

Brij pulls the dagger from her bodice and is preparing to throw it when Jerod flashes away, as if he has been struck by lightning. The flash and the boom make the horses shy and rear. Khela goes off the back and into the swirling mass of troops. Luckily, almost everyone is blinded by the retort.

Brennan runs like a madman to keep up. When Huon hops on a motorcycle, Brennan picks his moment and throws the spear. Not at Huon himself, but at the wheel, adjusting for possible motion, aiming to get the spear between the spokes. He'll grab Khela's trident on the way past or conjure another weapon to make up for the loss.

Huon sees the spear coming and dives off the bike. He rolls on the ground and leaps onto a second bike. He kicks at the line of other motorcycles and takes off.

Ideally, that will work, and the cycle will be fouled. If it fails, Brennan will grab a motorcycle himself and continue the pursuit. It will be fueled up and in good condition. And have a rifle.

Brennan lifts up a bike and rights it. It takes a precious few seconds, but it starts and he begins his renewed pursuit of Huon, who is heading for a dirt path between two trees.

"Bleys, Huey's on the motorbike!" For a small woman, Brij has a shout that carries remarkably far.

"So is Brennan!" Brennan calls out with some exasperation-- he has no idea who this woman is, and can't decide whether she's trying to get Huon killed, or get him killed. But with Jerod gone, the odds have changed in a direction Brennan does not like. "Robin! With me!" Brennan hasn't even seen Robin, but he heard her a moment ago and hopes she hasn't vanished, too.

Dung! Robin squawks in surprise as she gets her horse under control. One cousin significantly poofed, her passenger lost, a melee with rifles developing near Amber... but, but, but the prey is running! And bleeding! The girl hisses in frustration.

Then Brennan's voice pierces her conflicted mind and her voice lifts in an answering hawk's call She can't resist the huntsman's horn anymore than she could stop a sunrise.

Kicking her horse forward, Robin charges through the rest of the melee with fine disregard for what's under her hooves. The ranger sticks with what she knows and ignores the motoraden in favor of the nimble hooves that have got her this far, as she chases after Huon and Brennan.

The horse is a good one, well trained for war, and has no trouble going through the last of the melee. Whatever magics Khela did to make it faster seem to be lingering despite Khela's absence.

The bike Brennan picks up and rides is a sturdy affair with a sturdy modern quiver that holds a sturdy modern shotgun, which, without Jerod's suppression, should fire. He'll nudge reality back if necessary. He does his best to keep up and catch up with Huon, using one the only two advantages he's got-- Huon, by virtue of leading, has to do the navigation and more spot checking for obstacles. When Brennan has done the best he thinks he's going to do in the short time available to him, he uses the other advantage-- shadows. Since Huon is dodging between trees, there must be shadows, plain mundane shadows, thick about the area forming a natural highway for Skiaza. At a good moment, Brennan sends Skiaza out through the shadows toward Huon. The intent is to have poor Skiaza (who Brennan bribes with future rewards and threatens into compliance) cover Huon's eyes with darkness while he's in full flight at high speed through trees.

As she rides, Robin turns a weather-ear to the song-weaves of the worlds round her, trying to determine how much of what is safe to do and how much has already been torn up.

It's stressed here and none of the sounds are normal. It's hard to say if it's going to recover when the sources of the stress leave.

Robin hears hoofbeats all around her; the Princes are to either side, and if she looks back, she sees Brij and Khela catching up to her.

Brennan does not expect Skiaza to commit suicide, or cling for more than a moment or two before Huon forces it off with Pattern. But Brennan uses that critical moment of distraction, even if it's just a swat with the Pattern Sword, to shoot at Huon or his bike as circumstances dictate.

[Card time!.. Phoenix, Reversed!]

Skiaza leaps from shadow to shadow as if they were connected, and at a crucial moment wraps himself around the head of the fleeing Prince. Brennan takes that opportunity to fire his shotgun and manages to pepper the rear wheel and the possibly Huon's back with shot.

Skiaza leaps back off, as if thrown by an explosion. Huon looks up at a rapidly approaching tree and desperately throws the bike to the left, missing the forest giant by mere inches. Instead he finds himself turned perpendicular to the mountain and in less than a second, flying off of it.

Brennan arrives first at the cliffside that Huon just flew over, and sees him plummeting into an unexpected ravine. Caine, Bleys, Robin, and then Brij are close behind.

There's a lot of broken branches at the top, and in the mostly dry river bed below, the motorcycle lies burning.

"Damn," says Khela.

Brennan's smile, which had broadened to nearly Conner-esque proportions at the sight of Huon tumbling arse over appetite over the cliffside, fades as he surveys the wreckage. "I don't see a body," he growls to himself and anyone who may be in earshot.

He doesn't waste any time determining that the ravine wall simply must have thick, ropy vines that he can rappel or scrabble down. It's got to be faster and easier than hankering up Weyland's tower, so Brennan goes about as fast as he reasonably can, letting gravity do most of the work and his gauntlets absorb the friction heat. The shotgun is slung across his back, and he'll find a good spear at the bottom of the cliff. Ordinarily, he'd fly down, but with two-- two!!-- Pattern blades in the area, he's not going to push his luck.

"Deep Dark Green!" Robin growls as she reins her horse in at the edge of the ravine. "Dung. Blasted. Shit." The litany continues as she throws herself out of the saddle.

"Okay, Uncles-dearest, that's a Dragon chasm that Brennan just scarpered down into. I'm going after him. Can you guys do whatever kind of magically-mighty thing you can think of to help us get back?"

"Robin!", says Bleys. Once he has her attention, he tosses her a leather-wrapped package. "That will get you back. Don't let Huon have it."

Catching the package, Robin immediately disappears it into some secure portion of her anatomy/apparel. And while she's there, she digs out her Arianrod-hair bracelet and slips it on. "Thanks," she allows.

Robin turns a tight grin and worried green eyes to Bleys and Caine as she lowers herself over the edge, preparing to follow Brennan at speed.

"It's a pity Julian isn't with us," Bleys says after Robin is gone. "He has a way with Dragons."

"Khela, with me," says Caine. "Brij, with Bleys." Robin hears the sounds of hoofbeats heading apart.

When Robin reaches the ground, a quick look backwards shows Bleys and Brij riding double on some sort of horse-monkey, which is climbing down the vines using its opposable thumbs. There's no sight of Caine and Khela.

Once on reasonably level ground, [Brennan] takes up the pursuit again, trying to find the trail. hopefully there will be a nice mundane trail of blood to follow, but he will use the Third Eye to help if necesary, as both Huon and the Pattern Sword should stand out quite clearly.

There's no blood at all, except on the bike. To the best of Brennan's ability to guess, he fell off early.

Brennan looks back up the path that he'd come, and sees Robin reaching the bottom and Bleys and Brij riding something that might seem normal in some shadow, but not here.

With his third eye, there's plenty of brightness and the verdant forest is practically pure white. It's unclear where his renegade uncle is.

That's... unexpected. And unsettling. Still, Brennan trots to the burning husk of the motorcycle, reasoning that if Huon lost his grip on the blade-- there's always a chance that they'll catch a lucky break, here-- that it should have landed in about the same area. It also lets Brennan site from the crash site to where he parked his own bike up above, which is where Huon's bike began its short, explosive flight. If Huon landed, he should have landed between here and there and started another trail as he limped away. If he didn't land, he should have done... something... along that same vector. He does this initial siting mundanely, at first.

Brennan sees what Jerod saw, which is to say that the bike crossed the ravine and hit a wall and bounced off, hard. It would have passed through some heavy foliage on its way to the wall.

Brennan is also frustrated at the lack of information that the Third Eye gave him, and is unwilling to concede the point so easily. By the time he trots over to the crash site, he has decided on a course of action, which he puts into effect. Instead of merely looking with his Third Eye, he pushes his senses into the Astral Plane, but slowly. Based on the shock of pure white he saw with the Third Eye, he expects his Astral Sight to be similarly over-saturated with whatever Power is in this place, but he wants to know what type of energy this is, if he's encountered it before. The Astral view should help him, here. Whether he has or not, if there's a type of energy that dominates, he adds a twist of Entropy, filtering that energy out of his viewing, hopefully letting him see other sources of energy with greater clarity.

Brennan does not spend a lot of time on this-- an instant should let him know if this is at least a viable approach.

It just sort of dims out everything. Brennan is pretty sure this is the characteristic of a place that is brimming with life and the living.

As Brennan investigates, Robin has his back. She draws her sword and keeps her eyes and ears open in all directions as she trots over to him.

On a ridge overlooking the far side, Jerod, or someone who looks like him, is scanning the area with some sort of looking glass.

Well, that's a relief. Robin scratches search-universe-for-poofed-cousin off her mental list.

Robin sees signs of recent dragon activity.

Not a relief, not at all.

She waits until it looks like Brennan's immediate business is done before murming to him out of the side of her mouth, "You're in a Dragon chasm, cousin. Step carefully."

"What does that mean," Brennan asks, "That I shouldn't set the trees on fire, or that something else will do it for us?" Despite the casual phrasing, and the mostly rhetorical style, the message is received.

"Heh." Robin chuckles grimly. Yep to both questions.

Bleys reaches the bottom and his beast knucklewalks over to Robin. He is about to speak when, from the trees lining the far side, a voice echoes out: "He's here, Bleys! In the tree on the far side!"

Bleys looks up. "Conner? Can't assume it's a trap or a lie, so I guess we're tree-climbing. Luckily, my malcavallamico is good at that, aren't you, boy?" He pats the odd hybrid creature. "Are you armed?"

"Sure am. I grabbed a shotgun. Hard to believe there are places this whatsit is natural," says Brij.

Bleys is about to ride off, but turns. "Anyone want a ride?"

Robin shakes her head. "Don't want to cluster." But it's obvious that if she wasn't on high alert, she'd definitely be interested in meeting the malcavallamico.

"No, not just yet," Brennan says. Brennan is visibly annoyed at something, and that something is the failure of his Astral vision to pinpoint Huon. He does take a glance in Bleys' direction before letting the spell drop, just so he can work out later how to get around this difficulty in the future. Does Werewindle show up as a separate, visible source of energy distinct from the background? For that matter, now that Robin's mentioned the Dragon, does the background energy show up as similar to what Brennan saw when he reviewed Daeon's death, or is it just a general living-life aura?

It's a riot of life, in the air on the ground, in the ground, in the trees, etc.

Brennan doesn't waste time studying any of this, just takes a glance for further contemplation at a time of greater leisure. He also doesn't immediately set to climbing. He does begin scanning the trees-- normal vision, not Astral-- to see if he can spot Huon in the direction Conner indicates. If he does, he takes a shot. If not, he still stays on the ground saying, "Flush him back down here if you can. Holler if you can't." He gives that evil, counter-Conner smirk again.

Brennan glances at Robin, waiting to see if she's a tree-swinger or a ground-pounder. Either way, Brennan is ready to keep up with them on the ground, provide spotting, prevent Huon from dropping and running, and generally keeping in coordination and tightening the noose. If he moves very far on the ground, he'll find a horse.

Robin meets Brennan's eye with a nod and a firming up of her coverage of him and 780 degree watchfulness. While she's definitely got issues with Huon, there's bigger concerns on her radar right now. And if her family is going to go stomping around in a mine-field, Robin can at least call warning, hopefully before something explodes.

"Crap" Jerod says, looking around briefly to evaluate his situation and his mount. He also takes a moment to get a feel for the reality of the place he is now at, sifting through the shadow and pattern energy that is certain to be swirling around his impromptu entry point.

Jerod feels he hasn't been pushed far from his origin, but far enough. There is no battle here, although it looks like there once was. He is neither very close to a pattern nor very far.

His immediate goals assuming his survival is not in peril are:

a) Get out of the mud. With or without the mount. If the horse cannot be extricated, then he will leave it and move off himself. He is certain to be able to find harder places in the mud to step and quickly move out - whether this can be done with the horse is up to the universe. If the horse doesn't come along, Jerod easily finds another one.

The horse can, with effort and some nudging, be freed from the mud.

b) Once out of the mud, Jerod travels for a short distance before stopping and digging quickly down a couple of inches into the earth. He knows from the bleed-over between realities that points exist where items and people and even effects and temporal flow can move from one reality to another. He also knows that he's created a big hole in reality through his efforts, so it is highly probable that the effect of his transport would have caused other items to travel as well, such as his spear, which he is certain to find.

His effort to retrieve the spear is not successful.

c) With mount acquired, Jerod now considers Huon. Where he is will be uncertain, for Huon is definitely going to be shifting shadow to escape the pursuit that Jerod is certain will be continuing.

Thus Jerod decides not to pursue, but instead to bring the prey to him, recalling lessons from his father and comments from Random and Corwin. If patterns can be likened to a dip in reality, a gravity well as it were or an attractive point for reality and those possessed of reality, in keeping with the axiom that all roads to Amber, Jerod will create his own road for Huon. Jerod shifts shadow only a little to find a suitable point to await Huon's arrival, one where firearms once more will not work.

Huon is certain to be using a motor vehicle of the type that Jerod last saw him attempting to acquire. Accordingly, Jerod finds a moderately flat area of level ground but strewn with small boulders, rock outcroppings and pebble pools that make for difficult travel for a motorcycle but that are of little concern to mounts such as horses. To the west, several hundred yard back is the steep ravine with its drop of many hundreds of feet to sharp rock outcroppings below, the sun behind him and in the eyes of anyone who emerges from the forest that lies to the east, the forest that Jerod knows Huon must travel through in his efforts to escape from Brennan and the others, and that Huon will come from, a single primary path leading from it into a deceptively deep pebble pool.

Jerod finds his place to wait, retrieving a bow and a quiver of arrows for use. Then he focuses his mind, summoning the Pattern and building the well of reality. He uses his impressions of Huon and the sword and the feel of Pattern's imprint on the blood of Amber, creating a magnet for Huon and the sword, an easy path for his journey, a gradually increasing incline from which Huon cannot immediately escape. It matters not that some time may have passed since Jerod departure from the field of battle, as he will compensate here. He sets his trap and waits.

From the west, there is a crash and the smell of burning oil.

Westward ho...

....for a few hundred yards and then Jerod stops to look over the cliff edge and see what's up.

On the far side of the ravine, Jerod sees Khela, Robin, Bleys, Caine, and Brij. Brennan is climbing down. At the bottom is a smashed-up motorbike.

Jerod pulls out a pair of binoculars and scans the ravine, tracking from where Brennan started down to the motorbike and then spiralling outwards in a visual search arc to cover the various routes that a flying individual might have taken after leaving a motorbike in mid flight. He is not concerned at the moment for checking for sorcerous activity, given that both Bleys and Khela are on the other side.

He makes quick note of the unknown woman with the others, memorizing the face for future reference.

There are several reasonable arcs for the motorbike to have taken. But the most likely, based on some damage to the vegetation on the far wall, is one where he went up, through some trees, and the bike hit the far wall and before landing in the heap it's in.

Brennan and Robin have climbed to the bottom, Bleys and the short woman are almost down as well. They're riding a beast out of shadow.

From the trees, Jerod hears a voice echo out: "He's here, Bleys! In the tree on the far side!"

Upon hearing the voice, Jerod tracks the nearest stand of trees relative to the most probable flight arc and the heap of busted bike, eliminating ones that are too open to afford concealment before settling on the remaining option or options. Though the possibility of deception exists, Jerod discounts it given that sorcerous power could be detected and if Huon is the sender, he's lighting himself up. As Jerod does this, he reaches into a pouch and pulls out a set of three phosphorous fragmentation grenades, quite certain that they will work.

He takes a quick moment to consider Robin and Brennan, decides that they are sufficiently far enough away to not have to worry about shrapnel and then lobs a grenade into his selected target, timing the arc of the throw so that it will land in the tree a half second before detonation to ensure combustion ignition of the tree that it lands in. The second and third follow into secondary targets immediately thereafter.

The grenades fly where Jerod wants them and he ducks briefly behind cover to avoid the shrapnel and the blast. When he looks back up after the triple boom, the white eerie light of the phosphorus is still glowing, and the trees are burning. They are very green this near the water, but they aren't fireproof.

From further up the ravine comes a great roar, much louder than the frag grenades. When Jerod turns to look that way, he sees two things. The first is Caine and Khela, riding a horse that seems to be running on the air, coming directly at the ravine. The second is a great, scaled dragon, chasing them and bugling. Flying, then circling the trees, setting some on the edge on fire.

As would be expected with the appearance of such a monstrous beast, Jerod is momentarily distracted, but only for a moment as he curses himself and returns his focus to the trees, scanning for movement. Caine and Khela can regrettably serve as bait for their unwarranted guest. Jerod does not consider the possibility that this is indeed the one true dragon, given the distraction factor that would provide and the importance of chasing down Huon. For such a legendary creature, he decides he will leave it to his uncles to deal with. After all, they're uncles.

That leaves Huon using the confusion of the moment to escape and Jerod uses it to watch for him, though he takes the opportunity to ensure that a large duffle bag can be found close by with ordinance suitable for an escape, should it come to that.

Jerod walks along the clifftop and finds a duffel bag, all the while looking down into the trees where someone might be escaping.

What he notices through the rising smoke is that it looks like several of his relatives are on a branch about 2 meters down. That part of the tree isn't on fire, but it could spread quickly.

They're probably close enough that he could call to them.

Jerod watches silently, examining the angles and listening to his relatives as their conversation progresses. From his perch above them, he spots the tinge of the green sword as Bleys and Huon work their byplay.

Deciding that the snowflake principle may have merit in this situation, Jerod picks up a small stone, perhaps an inch in size, sights in carefully and tosses the stone at the blade, going for accuracy rather than power. It may prove to be of no effect, or it might be a useful distraction against Huon. Jerod will let Bleys decide that.

Jerod watches for a moment, learning the periodicity of Huon's defense, and drops a stone exactly where he means to, hitting the blade unexpectedly from above. Oddly, Jerod hears the sound of it both in front of him and behind him.

He turns, picking out the direction that the sound came from. One advantage of living underwater is an appreciation of acoustics and how sounds can travel in strange and unusual ways that surfacers would not normally consider. There must be an opening to the cliff- side niche Huon is hiding in and Jerod will now find it.

Jerod considers the option of sending a warning to Bleys of his intentions but for the moment decides against it. A warning to Huon would be unacceptable, and right now with the gunfire and the unexpected activity above, Huon will be more nervous, more likely to focus on immediate survival instead of evaluating his general surroundings for exploitation. An opportunity thus presents itself.

Assuming Jerod finds the other end of the niche, his actions are predicated on the entry that he finds. A large one, sufficient for him to enter, means he goes in with his sword out. A small one means he needs to use something else to flush Huon out, like a grenade or some kind of gas charge.

Jerod finds, hidden by a bush, a wide vent opening into the ground. It looks like the ground collapsed here and leads down just a few feet into the cave that Huon is taking refuge in.

Jerod slides down the scree and finds himself on a narrow ledge overlooking a deep cave. The scree is steep, and it would be time-consuming but possible to get out that way, assuming the rocks didn't come down while climbing.

The cave is well-lit from an opening a little further away, and something below is also lit, or reflecting outside light.

Bleys, Brij, and their creature disappear into the trees.

Seconds afterwards, Jerod's fragmentation grenades go off in a series of explosions and bursts of eerie white light at 40m up in the trees. Robin and Brennan have a ringing in their ears, but aren't hit by the flying shrapnel. The trees start to catch fire, and it looks like it's spreading.

"Wasn't me," Brennan says, reflexively.

"Me either."

In answer to the explosions, a much louder roar echos down the ravine, and, looking up, they see two things. The first is Caine and Khela, galloping on a horse that seems to be running on the air, coming directly at the ravine. The second is a great, scaled dragon, chasing them and bugling.

Brennan takes about a second to witness the Dragon bearing down on them like a hundred metric tons of fiery death, during which he thinks several deep and profound thoughts, all in parallel: This day started out with such promise; somewhere, the plan has gone very wrong; this is all Huon's fault; that's something you just don't see every day; oh, crap; somehow, we've lost control over this situation; it's official-- this can't get any worse, unless Grandmother shows up....

Whereas Robin only has two thoughts, "yep, yep yep" "yeeHAWWW!"

...and, to Robin: "Now we really need the Sword." Hopefully Bleys and his great big golden Pattern Sword will be about the critically important task of doing something about the Dragon. That leaves Brennan and Robin and whoever tossed the bloody grenade to do something about Huon. Brennan moves at speed toward the center of the blast radii before his ears even stop ringing, expecting to see Huon in the middle of it, hoping to see him shell-shocked, on fire, and bleeding from ruptured ear drums.

Robin charges in after Brennan.

"Green girl's sword?"

If he sees him, no matter what his condition, there is officially no more Sir Knight-Commander Nice Guy. Brennan doesn't shoot to kill, but he doesn't shoot to wound, either. He shoots with one purpose and one purpose only: to get Belagamon away from Huon and into his or Robin's hands. He will call for and accept a surrender in the form of Huon dropping the Pattern Sword and backing away from it and the offer is good only for the amount of time it takes Brennan to draw a bead and fire.

Brennan quickly realizes that 20-30 meters up, in verdant forest that is on fire, he'll have no clean shot with a weapon as imprecise as a shotgun. Still, if something or someone falls, Brennan is in the best place to arrive there first.

The good news is that the Dragon isn't chasing Khela and Caine anymore. The bad news is that Brennan is the only other visible target for her.

If there's no bits of either Uncle, Niece, sword or malcavallamico lying around on the ground, Robin will hit the trees running. After all, climbing trees was boring before. Now that they're on fire and randomly exploding, it's much more fun.

If there are bits of family et al. lying around at ground level, she'll point them out to Brennan as she pulls out Bleys's leather pouch.

Robin hits the trees with a mighty leap, finding foot and hand holds as Julian and the Rangers have taught her. She stays away from the fire and reaches the lower branches at 7 meters or so. The tree becomes more dense from there, but Robin can certainly see ways up. She climbs, getting closer to source of the explosion and to the cliff wall. The trees are still filled with smoke and it won't be safe here forever.

After a bit, she sees a hulking figure. The Malcavallamico is clinging to a branch by three arms, sucking on the fingers of its fourth. Some of its fur is burned, and its saddle is empty. It doesn't seem to want anything to do with her.

One branch higher up are two pairs of boots, one of them small. It's hard to see what they're doing. The cliff wall is almost within reach.

Brennan heads toward the ravine wall, roughly paralleling Robin's direction, taking the time to swap out his shotgun for a good marksman quality rifle, courtesy of conjury. He also uses the trees to break line of sight between him and the Dragon. He does his best to keep tabs on Robin, or on Bleys and Brij if he spots them, so that he can either assist with a rifleshot, or wait for them to knock Huon out of the trees where Brennan can finish them off.

If he starts to lose sight of Robin and the rest, he will reluctantly "climb" the trees to follow, although the climb is more of a gravity assisted hop 5 to 10 meters upwards, landing lightly on one of the sturdy lower boughs, and continue on. Brennan's use of Sorcery is canny-- it is not powered flight, which could be interrupted and cause him to fall back down; it is just a momentary relaxation of gravity during a leg-powered jump, to get him the initial velocity to land where he wants to land. If that doesn't work, he'll look silly, curse, and climb the hard way.

Brennan power-hops to a branch in the spreading forest fire and hops and climbs quickly. At about 25-35 meters he finds himself a bit behind Robin.

Robin scampers up the tree as quickly and as stealthily as she can. (If she has to choose, she'll choose speed over stealth.) Her intent is to get a clearer view from above of the boot wearers. Her hope is to catch sight of Green Girl's sword, since Brennan -- who has been on site longer than she -- seems to think it's important. Her desire is to stay unburned, unsliced, unboomed and uneaten. Of course, one can't have everything.

Robin clambers up and finds herself behind Brij. In front of the gymnast is Bleys, holding Werewindle. Beyond Werewindle is a green sword sticking out from a niche or a shallow cave in the wall of the ravine.

"Take your time, Bleys. I'm not the one standing 40 yards up in a burning tree. I've no idea where you summoned the dragon from, but it can't really save you."

It's almost possible to hear Bleys smile. "There's plenty of time to dispatch you, dear brother. Or you could surrender to the Queen's Mercy. I'm quite sure I could start a bidding war for your corpse between Rebma and your other new friends, and if you're alive, so much more."

Smoke begins to close in. There's no clear shot, but it doesn't seem as if Huon is getting away.

Brennan works at getting himself into a better position to take a shot at Huon with his rifle, while Bleys and Brij keep him distracted. If he isn't already, he prefers to have a little altitude over Bleys and Brij so he is shooting over them, not shooting through them, and once he achieves it he moves laterally until he can see through the foliage and into the niche-- Huon can't be very far in, or Brennan wouldn't be able to see the sword.

If he can see through the smoke and get a shot, he takes it, even if it means waiting a moment for a clear view.

If that doesn't work, well, the swirling clouds and tendrils of smoke are as rich and roiling a sea of probabilities as any ocean or casino. Brennan works those probabilities until the seemingly random gentle breezes and thermal drafts conspire to open a line of sight, if only for a moment.

However it may happen, if Brennan can get a shot, he takes it. His preference is to hit the shoulder or the arm that holds the blade, followed by a knee or leg shot, followed by a gut shot. He is not trying to kill Huon. At least not on the first shot.

The smoke, the fire, the bellowing... all of these bring a manic green spark to Robin's eyes. As Brennan appears among the limbs, determined and be-rifled, her grin widens. Making sure to stay clear of Brennan's line of fire, Robin scurries along the tree branches. As easily as a squirrel despite the torn and dirty green party dress and the sheathed sword at her side, Robin looks for a way to clamber onto the cliff face itself and hassle Huon around the sides (or top or bottom) of his niche.

It would be a quick leap to the mass of vines on the cliff wall beneath him, which looks safer than those above him. The Malcavallamico is near where she'd land. [If Robin leaps, she'll make it. Feel free to clamber up to the cave/niche entrance from below...]

Robin leaps to the vines. She casts a glance malcavallamico-ward, "Friend, you need to get out of here. We'll manage on our own." She murmurs and casts a significant glance upward and toward the cliff face.

After appeasing her conscience, Robin scrambles toward the bottom of the niche, mayhem on her mind.

From Brennan's new vantage point, he sees that Brij has a shotgun, and she's leaning past Bleys, trying to get a shot as well.

A stone falls down from above, hitting the sword with a clank. Huon drops his guard a bit and comes slightly out of his niche, whereupon Brennan and Brij both fire. Bleys, prudently, does not advance into the gunfire.

"Ha!, Missed," shouts Huon, over the crackling of the fire. The sword pulls further back. The niche must be larger than it looked.

Brij swears and reloads her shotgun while Bleys takes a step forward.

If this fire was normal, this tree would be unsafe very soon. Something is preventing it from spreading quickly.

Once under the niche, Robin draws her sword and glances at Bleys, Brennan and Brij as she carefully coordinates with her actions with them. It's her intention to at the very least seriously harrass and maybe slice up Huon's feet. At best, she'd like to get into that niche and go toe-to-toe with a trapped and desperate Uncle armed with some sort of special sword. Yep, sounds like a plan.

Brennan isn't sure if he's more disgusted with himself for missing at this range with a good rifle, or the unnamed woman with Bleys, missing at that range with a shotgun.

[didn't say you missed, but you didn't take him out. It's hard to take out a very-high-fire character, realities of guns and range aside...]

At least Brennan knows she intends mayhem toward Huon, now, so that's all right. And he guesses that if she's a Family member, she's a very new one, because Conjury means never having to stop to reload.

Brennan also sees Jerod doing... something... away from the edge of the cliff, sees the fire gradually engulfing all the useful trees in the area, and sees Bleys, Robin, and Mystery Woman all trying to get on the little ledge or outcropping that Huon is inhabitting. It looks like that ledge is going to be crowded. Brennan starts moving toward the position Jerod just vacated. From there, he'll re-evaluate and see who, if anyone needs back-up. He'll see if he can spot Caine and Khela, too.

Along the way, Brennan takes any reasonable rifle shots he can at Huon without accidentally shooting Bleys in the back of the head, just to keep him honest and to force him back and make room for Bleys and company on that ledge. But given the crowd forming there, there may not be any reasonable shots. He won't force the issue or take risks.

"Brij, fire!," says Bleys, and the woman obliges with a shotgun blast at the opening, more to keep Huon from sticking his head up than anything else.

Bleys uses the cover to leap across. "Damn! He's slipped into a cave back here, come on." Bleys disappears from the ledge and behind the now-shot-riddled stone that Huon had been using for cover.

Brennan leaps to the vines and clambers up, just in time to see Jerod disappearing down a hole.

Jerod pauses only momentarily to gather his surroundings, thankful for an underwater background that demands an understanding of environmental awareness in three dimensions, determining the opening where Huon would have been based on Jerod passage underground and then (assuming it to be the first opening mentioned above), Jerod moves towards it, listening.

The sound of the shotgun blast is a signal for Jerod to verify his choice and move forward, to see if he can catch Huon unawares.

The first opening is a large opening a long way across the bowl of the big cave. The light comes through it. Looking down the bowl, Jerod sees, far from the ledge he's standing on, something glittery and moving. Or it may be a trick of the light.

There is a much smaller entrance, which isn't well lit, but wouldn't be, where Huon may have entered this cave. Since that's the only way Jerod could be moving, that's the way he moves, listening. Someone is coming towards him, several someones. Shortly they slow, then stop.

Jerod hears a scrabbling of stone on stone elsewhere in the cave complex as well, but it's hard to say where.

Robin scrambles onto the ledge after Bleys. Keeping low and out of Brij's line of fire seems to be her order of the day, as she scuttles into the cave. The girl allows herself one brief shudder as she crosses into the darkness. Yep, yep, yep - caves and uncles, doesn't get worse. Unless, of course, there was some water ahead.

Despite her momentary trepidations though, Robin is still glimmer-eyed and pointy-teethed with the thrill of the chase.

The path, a narrow ledge along one wall of a great bowl, is slick with water and bat droppings.

Robin chases after Bleys, Brij immediately behind with the shotgun.

Bleys skids to a stop and turns, blade out, facing a deep niche.

Brennan sees Bleys and company follow Huon behind the ledge, sees Jerod disappearing down the rabbit hole, and assumes he has a good reason for doing what he's doing. Since that reason probably involves some level of mayhem toward Huon's princely person, Brennan opts to follow Jerod. "Coming down behind you," Brennan says softly when he drops down the hole. He'll hop down lightly over the scree using Gravity, to keep from disturbing it and try to catch up to Jerod.

Brennan catches up to Jerod just as he, too reaches the niche where Bleys stands, Werewindle pointed at a concealed menace. Bleys is smiling and his pattern blade positively gleams in the diffuse light..

In the niche is Huon. In the shadows he seems to be bleeding from several wounds. When he sees the additional arrivals, he drops the green sword.

"I surrender," he says, raising his hands.

Brennan keeps the rifle aimed at Huon, unless Bleys is blocking him entirely, in which case he'll merely keep it ready. Water would freeze in Brennan's growl: "Kick it. Over. Here. Now!" Brennan looks like he might enjoy an excuse to shoot Huon again. Any foolishness trying to kick the green sword over the ledge would be 'an excuse.' (Although not an excuse for a fatal wound.)

Robin can't quite keep the manic giggle totally supressed, so she doesn't. Staying low, very low, the Ranger drops her own standard issue sword and expertly bats the green blade Brennan-ward. As she rises, she removes several very stout leather cords and a garret or two from about her person.

"Kill you if you mo-ovve," she quietly sing-songs under her breath as she scuttles into the niche with the intent to truss Huon up. Robin is quite aware of what happened to her Aunt Deirdre so she is very careful not to become a surprise hostage.

Robin does so, placing herself behind the errant prince. "Curse you if you do," he mutters so low that perhaps only Robin can hear. He continues smiling and places his hands behind his back to make it easy to truss him up.

Robin chuckles at Huon's remark, "Oooo. Another for my collection." And proceeds with the trussing, as quickly, as brutally, as efficiently and as tightly as she can.

"Also, stop with the Heritage. It's too noisy for this place." She hisses. If she can, she'll hoist Huon up over a shoulder.

Huon makes her efforts as easy as possible, but no easier.

Jerod drops below Brennan's firing line to intercept the green blade as it slides across the ledge, a cloth in hand as he picks it up. A practiced movement returns his father's blade to his own scabbard a moment later and his hand is reaching for a pouch on his belt, pulling for the first trump there without even looking, knowing it because he had left Benedict's on the top.

A lesser man would let the pure bafflement show on his face when Jerod picks up the blade with-- of all things-- a cloth to handle it in this situation. But Brennan is not that lesser man, and keeps his weapon trained on Huon while Robin trusses him up. Brennan was actually there for Brand's Last Gambit, and has no intention of seeing that drama played out with Huon and Robin. Brennan will shoot Huon if he tries anything.

Once Huon is trussed up, Brennan sees Robin and Bleys (presumably) still occupied with Huon, and Jerod (presumably) doing the sensible thing and Trumping Amber. That would appear to leave no one looking out to see where the Dragon has got to... while they are all standing around in what is very likely its lair, or part of it. So Brennan does that. Once Robin is done, Brennan will lower the weapon to a more relaxed ready position, turn, and begin scanning the area, with one eye in the Astral world and one in the mundane one. Brennan has seen the Astral residues of the Dragon before-- he is looking for them carefully.

When the meeting in the remains of Caine's library breaks up, Corwin leads Hannah toward the library.

"Corwin, am I to understand both Bleys and Benedict think Moonriders can't possibly be the problem in Tir, at least, right now? Is it not possible Tir exists in the future, but we only see it now?" Hannah asks.

"That's one possibility, that Tir is somewhat out of time, or parts of it are. It would explain some of the problems with the Queen of Air and Darkness. But the Moonriders aren't there now; they'll just want to go there if she is, or wait for her return. Or go looking for her. We--for value of we meaning Paris and Xanadu and Amber--don't want them doing much of anything," Corwin explains. "Stirring them up is trouble, especially with Dad gone. And they know he's gone, because the Marshall was at Dad's funeral.

"And who, or what, exactly, is the Queen of Air and Darkness?" Hannah wonders.

"She's their goddess. Their word, not mine," Corwin clarifies. "When we're done in the library, you should talk to Bleys. He's the closest thing we have to an expert on the Moonriders, mostly through his work with the Knights of Altamar."

"I meant to do that. I was thoroughly distracted by Robin. What does Altamar have to do with the Moonriders, then?" she asks.

"The Moonriders are an offspring of the Altamareans. They bound themselves to the Queen of Air and Darkness long ago, and the Altamareans are what's left of the group that didn't bind themselves. Bleys rescued them and took them across Shadow when they were on the point of extermination by their brothers." Corwin gives Hannah a crooked smile. "Brotherly love: join or die."

Hannah smiles back. "Yes, that's part of how I got Hannah for a name. Is the Queen very powerful then, a real leader, or is she more symbolic?"

"Symbolism and real power aren't mutually exclusive. My current guess is she's both, and that's why they're trying to get back to her. I haven't tangled with her directly, although this--" Corwin pats Greyswandir, which is sheathed at his side "--gives me some insights, and I was here through the war. That war."

Hannah's look follows his hand curiously. She looks back up to meet his eyes, delighted. "How does it do that? Does your sword talk to you?"

"Sort of." Corwin stops in the hall and steps back to draw the sword from its sheath slowly. He presents the flat of the blade to Hannah for inspection. "Do you see the tracery there? Does it speak to you at all? Do you recognize it?"

It takes Hannah a moment to realize she does; that even though she hasn't seen it very often, she knows in her bones she's looking at a part of the Pattern.

Hannah brings her fingers up to run along but not quite touch the blade. "Oh, yes. Does it give you visions, then? Which... oh, it is tied to the design in Tir, then, isn't it? Does Tir come out in Paris too?" She rushes through the string of questions before she looks up at Corwin, tilting her head to observe him anew.

"I can see Tir in Paris, but there's no stair. There's only a passage to Rebma. And the blade was forged on the steps of Tir, or so legend has it, by Weyland Smith. But that was before I was born, I think." Corwin moves to sheathe the blade. "We should move on. I'm not sure how much time we have and I don't want to miss moonrise."

Hannah nods, a motions for him to lead the way. "So someone else had your blade first, perhaps? Do you know who?"

"Well, as I said, the legend has it that Weyland made it on the steps to Tir," Corwin says. "He also made Bleys' sword Werewindle, and, according to legend, Cneve's great blade that he used in defense of Rebma in the Triton wars. Some of the older legends are lost, though. Werewindle is Bleys's, and Grayswandir is mine."

"Right, one for each... design," Hannah says more quietly. "Did you ever meet Weyland?"

"Many years ago. The rumor was that he's dead, but as someone whose rumored demise turned out to be exaggerated, I need a lot more than a rumor to believe it."

Hannah and Corwin have arrived at the library. One of the junior librarians comes out to see to their needs and Corwin sends her off to find Nestor. Soon enough, Nestor appears. Behind his glasses, he is obviously red-eyed, and his shoulders are slumped.

"Your Highness requires my services?" he asks. His voice sounds a little rough.

Corwin nods. "I need to know what, if anything, Cambina said to you before she went up to Tir, and I need to see any papers she left behind. I know you were in her confidence. It's important and it may save Queen Vialle's life. Also, Hannah may have some requests of her own." He looks to Hannah.

Hannah gives Nestor a sympathetic smile. "Do you have anything Cambina wrote that doesn't make sense in a historical context but perhaps... has been placed with her historical work? I'm looking for items that refer to the King or Queen but yet don't name them directly. It could be quite old, not recent."

Nestor looks at Hannah. "There's nothing on the shelves." He doesn't immediately respond to Corwin's request.

Hannah reaches out to take Nestor's hand. "I'm so sorry we have to come ask you for these things right now, Nestor. Is there anything at all? Things she asked be kept back or... hid, that you know about? Or anything she said around you?"

Nestor sighs. "My apologies, my Lady, your Highness. As Cambina is wont to tell me, I am quite capable of making everything about myself. Was."

"She was quite sure that the stairs would appear this night. She had apparently seen them the night before, but by the time she rode up to the spot, they were gone. She spent all day quite agitated. Then she just... became calm.

"I told her to have a spotter, but she told me it would be fine." He sighs again. "If you want her papers, they're in her quarters.

Hannah nods. "Thank you. What time was it when you last spoke to her, Nestor?"

"It was after supper, getting dark She said she'd been up there so much that she was perfectly safe." He paused. "I'm afraid we quarreled."

Hannah rubs Nestor's hand comfortingly before she lets him go. She stays close though.

Corwin looks over at a closed writing desk. "This was hers?," he asks Nestor, opening it up without waiting for a response.

Hannah's eyes follow Corwin.

Corwin pulls out a stack of papers, including what looks like some sort of a list of tasks. He reads it, and takes out a pen and begins making notes on it.

After Nestor answers, she asks, "Did she mention Queen Vialle?"

Nestor sighs. "No, I was as surprised as any when I heard that she took the Queen, who was always kind to me, to the city of visual illusions. I was not much in Cambina's confidences in recent days. Not since..." He trails off.

Hannah purses her lips. "Did you think she'd been acting strange?" she asks more quietly. "I mean, strange for Cambina?"

Nestor's lips get tense, only for a moment. "Her highness had not, in any way that I was privileged to know, prior to yestere'en." He forces a smile.

"And was the strangeness then just her going up with no... spotter? Or was it something more than that?" she wonders.

"Your pardon, Lady, but I cannot tell you more for I know no more. The Lady Cambina was a private person, and I have not been her closest confidant for some months." He sounds bitter.

Hannah understands bitter. "Well, again, I thank you for talking to us. My sympathies, Nestor, regardless. Corwin? Do you have anything more to ask this gentleman?"

Corwin sets down the papers he was examining. "No, I think I've found out what I needed to know, Thank you, Nestor."

He turns to Hannah and begins to shuffle out a trump. "If you're ready, we can go back to Xanadu now."

Hannah nods and steps over to Corwin.

Corwin shuffles out his Trumps and contacts Gerard, who brings Hannah and Corwin through to Xanadu.

Gerard is in a different part of the infirmary when they contact him. He looks extremely agitated; Hannah may wonder if his painkillers are failing him. She can see through a window that the sun is dipping below the horizon.

Hannah immediately looks worried.

"We don't have a lot of time, Gerard," Corwin says, "but I still need to talk to Solange about her experience with the woman who looks like the Queen of Air and Darkness."

"Solange is gone, and she'll not be returning for some time," Gerard says simply. His shoulders are hunched and he meets Corwin's gaze reluctantly.

Corwin's expression shifts through incredulous and annoyed to confused. "Why not?"

"I banished her," Gerard explains. He seems to sit up a bit straighter, as if steeling himself. "For taking Cambina's body."

Hannah just stands there a moment in silence. Then, "Do we have it back?" she asks quietly.

"Aye, we do, and that's why Vere isna banished as well," Gerard says. "He recalled his oath."

Corwin has taken a moment to recover. Scowling and narrow-eyed, he says "We don't have time for this. Hannah and I need to go. Is there another member of the family here to act as a spotter."

Gerard shakes his head. "Fiona is on her way."

"I'll call her." Corwin moves off, just outside the door of the infirmary, to do exactly that.

Gerard shakes his head again and turns back to Hannah. "I'm sorry about that, lass; I wish I'd been able to tell you more gently. But we have Cambina back, and my brother will deal with Solange." From his tone, Gerard expects that to go badly, probably for both him and Solange.

"You don't owe me any apologies, Gerard. You did what you had to do as regent. You just tell Random that too, if he gives you any trouble." She looks worried too, though. "I want you to fight through this and use more of what we brought back for pain relief instead of more morphine, please."

"I've got to be in fit form to govern," Gerard protests.

"I'm not asking you to do otherwise, Gerard. I am asking you to use one tool instead of another," Hannah calmly explains.

"I'll try it. But if I canna abide, we shall go with the other." Which is all the concession Gerard seems ready to make at the moment.

Hannah gives him a shrug. On her best day she can hardly hold him down and make him do what she wants. She digs in her pocket and returns Gerard's trump of Corwin to him.

Gerard takes it.

Across the room, Fiona appears on Corwin's hand, stepping into the room gracefully.

Hannah turns to offer Fiona a welcoming smile. "Thank you for coming to spot for us."

Fiona seems to be assessing the room and its contents. "You're welcome. Do we have anything definitive on what you're looking for in Tir, or is it all just moonlight and shadows, brother?"

Her presence seems to have taken a bit of the edge off of Corwin. "I don't expect to find Vialle, of course. I'm looking for what killed Cambina, or distracted her long enough for the city to catch her out. Cambina apparently visited Tir regularly enough to know the risks." Corwin looks to Fiona and adds, "The Queen of Air and Darkness may be involved."

"That can't be good, not with the Moonriders on the rise." Fiona frowns. "Let me freshen up and we'll go."

Once everything is prepared, Hannah, Corwin, and Fiona make their way up to the top of the cliff where the three steps that form the bottom of the Tir stairway are. By the time they arrive at the top of the cliff, the moon has started to rise and the stairway is beginning to form.

Fiona and Corwin make the trump contact, and then Corwin mounts the three steps and then steps up to the fourth. He turns and offers his hand to Hannah.

Hannah grins before she can help herself and takes his hand. "Is every step a leap of faith?"

"Only if we hurry, or wait for too long." He points over his shoulder with his free hand in the direction of the slowly coalescing silver city. "It's a hike up. Let's get a move on."

To Hannah's eyes, the city is not a direct reflection of what Amber is, but more like what it might have been at its height. In the actual city, as seen from the castle, there are damaged buildings and sections and empty spots where buildings once were and have not been completely reconstructed. If there are any such places in the sky-city above them, they aren't apparent to Hannah.

Hannah and Corwin have hardly taken a half-dozen steps when she realizes that they are a significant fraction of the way up the stair. When she glances back at Fiona, far below now, Hannah can see that their steps have nothing to do with the distance traversed. Tir is a spirit place; will, hers and Corwin's, is what makes the distance fall away, not the motion of their feet.

"Don't look down," Corwin says, and when she does, the steps, like the moonlight, reveal the depths of the ocean below. Perhaps Hannah somehow betrays herself, because Corwin's grip tightens on her hand.

Just when it seems they will never arrive, that some force of will as great as their own is pitted against them, the gate to the city of Amber is there, and Corwin escorts Hannah through the gate into the silvery city, all moonlight and dreams. Though they walked for hours, no, nights, they were standing by Fiona mere moments before.

Corwin releases Hannah's hand and touches Grayswandir: not to draw it, but as if to reassure himself it's still ... something. Whatever he feels satisfies him.

"Where to, Hannah? We have all of Amber before us."

"Let's try Cambina's rooms, or where they would be. Do you know? I've never been in them." Hannah looks around with a critical eye, putting her wonder away.

"I can guess, based on what I know of the Castle. But the Castle doesn't always reflect present times. You may find other ghosts there." He moves off, expecting Hannah to keep up with him.

"Whoa, okay, wait a minute then." Hannah doesn't let him out of sight. "Throne room."

Corwin looks back and nods. "We don't know how long we have. It's easy to lose track of time here, or have the clouds block the moon if we're not careful." He offers Hannah his off hand this time, as if to leave the other free to draw his blade.

Hannah takes his hand, happy to be in contact with him, since he is the one in contact with the ground. She does not distract Corwin from leading them on, but does compare her initial introduction to Castle Amber to this place.

As they make their way up to the Castle, Corwin says, "The last time I came up here, I ended up in the throne room. Dara was there; in the future she was from, Chaos won the war. She told me I was long-dead. Don't be surprised at anything the shades say to you."

Indeed, Hannah can see the shades, spirit-beings, what-have-you, as she walks through the shade of the city. Perhaps if she knew Amber well enough, she would recognize some of them.

"Hm, so they are not bound by truth. Or at least, not the truth of... Amber, then? This will be a facinating exercise in probabilities. To be honest, I was hoping we'd serve as nice bait to draw out whatever happened to Cambina," Hannah admits.

"There may be a truth there. There was last time," Corwin says, pursing his lips and looking a bit sour. "That doesn't mean it's the truth as we understand it. If you see something that you want to investigate, tell me. Grayswandir can bridge the distance between us and them when we need it to."

Hannah nods. "That's so facinating. Perhaps it is part ghost, somehow."

She squeeze Corwin's hand and stops suddenly. "Wait. I think I know that man. Huh. That's one of my cousins."

Corwin follows her gaze to one of the figures nearby. He draws Grayswandir and raises it overhead, taking a moment to bring it to the ground, where he lays it. He steps through the slash in reality and draws Hannah with him.

The Ponca looks straight at Hannah, startled, clearly seeming to recognize her.

Hannah draws a deep breath. Here is a piece of home. "Horses West! What are you doing in Amber?" she asks, reaching out to take his hand, ready to embrace him if he doesn't pull away.

It's Corwin who reaches out to stop her. "Don't," he says, holding her arm to keep her back. "You'll lose him."

Horses West says, "Who is this man, Ohanzee? Do the Protector's men not treat you respectfully?"

"This is my Uncle. Because he and I are spirit walking right now he is afraid if I touch you then you won't be able to see us anymore. So though I have missed all our peoples I will control myself. But tell me, how did you come to be here in Amber?" Hannah asks again, putting a hand on Corwin's arm and wrapping her other in the bottom of her shirt.

Corwin, for once, lets Hannah take the lead.

"I came with the Protector. He took the city after he won the siege of Rebma and slew the one called Bleys. Now we wait to see what our reward will be," Horses West explains.

Hannah can feel Corwin's arm jump at the mention of Bleys' death.

It takes Hannah a moment. Then, "The Protector is Huon, correct?"

Horses West nods. "That is one of his names."

"Can you tell me which name he approached the tribes under?" Hannah asks, her frustration affecting her grip on Corwin.

Horses West's eyes sweep over Corwin and then he looks at Hannah. "He earned his name of Conquers New Stars. Now he leads the Hethuska Society, and he has brought us to this land rich in prizes." He thrusts his chest out slightly, as if to challenge Corwin.

Corwin is ignoring the display, although Hannah can feel that he's tensed up.

Hannah keeps her grip on Corwin's hand, but twists it a bit as she slips between him and West. "Cousin," she begins quite formally, "are there Omaha here too? And where are the women and children?"

"The Omaha cousins have come with us as well. And the women and children are with another part of the army Conquers New Stars has forged. He brought many nations together to conquer the underwater city, and now this one. Come in the flesh, Ohanzee, and I will bring you to him. He will honor you as befits your station in the tribes, and your knowledge as a medicine woman." Horses West is clearly confident of that.

Hannah squeezes Corwin's hand a bit too hard. "I will think on it. Tell me, what happened to Prince Random's wife? Do you know?"

Horses West shakes his head. "I do not know her, but if she is a friend to you, I will send the word through the tribes that she must not be harmed."

Corwin says quietly, "Let me know when you're ready to move on."

Hannah sighs. "I can't say that my friend, as I think my world is much different from the one you are in. I hope things have not become so brutal for you that you'd harm people who aren't warriors."

She turns to look up at Corwin. "Let's go."

Corwin steps across the blade again, taking Hannah with him, and Horses West fades to a silvery shade, looking around for Hannah. "Fiona tells me they've found Vialle. Do you want to go down now, or is there something else you need to see first?"

Hannah musters a half-smile. "No, I've had enough. Unless you think we might be able to learn more of what happened to Cambina by staying."

Corwin bends over to pick up Grayswandir. "I doubt we'd learn anything that makes sense. I'm told one of Cambina's strengths was picking truths out of the nonsense of the phantoms of the city."

He extends his hand. "Fi, I'm going to pass Hannah through, and then I'll come through myself."

Following her return to Amber after the harrowing business with Caine and the death of Pinabello inside the trump room, Paige ends up alone in her chambers, with time to relax, bathe, clean up, and deal with her correspondence.

Among the many missives waiting for Paige's attention is one from Alain LeClaire. When she opens it, she finds that it is an invitation to dinner at his home, if she happens to be in Amber this evening. If Paige hurries, she can make it to his home in time.

She dashes off a note, the outside addressed to Caine.

Uncle-

Expect to begin recruiting in the morning. Looking for a Quartermaster tonight.

Paige.

She hands it to a page and directs him to the Regent's office. Once he's gone, Paige looks in the mirror, perhaps pleased for the first time with her short hair. It had dried much quicker from the baths than her hair had ever dried. She considers what she might do to find herself some mousse, or something to give it a little lift. Her people had been thorough in packing her townhouse, but fortunately she had thought to leave some clothes here, most even hers.

Stepping out of the too-short purple robe, she grins at the curves motherhood had left her. Lucas had told her that he thought they were flattering, the lech. Her grin spread wider thinking of her cousin and his expected response to her settling into such a respectable job as a Ranger.

Which brings her back round to Alain LeClaire. Paige starts tossing clothes from the wardrobe to the bed. She contemplated. She hadn't pressed Random on it, but it was unlikely that he had granted the divorce yet, but expected that the damn drummer would likely give it to him eventually. As she sorted through the pile of skirts and blouses, she considered the legal ramifications and then the social repercussions of this call.

As she holds up different combinations of clothes in front of the mirror, she considers what they say about her. Former lover? Princess of Amber? Wandering minstrel? Warden of Broceliande? Scandal magnet? She settles on split riding skirts that will allow her to ride astride instead of take a carriage, hopefully making up for these moments of indecision. A lighter blouse that reminds her that she's still feminine, a jacket from a hunting outfit she's not sure that she's ever worn, and boots suitable for the planned ride. The effect is more Warden and less Lover, falling well in the purview of Princess, if the latter's definition in town is still that the royals are an eccentric lot and make their own fashion choices. Scandal Magnet was a role, not a fashion choice, anyway. A dab of sandalwood and lavender in the hollow of her throat, gold combs to pull back the sides of her short hair, her gold necklace, two rings of gold and emerald to match the jacket, and silk wrapped Trumps in a pocket finish the preparations. Before she leaves, she remembers the bottle of wine she obtained her last visit to Heerat. It wasn't from there, their beliefs not going toward fermented grape or grain, but anything could be had in the bazaar.

She arrives at the LeClaire's less than ten minutes before the appointed time without lathering the horse, and is pleased to present the invitation to whatever servant answers the door and the wine to whichever arrives next.

The butler welcomes Paige, advising her that Alain will join her shortly. Madam LeClaire is away visiting her mother, he assures her as he leads her to Alain's study.

The study is appointed in dark heavy woods, and has a surprising variety of books for a home in Amber, where literacy is not always the order of the day. A few minutes after the butler leaves her, Alain enters the study, looking as dashing as she remembers.

"Paige." He smiles, and extends his arms in greeting.

The redhead returns the smile warmly, accepting the embrace, tilting her head up toward his face. "I always loved how you said my name," she says. "Even when it wasn't my name." She kisses him softly and then draws back enough to look in his eyes. "Good evening, Alain."

Paige untangles herself from his arms and gets around to handing him the bottle of wine. "Open that to let it breathe and pour me a drink of something else while you tell me what the occasion is."

Alain moves to do exactly that, providing her with a tumbler of fine imported whisky from a decanter on the sideboard. He takes one for himself. "I thought to see you if you had time. Rumor had you in the city, and you've been gone so much that I had to make shift to see you while I could."

Paige intuits this is true, but not all of the truth: Alain has secondary motives. But he always does.

"Time? It's the thing I have least control over," she chuckles as she takes a seat on the couch nearest the window. "But I can normally make some for you, if I had but known it was that important to you..."

Paige tosses back the whiskey and asks, "So, are we going to get down to it right here?" She starts unbuttoning her jacket slowly, as part of the bluff. "Or did you have something you wanted to ask me that makes your wife's home more suitable than my rooms at the Prince?"

"I thought we could have a pleasant dinner before we had either kind of discussion--assuming you want that kind of discussion. But if you'd rather have business before dinner," Alain says, doing his best not to sound offended, "I was going to ask you if you'd heard about the disposition of the divorce petition before King Random."

She doesn't hide her offense. "That's a petition I likely have no business discussing," Paige answers. "I'm not exactly an impartial party in that."

Which is, on consideration, probably why Alain asked Paige. The role of princes in bringing situations to the King's attention is an important part of how court functions. A petition that has the attention of a prince--perhaps not Paige herself, but her father--is likely to be resolved by the King much more quickly than one that has no one to draw the King's eye to it.

She shakes her head and stands again, going to pour herself a second drink. "I haven't heard anything, but I haven't asked either."

"Any inportant reason? She planning on staying here or something?"

"There's some question of whether she's fit to travel. And whether she wants to." Which is clearly to Paige's ears a touchy subject for Alain, too.

Paige returns to his side, her tone soothing and bordering on suggestive, "And your plans and wants?"

"I think it's time for me to leave Amber." Alain looks at Paige. "When everything you want has gone on, what's the point of staying?"

Paige opens her mouth to speak, about to list the opportunities still here in Amber for an ambitious young man, but considers his words again. She meets his eyes quietly for a long moment. "Just what do you want that's gone on, Alain?"

Alain does not look away. "I think you know what I want, my lady."

"I make no promises," Paige answers softly. "Nor do I expect that even with a divorce you might ever possess more of me than you have since the war. My uncle, the King, may not be inclined to allow me to marry, especially if he believes it is the true reason behind your divorce." She keeps her own counsel on what commitments she herself would be willing to make.

"Beyond that, my own new responsibilities will be keeping me out of Xanadu proper, I expect," she adds. "Perhaps we should have dinner, I can explain where a man of your talents and knowledge might make a new start, and we can discuss how to get a Prince to take up your petition."

Paige pulls back from him, and saunters toward the door. "Then we can discuss dessert," she hints over her shoulder.

"Very well." Alain doesn't sound terribly put out about the outcome of the first round, so maybe he is looking forward to the second. He takes her into the dining room, where a sumptuous dinner by the current standards of Amber is laid out. It would have been a small elegance in the days before the war, but now everything in Amber is just ... less.

Alain calls for the first course to be brought out and lets Paige lead the conversation where she will.

Over the appetizer Paige asks of their friends in Amber and what plans any of them have made toward Xanadu, specifically Lords Jewel and Laurel and the merchant Bliss.

Everyone who is anyone is preparing to move to Xanadu, although some have also expressed an interest in Paris.

Paige thinks Paris has a better infrastructure already but Xanadu has more opportunity, for exactly that reason.

During the fish course, she mentions that she's in Amber recruiting Rangers. "Broceliande has more of a magical feel than Arden's oppressive Forest Primeval foreboding. There will be room for the twins to run, and still be under my watch and that of my Rangers, among other concerns like controling traffic, perhaps trade routes eventually. Oh, and protecting the realm from the Arcadian Dragon and her daughters." She shrugs.

"I was hoping that I might find someone with more of a head for the lists and columns of keeping my troops clothed, fed, and paid. Smuggling some entertainments never forced me to keep the books very straight." She smiles and raises her glass. "One of the perks of being a royal is that it's not smuggling anymore.

"So, before I actually begin looking for someone, do you want the job?" Paige asks, watching the wine swirl about the bottom of her glass.

"That," says Alain, meeting her gaze as best he can, "depends on the perks. I could easily be persuaded to take it, if that's what you want."

She matches his look, seriously, "I'm not trying to entice you. I'm trying to find someone capable that I trust to fill an important role.

"As to perks, I would believe that you would be able to enjoy the ones you already have much more easily if we're living in the same forest."

"Living in the same forest will definitely be more convenient, in a variety of ways. And who knows yet what the divorce laws in Xanadu are?" That seems to be a rhetorical question, because Alain continues, "I'll take it. The family will object and I'll tell them to go hang."

Paige nods and offers a small smile at his prospective response to his family. She waits for the servants to clear the fish and set the meat before beginning again. "As to divorce laws, the corollary would be marriage laws. How exactly would you present your intentions and expectations from this relationship?"

Alain leans forward in his chair slightly. "To whom? To the king? Your father? You?"

Paige considers for a moment before answering. "Let's begin with the most important. Me.

"Then we can discuss what we will tell the others."

"I don't know what to say." Alain pauses. "I just know we were happy together once. So much has happened since then to both of us that we can't go back to where we were. I want to be with you but marriage seems like--it was all about property and trade and money and politics, and both of us were happier when none of that was involved. And I don't know enough about your children to say what difference that makes. But I'd like to find out."

Paige doesn't answer for a long moment. "We were happy once, weren't we? It was a simpler time when it was just princes fighting for a throne, somehow. Now I find myself defending it against the same sort I once was, for the sake of my children and those I... I care about.

"Like you. I'd like to find out as well, and the rest can go hang. We'll put no name on it before it needs one," she decides and digs into the roast.

If he has no other particulars, she will fall into the role of doting mother and forewarn him of what to expect with Leif and Brooke, their size, age, intelligence, temperment, and such. She doesn't skirt the problems with the Dragon or Artemis and Arcadia, since as one of her Rangers he will need to know.

After the decadent chocolate dessert, Paige suggests that they retire someplace more comfortable for drinks instead of the coffee he offers.

Alain has a suggestion of a comfortable chamber upstairs that he believes has everything she might be looking for in it.

A short ride through the city and out towards Arden shows Paige what she already knows; the only thriving business in Amber is the departure business. The city is quiet, for The City. The guards at the gate are on high alert and, once they recognize Paige, the captain wishes to ask her questions. There are rumors at the gates of an attack on Prince Caine and other disasters, and they have been put on alert. He offers to arrange an escort for Paige, given all of the issues.

Paige appreciates the offer, but decides to ride on her own, as she may not be staying within Arden's borders and the Guards are better suited here.

Regardless of her decision to accept or reject the escort, the road to Heather Vale and then on to Arden is clear in the morning's sunshine, and looks to be untravelled.

Paige picks up the pace, letting her mount have some freedom to run. She makes for Heather Vale, not waiting unless the Rangers need a similar explanation she gave the Guards. Once within the forest, she calls for her cousin Lalal.

A wind picks up, blowing along a narrow corridor from the darkest part of the forest and over Paige and her horse and across a garlanded sapling springing unexpectedly from the water.

It responds when she calls for her cousin.

Along a ridge near the tattered remains of what was once an orderly camp, a large black bear appears, and sits on her haunches, watching.

Paige dismounts, a hand resting casually on the Jade Dawn, but she makes no overt aggressive movements. She tries to recognize Artemis in the bear's face, wondering if day is the wrong time to summon the mistress of the children of the moon.

"Cousin, I would speak with you," she offers.

The bear doesn't come any closer, but it does sit up like a person would. The wind picks up and starts to beat in a rhythmic pattern, almost as if it speaking. The breeze seems almost intelligent; any move she makes towards the bear is met with wind in her face.

She fights her instinct to reach out and ensure that the children are safe and focuses her perception on the wind. Keeping her distance from the bear, Paige seats herself, beginning, "I am a woman of water, not wind, but I listen. I speak.

"My King will offer surety for those that would swear his allegiance, and welcome them to our new home. Through the mystic wood Broceliande, I will accept them and their pledges," the redhead continues, feeling silly if she's just chatting up one of Arden's creatures.

The bear stands and she transforms into a woman, specifically into Artemis. She shouts over the wind. "A fair offer, but Lalal, my sister seems to be beckoning you inwards as if you mean it be an offer for her and hers.

"Is the offer open to all, and how will you protect this Broceliande from my Mother?" The wind drives directly into Paige's face, picking up bits of dirt and tiny rocks on the way.

Paige nods, "He extends it to those that would swear his allegiance, both your children and hers."

"Broceliande will be warded as Arden once was, with the power of Order and those that would meet her with sword and sorcery. I am here in Amber recruiting sturdy souls for just that purpose."

The redhead concentrates for a moment, thinking that it's (Pattern) probable that by stepping around the nearest bole, she will avoid much of the wind and debris.

Paige does and it is, but the wind shifts, as if directed. It's much louder now, and it's almost definitely directed. "La La la la La La laaa..." it seems to be saying.

Artemis walks into the wind. It seems more difficult than it should be, for someone who can turn into a bear.

"We war here, and my sister, for all her ridiculous indirections, means that if I and mine take your offer, you invite war with my other sister, or sisters. Do you have the womanpower to keep us from harming each other?

"And do you intend to bind us to the King using the old methods?"

[Paige has a law background in Amber, specific to property law and the peerage. Anything that "the old methods" brings to mind?]

[Legally it would be oaths of fealty and grants of land, but traditionally what's worked with them and Arden was more personal, but still pretty feudal...]

"Not yet, but swearing the King's allegiance will bind you all to a common purpose. While sad, the passing of Arcadia will remove that source of strife and contention. Me and mine will police the wood and its inhabitants, those that cannot keep the peace will be dealt with, cousins or not."

"They would want to be able to protect themselves." She nods. "And how and when can we seal this bargain with the King?"

The wind picks up, and Paige is nearly knocked over.

"Your sister opposes you, Grandmother of my Children," Paige states, rising back up and leaning into the wind.. "But I will not be coerced. My King has offered you both the same sureties, I can do no less.

"I will be in Broceliande within a week, should my recruiting go well. Are there those among yours that would swear the King's pledge and serve with me to protect all? As more migrate, I will have need of warriors and sorcerers both," she explains to Artemis.

Artemis nods, turns back into a bear, and departs.

"Lalal! Hear me. Your Children will be safe, as safe as we can make them," she calls into the wind.

The wind shifts, blowing into the woods. It is no longer picking up debris.

Paige allows the wind to guide her, but walks cautiously, scanning her surroundings with more care as she walks deeper into the Great Wood.

Paige enters the woods and finds that the wind leads her directly to a very green clearing.

Sitting in it are a large number of men, women, and children. They have what are probably their earthly belongings with them. There are horses, but not as many as there are people. Moving amongst them is Lalal. Oddly, people only seem to notice her when she is actually immediately in contact with them.

She turns at Paige's approach. "My sisters and I are very bad at sharing."

"I suppose I should count myself lucky for only having met my brother since I have grown," the redhead answers with a smile. "And both of you lucky as well that My King is better than any of us at it. Sharing his new kingdom, that is.

"These are the Children of the Moon?" she asks her cousin.

"These are. Some of them. They are simple men and women, and good workers. What does your King propose?"

"To let them do just that. Xanadu is a new place, brimming with opportunity for honest, good workers," Paige answers, looking between the collected people.

"Those that aren't your Children? Is one of your sisters going to come looking for them?" she asks. "I've heard that you don't share well." The redhead winks at her cousin softening the jest.

She notices neither the jest nor the softening. "You have heard correctly, but our people are ... people. Children of ourselves, and we are children of a goddess of the earth. It is an odd pantheon as far as goddesses go. We are all the fertility goddess, and our children inherit fecundity." She smiles at them. "One of the risks my sisters worry about in your new forest is that the peoples will intermingle, intermarry, interbreed and Artemis will no longer be distinct from Calliste."

"It may happen, as I cannot believe King Random would outlaw intermarriage," Paige allows. "Do you carry secondary roles that could be more distinct, such as your connection to the moon, or Artemis's to her bear form and her Maenads?"

"You king should fear that eventuality. If we merge, our mother will be free. I have grown used to being distinct."

Paige nods, watching the interplay of the people. "I will bring that possibility to his attention," she promises.

"What intentions do you have once your people have migrated?"

She looks confused for a moment, then nods. "Goddesses are not creatures of plans and schemes. Our nature is not to have intentions but to have impulses and reactions. For intentions, we rely on those who serve us. Would you like to meet my high priestess?"

Paige keeps the thought that under that criteria apparently she's been a goddess for centuries to herself. She nods to Lalal. "I would very much wish to speak with her."

Lalal walks among her people, beckoning Paige to follow her. As she passes them, she puts a hand on a shoulder or an arm, and the people look up and smile, the go about their business when she passes on.

She comes to a woman surrounded by other women, sitting in a circle. She sits opposite her, and the circle makes room, without saying anything.

There is room for Paige as well.

"She is with us," says the woman at the far side of the circle.

"I am Lady Paige, Warden of the Mystic Wood, Broceliande," the redhead begins. "I carry greetings from His Majesty, King Random of Xanadu to all those that would seek immigration to his realm."

"There is another, a wood-warden with her, but a woman doing man's work. She offers us shelter and peace in her woods, if we are true to Lalal." The other women look impressed and whisper excitedly amongst themselves.

Paige turns to regard Lalal quizically, but supresses her questions within ear shot of the priestess. "We will travel by sea, within the week if all goes well," Paige continues.

Impulse gets the better of her and she whispers to her cousin. "Can she hear me? And if so, why not, nor seem to see me?"

Lalal looks unsure. "The sea is no friend of ours, we will need to travel through the wood. She cannot hear you because she is not here."

"Then how can I perceive them? Is this some of your magic?" Paige asks.

Lalal is on more firm ground here, talking about herself. "They are not here, but we are with them. I am always with my people. Goddesses do not do magic; the divine have no need of it.

"Perhaps magic was the wrong term, cousin. My apologies," Paige demurs.

"Then they are in Arcadia? I cannot allow their passage to open a way for your mother's passage into Broceliande. The sea will serve."

She looks cross. "Let me be clear. I cannot go via sea and my people will not go without me."

Paige maintains her composure. "Cousin, I am sure that you can understand my desire to limit your mother's interactions with this journey," she begins.

"By land then, but a longer journey, and one I may need enlist a cousin for." Paige produces her Trumps and shuffles through, before settling on her Aunt Fiona.

"A moment please..."

Fiona's face forms. She is walking on a mountainside, quite likely Kolvir, in the moonlight. "Paige?"

"I am sorry to bother you, Aunt," Paige begins. "I am in Arden, speaking with Cousin Lalal and find I may have need of a cousin to lead ships back to Xanadu in my place, as I will be traveling by land.

"My apologies for being short, but you wouldn't know which of my cousins might be at loose ends?" she asks with a smile. "Beside that I might have questions on the best way to minimize what temporary way I might open between Arden and Broceliande.

"Of course, that's enough of my troubles," she says. "How fare you?"

Fiona smiles. "I'm with Corwin, Brita, and Hannah. Brita was with Random, helping to recover Vialle. Random's party has returned to Xanadu, and I'm going down to see them now. I can ask if there's anyone who can help you lead ships from Amber to Xanadu."

Some of this is obviously said for the benefit of the onlookers.

Conner rallies the swift, who come to him and are looking for orders. Conner spots Captain Carver swimming madly, without a shark back across the lines.

"You four, capture that man and bring him to me." Conner points at the fleeing Carver. "Send a runner to the mages on the hill. Have them announce to the battlefield that Huon is fled and his second captured. Order Huon's troops to surrender. Tell them those that lay down arms will be spared and returned to their homes. Those that don't will be killed on sight."

"Send word to the commanders confirming those orders. The priority is to clear the field and secure Rebma. Don't chase down the fleeing unless they present a clear danger if allowed to regroup." Conner instructs. "Teukros, watch over me. I need to check in with the city." Conner dearly wants to use the Eye to discover what has happened to the missing Jerod, Khela and Huon but he must conserve his energies. A Trump call should not tax him though. He hopes. Conner draws out Llewella's card and concentrates.

Llewella answers quickly. "Yes?" She seems to be looking over Conner's shoulder. Behind him, the tritons are continuing to fight those still on the field, but the front line has buckled and pressed away from him.

"The battle is won, my Aunt, but there are still grave matters to address." Conner begins. "Huon somehow smuggled what he called a blood bomb into Rebma's Pattern chamber. We sent Brennan there to stop it and as we still breathe I presume him successful for the moment. I would investigate the state of things as soon as possible."

Conner waits for her to react to that news before dropping the larger bomb on her. "Now to the other grave matter. Khela, Jerod and Huon have disappeared from the battlefield. They were fighting each other then there was a rainbow flash like a Trump contact but all of them disappeared and I know not where." Conner leaves it there. Any suggestions he would make require energies he may not have.

"Part of the castle fell in during the earthquake, the tower with the family quarters. We're dealing with the rubble. At least we have Rebmans mobilized to fight already, so they're dealing with debris.

"I hesitate to call her now. Do you need help on the field?"

"Not at the present time." Conner replies. "Without Huon to lead them and lacking the magisharks to blunt the Tritons, his forces are on the brink of routing. I have offered mercy to those that lay down their arms. Many of the forces are from a shadow that a new cousin Meg called home for many years before Huon co-opted it." Conner explains. "As a courtesy to her, I am sparing who I can. I will call again if there is any more news." Unless his Aunt has more to say, Conner will nod his farewell and pass his hand over the card.

Conner looks the battlefield over. Provided the battle does not need his personal attention, Conner has the following on his to do list. If Huon's second has been captured by the Tritons, then questioning him is the first priority. If he is not yet in custody, then Conner will risk using the Eye to scry upon Huon.

The tritons are capturing as many humans as they can, but don't have that one, yet. He doesn't have a distinctive face.

Conner takes out the Eye and stares into it. He sees a clearing on an outcropping of a hill. On one side he sees his cousins, Jerod, Brennan, Khela, and Robin, charging at Huon. In the middle he sees a military outfit, armed with firearms. Behind them, he sees a row of vehicles. The soldiers attempt to fire at Jerod and Brennan and fail for some reason.

Conner continues to watch the struggle in frustration.

The tritons bring him a man in the captain's jacket. It is, as Conner can plainly tell, not Carper.

Conner shakes his head in exasperation. "The Captain is a clever one I see. I shall deal with him in a moment." Conner returns his attention to the mirror. The view of falling down the cliff was impressive for a moment but Conner is glad of the distraction to turn away before impact. Now though, he returns his gaze to the mirror to see what befell Huon. The spell to bring his voice to those chasing Huon tingles on the edge of his lips should it be clear they need his guidance.

Huon is on the far side of the cliff, 30 or 40 feet up in a tree. He's climbing stealthily along a branch towards the far wall. Far below him, Conner sees the search party. Bleys has traded his horse for something more suited for climbing.

Conner gathers the last of his strength and concentrates on the image in the mirror. The Eye transmits the image of the far off place to here. Conner now wills it help carry his voice to where Huon hides. He holds the mirror like a microphone and calls with the full strength of his herald's lungs. "He's here, Bleys! In the tree on the far side!" Conner does not risk saying more in his enervated state and lets the Sorcery drop after his warning.

Conner does this and waits. Around him the battle rages. A triton, perhaps Teukeros, asks if wants water or perhaps tea?

A slightly clumsy nudge makes itself felt in Conner's mind. The feel of it is not familiar to Conner.

Conner gets so few Trump calls that blocking it didn't even occur to him despite his desire to track Huon. It is up to them now. Conner ceases his scrying and opens to the contact.

"Who calls?" Conner asks.

"Margaret -- Meg Carper," is the reply. "The Regent is here with me; if you've news for him, I will be pleased to pass it -- but I've questions of my own, if this be a time convenient."

Conner runs a hand through his hair. "The battle does not press on my position at present so I've some time to talk." Conner reflexively smiles at his cousin but the result is weak at best. "Ask your questions. I suspect once I pass my news the Regent will wish to speak with me for more details and your questions will never be asked."

"I seek two of my sons who fought in this battle on the side of Huon," says Meg, with economy. "Hugh and Quinn Carper. Is there any word of them, or any way I might find them myself?"

Conner nods as his assumption is confirmed. "The battle is still ongoing, cousin. It will be sometime before a battlefield census could be taken. I have given orders that those of Huon's army that surrender are to be captured and treated fairly. As I did not have descriptions or even names, it was the best I could do to try and safeguard your sons." Conner informs Meg. "Would you have any influence over the troops from Abford, Meg? The sooner I can get them to lay down their arms, the better it will be for us all, I think."

"I might," she says thoughtfully. "I am willing to essay a peace, leastaways. I am ill-equipped for a battlefield; would there be one to shield me?"

"I can assign you a bodyguard." Conner assures Meg. "I would not be sending you into the thick of the fighting in any case. There are groups of Abford soldiers that have already surrendered. You could search them for your sons while assuring them of our good intent."

Hope and fear war in her weary face. "Please you, I will come now, if I may -- but you will perhaps wish to speak to the Regent first?" She holds out her hand to Gerard, without breaking contact with the trump.

Gerard takes her hand and appears in the contact. "Conner, what news hae ye for the King? A quick report o'the state o' battle, perhaps?"

"The battle is all but won," Conner reports, "but that is the least of my news. Jerod and Khela were doing battle with Huon when by means unknown but Trump related all three of them disappeared from Rebma. After seeing to the battle I performed a scrying. Huon has obtained Khela's Pattern blade. The Trump apparently took them to Amber because Robin, Caine, Bleys, Khela, Brennan, and Jerod are in hot pursuit of him through the close shadows of Amber and Arden. I last saw them in a great ravine that should not be on Kolvir's slopes or Arden's woods." Conner concludes.

"Good enow. I'll report to the King at once." And Gerard releases Meg's hand and drops out of the contact.

"My heartfelt thanks for your aid, my lord Regent," Meg says to Gerard, not betraying any of her apprehension at what an all-but-won battle means for her sons, before stretching out her hand to Conner. "Pray you, cousin, of your kindness bring me through."

"Prepare yourself cousin." Conner warns. "You will be appearing underwater but it is perfectly breathable. That is a gift the Pattern of Rebma provides. Just breathe normally." Conner clasps her hand and pulls her through. "Welcome to Rebma, Meg."

Meg is momentarily disoriented -- every sense tells her she ought to be drowning -- but after the first startled gasp she can loose her clutch on Conner's hand. "Gramercy for the warning, Lord Conner," she says, a little shamefacedly, "and I rejoice that you live still."

The hues about them are rather too reminiscent of Chaos for Meg to find them entirely comfortable; nor is the battle-stench helped by the sour smell of undersea. At least Meg was able to plait and tie up her hair in Texorami, so that it is not an impediment here.

What did her quiet Abford countrymen make of this place? What will those still in Abford make of their tales? If any of them yet live, of course... Meg sighs. "I believe there is a task for me?"

"An opportunity at the very least, cousin." Conner replies. "Let us see how the battlefield stands and where the prisoners of wars are currently located." Before that, Conner turns his attention to the soldier in Captain's clothing that has been waiting. "I don't suppose this man is known to you. I gave orders for Huon's second to be captured but he cleverly swapped his uniform with another and gave his persurers the slip."

Meg needs only a glance. "Devon Sawyer, that is," she says severely, "and what his wife Rose does without him I am sure I do not know." She turns away from the prisoner without another word. "Huon's second is from Abford, then, but not known prisoner? Have you his name?"

Sawyer looks down, not meeting Meg's gaze.

"Huon never gave it," Conner replies. "but here is his description." Conner then proceeds to describe Captain Carper in great detail. "Does that sound familiar to you?"

Meg's expression is quite singular, and does not bode well for Huon. "It sounds decidedly like my son Hugh," she says. "I hope he acquitted himself as honourably as the occasion allowed."

"He stood his ground in the face of superior foes until his leader fled the field." Conner replies. "Then he retreated back behind his own lines and fooled his pursuers. Or to put it another way, he was alive and among allies not minutes ago. Let us check among the troops that have surrendered to see if he or your other son are among them."

"By all means," says Meg. "Pray lead on, Lord Conner. The sooner this is resolved, the sooner I can be out of your way." And the sooner she could rest...

Conner calls for two members of the Swift to come as bodyguard and Conner takes Meg to survey the battlefield. The first priority is for Meg to look over the prisoners of war. The second is to see if there are any pockets of fighting that Conner should help personally crush.

The fighting is over. Jerod's commander from Rebma wants to know where Jerod is. And Khela.

Considering the appearance of the Swift, Meg concerns herself less about her own outlandish garb; it helps that Conner did not even blink at it. She greets as many of her countrymen by name as possible, asking them for news of Hugh and Quinn, reassuring them as best she can without making promises she has no stature to keep. If she must, she refers them to Conner.

Hugh and Quinn were with them, and were officers. Most of the officers weren't captured, and the brothers probably escaped into the countryside.

She most specifically does not promise that they can be taken home to Abford. She is of two minds about that: their absence will be felt, to be sure, and if Huon could simply walk in and appropriate a significant fraction of the masculine population of Abford, how can Abford defend itself without men who know firsthand the hollowness and fatuity of Huon's promises?

Yet what will become of her Abford, the safe and quiet haven where she spent her childhood, should such strangeness return to it?

The place must change, either way. Already Meg grieves for her home... but her grief does not tell her what she ought to choose for it. She listens carefully to her countrymen, watches their faces, tries to ferret out what they think of their sojourn with Huon... what they think of Abford, now.

Mostly what Meg can discern from any individual is a certain amount of shock that they lost, relief that they (personally) lived, and sadness for the losses in the battle.

Such perfect little soldiers they are already, Meg thinks to herself, with a sourness born of exhaustion and the weight of her dilemma. She does not trouble to keep any kind of roster of the dead or the living; that will do for later, and if they are not bound for Abford and home, how much does it matter, anyway? Huon will throw them into battle after battle until they are all dead. Even should Huon not reclaim them, will Conner and Huon's other enemies do any better by them, really?

She hates this place. There is no sense in it, no stillness, no reason. She despises her countrymen for fools. Her wide mouth turns down at the corners, and not even the water about them can smooth out the worry-lines in her forehead.

"Pray you, Lord Conner," she asks politely once they have made their rounds of the prisoners, "what are the odds my sons went with Huon, wherever he has gone?" And with this Jerod and this Khela in pursuit... Meg is far from sanguine about their chances; they are her sons, but not of her blood, and she recognizes how much that matters.

After a blissful day or two of catching up on rest (and a few other things as well), Folly and Martin begin to make plans for crashing the university benefit. Between them, they locate her mother's invitation, a tuxedo for Martin, an appropriately sparkly dress for Folly (conveniently cut to show off her legs and her back while obscuring her increasingly-pregnant figure), and the keys to her mother's car (well, cars, really, but the little red sporty one seems like the obvious choice). In between planning, a discreet errand or two turns up the drumsticks and beer requested by the king.

On the afternoon of the soiree, they discuss the plan, such as it is. "The real trick, of course," Folly observes, "will be getting Haven to talk to me while I'm trying to look enough like my mother to fool everyone else."

Martin frowns and scarfs the next to last slice of the Green Duke's Piec-a, recently retrieved and microwaved from Brij's freezer. "What about letting Mr. Chance do it? She's seen me before. I could make the initial approach--preferably without nose in dirt this time--and maybe bring her to you?"

Folly nods. "That's probably our best bet. Unless she thinks you're here to kill her or something." She reaches for her mother's laptop and flips it open to check, as she has done every few hours since she posted her online personal, whether there has been any response. "Perhaps I should give you some token to give to her, something that she'd know at a glance was from me," she muses as she waits for the proper page to load. "There's a box of my old things in the downstairs closet; maybe something from there."

There's no answer to the personal ad.

"Yeah," Martin says around a mouthful of piec-a. "That'd be a good idea, because I'd like to do this one without hitting or guns pointed at me. I'm still too hair-trigger for much of that. I don't think I'd hurt Haven, but--" and he lets that stand on its own.

"If it were just Haven, I wouldn't be worried," Folly replies, "but I don't know what kind of... minders or security or whatever... she's likely to have with her. This guy she married...." She takes a moment to pull up a recent news article, with photograph, that mentions her friend's new husband, and turns the laptop around so Martin can see.

"That's him in the middle, there," she says. "But check out the guys on either side of him: the one on the left with the really good hair looks like he spends all his time talking to people -- maybe a social secretary or something -- but the other one, with the shoulders and no neck? If I had to guess from his posture, I'd bet he's carrying a gun." She taps a fingernail against the screen to draw Martin's attention to the text of the article. "I don't know if they're regular staff -- the big guy in particular could've been extra security for this National Whatever-it-was Conference -- but if he's at the thing, maybe don't let him see you talking to Haven."

"I can take care of local muscle. Even armed," Martin says, not sounding particularly concerned about the guy with the gun. "I'm more worried about scaring Haven. What about the husband? Does he get an offer?"

"To come with us? Yeah, probably. It's really kind of up to Haven -- but I'm assuming she married him on purpose, you know?" She turns the laptop around again and regards the man in question with a critical eye. "I'd rather talk to Haven alone first, though, if we can swing it, and worry about him after we know the lay of the land. This fellow seems like exactly the sort of guy Haven's parents would've wanted her to marry -- which worries me a little."

"As your husband, I'm not even touching that with a ten-foot pole, not where Brij is concerned." Deadpan or no, Martin wouldn't have made that joke twenty-four hours ago, so he's doing better.

"So the plan is, use the Bat-signal you're going to hunt up for me to lure Haven away from her heat-packing bodyguards, preferably with minimal dirt-planting, to let you talk to her and figure out who's having a mysterious disappearance, her or both of them?" He ticks off the points on his fingers as he goes through them. "When I put it that way, it sounds like the worst plan ever. At least since the one that got Meg out of Borel."

"Yes, but that plan worked, didn't it?" Folly offers brightly. "And since this plan doesn't involve you flirting with my mother -- just... you know, pretending to flirt with my mother -- it's automatically better than the one we tried last time we were here, right?"

She does not come right out and say what's the worst that could happen?, but she does give Martin a look that invites him to speculate.

"Yeah, ask Soren about that." Martin can't hold the deadpan, though, and he grins at her.

"What do I see as the worst thing? What if she doesn't want to go?"

Folly shrugs. "It's her choice. I'll do my best to convince her, but my mission here is to let her know the offer is open, not to drag her back kicking and screaming."

She pauses, frowning, and adds, "Maybe the worst thing would be if she wants to go, but her husband doesn't. Or if they both violently don't want to go."

"Anybody who wants violently anything to do with you has to go through me." From Martin's tone, Folly suspects it'll go badly for whoever that is. "And if she wants to go and he doesn't, we've got Trumps."

"Speaking of which, if it helps -- if we need to get her or both of them out of there quickly before we've quite finished the conversation and she's come to a decision -- we may be able to bring them back here." She pulls out her trump case and withdraws the sketch that brought her and Julian to this house, inspecting it to determine whether she thinks it's likely to work again.

It's still cold, but Folly feels she wouldn't trust it after another Trump transit, whether it was one she took through it or one it took through another card.

"So add that to the butt end of the plan. Still beats Officer Gleamingteeth." Somehow in the spaces of the conversation, Martin has managed to devour the entire piece of piec-a. He reaches for the last slice, wiggling his fingers over it to give Folly the chance to snatch it out from him.

She tilts a hand at him, indicating he should take it. After all, there's still ice cream in the freezer to finish off before they go.

Martin grabs the slice, continuing, "Then I think we're settled on the rescue Haven from durance vile angle. And I think we've got the gear down, too; we shouldn't have a hard time with that. What else are we missing, apart from all the crazy that's going on back in Amber and Xanadu?"

Folly shakes her head. "Nothing else I can think of. Although I recommend we try to pass the other things we've collected for your father off to Gerard before we set out on this last errand. You know, just in case we have to take off in a hurry."

"All right, let's get that done right now. Or as soon as I finish this slice of piece-a." Martin pulls his trump case out and tosses it to Folly, letting her shuffle out the card while he devours the end of his meal with an Amberite appetite.

Folly contacts Gerard -- the elder most likely to be in Xanadu based on their most recent information -- and passes along the items Random had requested. She doesn't even begin to explain the crate of beanless chili or the case of maibock (never mind the screaming, spiky-haired man on the label) except to say "It's for the king." The drumsticks, she figures, are self-explanatory.

She lets him know they are planning to complete the last of their errands within a few hours, Texorami-time, and to return to Xanadu immediately afterward if everything goes according to plan. Most of the family news can wait 'til then, she reckons, but she asks Gerard if there is any urgent news they should know about.

Gerard says to pass on the news that Random has returned with Vialle and Garrett. He sounds relieved about that. Also, he says that Martin needs to know that he, Gerard, had to banish Solange.

Folly asks for enough detail to understand what happened -- from Gerard's perspective, anyway -- and after offering Gerard some words of support and comfort, she ends the trump call and relays the news to Martin.

"Do you have Solange's trump?" she asks. "After we finish this business with Haven, we should call her."

"And say what? I think as the KC of Card, I want to officially not take cognizance of this whole thing until I have to." Martin blows some air out of his mouth in a way that's too gusty and loud to be a sigh. "I thought the first Card knight to get her ass busted by royal authority was going to be Paige. How wrong I was."

"Yeah." Folly sighs. "Maybe _I_ should call her, then. Unofficially. But after we've done here."

Martin finds himself a nice tuxedo that fits him surprisingly well in the closet of the spare bedroom. "She has a boyfriend who's just my size," he tells Folly drily. "What are the odds?"

"I daresay she's had boyfriends in nearly every size," Folly replies, "so long as they're young and good-looking. Or not-so-young and influential. Looking good in a tux is always a requirement, though."

"I would think not-so-young and influential would want someone a bit more agreeable. But I guess she is agreeable if you've got something she wants." Martin makes a face.

When Folly is dressed and has found him a macguffin to show Haven, he gets the keys to Brij's car from the usual place and they head off to the university, where the party is being held. Martin goes through everything they discussed: the macguffin, Haven, her husband, the muscle, and where Martin should bring Haven to meet Folly. He gets any last-minute instructions from Folly.

Folly tells him a story, full of details only she and Haven would know, about the macguffin, a small carved stone bear they'd picked up in another city on a youth orchestra tour. "And if she still doesn't want to come talk to me, tell her Jasper's gonna eat her lunch. Starting with the cookies." She picks up the bear and makes little growly sounds, made somehow more absurd by the fact that she's sitting there in her mother's clothes and a little too much make-up. Perhaps she just needs to get it out of her system, to help her maintain the ruse that she's really who she's pretending to be.

"Jasper's gonna eat her lunch, starting with the cookies. Right." Martin doesn't move to take the carved stone bear just yet. Instead, he makes growly sounds with her, which are equally absurd when made by a guy in a tux.

Maybe he's waiting for Folly to get it out of her system. Or maybe he's just being deadpan and silly too.

They reach the campus, and Folly directs Martin toward the venue (and indicates, at one end of the outdoor reception area, the small sculpture garden where they'll try to get Haven to meet her). As she gets into character her posture shifts, all haughty looks and imperious gestures. She gives the valet -- probably a work-study student -- a faintly leering smirk as she thanks him for helping her out of the car; likewise the nice-looking young man who asks to see their invitation, even as she's wrapping an arm around Martin's waist to let everyone know he's hers.

As they move past the checkpoint, she casts a quick glance around the party in search of Haven or any of her entourage.

There's no sign of Haven immediately, but Folly does catch sight of the husband at the bar.

"That him?" Martin asks, his voice low. "I make his security at 2 o'clock; check the bulge under the armpit out."

"I see," Folly says, grimly. "Yeah, that's him. Haven may've slipped off to the ladies or something...." She watches the security thug sidelong for a moment, to see whether the direction of his gaze offers any clue to where Haven might be.

Security seems to be focused on Mr. Haven.

In a conversational tone more likely to be heard by those trying to pay attention -- and accented more like her mother's voice than her own -- she adds, "Why don't you fetch us some drinks, darling, and I'll find us someplace quiet that we can... talk...." She inclines her head toward the sculpture garden, where she intends to wait for Haven.

Martin gives her a long-suffering smile and nods before heading off to fetch a drink for himself and Folly, erm, Brij. He does not look back, instead moving on to engage Mr. Haven in a friendly in-line conversation.

Folly makes her way into the garden, dotted with works of varying size and quality, many abstract, most by student artists. Near the edge closest to the gathering crowds she finds a large and vaguely phallic stone sculpture etched with intricate symbols -- meant to represent the plight of some repressed people somewhere, she gathers from the abstruse artist statement on a little plaque at the base of the work -- that gives her something to pretend to stare at while she keeps an eye on Martin, and on the rest of the crowd.

Belatedly, she realizes she's humming under her breath, a slightly off-color tune she composed as a much younger person about this very sculpture garden. She's pretty sure she caught herself before anyone heard; if not, at least the tune predated the band by several years and never made it onto any album, so even if humming under her breath might be a bit out-of-character for her mother, the song itself would be unlikely to give her away.

Not to most people, anyway. Probably there were a few people who still remembered it -- but most of them had already departed Texorami. All but one, in fact.

Martin is doing a bang-up job talking to Mr. Haven, it looks like. He's friendly and has a dim-wattage smile on his face that's very unlike Martin Chance (or, for that matter, Syd Chance). Security seems to have identified him, but doesn't seem to have moved in on him yet.

Watching him work, Folly smiles to herself -- although she tries to make it look a bit like a leer, in case anyone is paying attention.

Since he seems to have that situation well in hand for the nonce, she casts a quick glance over her shoulder, deeper into the sculpture garden. Only as she's doing it does she recognize the motion for what it is: a paranoid reflex to make sure no one is sneaking up on her. _Hormones_, she thinks to herself. That must be it.... She resists the urge to lay a protective hand on her belly.

Martin finishes up with Mr. Haven and moves off into the crowd, presumably in search of Haven. Mr. Haven moves off in a different direction. Security seems to be coming in Folly's general direction.

Folly pretends to pay no heed to the security, but from her half-hidden place she watches surreptitiously, paying attention to speed, posture, and trajectory: moving with intent toward an evident goal? Moving aggressively? Or does it feel more like a routine crowd sweep?

Julian hands Meg through to Gerard, a large man confined in a wheeled chair that he seems much too large for. His expression is the slightly pinched look of a man long in pain, but he has a smile for Meg and another for Julian when the prince steps through the connection.

"Welcome to Xanadu, kinswoman. I am Gerard, and I'm the Regent," he tells Meg.

For the Regent, a curtsey as courtly as Meg can manage in her gypsy-garb from Texorami; for the kinsman with the long-suffering eyes and the kind greeting, a hand upon the shoulder and a light kiss upon the cheek follow. "Give you good even, my lord Regent," she says, stepping back. "I hight Margaret Carper, but of your kindness pray you call me Meg." She does not use her title, as Abford honours can hold no meaning here.

Gerard has taken no royal honors himself for all that, being referred to as Julian's brother, he is almost certainly entitled to them.

They are in a chamber with windows that overlook the sea. It is night, and the moon is full. Outside the window, there is a silvery city floating in the sky.

Meg is burning to ask of the struggle with Huon where her sons are, but knowing her place, she leashes her tongue until Julian and Gerard have exchanged their news and she is recognised again to speak.

There is a brief exchange, in which Gerard hears about the plans for Martin and Folly's return and the brothers discuss the progress of the chase for Vialle, which does not appear to have succeeded yet, and the visit by Corwin and Hannah to someplace called Tir, and that Fiona is watching for them.

Meg listens as alertly as she can through the fog of weariness that cloaks her, storing up names and situations for later. The beginning of a tapestry rarely makes sense to the eye; it is the weaving of as many threads as possible that at last makes clear the pattern.

It takes them that long to realize that Meg is waiting on them, at which point they break off their conversation. Gerard says, "And we hae not offered you a room, nor a place to sleep, nor aught to eat. When the Queen returns, she'll have my hide. I can call for a page to show you a guest room, if you like."

"Please you, my lord, I have eaten; but rest would be most welcome. Only this morning in my own sense of time, I fled Castle Dara aided by His Highness the Prince Martin." It is all the news she has to offer -- news seems to be nearly the only currency this family respects -- so she gives it gladly enough. "Ere I go, one question, if I may be so bold. My sons, my two eldest at least, they left my home with Huon, to fight in his wars. Please, is there any word of battle?"

Gerard frowns. "The last word I had was that Huon had laid siege to Rebma. There's a battle brewing, but I've no word of whether it's started, or the victor, or casualties. I'm sorry, lass. If I speak to our kin there, who should I ask for news of?"

Sudden hope almost unstrings Meg's knees. If battle has not yet joined, perhaps... "Hugh, Hugh Carper is the eldest, and Quinn his brother. I would give my very life to see them safe. Where is Rebma? Is it difficult to reach?" Impossible for her, ignorant as she is; but anything those here can learn, she can.

"Rebma," says Julian, not unkindly, "is an underwater city. There's no direct way from here, but I believe there's a way from Paris."

"Aye, and there's magic so you can breathe there," Gerard adds hastily, before Meg can have a good panic about that. "But with the siege, there's not much we can do just now. Are ye trained to arms?"

Meg doesn't look like panicking just yet. "No, I fear not, my lord Regent," she admits. "And though breathing underwater may be a thing magicked up, fighting must be rather a chore." She sighs, accepting the inevitable conclusion. "If any news can be had, I should be most grateful... and should any embassage depart thence, or even to this Paris, whose mission rests not on force of arms, I will gladly serve as its least handmaiden, so it only bring me closer to my sons."

"Bide," says Gerard, and lifts a hand.

Julian moves to stand by Meg, near Gerard, and murmurs quietly, "It's another Trump contact."

Meg nods, having suspected something of the sort after her Trump-enabled escape from Chaos. She takes the opportunity to set her impedimenta -- her own clothes-bag and Folly's garment bag -- on a convenient corner table. This done, she returns to her place beside Julian and awaits events.

Gerard says, "Who is it?"

There's a pause, and then Gerard says, "Aye, pass them through." His hand reaches out to someone not present.

After a long moment, the search party returns, pulled by Gerard from some other place. First to arrive are Random and Queen Vialle. "Thank you, brother. Julian, can you fetch the Queen's Ladies? She is unwell." Random finds a nearby chair and helps his wife to sit.

Julian moves to the door in answer to the King's request.

Meg is far from fool enough to run to the Queen's side, however unwell Her Majesty appears, unless ordered to do so; lèese majesté is a dangerous pastime. Instead, she steps quietly behind Gerard's wheeled chair, partly to be out of the way, partly in case he should wish to go someplace. She glances down at the mechanism, curious as always about craftsmanship. The wheels must be anchored or blocked somehow to keep him from accidental movement. Built-in brake, or something under the wheels?

Signy appears through the Trump contact in a multicolored flash of light, a drawn sword in her hands. Dark green eyes sweep over the group of people as she steps aside to make way for Brita. After looking everyone over and verifying the presence of the King, she slips the sword back into its scabbard though her slender frame still shows a wary tension.

After Signy arrives, Brita steps forward on Gerard's hand with a "Uncle Gerard, it is Good to See You, Again." She glances around the room and almost shouts at the sight of her cousin, "Lost Cousin Meg! You Are Found!!" Brita has moved quickly forward to take up her cousin's hands and is protectively towering over her. "She did Not Hurt you, Did She? cleph Did Not Hurt you? How did You Return?"

Meg looks rather a long way up at her cousin. "I am well, thank you, cousin," she says; it is near enough to the truth for the purpose. "His Highness Prince Martin came for me, just this morning in my sense of time. But you have been in a struggle, all of you -- are you well?"

Brita waves off the question, "Fine, I am Fine." She says, "It is Well. Our King Uncle has Found His Missing Queen." And she turns back to the others.

A lean young man steps through the connection behind Brita and the sparkly rainbow gate closes behind him. "Thank you, Uncle," he says to Gerard. The man bears a passing resemblance to both the king and Prince Martin, but he's much younger and his hair is brown instead of blond.

When he sees Meg, he grins. "Mistress Carper," he greets her, then adds in case she forgot, "I'm Prince Garrett. We met in the library a while back."

She smiles bravely at him, though the lines about her eyes betray how tired she is becoming. "I remember you indeed, Your Highness. I am most pleased to see you well. Your genealogy lessons were of great use to me during my -- forced sojourn elsewhere."

Julian returns and kneels beside the Queen on the far side from Random, murmuring something soft to her.

Random looks over at the group. "Signy, inform Prince Benedict of our success, if you would. Note to him that we saw the High Marshall in our travels. Garrett, drinks for everyone, please. And reports from the rest of you. Brita, you were asking about something while I was distracted, Gerry, was everything the usual calm and carefree idyll that we've come to expect while I was gone, and Meg, tell me about Martin." He reaches down and pets Vialle, who grabs on tight to his hand, as if she never means to let go.

Gerard says, "I wish I could tell ye that, but it's nae been so easy. Nothing much that canna wait, though. Corwin and Hannah hae gone up to Tir, and Fiona is spottin' for them. And there be another thing or two, but those can wait."

Random looks nonplussed, but doesn't press the matter.

Brita puts a hand over one of her pockets. "It was The Captive Chain, Your Majesty. If You do Not Wish it Here, I will Remove it At Once, but I Felt it should Not be Left Behind."

"Nifty! It's much smaller than I remember it. Usually when we end up with something from there, it's much more complex than it needs to be. Maybe you could check with your mother about it."

Brita and Gerard have obeyed the King's order, so now it is Meg's turn. Extremely conscious of her unbefitting attire, she steps out from behind Gerard into Brita's protective shadow and curtseys. "His Highness Prince Martin is well, Your Majesty. He most bravely rescued me from my prison in Chaos and took me to the Lady Folly, where I was made welcome. I am given to understand that he has one further task to accomplish, after which he plans to wait upon Your Majesty."

"He probably forgot my sticks. OK. What are you doing next?"

"I must try to find my sons, Your Majesty, and of course make good my debt to the crown as I may," says Meg, withdrawing again with another low curtsey.

"If they're with Huon, they're in Rebma. We can send you along to someone there. Llewella is in the city, Conner and Celina are in the field, Jerod is supposed to attack as well, or so Benedict said." He taps his fingers.

"There's no trumps of Jerod or Celina in my temporary library, so Conner is your best bet. Brita's brother. Have you met him? Have you ever used a trump yourself?"

"No, Your Majesty, I do not know Lord Conner. For myself I have not used a Trump, but I have been taken through them."

Random nods. "At least we're done with the obligatory 'and then you turn into a rainbow and disappear' part of the description. OK, why don't you go with Gerard to where we keep the trumps? He can give you the skinny on how they work on the way and you can go to your cousin."

Meg curtseys and says "Thank you, your Majesty," in tones of deep gratitude. She returns to her little pile of impedimenta for her wrapped kitchen knife, which she puts through the rope-belt around her waist. The rest she leaves; Folly's garments have her name on a tag about them, and Meg cares little what happens to the rags she wore in Chaos.

She returns to Gerard's chair, ready to wheel him where he will.

Gerard unclasps his brake and it's clear he can wheel himself.

That being the case, Meg doesn't press the matter, instead retrieving her pile of garments. She leaves those with the first available page, with instructions to place Folly's in her quarters.

He leads her through the palace by a reasonably circuitous route that seems to be prepared for him because it has no stairways, merely ramps, into a room that has sketches of various people attached to the wall.

Meg frowns to herself. A palace full of sorcerers, and they can't be bothered to refit the place for the Regent, or give him some better way to navigate it? How can he do his duty if half his demesne is closed to him?

Gerard points out which of the trump sketches is Conner and briefly instructs Meg on how to use the sketches.

Gerard will wait until she has tried the sketch to leave, in case Conner doesn't answer.

Gerard sees her take a moment to gather her courage and composure, before she steps up to the picture of Lord Conner. It is a hard question she must ask...

The ladies in waiting come in and quickly surround the queen. "Please see to the Queen's comfort," says Random, letting them separate him from his wife. They lead her away, and Julian goes with them.

Brita takes the King's response as a dismissal and with a formal bow, she follows the Ladies and her Uncle out the door with a soft "Your Majesty, I am Glad you are Recovered." to the queen as she exits.

As she exits into the hallway, she peels off from the gaggle of women and heads for the nearest exit. She is gauging the time as she heads for the Stairs and her Mother.

It takes Brita some time to get up to the three steps that begin the stairwell to Tir, but in due time, Brita arrives to find her mother standing by them with a Trump in hand. Fiona offers the other hand to Brita for a one-armed, if somewhat distracted, hug.

"Mother." Brita returns the hug and then moves to sit at the base of the stairs, watching upward.

"Corwin and Hannah," Fiona explains slowly, "are speaking with a shadow of one of Hannah's cousins from her home shadow. In that future, or past, Huon killed Bleys and took Amber."

Brita is still watching upward. "In the Place where We Found Her Majesty, a Tir-Shade of King Random was Held in a Silvered Chain by a Gaunt Chaosi." She glances back at her mother, "Her Majesty is Safely Returned to Palace Xanadu and I Hold the Chain."

"Well done." Fiona smiles. "Did you bring the chain with you? I can't look at it just now, but when Corwin and Hannah come down, we should examine it."

"Yes, Mother," Brita responds. "Warn me if I Distract You or If you need Assistance," she adds. She goes a slight distance away from the stairs towards the edge of the cliff and sits down again. She begins to draw gently on her Pattern, attempting to coalesce the mist from the waterfall into whispy, low clouds and then, if that works and is not a distraction, into more solid, fluffy clouds - again well below them and the stairs.

Brita experiences a very great deal of resistance, probably because she is so close to the Pattern. She finds she can't manipulate the clouds at all, although she thinks her mother might be able to do better because of her long experience and strength with the Pattern.

A few minutes later, Fiona says slowly, "I have told Corwin that Vialle has returned safely. He's asking Hannah whether she has done what she needs in the city. They may come down now."

Brita nods her hearing of the news. She switches gears and uses her Third Eye to monitor the surroundings as she waits.

Everything is very bright and very alive.

"Please wait until Corwin has come through to do that," Fiona says. "It's a minor sorcery but it is one more thing to juggle with this Trump call." There's a pause and she adds, "Hand her through," and reaches out to take someone's hand.

Brita immediately stops her inspections and comes to stand by her Mother.

Hannah takes Fiona's hand and steps through. She thanks Fiona as she steps out of the way, and smiles at Brita. "Cousin, good to see you."

"And You, Cousin Hannah. How was your Adventure Among the Clouds?" Brita asks with a nod towards Tir.

Hannah's smile goes crooked. "Perhaps the best I can say is it didn't change my plans from... yesterday morning at all. It is an interesting place."

Brita nods in acceptance of that assessment. "Perhaps I will Explore it One Day, but Perhaps Not. A Similar place near Uncle Benedict's Shadow Avalon was Interesting as well. That is where we Found the Queen."

While Brita and Hannah are talking, Fiona brings Corwin through. "So tell us about the rescue of the Queen as we walk back down," Corwin suggests to Brita.

"Certainly, Uncle," Brita agrees. "King Random, Prince Garrett, Cousin Signy and I Rode from Uncle Benedict's Shadow to the Other Side of Moonlit Tir Na Nog'th. There we were Attacked by Rangers and a Reflected Cousin Robin with a Weapon like Uncle Huon had made in Shadow Abford. King Random Channeled Lightning to Drive them Away. We followed the Trail to the Reflected Grove of our Grandmare. The Pool was Filled with a Mix of Dead from the Former Reality. On a Throne of Stone to the Side of the Pool sat the Queen. She Gazed upon a Tall, Gaunt Man who Held the Reflected Robin and One who I assume was the 'Tyrant Brandom' both Bound by This," and here she draws out the fine silver chain. "Although it Seemed More then," she adds.

"Huh, there's another side to approach Tir from?" Hannah asks.

"Not to Approach This Airy Tir, but Another Tir - a Reflection, perhaps, Around the Ring Road."

"May I see that now?" Fiona asks in that maternal way that is just short of an order.

Corwin's listening with interest to Brita's tale. "Tell me more about this gaunt man," he suggests as Fiona reaches for the chain.

Brita hands the chain to her mother as she describes the man to Corwin. "As Mentioned, he was Tall and Gaunt. He had Wild hair," she adds and proceeds to describe the color of his hair, skin, and eyes. "When the Tableaux animated, he asked Her Majesty what was to be Done with the Prisoners. She Said to 'Kill her' and 'Leave him; I will question him.' The Tall Man then drew a Sword and that is when King Random had us Attack. His return Attack on King Random was Very Fast, and he was a Good Swordsman. When I Tackled the Chain and Cousin Signy Struck through the Tall Man, he and the Two Captives Disappeared."

Hannah looks at Corwin and Fiona, trying to read their interpretation of this. "Wouldn't the chain have to connect places and not just people then?"

Corwin and Fiona are exchanging looks.

"Do you think it was him?" Corwin asks.

"From the description, it could be. I'd want to see the tableau before offering a definite opinion." Fiona's tone is even, but there's an undertone of concern. She has stopped examining the chain. "I'd like Bleys to see it too. His personal knowledge exceeds mine on this matter."

"Then we'll get hold of him," Corwin agrees. He turns to answer Hannah. "The chain may be like Ben's hand. Once when I was in Tir, I fought a Benedict from an alternative future. He had a silver metal hand and I struck it off with Grayswandir. It came home with me, and our Benedict wore it for a while.

"Brita, do you mean to keep it?"

"It Depends on what is Made of it. If it is Of Use, I will Keep it. It is of More Value elsewhere, I will not," Brita half shrugs before turning to her mother. "I could Sketch the Scene and Players for you, if that would Help."

"Bide a moment. Your cousin Paige is calling me." Fiona's eyes grow distant. "Paige?"

"Don't let her see Tir," Hannah mutters.

Fiona smiles. "I'm with Corwin, Brita, and Hannah. Brita was with Random, helping to recover Vialle. Random's party has returned to Xanadu, and I'm going down to see them now. I can ask if there's anyone who can help you lead ships from Amber to Xanadu."

Some of this is obviously said for the benefit of the onlookers.

Corwin makes an aside to Brita, quietly, to avoid interrupting Fiona. "I'd be very interested in seeing that sketch."

Brita nods and immediately pulls out her small pad and begins to quickly sketch out the image of the gaunt man. She fills in the tableau behind him as well.

Signy quietly slides over next to Garrett, a troubled look on her face. "Would you have a Trump of Prince Benedictu...Benedict that I could borrow? I only have the one of your father that my brother gave me."

Garrett is just shuffling his Gerard trump back into his deck. He continues shuffling until he finds the card for Benedict. "I thought you might need that," he smiles, anticipating the question. "So you've used them before?"

Signy pauses in mid-reach for Benedict's Trump. "I've never used them before. My brother gave me one, and said that all I needed to do was to concentrate. Is there more to it?"

"No. Not much," Garrett replies. He hands her the card. "Here. Try it."

Signy takes the card from Garrett, and stares at it, trying to concentrate on the image and make the connection to Benedict.

There is a sense of contact and the image on the card starts to move. "Who?" Benedict asks.

Signy starts as the connection forms, and belatedly reaches out and catches Garrett's hand in an awkward grasp, pulling him into the connection. "It's Signy, Your...uh....Uncle. We're back with the Queen and we saw the Marshall there as well."

Benedict is on horseback, surrounded by troops on foot. "Is she well? Tell me what you saw of the Marshall. It would bode ill were he to be here."

"The Queen seemed frightened, but otherwise unharmed, Uncle," Garrett answers. "The tall gaunt man that Signy is referring to was in a grove that Brita likened to the Grove of the Unicorn, but wasn't. He was holding a chain wrapped around two people who looked like my father and Robin. Brita and Signy went for him while I pulled the Queen away." He glances over at Signy, encouraging her to tell her part of the tale.

A slightly vexed look crosses Signy's face. "When Brita and I attacked him, he vanished right as my sword was about to hit him. There were a lot of corpses on the ground, and they all vanished at the same time as well." She gives an unhappy sigh. "The King said earlier when we were attacked by 'Robin' that they were just real enough, and yet they just disappeared like shadows in the sun at the end."

Benedict makes a circular motion with his raised arm, clearly some sort of sign to his troops. "Good. If your weapon could not touch him, he is only here as a projection, not an actuality, but whose? Random never knew him, and you are likewise too young. Had you seen him before? How did you know who he was?"

"Father recognized him as a Moonrider, and by his bearing, he seemed to have rank. He said something about him being 'Edan's girlfriend's father' or some such. I'd never seen him myself," Garrett explains.

"There was another odd thing about the encounter," he continues. "The Moonrider appeared to be taking orders from the Queen, and the Queen appeared to be able to see. When everyone attacked though, she could see no longer and appeared to be herself again. I wasn't certain at first that it was really her."

Signy nods slowly. "The only time I heard him identified was when the King asked us to tell you that he was there" she says slowly. She looks up at Garrett. "Another thing that was odd -- the King referred to the chain Brita brought back as being 'smaller then he remembered' also...."

She glances over at the King, before looking back at Garrett, a troubled look in her eyes.

Benedict's eyes seem to move from Signy to Garrett and occasionally off into the distance. There is no discernable background behind him, as if he is standing in front of a sheet.

"There are always odd things about Tir-na Nog'th. In this family one learns to interpret them or one learns to avoid them, as I do. Consider it a shared dream, and interpret it thusly. You will have to determine what it would mean to you for those things to be the case, and why it would trouble you."

Signy looks back at her Uncle. "Who have learned to interpret them?"

Benedict smiles, briefly. "Amongst the family, Cambina and before her Brand were the most proficient. Amongst other people? Do they have religions where you come from, Signy?"

Signy offers a diffident shrug. "The Aelfs and Dvarts have theirs, and I learned the basics of them from Brother Tomat. My father was never given much to that sort of thing, though."

Benedict looks cool. "Tir is like religion, in that people see in what they wish to see, and they tell people what they think it should mean as if it were true. Distrust a man who is certain of the truth of Tir as you would one who is certain of the truth of religion. There are no learned men and women, only charlatans."

Signy focuses an intense look on Benedict, her emerald eyes a dark, dark green. "And yet it seems that for all that, this Tir is still an important place, no? And one that poses a fair degree of danger as well...."

"And what of the chain that we brought back, Uncle?" Garrett asks. "It changed its form a bit in the transport, but it's still here. Is it possible to bring something solid back from a dream?"

Benedict looks past Signy and Garrett. "Excessive interest in Tir has led to several family tragedies, not all of which are done unfolding. You have my advice which is to avoid it. I must attend my duties." Benedict closes the trump contact, as if he had laid a hand over the card.

"Well. That's that then," Garrett says, reaching out to take his trump back. "I've never been much for following dreams and prophesies anyway. You?"

Signy releases the Trump to Garrett, a vexed look on her face at her Uncle's abrupt end to the conversation.

"Dreams and prophecies? No. But I think there's more to this place then the ramblings of some old Dvart seer more then half-way senile. A site that has that much importance is probably worth holding in a little higher regard, I would think."

She looks over at the rest of the room to see what the King and everyone else have been up to while they talked to Benedict.

"Did you think that Random's response to Brita about the chain being different then he remembered it odd?"

The room is mostly empty, except for Random and one of his functionaries. Random looks up when Signy does.

"Did Benedict have anything to say?", he asks.

In response to Signy's question, Garrett gives a nod toward his father that says, "Ask him." He seems interested in the answer as well. To Random, he answers, "Yes. 'Pay no mind to anything Tir tells you' was about all he said."

Signy nods in agreement at Garrett's words.

"What do you think of what happened there? Is Brita's chain important? It sounded like you might have recognized it?"

Random smirks. "That's pretty typical. Anyone who was around when the Moonriders were is gonna tell you 'leave it alone, kid, it's bad.'" He pauses, slightly. "Except for Corwin, who's generally gonna tell you 'let me handle that', or used to. You'll find more interest but less knowledge of it in the city."

He turns to Signy. "I've no idea what happened, but it was pretty typical of Tir. You go, you see a disturbing, warped mirror of your own reality, including people who matter in your life, you come back, you can't figure out what it meant, if anything. I've got no idea if the chain is important. When it was around 'my' neck up there, it was iron links an inch in diameter. When she pulled it down, it was like the most delicate necklace. It was weird, and it came here.

"We'll see what Fi has to say about it."

"Did the Queen say anything about it while we were talking?" Garrett asks delicately as he crosses to a nearby bar. He pulls three beers from a fridge beneath it, pops the tops and hands them around while he waits for the answer.

Random looks at Garret impatiently. "The Queen was indisposed. I'm going to ask her later. Or not. It looked reasonably traumatic and it's generally unwise to poke at a trauma victim's trauma carelessly.

"I'm gonna ask her in the morning, but you're not to pester her. I'd hate for her to fly in to a rage and, I dunno, be disappointed in you or something."

Garrett nods once, wisely putting the subject to rest.

Signy accepts the beer with a grateful nod, and takes a solid pull before looking back at Random. "Has anyone else brought anything back from there?"

Random drinks some of his own beer. "Only once that I know of. Corwin brought back a silver mechanical arm that he'd cut off of Tir-Benedict. Our Benedict wore it for a while, including to Tir, where he was frozen in place by Brand, but strangled him with the mechanical silver arm. Stuff like that."

Garrett stands silently, drinking his beer and taking all that in. Taking his uncle's advice, he has no further questions about Tir. He glances over at Signy expectantly to see if she has anything else to ask.

Signy ponders Random's words, taking another pull at her beer. "But Benedict seemed more...contemptuous of the place."

Random shrugs. "Don't ask me, I'm the younger brother. But it seems like people who get tied up in it come to bad ends. Corwin. Brand. Cambina. Corwin got better, of course."

"Heh. Benedict doesn't have to tell me twice," Garrett snorts. He takes another sip of his beer and seems to notice for the first time that everyone else has deserted them. "Did Uncle Gerard say there was a problem while we were gone?" he asks Random.

Signy looks vaguely dissatisfied with the answer, but merely takes another drink from her bottle.

Brita quickly makes it over the top, the cliff not being as treacherous as the ice cliffs of Jutenheim. She moves to stand near Benedict and awaits the King.

Random comes up after her, while Paige and Ossian are still at the edge. "OK, now can I get my story? What were you doing stuck in a whatever-it-was with the ghost of Huon's brother?"

Since Ossian is delayed, Brita begins, "Cousin Ossian and I were in Mirror Rebma in Search of Cousin Meg, Dara, or cleph. We were Allowed to Search and we Started in the Basement. I Scented the Blood of Amber and tobacco and we Traced it to Prince Huon, but he Seemed to be of the Past. He Said that his Brother Walked at that Time. We went to the Pattern Chamber and did Indeed See Prince Pinnabello Walking, but the Pattern was Rent. I Attempted to Seal the Gap with Ice and Uncle Pinnabello Slipped. We swam Over to Attempt to Rescue him and the Pattern Energy went Wild. Cousin Ossian Trumped Uncle Caine and, Connected, we Tried to Pull Through. We Ended up in what Appeared to be Uncle Caine's Office in Former Reality Amber with Cousins Paige and Signy as well as Uncles Caine and Pinnabello. On Examination, the Room Proved to be some kind of Trump itself and we could not Open any Obvious Way Out. Cousin Ossian and I Attempted a Place Sketch of an Open Door to no Effect. Cousin Paige began a Sketch of Yourself which Worked. I was Also Able to Create a Sketch of my Mother and had Made Contact with her as the Others Made Contact with You. I Attempted to Pass Uncle Pinnabello from the Trump Trap and he Burst into Silver Flame with the Contact. The Connection Broken, I and the Others Fled through Your Sketch Trump." Brita pauses and seems to be reviewing things in her head. Then she nods curtly and adds. "I Believe that is All from My Perspective."

"Have you ever considered a career abridging books? Don't answer that, I've got a better question. Was Pinabello real? Also, what made the trumps do that? Was it intentional or just freaky trump weirdness beyond the ken of unlearned Kings who don't have red hair, which suits you, by the way? Also also, since you're here, can you help me find Vialle?"

It is only after he finishes saying all that that Random breathes.

Brita responds, "He Smelled Real, Uncle. I would have to Ask Mother about the Trump Weirdness as I have Not Experienced a Full Trump Room like That before. There was Speculation that it was a Trap Designed to Capture Any that Aided Uncle Pinabello or Himself, if he Attempted Escape. Perhaps a Punishment from Grandfather Oberon?" Brita cocks her head sligntly as she pauses to consider that thought. She continues her responses, "Thank you and Yes, I will Help you Find Queen Vialle. Is she Missing?"

"Yes," says Random. "She went with Cambina to Tir, and didn't come back. We're hoping she's not in danger. " Random pulls off his trousers and starts wringing excess moisture out of them. They're dripping wet. "You've heard about Cambina, I take it?"

Brita nods curtly, "Uncle Caine Mentioned it while we were Trapped. Concentration was on Getting Free, However, and no Details were Supplied."

Turning sharply, Garrett gazes at Brita with surprise. Apparently he had not been paying attention to her story during the climb. "Trap? Were you in it too?" he asks Signy.

Signy nods. "Yes. It was weird -- I Looked at the walls, and they had changed. Stone and wood wasn't stone and wood any more. I couldn't do anything to affect them at all. And Pinobello Looked different from the rest of us."

She leans a little towards Garrett, and pitches her voice a little quieter. "Cambina -- she was the one that wrote that history book, right?"

Random looks at Signy, then at Caine, who is talking to Paige. "Right, some sort of trap, not a very repeatable experiment. Brita, when we're done with today's other crisis, I'd like you to figure out what you can about what happened and tell me, OK?" It doesn't sound like a command, but Random doesn't seem to expect her to say 'No'.

Brita nods in a half bow and says, "Of Course, Your Highness."

Benedict turns to Signy. "What do you mean 'he looked different'?"

Signy looks at Benedict briefly, as if trying to recall where she knows him from, before shaking her head and letting it pass.

"I Looked at him, with my Third Eye. He shone with power like us, but not as brightly." She lets out a sigh before continuing. "Unfortunately, I don't really know what to make of that."

Brita notes, "The Trail we Followed into Mirror Rebma's Basement Maze was Also Less. I Assumed that was from the Passage of Time, but Perhaps it was Something Else, Some Weakness in the Bearer's Scent."

Garrett listens intently, taking in everything these more experienced Pattern-users reveal about the power and its manifestations to someone with the ability to "see" them.

Random looks over. "Third eye? This is like Brita smelling people with her mythical Third Nostril, right?"

"Your Majesty," Caine says, "I find myself here and not in Amber. May I borrow a Castle Trump to return?"

Random nods, and pulls a card from behind his ear. "Sure, just take anyone along who needs to go with? Who all's out of here?"

Signy looks around at the surroundings. "Where is 'here'?" she asks the King.

She leans towards Garrett. "And what are we doing 'here'?" she asks quietly.

"First step in looking for the missing Queen," he answers Signy softly. He does not seem inclined to depart.

Random moves, sitting on a rocky outcrop as if it were a throne.

"This? This is the fabulous Island of Apples, famed for its famous apples. There aren't any here because they're ... nocturnal. Wait!, this may be important," he interrupts himself. A moment later he's looking at a point just past Brita's shoulder.

"Prince Jerod, of course it is. Is there something I can rescue you from or are you content to stay where you are?"

Brita pointedly does NOT look over her shoulder. She is waiting patiently for the King to send those wishing to go back to Amber. She also is not looking for the famed apples.

Signy looks around at the surroundings, a slightly bewildered look on her face.

"Nocturnal apples?" she asks no one in particular, before turning back to Garrett. "What will we learn here about the Queen? And who were all those other people that aren't here now?"

"Benedict, Caine, and Corwin are here, or were a moment ago. Bleys is always busy and Llewella has her war to run. Tell her that Brita and Ossian have come to Avalon, if you would. She shouldn't worry about them being lost beneath her castle.

He takes a deep breath. "Huon would get a better deal from us by being King of Rebma, but Moins' spirit would probably not allow that, unless his mother was of the Rebman royal line, which I bet she wasn't.

"Best if you bring him to me, in chains. We can resolve this fully if you manage that.

"Anything else? We're about to leave here."

Benedict looks at the remaining nieces and nephews. "When the King is available, we will go. There is a dwelling over the hills. My title here is "Protector".

Brita nods in response. She has been quietly re-braiding her hair into two neat braids down the sides of her head.

Random nods. "The queen is not in Xanadu, this I know. The most likely places will be searched by Corwin and Hannah and by myself with Brita and others to help. She'll turn up."

The King stands. "Call me if you need anything. Rescues are half-off for the rest of the day, should you need one." Random folds his hands together and looks at Brita.

"That was Jerod. It's wholly remarkable to look at you and see him. I don't recommend it at all. Now, assuming Benedict has told you everything, we should head to his dwelling place. I haven't seen it yet, but Corwin told me it was a Yurt."

"It is not a Yurt, your majesty."

"Then let us see what it is." He starts off in the direction of the hills and after one step turns back and says "Coming?"

"Yes, Father," Garrett nods and follows.

Brita has let Garret follow immediately behind the King, as is proper, but she is not far behind. "Of Course, Your Majesty," she says. "Lead On." She glances at Signy questioningly with an obvious 'coming?' look.

Signy shakes her head and follows along. "I promised Brother Tomat I'd go back for him."

Random looks over his shoulder. "If you need to be going back to Amber, Caine and Paige are about to leave. Caine!," shouts Random. "Take Signy, too."

Over the crest of the hill, a castle comes into view. It looks nondescript, but amazingly defensible. It is not overlarge, but it seems strong.

Benedict clears his throat, and squints up at the sun. "We shall be there in half a glass. A simple meal and then we'll ride out at moonrise. Those of you without local knowledge will have one of my knights as a guide. Or you can stick together."

Random nods. "That's fine, Ben. OK, we've got a bit more walking to do. If you all don't ask questions, I'll use the time to compose epic ballads of a scatalogical nature. Anyone?"

Garrett chuckles and begins whistling a well-known, and quite bawdy, song from the Docksides. As they continue to walk, he probes the surroundings a bit with his new pattern abilities, gently testing them, poking around to see how this new place feels different from the Plain of Towers.

Random sings along, substituting "Florimel" for every noun and most of the verbs.

This new place is totally different. As far as Garrett can tell, he has no pattern abilities here. Maybe they only work on the Plain of Towers.

Brita follows along in silence. She breathes deeply every now and again to accustom herself to the scents around her. She also probes around a bit, but using her Third Eye to see what she can see. Any traces of nocturnal apples?

This is a place of very little Chaos or magic and there are no magical apples in view. However, if they're nocturnal, that might be logical.

Signy shakes her head again, though more emphatically this time. "I'll stay here for now." She quickens her pace to catch up to the rear of the group. "I'd at least hear more of my home and Red Fox Claws."

Random nods. "Sounds like dinnertime conversation. Remember, chillens, we're guests of The Protector, so try not to commit any capital crimes, like piracy or iconoclasm."

"Thank you, Brother." Benedict leads the group into a walled keep and introduces Random and the youngers to one of his men at arms. "I shall see you for supper," he says. The man leads the group to a suite of connecting rooms. Random says "I'll be taking a bath," and leaves.

The rooms are small but neat and slightly spartan. There are clothes-presses.

"Supper is in two hours," the man at arms says. "Do you need anything, my Lords and Ladies?"

"Is there Arms Practice occurring in the Keep that I could Watch," Brita asks. "And would it be Acceptable to Sketch while Watching?"

"A change of clothes would be welcome before supper," Garrett says hopefully to the man at arms. To Brita he adds, looking up, "Care for company?"

"Certainly, ..." Brita pauses and cocks her head slightly before speaking again, "Cousin Garrett. We can Swap Tales."

Signy looks at the man-at-arms. "Is there a library in the keep anywhere?" she asks hopefully.

"Clothes are in the clothes-presses in each room. A tailor can be made available if need be. I can arrange for arms practice, my Lady, and you may observe or participate at your desire. And there are some books in the castle, which can be fetched to you. The steward will know where they are kept."

He points toward the inner rooms for the clothes, but makes no move towards them himself.

Brita nods in recognition that there are clothes in the inner room, but she does not move that way. "If there is no Arms Practice at Present, I can Wait until the Normal Time. Yet, I Would like to See the Practice Field at This Time."

"Yes, Lady. Come with me, please. And you, my Lord and Lady?"

"I'd like to see them as well," Garrett echoes. "I can only imagine what Prince Benedict's own practice fields must look like." He looks inquiringly back at Signy.

Brita nods and prepares to follow the gentleman.

Signy looks at Garrett, and then back at the man-at-arms. "Would you be able to pass that request on to the steward? I'd like to see the practice yard briefly as well."

The practice grounds are small and neat. There is a smithy and an armory next to it. "Most of our practice is against the enemy, on the mainland," explains the man at arms. "We use this for testing new gear and for items that don't fit easily in the salle." There is a young man firing arrows at a bale of hay. He's fast but inaccurate.

"Useful to have a Way to Experiment," Brita notes. She thanks the guardsman and moves off to a nearby bench. Sitting down she pulls out a sketch pad and pencils and begins to sketch a corner of the grounds that is currently in the shade from the smithy.

"Prince Garrett," she calls, "How did You Arrive Here?"

She spends about an hour working on this Sketch.

"By Trump," Garrett answers as he follows her to the bench. He remains standing, looking over her work with interest. "Solange trumped me from the Plain of Towers, then Father trumped me here. Or rather... there." He points across the channel.

"As for how I got to the Plain of Towers in the first place...," he grins mischievously at both Brita and Signy. "The Pattern took me there."

"Congratulations, Cousin," Brita says with a slight smile. Her concentration is still on the Sketch before her.

Brita will continue to sketch (and yes, it is a Trump Sketch) until approximately 30 minutes before the specified meal time. She then makes her way indoors to freshen up and contact Fiona - to whom she passes the Sketch with a "In Case You are Needed to Find Us, you will Have the Start of the Trail on our Search for Her Majesty."

Signy looks at Garrett. "Red Fox Claws didn't come back with you," she asks, disappointment tinging her voice.

"Not with me, no," Garrett says, stepping away from Brita so she can concentrate on her drawing. "But Sir Brennan said he would bring him back with him, if Red Fox Claws wanted to come. Given that he'd been looking for you for decades, I can't imagine he'd refuse," he smiles reassuringly.

Signy looks hopeful at that. "And once I get back to Amber, I can get Brother Tomat as well." She sighs quietly. "What happened with my Father? You were in his Tower?"

"I don't know," Garrett says, shrugging apologetically. "I reckon Red Fox Claws might know more. He said Weyland had been gone three score years or more. All I know is the place was a mess when I was there. Furniture turned over and broken and such. I don't think that was related to his disappearance though. Sir Brennan mentioned having just had a tussle with some Chaos lord. He called him 'the Eater.'" His voice rises, as if questioning whether the name is familiar to Signy.

A concerned look enters Signy's eyes. "Eater was...." She shifts her feet and thinks for a second before continuing. "Eater is a mix of some creature named 'Hob', who claimed to be a 'Pwca'. It was some sort of magical rock creature guarding my Father's Tower, and when Marius showed up he had his familiar attempt to kill it, and they somehow merged."

Signy rubs at the back of her neck. "After that, it became unmanageable, but Lily, Marus, Tomat and I managed to drive it away for a spell."

Something in that last sentence visibly piques Garrett's interest, but he remains silent.

She looks back up at Garrett curiously. "How did you end up at the Plain? Did you go to meet up with Sir Brennan?"

"I don't know how I ended up there, to be honest. I've never been there before," Garrett answers. "I walked the Pattern - I don't know if you know about the Pattern - but anyway, that was where it took me at the end. I saw a herd of horses and tried to follow them. It looked peaceful. Perhaps that's what my brain latched onto for comfort." He shrugs.

"I stepped, or rather fell, forward and there I was. I didn't know Sir Brennan was there until later. I met Red Fox Claws when I woke up with his blade pointed at my chest," he smiles.

"So you grew up on the Plain of Towers?"

Signy nods. "It was the only home I ever knew. After I escaped from my Father's Tower, I found Red Fox Claws and the rest of the Band, and they became my new home." Her mouth purses slightly in distaste. "Did you meet my Father while you were there?"

Garrett shakes his head. "No. He appeared to be long gone. Red Fox Claws told me he's been checking back every year for decades now and has seen no sign of him."

Signy frowns. "Maybe after this I should take Tomat back there," she mutters.

"Why did Sir Brennan stay behind?"

"Not sure, but he seemed busy," Garrett answers. It appears he could elaborate, except that something else catches his eye.

A liveried servant comes over to them. "Your pardon, nobles. We will be eating shortly. If you need any assistance to dress, help is available."

Brita has risen as the servant approached and appears finished with her sketch. (Is it adequate as a Trump Sketch?) She walks over to Garrett and Signy and notes to the latter, "Let us Go See what Dress is Available and Decide from There if we Need Additional Assistance." She appears to be drawing out her a small card-sized pack as she speaks, the Sketch still in hand.

Garrett grins at the servant. "I reckon I can scrounge up something," he says, seeming more pleased at the prospect than one should be under the circumstances. He prepares to walk back to their rooms, politely allowing the ladies to precede him if they wish.

Signy falls in next to Garrett, giving him an inquisitive glance. If he choses to not respond, she quietly walks alongside him, falling into a brooding silence.

The servant takes them back to the suite they originally occupied. There are clothes laid out on each bed, in what may be the nearest guess they have for each person's size. At first glance, they appear to be someone's finery.

Signy looks down at the clothes on her bed, and sighs resignedly before starting to pull off her clothes. She quickly dresses in the provided clothes, and runs her fingers quickly through her hair in a vain attempt to straighten it into place. She cranes her neck to her left and right, looking down in an attempt to find something to straighten to help the clothes fit slightly better on her, before rolling her shoulders as she steps out into the common area to meet the others.

Perhaps not too surprisingly, Brita is having a similar reaction. She picks up the dress from the bed, holds it out in front of her, and sighs. She takes off her jacket and blouse and folds them neatly. She stands for a minute with her hands on her hips staring down at the ornate gown. It has been a long while since she had to wear such elaborate clothing. While the dress is a bit of a challenge to get into, she manages to do so without tearing any seams. She twitches the skirt over her pants and glances down. The hem of the dress is about three inches too short. Brita sighs again and resigns herself to taking off the pants. She puts her boots back on, however, as the dainty shoes are a bit too small and the boots help transition across the gap from the hemline to the floor. She retrieves her pack of Trumps and her knife, slipping the first into the bodice of the dress and the second into her boot (after assuring herself that the top of the boot remains hidden when she is seated). She snorts softly at the stray thought of her Shadow Asgard cousins' reaction if they could see her now.

Finally, she moves out into the common area. Spotting Signy, she notes "Well, I hope This is not a Crime against the Protector," as she waves a hand to indicate her state of dress.

Random walks into the common area, wearing boots, pants, and a sleeveless vest. "If it's a crime, I'm a criminal, too. I had to inform my handler that whatever I wore was appropriate wear for the King of Xanadu. I never would have guessed that Benedict's court would be so... boring."

He looks out a high, narrow window. "We'll need to be ready to ride not long after sunset."

Brita mumbles something that sounds like, "I Should have left the Pants On."

Garrett, who had been at a window admiring the strategic layout of the lands surrounding Benedict's keep, comes to attention as his father enters the room. The young prince is wearing formal attire fit for his uncle's realm. Despite the fact that the clothing is exactly his size, he still looks uncomfortable, probably due to the itchy starchiness of the finery. It is definitely not the formalwear style that he is used to in Xanadu.

"Father," Garrett acknowledges with a formal nod, followed by a pull at the tight collar. "Do we know yet where we are riding?"

Signy looks at the King with consternation. "Could we not just put our old things back on and ride in them?"

"You'll get used to Brita, Signy. She's like that. Five forward gears and no reverse."

He turns to Garrett. "To find the Queen. If we knew where she was, we'd already be there."

Garrett looks a little dubious, but declines to press the question. His only reply is a simple nod.

Benedict steps in and a bell chimes in the main hall. He doesn't break his stride "Let us dine," he says. He looks at the youngers' clothing and seems slightly perplexed, but says nothing of it.

Garrett moves in the indicated direction, politely allowing Signy and Brita to precede him if they wish.

Brita follows her Uncle with a perplexed frown of her own. She really wishes that the Elders would Specify their expectations Up Front. Guessing just isn't in her nature.

Benedict waits at the table for Random and the others to join him. There are places for each at the high table and perhaps fifty more at tables lining the great hall. It does not seem to be a special occasion, at least not for most of the diners. They all wait for Benedict.

The Protector raises his glass, and his people follow suit. Belatedly, Random does as well.

"My friends, we are honored this evening by the presence of the King of Xanadu, his son the Prince Garrett, and Ladies Brita and Signy. They are strangers to our hold, and friends." He turns to Random. "The custom of the house is to eat in silence once the toast is given."

"I shan't be a custom bucker. Not right now, anyway." replies Random.

In a louder voice, Benedict says "To Tir na nOgth, Amber, Rebma, Avalon, Paris, and Xanadu!" His drinks, as do his retainers. Then they sit to eat. The food follows, in quantity and quality that indicates that the kitchen has fed Princes of Amber in the past.

Garrett carefully follows the customs, having been raised to adhere to formality around royals. When the food arrives, he eats heartily, tucking away far more than someone his size possibly could.

Signy eats quietly through the meal, alternating between looking around at the new surroundings and at her plate with a trace of a stubborn pout on her face.

Finally, Benedict puts a cloth over his dish and says "Red wine, please, Dillah." The servant steps away, and the retainers begin talking amongst themselves.

"We'll be travelling to a realm that is not far from here, and not yet quite in this shadow, along a well-known road to my people," begins Benedict without any preamble. "In the moonlight, it has a certain congruity with Tir Na nOg'th. You should go in groups, because it is a dangerous place for solitary travellers. I will be leading my men in a systematic search, but the King informs me that he intends to follow his intuition."

Garrett glances from his uncle to his father, his serious expression not revealing which path he deems the wisest. He turns back to his uncle as Benedict continues.

He looks at Garrett, Signy, and Brita. "We need to be there at moonrise and will be done, one way or another, when the moon sets. Any questions?"

As Benedict finishes, Signy speaks up. "What sorts of dangers are there at this place?"

"And will trumps work from there?" Garrett asks.

"Are there Insubstantial Inhabitants as there are In Floating Tir Na nOg'th or are they Solid and Prone to Interaction?" Brita asks as she ends her meal.

"Garrett, yes, if you are able to use them. All the things one needs are still needed: light, a clear head, a moment to concentrate. The issues are the same as they are on Kolvir, but the risks are different.

"Signy and Brita, your answer is the same. The place is more like Arden than Amber. It is safe for the knowledgeable, such as my retainers and also for the powerful. You may be jumped by a hungry creature of the woods, but I would expect each of you could vanquish such with ease.

"The real risk is that many of the creatures of that place use magic to deceive. It is a fragile thing and highly susceptible to disruption by application of the Great Pattern of Amber. If you give in to the logic of the spell, however, you effectively let the place define the rules of engagement and you are likely to lose.

Random laughs, a short barking noise. "So, it rewards us for being stubborn Amber gits. That'll work." He turns to the younger generation. "Just remember to ask yourself 'what would Corwin do?' and you'll be fine..."

Benedict nods. "Remember that your horses do not have your strength of personality. Are there any more questions?"

Signy looks at Benedict, before looking back down at her plate. "W...will we have time to change out of these before we go?"

Brita is obviously listening for the answer.

Random jumps in before Benedict can reply. "Yes, please do! 'Random the Magnificent died on the field, surrounded by his companions in their borrowed clothes' would be such a lousy epitaph."

Benedict nods. "Hurry, please."

"The horses, sir. I understand that they are not as strong as us, but have they been bred in this realm with a temperament to handle travel through Shadow?" Garrett asks. In Amber, only certain horses - the ones that were strong in both body and spirit - were ever saddled for the royals. Garrett now understands why.

"A few have. It's more a matter of training than breeding, although good temperament matters. There will be enough horses for you four and myself that are accustomed to shadow, but my troops will walk," Benedict says. "Anything more?"

"No, sir. Thank you. By your leave," Garrett says, rising and bowing politely to his host before departing for his room.

"Meet us in the stables", Benedict says.

Brita is already up and moving to go back to their rooms. She will change quickly and be back in only a few minutes.

Brita hasn't finished standing before Signy bolts upright and follows quickly on her heels back to their rooms, and returns in almost the exact same fashion.

And Garrett too returns shortly after, dressed for traveling.

When everyone returns, Benedict is on his famous striped horse and Random is on a more plain mount. There are three more horses, and a number of footmen waiting as well.

Garrett makes friends with his horse, deftly adjusts the stirrups to his preferred height, and mounts, taking up a place not far from Random.

Benedict waits for them to mount and rides for the gate, at a pace to keep up with the men at arms.

Random turns to the youngers. "My money's on us finding her, not them. Any takers?"

"S'pose they find us first?" Garrett banters, trying to cover his nervousness with humor. The fact that he's checked his sword and trumps two or three times since mounting gives him away.

"Then I am am accompanied by three children of the pattern and a horn's blow from Benedict of Amber and his forces. I myself am not unskilled with the blade, despite the enfeeblement of my ancient mein. In other words, you don't have to throw rocks at every barking dog, but don't hesitate to defend yourself, or me."

Garrett chuckes sheepishly, embarrassed at his own inexperience.

He grins at Garrett. "Nervous? It's unlikely to be any more dangerous to the four of us than Arden, and the last time I had a problem there, it was because Julian was unhappy with us. Oh, yeah, that reminds me. Is anyone's sword silvered? We ought to have one of those handy."

Brita follows Random and Garrett on her horse. Her eyes track the progression of the men at arms. "Uncle-King," she says to Random. "Is there Something that Draws your Search Here? Some Tie or Clue as to What Happened to the Queen?" As she waits for a response, she is testing the air, working to distinguish the Blood of Amber from Benedict's men, reminding herself of the various scents of Rebma she has recently encountered.

Signy easily mounts her horse and moves into place with Brita and Garrett. Her attention seems to be entirely focused on Benedict's horse, as she studies it with a puzzled intensity.

Benedict's horse seems to be well-muscled, quick, and strong. It should do well in most circumstances. It seems very well trained.

Random leads the group through the gates and follows Benedict. The trail runs quickly over low hills into a moonlit forest.

"Well, Goddess-Niece who gives everyone titles, here's the story. If Vialle was in Xanadu, I'd know, because I'd know. If she was in Tir, she'd be dead, like Cambina. So this is the other side of Tir. The Great Road, the Faiella-Bionin? It's a ring road."

Garrett rides along with the group, listening to the explanation. Being on horseback in the moonlight appears to be soothing his uneasiness. He scans his surroundings alertly, but not quite so nervously.

They're marvellous. The trees are huge and ancient, and deeper in the forest they seem to glitter as if they're hung with jewels.

Signy drags her attention away from Benedict's horse with a shake of her head.

"What does this...'Faiella-Bionin' connect? And what, exactly, is 'Tir'?"

"Faiella-Bionin - the Stair to Mirror Rebma; Ethereal Tir Na Nog'th - with its Own Stair from Reality's Realms," Brita cocks her head to the side. "So they are All Connected?"

"Yes, Faiella's gift." Benedict's voice is startling, not the least because he wasn't riding with them a moment ago. "Don't let Bleys tell you that it's mathematically required by his fancy equations. He wasn't there."

"Right, it's how we conduct trade and stay part of the same culture as Corwin and M-- Rebma and Avalon's built on it, too, isn't it Benedict?" Random raises his voice a bit.

"Yes," says Benedict. "I need to return to my men." He speeds up.

Random turns to Signy. "Tir na n'Ogth literally means "the land of eternal youth", and it's another city with a pattern, but it's not really like ours. It's not real, at least not all the time."

Brita is riding along silently assimilating the information provided by her uncles.

"When I was a lad, we'd look for it at the full moon, me mates and I," Garrett remembers. "If our mums would let us stay up or we could sneak out. I never realized all the paths were connected though. To Tirna N'Ogth and Rebma and... the others." It's obvious he never knew there were 'others' until this evening.

Signy gives Random a quizzical look. "Who was Faiella, and just how many places have Patterns?"

Random looks at her. "Faiella is your mother's mother, she died over a thousand years ago and her sons Corwin and Caine are your closest kin, except for Marius.

"Patterns. Patterns grow cities like cheese grows mold. Paris is Corwin's, Xanadu is mine. Amber used to have one. Rebma was its mirror. I don't know if any of the new ones will have mirrors. That may have been a special circumstance. They're all special, of course. Tir is only real when the full moon shines upon it, so it's periodic.

"There's a pattern we call 'The Primal Pattern', but it's really not. It doesn't have a city, so forget that cheese mold thing. It's the first one that was drawn.

"They're all different, but not completely. They protect themselves and connect themselves and are aspects of the same thing, like the same song sung by different singers.

"In a very real way, they're your relatives. Or some of them. And they're harder to draw than it is to walk the pattern in the first place. I hope we never need to draw another."

"So is it a different experience to walk different ones? I mean, was it easier for me to walk yours than it would be to walk the one Corwin created because I'm more closely related to you?" Garrett asks. His recent experience with the pattern seems to have made him something of a pattern-information sponge.

Random clears his throat. "About that. If I hadn't been really busy, I'd've stopped you. But you didn't die, so you were ready. I'm willing to let you off the hook if you never tell anyone how young you were when you walked it. I don't want to bury Leif and Brooke. Also, you're grounded. No dessert for a week."

Garrett gives a tight-lipped nod, quietly dropping the subject.

"I've Heard Each Pattern is Unique - Even to the Number of Veils to Pass," Brita notes.

Random reaches up and slicks back his hair. "No. Same number of veils. Who told you otherwise?"

"My Walk Passed Four Veils," Brita states. "The Implication was that there are - or Were - Patterns with Fewer Veils."

"Well, that's true, at least. I added one. If you ever walk the pattern and there aren't four veils? Then you start looking for the missing city, or the new one."

Garrett rides on in silence, but glances over to see how Signy is doing.

Shortly the party separates, Random and his lot from Benedict's troop. The silvery moonlight makes the trees look shiny, and they get taller and taller as the riders enter the forest proper. There is a glow, and the woods are wet. If the sun has recently set, it's likely there will be a fog this evening.

Random slows the procession, holding up a hand. "I saw someone move. There!" He points up onto a branch, where a slight person darts back behind the trunk of one of the great low trees.

Signy quickly spurs her horse several paces out to the side to allow for a view around the trunk, though still remaining roughly the same distance from whomever it is. As she moves into place, she quickly opens her Third Eye and scans the surroundings, dropping it as she gets into place if she doesn't see anything immediately threatening.

The main thing Signy notices is that they're surrounded by men in the trees.

Brita angles the other way, working to be downwind of the unknown creature.

Garrett watches the horses to determine if they see this situation as threatening. His hand moves to the hilt of his sword, but he does not draw.

A thin young man, or perhaps a well-muscled girl swings out onto a wide limb, perhaps 12 feet above the ground. His face is obscured by shadows, but he seems to have both a saber and a flintlock pistol.

"Hello, the tree!", shouts Random. "Who's there?"

The figure steps out of the shadow. "Why, it's me, your majesty and this time I have you." The pistol is pointed straight at Random and the light shines through for a moment. It is a woman in the tree.

Robin.

In the silence after Robin stops speaking, Signy's sword makes a rasping hiss as it clears the sheath. "Ware the trees!" she shouts back at the main party before using her knees to angle her horse back towards the would-be assassin. Her left hand flicks out quickly, and the forest fills with a muted, echoing murmer as a dark red flare forms around the barrel of Robin's flintlock pistol, dancing around the barrel and flaring up sporadically.

Sorcery is incredibly difficult here; and Signy gets a dull glow and the barrel doesn't seem to change at all. It's harder than in Xanadu and harder than when she was fighting that rock thing of her father's. If this works, it will take minutes. If that thing is a pocket crossbow, there's nothing that's going to stop her shot. At this range, the quarrel is probably poisoned.

Garrett draws his blade as well, silently cursing himself for not bringing something with a longer range. Like Signy, he controls his mount with his knees, leaving one hand free. His eyes remain fixed on Robin, but he listens for Brita, trying to keep track of her movements without tipping Robin off to her location.

Signy's warning was timely, as the trees are erupting with men, Arden Rangers by the look of them. All wearing badges on their jerkins with a crown pierced by a sword. Two of them charge at Garrett. They have knives at their belts, but it looks like their intent is to pull him off his horse. They're running towards him in near total silence.

Brita's horse has slowed and turned back somewhat so she is angled almost at Random. She appears to be ignoring the woman but is seeking for the slight breeze that brushes past this unknown. Is this one Robin? She has also brought the Pattern forward in her mind, calling on her Heritage to send outward and upward a sense of the calm, placid waters of the high mountain lakes, the still peace of the deep snow in winter.

Brita stills the forest creatures, the night air, their horses, even the fog seems to settle. Not Robin.

"No! Death to the Tyrant Brandom!" She fires and in the stillness of the moment the bang from the gun is deafening and the muzzle flash is like a flare. And Random is no longer on his horse.

Brita has launched herself off her horse and has a small dagger in hand. She is running to get in front of Random's horse and yelling - almost in full Goddess Voice - the Arden Ranger equivalent codes for 'Friend', 'Come in Peace', and 'Stand down'. She also manages to get out "King Random is Different from Tyrant Brandom, You Fool!"

Yanking upward on his mount's reins with his left hand, Garrett attempts to get his horse to rear, hoping that the flailing front hooves will take out the nearest attacker. At the same time, he slashes downward with his blade at the Ranger coming in on the other side. "Father!" he calls out, hoping to get an answer.

Garrett slices a Ranger, who falls to his blade. Several more have been trampled.

Signy snaps off a few quick curses as she drops her Sorcerous energies. She quickly grabs the reins in her free hand and sends the horse straight at a knot of Rangers moving towards the King's party, bowling them over with her horse. Her sword hisses out at a startled Ranger that managed to leap back from her horse, as she glances quickly towards the King before turning her attention back to Robin. She frowns, wondering what the odds are that the branch that Robin was standing on was weak enough to give way under her weight and the vibrations of whatever it was that she just did. Almost without conscious thought, Signy reaches out to reality and reaches out to the one shining path that leads to the branch cracking under the stresses, giving way and plunging her down to the ground.

The branch gives way, followed by a thud. Someone says "Ooof! Crud!", and there's a quick tapping on the tree. Those who know Ranger codes can translate it as "retreat/scatter, don't trust the unknown ranger, every one save yourself."

Signy blinks, a slightly awestruck look on her face as she sizes up what she looks to have just done.

"Garrett!", shouts Random, "rememberwhatItoldyou!" He must be pretty anxious, because he's talking awfully fast.

Brita runs to the front of Random's horse. A ranger who was coming toward Random sees Brita and hesitates, then turns and runs the other way.

Brita sees Random standing there with one hand in his pocket. He holds up the other hand, his index finger up. A moment later, there is a terrific lightning strike and some of the fog is literally burned away, the great tree that Robin was in is cracked in half.

Garrett wheels his horse around in the direction of his father's voice, coming to a stop between Random and the remaining attackers, his sword drawn defensively. The back of his neck tingles as it would in a summer storm, but not soon enough for him to avoid flinching when the lightning cracks nearby. Instinctively, he settles his horse, which settles himself as well, and maintains his defensive posture.

Brita has grabbed the reins of Random's horse and spun it sideways between the King and the tree that Robin was in to try to provide a shield. She is fighting to keep the horse calm while still searching the area around the split tree for Robin. The tips of her braids are crackling with the electricity arcing in the air as she says "Very Uncle Loki of you, Your Majesty."

As she hears Random's voice, Signy shakes her head to clear the cobwebs, and pushes her horse over to the tree, looking for the would-be assassin. Her sword flicks out at Rangers that stray too close, looking to encourage them to give her a wide berth.

The rangers have fled, as has Robin.

"Yeah, so using magic to get you to play their game, that's how they work," says Random, "and real enough that you can't really pretend that they don't have real guns." The King strolls over to a tree that had a single bullet lodged in it. He takes his knife and pries out the ball.

"Somebody doesn't like us," he adds.

"Or doesn't Like Somebody Like Us. She said 'Traitor Brandom'," Brita notes. She is gently trying to calm the horse after her rude handling as she scans the area for further signs of the rangers. "Do you Think They could Hold the Queen? Should we Follow?"

Garrett dismounts and wanders around the site of the incident, taking in the details now that the skirmish is done. He stares downward for a long moment at the man he sliced in two. Frowning, he gazes down at his bloody sword, then with a sigh, he pulls a handkerchief out of his pocket and begins to carefully wipe the blade clean.

Signy rides her horse slowly back to where the King is, reflexively glancing around with her Third Eye to see if there were any other surprises about.

"But who were 'they'," she wonders aloud before looking at King Random. "And what is it about here that made my magic so ineffective? Was it the presence of the rest of you, like when Marius and I fought the Eater?"

Random clears his throat. "No, here's sorta too close to lots of things, but the real problem is me. Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown, because the thing is fecking heavy, it just doesn't weigh that much. Also, the head needs not to lie down in the crown anyway, because how stupid is that? Not that I do, because it doesn't go with my suit.

"Garrett, well done. Your sword-dude teach you that?"

Garrett looks up. "Uh... yeah. Sort of, sir." He resumes cleaning his sword as Random continues to speak.

"Brita, you tell me. Do we follow them, or your nose?"

"Follow the Scent," Brita says definitively. Out of curiosity, what has Brita been able to smell? She tried to get scents from Robin, the Rangers, and now that the Rangers have gone.

They have no scent, not even the dead ones. Protector Benedict is in the area with his men, who are all about, although none are close. Brita smells a faint echo, from deeper in the forest, of the familiar tang of the sea that clings to Rebmans no matter how many years ago they climbed the stairs.. It is in all likelihood Queen Vialle.

"Lead on, then," Random says to her. Random re-mounts his horse. "You did good, kid," he says to Garrett. "It's probably time to graduate you to cavalry lessons, given that you're such a horseman."

Garrett looks up in surprise and a small smile of pride creeps across his face. "Yes sir!" he replies, sheathing his sword and mounting his horse.

Brita nods curtly, collects her own horse and begins to lead the way deeper into the forest, following the salty scent. He other senses are alert to any further movement in the forest beyond their own.

Garrett urges his horse along quietly with the rest of the group, alternately scanning the trees and watching Brita follow whatever it is that she smells. After this last encounter, he remains even more alert than before.

Signy sheathes her sword and falls in near King Random. "So who or what were those people -- they didn't seem to like you very much?"

"No idea," says Random. "Shadows of Robin and the Rangers, I suspect. I once had a nightmare about being hunted by her in Arden. Maybe here it was based on a true story."

Brita takes them further in. It becomes clear to her that their goal is the Grove of the Unicorn.

Random calls a halt some distance back. "Yeah, no subtlety, this place. OK, team, ride up or dismount and sneak?"

"I'd dismount," Garrett suggests quietly. "You can't count on the horses to be quiet. And Brita might smell more if they stay back."

Random nods. "Ahead my scouts! I'll stay here where notRobin can ambush me cleanly..."

Brita sits staring at Random for a few heartbeats as if trying to determine whether he is serious or not - sometimes a difficult distinction with this King. Finally, something clicks in her head and she dismounts. "Your Highness, You can Stay with His Majesty to Protect for a Back Attack as well, If you would Like." She'll wait for his response before continuing.

Garrett appears to have the same reaction to his father's comment. At Brita's decision, he nods once decisively, as if he had been considering something similar. He turns his mount around and retraces their path. He stops a few horse-lengths away, but stays within sight of the King.

[Brita] glances at Signy with a nod and gesture to the right. "Grandmare's Grove is Ahead, Assuming the Lay of the Land is the same. If you Go to the Right, I'll go Stright In."

Signy pauses for a moment and looks around, eyes narrowed, sweeping the surroundings quickly with her Third Eye.

To Signy's Third Eye, this place is overwhelmingly magical. She can see nothing here. It is like looking into an arc-light.

Assuming she doesn't see anything that bears further investigation, she meets Brita's eyes and nods once, before noiselessly dropping from her horse's back. She quickly wraps the reins around the trunk of a nearby sapling before angling off to the right. As she reaches position to head in with Brita, she looks back over at Brita, drawing her sword with barely a whisper and waiting for her signal to move in.

Brita's knife is already in hand and it glints in the moonlight as she waves it into the deeper forest before following her motion inward.

Brita and Signy move forward, silently disappearing into the bush. They're both quite talented scouts. After a moment, Random leans over to Garrett. "C'mon!" he stage-whispers, and begins moving forward, going off to the left.

Garrett follows silently, keeping an eye to the rear as they progress.

The four amberites approach in three groups. All see the same scene.

The ground basin is drained, and filled with corpses; a mix of rangers and something wearing Amber's colors, strange white-skinned men with spurs on their elbows. They look to have been tossed in haphazardly.

To the side of the empty basin is a large stone throne, where the stone once was that overlooked the pool. Four figures are there. In chains are King Random and the Robin lookalike. Beside the throne is a malevolent man, tall and wild-haired. He holds the other end of the thick chains around the captive's necks.

Sitting on the throne is Vialle. Her eyes are open.

Random reaches out to Garrett and whispers. "That guy? If he's really here, it's really bad. He's Edan's girlfriend's dad. He's a Moonrider."

Without taking his eyes off the scene, Garrett leans over and whispers back, "Is it really the Queen? Can you tell?"

"Maybe," says Random ambiguously. "Can't risk it being her when it might be."

Brita waits and watches for a bit. Are the four doing anything? Talking? Waiting expectantly? Does the Robin doppelganger look like the one they just encountered - does she look like she took a fall from a tree? Is she glaring daggers at the Random doppelganger? (I'm assuming the two in chains are conscious.) Does the Queen look aware of her surroundings or bespelled? Brita's breathing has sped up slightly as she tries to sort out the various smells in the area.

This is where the Rebman smell is coming from, but it's hard to pinpoint. Either they're all Rebmans who smell the same, or there's no discernable scent from most of them.

In terms of the area, I'm assuming the forest encircles the grove. How close is the forest's edge to the throne?

Yes, the forest is all around the grove. The throne is where the big rock is in Amber. It's closer to the woods than the basin, but not a lot.

While she takes all this in, Brita has crouched low to the ground, one hand flattened against the soil. Almost subconsciously, she is seeking the pure, clear water, like what she had seen in Grandmare's grove that long ago day with Master Reid and which must be present in this grove as well. It has surely lost its way due to the desecration she sees before her. She will try to guide it forward and out into the basin, strengthening it with her Will to purify what is there.

The effort is immense, and Brita realizes that she might consciously do it, but it would require a significant effort and might take some time. Does she do so?

Signy looks at the chained Random, frowning, before turning to look at the man holding the chains.

[More or less the same questions as Brita. Also, is there any sort of a concealed approach to the throne, or is it pretty much out in the open?]

The forms are still, as if they represent a diorama instead of a place. Both Robin and Random look as if they have recently lost a fight. If the queen could see, she'd be looking at them.

Noting the stillness of those in front of her, Brita does actively begin to Concentrate on bringing fresh water into the grove's basin. She imagines the Pattern emanating from herself, Signy to her right, and where she expects Random and Garrett to be to her left with all Patterns converging in the center of the grove, pushing and purifying the water before them into the basin. If it disrupts whatever has those four enthralled before her, so much the better.

It feels like it's starting to work, then something disturbs it. The water does not come.

Slowly, so as not to disturb the cover around them, Garrett reaches for his trump deck. "Now that we've found them, shall I trump Uncle Benedict?" he whispers. "If I set up a connection, perhaps we can pull her out through it if need be."

"Who else do you have? He's probably busy."

Signy thinks for a moment, wondering how the people and bodies fit with Random's earlier remarks, before attempting to reach out with the Pattern, trying to shift the universe so that the probability of a stiff breeze moving parallel to the figures at the throne and the woods where everyone crouches come to pass [I'm explicitly trying to angle it so that our scent doesn't get carried towards Vialle and company].

It's really difficult here, but it does seem to work, or at least start to work.

The transfigured moment pops like a soap bubble and then the people seem solid and living.

"What shall we do with them, majesty?," asks the Moonrider.

"Kill her," says Vialle. "Leave him, I will question him."

The Marshall turns to Robin and draws a sword.

"Now!" says Random, and draws his sword and rushes forward.

Brita has launched herself from the runners-start crouch she was already in and is aimed straight for the tall, gaunt sword wielder.

Hurriedly, Garrett skims off his trump of Gerard and shoves the rest of his deck back into its case at his belt. He draws his sword and charges in behind his father, trump in one fist, blade in the other. Depending on Random's actions, Garrett's intention is to either defend Random while he rescues the Queen, or rescue the Queen while Random attacks.

Signy's eyes roll in disbelief at the King's actions as she crashes out of the shrubbery she was using for cover, sword held in front of her at the ready. She angles towards the man holding the chains with Brita, though she eyes the captives quickly.

[yep!, not tightly enough, though!]

The scene takes on a red glow as the Amberites enter the clearing, a glow centered on Random.

Random and Brita reach the Marshall and he turns his sword with a grunt and brings it down at the real Random, who dodges the first blow and parries the second. The Marshall is very, very fast. The chained Random, meanwhile, stands and swings his bound wrists at the Robin-like girl, who dodges as far as her chains will allow.

Brita thinks the Marshall is quite good.

Vialle shouts "Halt, intruders! Guards!" When Garrett gets close, she looks at him, and blinks. It's clear to Garrett that this Queen can see. "Garrett?" She reaches out and touches his face, and then faints.

Brita swerves at the last moment, letting Random attack the wild-haired one as she aims to rip the chains from his grasp (or at least send him off balance) by tackling the stretched chain with her six foot plus self.

Signy heads over to the Marshall as she sees Brita heading over to keep Robin busy, maneuvering to keep some distance between her and Random. As Random parries the second blow she strikes out, aiming to open up his side.

Startled, Garrett catches the Queen as she faints. Scooping her up under the shoulders with one arm, he pulls her limp form away from the fray, lays her down on the ground and stands near her defensively. He still has the trump ready, but Vialle's unexpected sightedness has caused him to rethink his next move. If this is truly the Queen, then some miracle has allowed her to regain her sight. If it's a Dream-Shadow however, he does not want to bring her to Xanadu to cause trouble. He watches for the guards that she called.

It looks and feels like the Queen. After a moment she stirs. "Garrett? Random!" she sits up, now not seeing. She reaches out in front of her, trying to find... something.

"I'm here, Majesty," Garrett replies calmly without looking back, knowing she'll recognize his voice and be able to pinpoint his location. Her lack of sight is, strangely, a relief.

Brita lands on the chain, wrapping herself around it and hitting the ground with a roll. The Marshall is jerked, hard, towards her and overbalances. He stumbles and is totally open to Signy's attack, which lands exactly as planned, in a position to slice deeply into his left side.

Except it doesn't. Signy's sword goes through, and expecting resistance, she falters. The Marshall falls through her, and it's bizarrely unclear if he is insubstantial or she is.

A moment later it's clear. The Marshall and his two prisoners are gone, as is the the throne. The only things left in the clearing are the five Amberites and a delicately thin length of silver chain, wrapped around Brita.

Brita will stand up and unravel the chain from around her. She is careful not to break it, but is holding it like it is something live and not quite pleasant. She turns to the others with a questioning look for the King. "What should I Do with This, Your Majesty?" she queries.

As the Dream-Shadows fade out, Garrett wastes no more time. He stares at the trump of Gerard and concentrates.

Signy pivots quickly around on the balls of her feet, scanning the surroundings, before turning to address the King. "Any idea what we just disrupted? I assume that this means we've found the Queen, though?"

The trump clarifies quickly and Gerard's face appears. He says, "Who is it?"

Random runs over to the Queen. "I'm here, I'm here." He takes her in his arms, not replying to Signy and Brita, but waving them over to where he stands with Vialle and Garrett. "Get us out of here," he says to Garrett.

Garrett holds out his free hand to his father and the queen. To Gerard, he says, "It's Garrett. We've found the Queen. Bring us home?"

There's a pause, and then Gerard says, "Aye, pass them through." His hand reaches out to Garrett.

Brita moves towards the royal family, still bearing the silver chain. Signy moves over next to the King, sword out and looking around at the woods warily. "Should we let Benedict know that we've found the Queen?"

Random nods, the Queen's head buried in his hair. "Once we're in Xanadu, safely, we'll trump him." She has not taken her arms from around him since he came over.

Once Garrett passes the King and Queen through the contact, he holds his hand out to Brita and Signy and quirks an eyebrow, silently asking who wants to go first.

Brita gestures to Signy to go first as she carefully tucks the silver strand into one of the pockets on her red jacket.

After Signy has flared into a new realm, Brita steps forward and takes Garrett's hand. "On the Other Side, Your Highness," she states with a nod and then her gaze shifts beyond as she reaches out. "Uncle Gerard, it is Good to See You, Again."

Celina paces along with dignity, but comes very close--within dagger tossing distance--of the paradoxical vehicle to get the best look. Ten meters off, she's even more impressed with its size and grandeur.

As far as Celina can tell, it always lands with a skidding bounce.

The Seaward cousin wears something vaguely Parisian (you would certainly not notice otherwise if you were 100m away in a dirigible) but there are too many strands of fine jewelry around her neck for proper Paris style. The dress seems to start at her waist and blossom outward in some faux-bustle arrangement. The top does not match the bottom, being neither high necked nor underlayered with corset and laces. Rather the dressy top looks to be shimmering silk in some sort of watercolored scaled pattern that does not respect the sober material of the skirts. The drapes of the extra blouse material soften to wavy folds that echo the neck jewels and display a generous amount of sea green skin.

When Vere alights from the vehicle cabin, she smiles aglow.

Solange pauses in the doorway of the dirigible and looks around, taking in the soldiers and the buildings. She's wearing an unremarkable leather brigandine over a white t-shirt with faded blue jeans and sneakers. What looks like a smallsword in sheath is belted around her waist. Her hair is in some disarray and her hands are dirty.

Her eyes alight on Celina, hard to miss with her green skin and her own incongruous clothing, and she smiles brightly as she steps down and approaches. "Celina. It's good to see you again."

Celina steps forward, reaches out to accept Solange's hands (and she wills it not, covers for that with upturned palms). "Welcome to Paris in the name of my father, the King. Solange, good to have such a startling arrival be a friend."

"Thank you for the welcome and I'm sorry for the startling part. I assumed airships would be common." It seems Solange wants to say more, but she stops there and shrugs, still smiling.

Vere follows behind her, his eyes sweeping the area and evaluating the mood of the crowd and the readiness of the guards. He smiles, a clearly relaxed and friendly smile, and follows Solange. He is wearing a military tunic in blue and white, with the stylized head of a bird of prey upon it. He wears sword and dagger, and an iron torc about his neck.

"Lady Celina," he says with warmth as he approaches her. "It is a pleasure indeed to see you well and here. May I introduce my sister, Avis, the Lady of the Isles and Mistress of the Exodus. Also, King Bran, and the Seeress of Ice and Wind, along with their advisors and aides. Captain Aurellius you may know, he is one of my captains in the Children of Llyr, as well as being a member of the Coldstream Guards."

Celina disengages from Solange and grins at Vere. "Well met, Lord Vere." She pauses and moves to squarely greet each of those in Vere's retinue that he has named. A nod from the Regent, their name repeated aloud, Celina commits first impressions of these stalwarts to her mind with small physical gestures.

This takes some time, as it should. Then she introduces Lance. "This is Lancelot du Lac, Commander of the Guard and Protector of Le Harve. He will be your first call if matters in Paris are not to your liking as he reports directly to me." Celina winks at Merlin, but for the benefit of the strangers she adds, "This is my brother, Merlin."

She gestures at the castle. "After your journey, your company may require some rest. We can accommodate. If your transport and men are able to tend a bit without you, Lady Solange, Lord Vere, I have matters I shall share with you." Celina looks at Solange and Vere for response. "Unless you are only passing through?"

Merlin has moved to greet Solange and Vere. He is dressed in black, in a garb not unlike that of the royal guard around them, but without chest decorations. Other than quiet hellos, he seems unwilling to interrupt the conversation, although he seems interested in the members of the party who have obvious magical aptitude.

Vere nods a greeting to Merlin.

Lance is waiting for orders from Celina, or perhaps Merlin.

Solange greets Merlin with interest, being a cousin she's met only briefly, notwithstanding also being a half-Chaosian. She looks over sharply at Celina's "matter I shall share with you" request.

"We do need to talk," Solange agrees. "There are family matters, and I know Vere has his own matters to discuss."

"We do have diplomatic matters to handle as speedily as possible," Vere says. "In reference to the Exodus. Perhaps Prince Merlin could see to the comfort of the rest of the embassy, and we three could have a brief private conference before an audence to deal with those matters?"

Celina nods at Vere. "Lance, please see Lord Vere's coterie welcomed to Paris with due flourish. Ask Lady Alice to attend as well and see them settled with utmost curtesy----," Celina gives a warning look to duLac, "in quarters with views of the great boulevard." Having named the opposite side of the palace from the Rebman embassy, Celina figures that will settle itself out even if she has to correct some parts later. She needs to talk to Vere and Solange but she wants Merlin to be there.

"Lord Vere, Lady Solange, please walk with me." And she motions Merlin to fall in as well. Vere will get the inference.

Merlin does as he is requested by the Regent of Paris.

Celina then heads for the formal gardens. No reflecting surfaces will likely be there at all. She waves off any guards that try to fall in. She doesn't make small talk as she guides her cousins past the high hedges and into paths between bright floral beds. She sees a fountain and changes directions to go between two hedge walls. Within a stone's throw of the course change, she stops. "What unfortunate thing to you bring with you? Whose army lurks outside Paris near Le Havre? What Exodus do you mean, is it something about Amber? Do you know that Rebma is under siege? Had you heard Cambina is dead?"

Vere blinks. "It would be difficult to answer all of those questions at once in a coherent manner," he says. "Yes, we have heard that Cambina died, and we know that King Corwin is seeking the Queen of Xanadu and Amber. I take it from the nature of your questions that when he left you as regent he did not tell you that he had agreed that I and my sister could bring the refugees from the shadow on my birth here, and that he had given permission for several thousands of them to remain while the rest continue to Rebma?"

Solange is quiet, listening to the conversation. She alternates between studying the architecture and studying Celina's face.

"He mentioned you were coming here. He did not say it would be so soon or that you would arrive in a flying fortress," Celina decides she resembles her father in how much she does not say about family. Too many energies to waste in that direction. "I thought it would be something we could react to with less urgency. Not that it is bad that you are here." Celina smiles and relaxes. "So it is your army and some of them will return to Rebma? Most of them stay in Paris? I accept that Father agreed to this with you. While I am glad to see you both, your arrival falls on a bad day."

Celina steps within a hand's distance of Solange and Vere and says softly, "We are still reacting to the murder of Lucas. I left the scene of that discovery to come meet the paradoxical vessel you arrived in."

"Wh-what?" Solange exclaims. She stumbles backward a step, her eyes focused on Celina's face. "Are you sure? I mean, it...it could just be a shadow of him he planted, and he's off elsewhere drinking brandy and laughing at us..."

Vere's face has gone expressionless. "Murdered?" he asks. "Details, please."

Celina thinks a moment about Lucas...seeing foremost her cousin's dead eyes and swearing to herself that she and Merlin will certainly find out more about his killer. Then she describes the room to Vere and Solange in an ever narrowing spiral of information, starting at the door to the room, taking in the surrounding furniture and walls, the easel, the arrangement of things upon the desk, finally arriving at Lucas at the center of it all. Lucas sitting so still, a shocked expression on his face, and the very large dagger of mirror glass in his chest.

If it is apparent to Celina that she has just made of the murder scene a Pattern walk, starting at the doorway and spiraling into the heart of a journey that defines Vere's question, she does not show any sign.

Instead, she finishes her answer with a gesture to Merlin because she knows his expertise will finish the setting with a different set of details. "My brother believes that Lucas was working a Trump of Moire. It would not be a stretch to see motive, means and opportunity for Moire or someone completely loyal to her to be the killer." Her body language leaves open to Merlin the moment for his perspective.

"Someone has also been attacking Solace," Merlin adds. "She was sent here from Amber to recover from these attacks. We do not know if it was connected, but I was investigating it on Lucas' behalf before they removed here. Sorcery is difficult in Paris, as it is a realm great with the family magic, but perhaps the magic of mirrors is not so debilitated. Also, there are complex matters afoot in Rebma, as you might imagine from the presence of Celina's mother in this place."

"Queen Moire is here?" Vere asks. "Not in Rebma?" He shakes his head. "Too much information, too quickly," he says. "The pattern is confused."

He goes silent for the moment, considering the scene painted by Celina, trying to make sense of it. His mind goes back to the murder scene of Demond Harga'rel, as well, looking for similarities.

Even with the description, it seems as though the data is insufficient. But the methods are very different, for all that the two events have a commonality in Rebman matters.

Solange sits down shakily on a nearby bench. "Lucas told me of Solace's attacks while he was still back in Amber, some time ago. Has she been attacked since coming to Paris?"

"Good question," Celina thinks she knows the answer, but expects Merlin is better informed than she. So she pauses to let her cousins absorb the shock of her news.

"Not that I am aware of," Merlin answers. "Solace discovered the body and she is unlikely to be of much use in answering questions. You might speak to the Princess Florimel if you would learn more. She is also in residence, and is with her son's body now." Merlin glances back at Celina; she may note that there are questions that Merlin simply did not answer.

Celina nods to Vere. Merlin's answer suits her.

"Very well," Vere says as he holds up a hand. "Let us deal with one matter at a time. Otherwise we shall never finish this discussion. First, the matter of the Exodus, and why we are here. As I mentioned to you when we last met, there was a civil war in the shadow of my birth, possibly a shadow of events in Rebma and Amber. I took warriors from Rebma to aid my mother's cause, as you will recall. During the war, Prince Huon passed through the shadow, on his way to Rebma, apparently wishing to recover a sword of power, to use in his war against Amber. The shadow was damaged during this, and the world is heading towards destruction. I determined to lead as many people as I could from there to a place of safety, preferably one with a Pattern or at least very near a Pattern, where they would never again face the destruction of their world. King Corwin gave me permission to march them through Paris, and for as many as wished, most especially the injured, young, and aged, to remain in Paris while the rest marched on to Rebma. My sister sent an Ambassador through trump to Corwin, to head on from here to Rebma and speak with Queen Moire, warning her of the coming of Huon. We have heard nothing of this ambassador nor her retinue since then. We are now here, and my sister and her fellow monarchs of my homeland would have audience with you, to confirm King Corwin's offer, and to find your will. I have not yet told them you are the daughter of Corwin and Moire, as I did not know if you had yet made that public knowledge, or if it were still privy information."

He nods, decisively. "Let us deal with that matter, before continuing to the more personal matter of Lucas' death, which matter I do indeed wish to give the greatest attention." He looks at Solange and repeats, with emphasis, "The greatest personal attention."

Solange looks up at him numbly.

Celina nods. "I am sorry things did not go so well for you Vere. The loss of a homeland is a hard blow. Huon is now at Rebma and threatens it in his effort to get the sword of power. He shall not have it and may find his death there. Those events already move. My mother decided her part was to leave the city and come here. A decision that leaves me uneasy yet, even as it may have cost Lucas dear."

The Seaward Cousin pauses. "I shall confirm the King's offer and welcome them to Paris, even should they decide not to march as yet for Rebma. Let us do this thing quickly and well, for there may be a dragon to kill."

Arrangements are made quickly for a brief formal audience and exchange of credentials as soon as Vere and Solange can shake the dust of the road off their feet.

Celina is genuinely kind and gracious to these strangers. She radiates welcome from every pore.

Alice Roth, who seems to be some sort of majordomo of ambiguous social status, takes Solange aside and offers to find her some appropriate clothing in the Parisian style. Alice is dressed in a style Solange finds more modern than Amber and significantly less modern that Lauderville. (turn of the century Paris, but middle-class more than wealthy Gibson Girl)

Solange accepts Alice's friendly overtures. Looking through dresses and trying on new clothing is a great distraction.

Celina will also have quarters prepared for Solange and Vere as near her own as possible.

Lancelot asks Celina for instructions regarding the army at Le Havre. Merlin suggests that Vere may have some useful instructions to offer his own men as well.

(Is Florimel summoned for the formal greeting? What about Rein? Who remains with Lucas' body? What about Moire/Rilsa/etc.?)

[ah, the Regent's life is merry and sweet and she shall dust her knuckles on the Father when he gets back....

-Note is sent to Florimel telling her of the arrivals and asking she and Lord Rein to stay with body. Evidence hunting and magical analysis are soon to take place. Lucas' killer is priority one.

Lord Rein sends back saying he has convinced the Princess to stay with her son.

-If it hasn't already been done, double the guard on the Rebman embassy and escort any Rebman wanderers in the city back to the Palace. The entire Embassy is confined for 'safety' since there is a glass wielding maniac loose in the city. Priority two.

Additional guard had already been set, but Lance increases them again.

-Lance needs to talk to Vere about troops. Paris needs to identify Very Specifically whose troops belong to whom. With several foreign forces about, Celina has no intention of seeing 'friendly Rebmans' (or whomever) slipping about causing mischief in Paris. So we need passcodes, banners with special tags, whatever the gentleman think will work and keep the bad folk guessing. Celina will glare emerald at them until they understand how serious she is about this. Yes, it sounds paranoid. Tough. Someone cannot be identified properly, hold them for a senior official. Someone doesn't like that, stab them. Priority three.

Vere will give Lance a full rundown of exactly where he left the Exodus, and the various military standards they are flying. He will also emphasize that there is the possibility of some of divided loyalties should Moire have a chance to appeal directly to any of the Children of Llyr. Vere would much prefer not to have that occur.

Lance and a couple of trusted senior officers take part in this discussion. It's senior people who are clearly trusted.

-Lance needs to appoint a Captain Crisis who will liaison with Celina so that Lance doesn't need to be at her side through the next few days. Lance should take a close look at Le Havre himself so he knows better the field if things go belly up. Priority four.

Lance suggests several names. All are men; that's what he has. Celina can pick by interview or by coin tosses.

-Celina also wants an elite troop of thieves (no gender distinction) gathered from Paris. She wants to know from Lance how she gets that done. She wants Paris' best Filches, Pickpockets, Burglars, young or old. She wants to review them before dinner. Fifty would be nice. She'll settle for twenty. Crown positions and monies will be offered for loyal service. The Regent is obviously eccentric. Priority five.

This is so far out of Lance's experience that he really has no idea what to do, which he confesses to Celina and Merlin.

-Celina agrees with Merlin about Vere needing to keep a close hand on his men. It also would not hurt if they were ready for battle, since Queen Khela might need them in the next few hours (hoping not.) Priority six.

Vere will want to borrow a horse to ride out and speak with his men, as soon as the audience is over and he has had a chance to investigate the scene of Lucas' murder.

Lance suggests one of his officers take Vere by motorcycle sidecar, which will be faster.

An excellent idea. We'll do that as soon as the Lucas matter is dealt with.

-Celina wants the royal physician summoned and ready to examine Lucas. If no physician exists, Celina will settle for Lance's best battle surgeon. Priority seven.

None has been appointed. Lance summons the Guard's physician.

-Nurses are summoned for Solace, who may not be up to taking care of children. Of course, Flora can vett these. Priority eight.

The children already have nannies vetted by Flora.

If there is room in all this for a power nap, she'll grab it. It's going to be a long week.

Solange requests to Celina to be present when Vere raises Lucas. She also requests permissions to retrieve the trump of herself that Lucas drew.

I do not believe that Celina knows of Vere's ability...so I expect that Vere will have to 'present that case' on stage.

As for going through Lucas' things looking for stuff (ie Trump card), I suppose it will become a matter of negotiation with Solace and Florimel---once the murder investigation is well along.

Merlin will also have comments about that.

Celina probably isn't the threshold to cross there. Player sees no problems with it, but many things come first.

While the secret of Vere's ability is no doubt slowly working its way through the Family grapevine, it should still be a pretty small group who know about it. Although it's getting larger all the time.

My apologies. Solange will make her wishes known to Vere and let him take things from there.

"Investigating" the crime scene is at the very top of Vere's list of things that need to be done, and he'll make sure Solange is there when that happens. He'll let her know, in privy, that he's going to try to talk to Lucas, if their cousin answers then he'll make the decision on the fly as to what to tell the people who are in the room, if he isn't able to talk everyone into leaving beforehand to allow the two of them to examine the room "without distractions."

Celina chooses the first name Lance offers her for aides, Commandant DeWicke. She trusts that Lance's mind seized him first for a good reason. As soon as that is settled, and Lance has sent for that worthy, she gets her other points taken care of in good time.

The power nap, alas, is only a notion.

Celina notes Vere and Solange with heads together several times while orders are flying, even after the formal welcoming ceremony. She senses some urgent issues will come to fore quickly. Privacy is probably the key. So they get it from her without asking.

So clearing issues up gracefully but quickly, she heads for Priority One. Lucas' quarters. "Please?" She motions for Vere and Solange to come along. Merlin seems to be more stoic than usual. She notes Merlin and she need some time to talk. When she gets some time, it will not be napping, but checking close with her brother, her lifeline to outsiderness.

Commandant DeWicke introduces himself during a small pause in the flow of instructions and official flurry. He looks rumpled, as if pulled from some place in a hurry. He is not so handsome and not so blonde as he might have been when younger, but the elements have graced him with a seasoning that intrigues the eye. Celina smiles. "Thank you for your service. This is sure to be more interesting and more thankless than many things you have done for France."

Celina walks the corridor to Lucas' room at brisk pace, a habit she has recently acquired at odds with her Rebman training. Her face is a set sculpt of sorrow as her thoughts gallop, but that transparency smoothes away when she arrives at the door. It would not do for Florimel or Solace to see her grieve and set off their own balance.

Celina knocks and opens in one motion. She steps within and gestures with one hand, in the same motion as the spiral she used to describe the scene earlier. This invites Vere and Solange to make their own observations. Celina only nods to Lord Rein and Florimel and takes their questions if they have any.

Lucas' eyes are still waiting for something from her.

Vere follows close behind Celina, and steps aside to make room for Solange to enter. His eyes immediately go to Lucas, then flick out to take in the area immediate around the body, and then he slowly turns his head, examining the entire room from his position near the door.

Solange pauses in the doorway, as if reluctant to enter. She inhales, puts on her game face, and walks in. Her eyes search out not Lucas, but his mother. "Aunt Flora, I am very sorry for your loss."

Florimel has not even had time to change out her clothes for mourning. "Thank you, Solange."

Lord Rein is with her. He might be holding Florimel up, except for her ramrod-stiff posture and the expression that bodes ill for someone.

"My deepest sympathies, Aunt Florimel," [Vere] says, his attention clearly still on his examination of the crime scene. With barely a pause, in which Florimel murmurs a polite thanks, he continues, "Has anything been moved or disturbed?"

Celina examines the room again and finds it looks as she first saw it. "I think not."

"Nothing has been disturbed," Lord Rein says, "by the order of the Regent."

"What are the next steps to be taken in this matter?" Florimel asks, her question clearly directed to Merlin and Celina. Merlin leaves it to Celina to answer.

Vere slowly begins to walk through the room, being very careful of where he puts his feet. He makes a circuit of the room first, looking for anything out of place, anything that doesn't match his expectations of what Lucas would have in his own private chambers. Only then does he turn his attention back to the body, examining it without touching anything, judging the angle from which the shard of glass entered Lucas, considering the source of the glass (was it from the main mirror in the room?), and carefully considering the pattern made by any other pieces of glass on the room's floor, to determine how much force and how carefully directed the blow from the other side of the mirror must have been to drive it so deeply into the victim.

Other than the half-completed Trump, it looks much as one of Lucas's chamber in Amber might have looked, except with Parisian furniture instead of Amberish furniture.

The glass was a shard from a large, essentially full-length, mirror in the large central door of an armoire in the room. It wasn't the main mirror, the one designed to reflect light into the room, but it was very large and closest to where Lucas was facing. It would also have reflected light, hence the choice to use this room as a painting studio.

To Vere's eyes, had the blow been made by a human hand, it would have had to be reasonably carefully directed. The shard embedded in his chest would have required a great deal of force to put there. If he was stabbed by hand, Vere would think it would require someone extraordinary, if not Family, to have done it.

Solange, careful not to touch anything, comes around from the doorway and stands near her aunt. She turns and faces Lucas, looking at his dead body for the first time since entering the room. Her mouth works, suppressing emotion.

"This has not been a good day," she growls, to no one in particular. "God, Lucas, you knew better than to do something like this within view of a mirror!"

And yet, to maintain secrecy about his art, Solange knows he couldn't have done it any other way.

Florimel's eyes settle on Solange for a moment before she returns her attention to the Regent.

Celina picks up Florimel's question and manages an answer that hints of no simmering anger or cold guilt despite feeling both. "Next steps would be providing a respectful treatment of Lucas as soon as we have the data available in hand. I've called for the best physician, so nothing is missed. If you know of one you prefer Aunt Florimel, that is certainly something to do now. I want to move quickly. The guilty party may still be caught between covering tracks and preparing an exit from Paris." Celina moves closer to Florimel. "I request permission to use magic to see if there is a link to the killer if all else fails to produce a lead."

"I'll speak with your physician, but we all know what the results will be and we all know who killed Lucas." Florimel looks at Celina, Merlin, Solange, and then Vere, each in turn. "What magics do you have in mind?"

"I never accept the obvious without confirmation, Princess Florimel," Vere says, still focused on the body. "Offhand, without applying myself, I can think of five individuals besides Moire who have the means to have done this, and who might have reason either to kill Lucas or to slay a member of the family without concern over the precise identity of the victim, merely to cast suspicion upon Moire. This in no way means that Moire is not a principal suspect, merely that I wish more information before we act. Unless you are so intent upon Moire's death that you do not care to wait for the surety that she is guilty. In which case my count of other suspects is six."

It's a most inappropriate time to smile for a number of reasons, which of course makes Solange want to smile all the more. She raises her eyebrows and bites the inside of her lip instead.

Celina gathers breath to counter her Aunt when Vere smoothly says it better than it would have sounded from her. She swallows her half-felt argument. "My brother and I have worked with the eye as a reflective surface for vision and sorcery. I think that combining our efforts...and the matter so recent...that we could see images off the surface of Lucas' eye. I think he saw his killer."

"Then do it," says Florimel. "Because I want all the evidence to be solid when the time comes to deal with the murderer." Vere has no trouble recognizing that falsely pleasant smile as very dangerous.

Merlin also catches it and says, very hastily, "Then let us do whatever magics are to be done."

"I would like to attempt something," Vere says. "But I request none but immediate family be here when I make the attempt." He looks at Celina.

There are several different ways that Celina might ask about what he plans, but then there are non-family here and he should not offer if it is something that will have Moire kill him outright. She decides that she doesn't need to question his method.

Celina asks for Lord Rein to clear the room and have the passage outside guarded. She also says, "I need to speak with you about the thieflings and rogues of Paris today. A man of music should know much of the lower classes I think." She smiles at him, even if he does not understand her line of thought.

When the room is cleared, she nods to Vere but does not ask the obvious.

Solange moves to stand near her foster brother. She says nothing, but her expression is grave and troubled. She crosses her arms and waits.

Merlin is standing by the door. Before Florimel can speak up, he says, "Now you will explain what you mean to do, please, cousin Vere."

"Perhaps the mirrors should be covered?" Vere suggests, as he lifts a cleaning rag from Lucas' painting supplies and delicately drapes it around the shard of mirror piercing his cousin.

Celina fetches a bed linen from the next room to drape the source of Lucas' demise. This is delicately done so as not to further disturb the pieces of that glass.

After waiting a moment for the mirrors in the room to be covered or turned to the wall (or for Celina and/or Flora to indicate that they aren't going to do that) Vere turns to Flora and bows his head, then raises it again and looks her directly in the eyes. "Princess Florimel," he says formally, "I request your permission to raise the shade of your son, to seek information in the manner of his death, and the identity of the person responsible."

Celina is inwardly shocked and outwardly pale.

Solange is unsurprised by Vere's proclamation. Her eyes glance around, taking in reactions.

Florimel, like Celina, is pale, and doesn't seem to have decided how to answer just yet.

Merlin merely seems interested in the idea. "How do you propose to accomplish this? Will you work the principle of Time, or do you have some other means?"

The question seems to snap Florimel out of her own shock. "If you think it has some use, and won't harm Lucas, do it." Then, as something of an afterthought, she turns to Celina. "Will this interfere with the other sorcery you spoke of?"

Celina says the most modest thing she can think of at the moment, "Not as far as I know. It certainly may make it moot. Please, Lord Vere, what preparation do you need from us?"

Vere moves a footstool to where he can sit at a level with Lucas. He stares into Lucas' eyes as he says, "Nothing is required, Celina. I do not know how much will be audible or visible to you. Cousin Merlin, I do not use Sorcery, so far as I know. It is, instead, an ability natural to me, something that came upon me unasked, not a power that I sought. If you wish to observe with sorcerous sight, I would be most interested in discussing with you later what you see.

"Do you recall," he continues conversationally, his eyes still looking into Lucas' eyes, "Our last conversation? When we discussed the strong possibility that Lord Hardwind had been involved with the Paresh, and you resolved to travel to Asir island to learn what had happened to the Paresh and the ship I had sent after them? And we discussed briefly the investigation of Demond Harga'rel'murder? I never told you how I had learned what information I had gained on his death. Now, at last, my friend, you know. I regret the circumstances, Lucas. Pray, tell me what you can of your death."

Celina holds her breath, for Vere surprises her again with how calmly and gently he casts his summoning. She admires the beauty and simplicity of what he's done and discards the awful shadows she had imagined.

Merlin, beside her, is raptly silent.

Solange and Celina see Lucas' ghostly form standing by his dead body, but they cannot hear anything he says. From the frustrated expression on her face, they suspect that Florimel can't hear anything either.

To Vere, Lucas says, "How tiresome to speak of one's death when one can speak of life. Death in general is rather tiresome, don't you think? It was unfortunate that I didn't have enough light in the chamber without the mirrors. I thought I might be seen but I must admit it didn't occur to me that they'd destroy the mirror to kill me." He makes a moue of disgust.

In Celina's ear, Merlin murmurs, softly enough that no one else can hear distinctly, "Fascinating."

"Even so," Celina breathes softly back.

Vere nods. "It does seem an overreaction," he says. "What happened, from your perspective?"

Solange exhales a small sigh as she watches Vere and the Lucas-shade interact. Arms still crossed, she shifts her weight.

Celina doesn't believe most religious comforts, even less now with Lucas' shade standing in the room. However, her interest in Vere, already high, goes up a notch. She rubs her wrists a bit to smooth out the tension that lingers there. She watches Lucas' mouth, his manner, looking for some discrepancy but moreso saying goodbye and fixing this all in her memory.

"I was working on the painting that ma cousine Celina had permitted me to begin when the subject herself appeared in my mirror. She told me I'd interfered for the last time, and then the mirror exploded, and my chest hurt. And then it did not." Lucas looks down at his own form. "It wasn't too badly done. At least she didn't fill me with glass shards like a pincushion. With proper preparation, the funeral could even be open-casket."

Florimel takes a step towards Lucas. "What's he saying?" she asks Vere.

"At Notre Dame, with full honours befitting one on my station," Lucas says, ignoring Florimel. "Tell them that."

"He wants a state funeral at Notre Dame," Vere replies with the faintest hint of a smile. "Full honours. He strongly suggests that with a small amount of careful preparation it can be an open-casket funeral. I rather think he would like to have Corwin institute a period of official mourning, as well." He doesn't take his eyes from Lucas'. "Is there anything you wished to say to him, Aunt Florimel?"

Florimel looks like she's straining to hear what Lucas is saying, to no avail.

"Ask him what happened to Solace. Who attacked her?"

"What of the attacks upon lady Solace, Lucas?" Vere asks. "Do you know who is responsible for those?"

Solange suddenly makes a small sound and her hand rises to touch her mouth. She looks startled.

"But has he said who killed him?" Celina whispers.

Lucas smiles at Vere. "I told Maman I would never tell. The mere fact of my demise makes me no less fixed in my determination."

"Ah," Vere says. "Princess Florimel did not mention that you had previously told her you would not answer that question. I will convery the information to her that you maintain that determination in death. May I take it, though, that this indicates that you are confidant your wife and children face no further danger from that source?" He holds a hand up to Celina as he speaks, palm out.

"I believe he'll say yes," Solange murmurs thoughtfully.

Celina holds herself still and listening. She watches Lucas closely.

Florimel's eyes have narrowed and she's wearing a smile that might be described as unpleasantly satisfied, as if a nasty suspicion she was reasonably certain of has been confirmed.

Merlin whispers to Celina, "But if he knew--" and lets that trail off. He sounds somewhat confused and somewhat disgruntled.

Lucas ignores the byplay between his cousins and the look of his mother. To Vere, he says only, "One does hope so, but there are no guarantees about these things. You should watch her."

"I will so inform your mother and Regent Celina," Vere says. "Let us turn back to the previous matter. You said that when Moire appeared in your mirror she said that you had interfered with her for the last time. That strikes me as curious phrasing. I was not aware that you had previously opposed her plans. Or is there another interpretation which can be put upon her words?"

"I have no idea what she meant," Lucas says dismissively. "Pallbearers--you'll serve, won't you, cousin? You and Martin, and Corwin's son--Merlin, I do believe--and Jerod, and Ossian, and Conner. The casket should only be opened if it can be done without terrifying Hope and Phillippe."

"Thank you, Lucas," Vere says. "I am honoured. Very well, I will convey that message. Your wish Prince Martin, Prince Merlin, Jerod, Ossian, Conner and myself as pallbearers. And the question of whether or not it is to be an open casket ceremony should be determined by whether you are presentable enough to avoid frightening the children. Your mother and wife, I am certain, will be gratified by your consideration."

He brings his hands together, and says, "Is there anything else that needs to be said, or asked?"

Celina fidgets a bit, "Were there accomplices involved? Was it only a single person?" She is stabbed into the unknown now.

"Goodbye, Lucas," Solange says softly, rather disappointed that after the trials and tribulations they'd gone through together, that he didn't even acknowledge she was there. She turns away.

Lucas sighs. "These is much more that needs to be said. I haven't described the clothes, the flowers, the disposition of my household, what you need to do for Phillippe now that he is Viscount St. Cyr. Really, there are many, many items to address. Are you ready for me to dictate my eulogy?"

Florimel shakes her head. "What I have left to say, Lucas has never wanted to hear." She looks away from Vere as well.

Merlin asks, "What does his murder have to do with the fight between Martin and the Rebman agents in Amber?"

"Alas, my friend," Vere says sadly, "I do not believe it is traditional for the deceased to dictate his eulogy. But I will check with experts on protocol about that after we finish our conversation. Prince Merlin wonders if there is a connection between your murder and a fight between Prince Martin and Rebman agents in Amber. Do you know aught of this?"

"I hardly paid any attention to that and in any case, I was done with it once I had to relocate Prudenter. What a distressing moment that was, sending away my tobacconist! The only redeeming feature of the matter was that he was here in Paris when I arrived. I was rather cross with Martin about that.

"But in any case, there are still more matters to be dealt with about the funeral. Matters of dress, and orders of precedence, and so on." Lucas seems to be prepared to go on at interminable length on this issue if Vere doesn't shut him up.

Vere breaks eye contact with Lucas and looks at Celina. "Martin relocated one of his, or Lucas', agents from Amber to Paris. A tobacconist named Prudenter. If he has not already been killed by Moire's people he might prove a useful source of information on whatever plots and counterplots they were running against each other. Lucas is fixated upon the arrangement of the funeral, and I do not believe any more useful information can be obtained." He turns to Flora and bows his head to her slightly. "Have I your permission to dismiss his spirit, Aunt?"

Celina holds onto the name, thinking that if no one else has time, she might make something of that.

"Wait. One more question, if I may," Solange interjects. "Please ask Lucas where his trumps are. I want the one he has of me."

Florimel seems to be about to reply to Vere when Solange interrupts.

But it is Merlin who speaks, brow furrowing. "How long ago did Lucas make this trump of you?"

"Not long ago," Solange replies, looking at him. "Why does it matter?"

Vere pauses before passing Solange's request on to Lucas, waiting to see where Merlin is going with his question.

Trump process being something a bit eerie and invasive, Celina just listens hoping to put knowledge in place of fears.

"I am trying to locate when in the temporal order Lucas became involved with making trumps. Making trumps is a hostile act," Merlin explains calmly. "Certainly it is when performed without the permission of the subject. When we find his trumps, until we know how Lucas intended to dispose of them, they are evidence of possible criminal behavior, and a potential motive for his murder, if we do not accept the theory that Moire murdered him because he was making a Trump of her."

Celina is startled to find her unvoiced apprehensions given form by her brother. Trump making hostile? She smothers a shiver in her lower back. Her impression of Lucas and the situation wavers a bit.

Merlin looks to Vere and Celina. "When Vere dismisses Lucas' spirit, I would like to perform some sorcery of my own."

Florimel has remained silent through this entire exchange, as if she is waiting for something.

Celina looks questioning at Vere and Solange. They have the floor.

Vere turns back to Lucas' shade. "Lucas," he says. "Solange sends her regards, and her deepest sorrow at this turn of events. She also wonders where your trump deck might be. Your trump of her would be a comfort and a memento mori to her."

"Thank you, Vere. You phrased that well," Solange says. Her eyes flick to Merlin. "I certainly do not want to hinder a potential criminal investigation. I only want to know where the trump of myself is, for my own safety and peace of mind."

Solange shrugs slightly. Surely her reasons are obvious and understandable.

"Assuming my trump is not the only trump Lucas has created, does it then need to be retained? I would like to take my trump and eventually give it to King Random, to put in the trump booth in Xanadu," she continues. Solange turns her gaze in appeal to Celina and Flora.

Celina waits on Vere's question to the shade of Lucas. She inclines her head in understanding of Solange's clarification.

Lucas shrugs. "As I am dead it is not mine to give. She shall have to wait until Phillippe is old enough that she can sleep with him to get it." He pauses. "Or Hope, perhaps. Now, as to the disposition of my body. I shall want lockets made with tufts of my hair to give to all the whores in Paris..." He seems likely to continue on in this vein for some time.

Vere's lips form a thin smile, and he looks at Solange. "I fear he has no interest in answering that question," he tells her. "Instead, he says you must bargain with Hope or Philippe when they are old enough, as the deck is now theirs. That would imply that it is where it may be found."

He turns to Florimel once more. "Princess?" he asks.

Solange appears about to pursue the point, but instead takes her brother's advice and lets it go. She looks at Flora as well.

Celina steps closer to Florimel, "Before this terrible event, Lucas had written to me asking permissions to 'pursue any means' to keep track of Rilsa in defense of Paris. I consider it possible despite whatever Trump he was working on, that she was the killer, perhaps in defense of her liege. I told him there were conditions to his request and never heard back from him." She nods then to Florimel, adding that information to the common good if Florimel has any further questions for her son.

Florimel shakes her head. "We'll want to question the tobacconist, but I think there's nothing more to be learned in this manner. Unless the other sorceries you mentioned earlier are likely to have a different result."

Lucas continues his recitation.

Celina says, "No, I'm sure we're done with this method. Merlin will explore next."

"Fare well, Lucas," Vere says. He waves a hand in a dismissive gesture, and turns his head away from Lucas, ending the summoning.

Lilly is still recovering from the rip in spacetime Madoc cast her through following their failed negotiations at the Tree when the attack happens. Wherever she's arrived seems to have had a recent volcanic eruption: there's ash in the air and what Lilly suspects from the appearance of the trees is a dense tropical forest of some sort is on fire. She's in no immediate danger from the flames, which mostly seem to be at a lower elevation and closer to the volcano than the switchback in the mountainside where she's standing.

The light of the cracked moon is dim, almost bloody, as best she can see through the clouds and ash, but even without sight, Lilly knows what the sound of a spear thumping into the ground a few feet from her is. She can guess from the sound what the direction of approach must be, and her guess is confirmed when there's a call in a language she doesn't know.

It doesn't sound like a call for her to surrender. It sounds like a call for reinforcements.

Lilly turns. Slowly. A feral grin spreads across her lips and her eyes sparkle with a manic glow despite the gathering dimness. Staring in the direction of the spear thrower, she reaches for the blade at her hip and unsheathes it in a blur of motion. Fresh anger and frustration churned within her blood. First Madoc... Now this. Fine. Let the universe do whatever the hell it wanted. No more games. No more running away. Time to claim her heritage.

Come to me, she dares the unseen foes. Come to me and discover just how dangerous a daughter of Benedict can be.

There are three of them, nearly-naked warriors with tattoos, rushing at her. None of them are trained nearly to the level that would challenge a daughter of Benedict. She can tell by the way they approach and move. Nor are their weapons of obsidian any threat to her steel.

Stillness caresses her skin. As they approach, Lilly is little more then a statue set forth in honor of some distant war god. Only the faint movement of breath betrays her life.

The ploy works. The men slow in their attack, curious. Was this a surrender or simply a death wish? One dared inch close. Too close. With a satisfying squelch, Lilly plunges her blade deep within his bowels then forces it upward stealing away life sustaining breath. The others react, moving in quickly but not nearly quick enough. Freeing the blade, she slides the steel effortless across the second's throat nearly severing his head before piercing the apple of the third. In scant seconds, the fight is over and three men lie dead at the sword mistresses feet.

Once Lilly has incapacitated her foes, she can hear what the summons has wrought. More warriors are approaching. On an individual level, Lilly can kill any of them with ease, but if there are enough of them, they could take her down by sheer numbers of bodies. She can't tell how many are coming, but it seems to be a lot.

Lilly hesitates. The three had been less then satisfying. Rage still howled in her mind demanding release. But now was not the time for a suicide mission. No. She would not allow herself the peace of death until Dara had been dealt with. She wipes her blade clean on the clothing of one of the fallen and moves from the path of the approaching men.

Cover is thankfully abundant in this place. The rank air, full of ash, should keep her scent well hidden. Lilly finds an area to survey their approach. Taking on an army might be foolish but taking on the leaders is something different entirely. There had better be a challenge, her inner voice calmly states. There is no point in playing with the prey unless a few skills can be honed in the process.

The men are near-naked, they are carrying spears with obsidian points, and they seem to have a uniform look in their eye as if they are on some sort of drug or are bewitched. They seem to be unafraid of the fire that is around them, although they do not deliberately burn themselves.

They are coming down the mountain from above. Lilly can see a saddle-pass between to peaks up the hill. In the other direction, Lilly sees the burning remains of a city beneath the settling ash and soot. The stone buildings will survive, but most of the structures are wooden and they are already afire.

Based on the pattern of movement above and the trail left below, Lilly believes that the army climbed over this mountain from the city and are either escaping or just leaving. Most of the army is passed. This may have been the rear-guard.

They may not fear the fire, Lilly notes, but they certainly have enough wisdom to walk away. So drugged or not, common sense still functions. Good. Because she needs a distraction and a chance to burn away some of the inner rage, Lilly follows their course, moving at a swift pace alongside. Occasionally, she tosses a stone into the distance simply to gauge their reaction. Best to know thy enemy.

Much like a cat, Lilly begins to enjoy taunting her prey. It made life more interesting. Fortunately, there is no one near enough to see her grinning.

Clearly, the mice are trying to bell the cat. They are searching the woods for Lilly. In a little bit, Lilly will be forced to leave the woods or take out a portion of the search team. They've sent back a second squad of more experienced fighters. There seem to be plenty of them at the top.

Growing bored with the game, Lilly retreats slightly to reassess the situation. There is nothing to be gained here. Not really. Perhaps a bit of self-satisfaction and a minor escape from her otherwise confused existence but little else. She turns with the intent of stepping off into the Shadows when a thought intrudes.

He sent you here for a reason.

Stopping mid step, Lilly cocks her head slightly to the side. Go on, she thinks back.

There must be a reason. There always is. Even if it is not intentional. Your world isn't equipped with coincidence.

There is truth to that, Lilly agrees. Fine then.

She turns back and begins to move around the army of men, over the hill; making their destination her own. Let's see what's here before finding out what's somewhere else. The sword, of course, remains in her grip.... just in case it's needed.

Lilly crosses the saddleback mountain and finds herself looking down at a ruined town, the stone buildings covered with more of the burning lava. There is a building standing in the midst of the ruin and fire. It looks like a pyramid whose top has been blown off. Standing on it are two people. It looks as if it's the destination of the army below.

Interesting. Perhaps this game might still have some merit.

Lilly pulls her pack from her shoulders and reaches within. Sifting through the contents, she smiles as she touches cool metal. That will work, she decides and pulls out a sleek, black metal spyglass. She looks it over once before setting down the pack.

"All right then... let's see why we are here," Lilly whispers to herself as she lifts the spyglass to her right eye and begins an elaborate series of lens adjustments designed to bring the two figures into sharp focus.

The two figures appear with surprising clarity in the center of the focal area. She recognizes the woman popping a gem into her mouth and eating it at once; it's Clarissa. The other figure is bronzed and handsome, and has a golden dragon draped around his shoulders like a sated snake. He is her cousin Edan.

Lilly watches for a moment and then decides that there is little point in playing hid and see with the sorcerers. She returns the spy glass to her bag and begins to make her way to the duo. She continues to walk carefully, trying not to attract the undue attention of the nearby soldiers. No point in killing more of them if they are working FOR Edan. And if they are working against him - well certainly he can fight his own battles.

As she makes her way toward the pyramid, Lilly sees glimpses of a stallion caparisoned in a vaguely familiar style, something like the Amber bridle and saddle but yet not the same. She thinks she may have seen the horse before, but she may not recall where.

Approaching a strange beast is not always the wisest of decisions, still Garrett would be disappointed if she did not at least attempt to make friends with it. Besides, riding to meet Edan will be much faster then walking. If only she can get close enough...

"Hello there," Lilly says in a low voice as she cautiously moves towards the horse. "And who might you be?" She does not expect the answer but the [time] in chaos has prepared her for one never-the-less.

The horse whickers at her. She's sure he's combat-trained, both because of the way he moves and his steadiness. Examining him more closely, she can see that it's been closer to the fire and explosion and is now running away. There are some mild burns and scorchmarks, but he doesn't seem to be severely injured, and he doesn't move as if any bones are broken.

He doesn't seem inclined to flee from Lilly.

Lilly reaches into her pack and removes a shiny red apple. She gives it a quick polish with her shirt before dangling before the horse. "Here you go boy, have a treat." With her best Garrett impersonation, she attempts to feed the apple to the horse without getting her hand removed in the process.

Once the feeding experiment is concluded, Lilly tries the next logical step - mounting. She is rather intent upon succeeding too and feels her will can certainly outweigh the horse's in this matter.

Lilly is able to convince the stallion to let her feed him. Mounting up is more difficult and requires quite a bit of enforced willpower to make it less improbable for a trained warhorse to accept someone other than his master on his back. About the time she has successfully managed this feet, she feels a hot, dry wind of the sort she'd expect from the desert blow over her and the horse, carrying a piercing whistling sound.

The stallion's ears perk up and he starts to move off, as if in reply to the summons.

Lilly smiles. Fate may not be always be a friend but it appeared to be a constant companion. She shifts her weight, prompting the stallion into a gallop. The scenery rolls by in a blur. Her focus remains steady on the movements of the horse. For a few moments there is the exhilaration of free movement. All boundaries fall away. Then finally, the horse begins to slow, and Lilly spots Edan not far ahead.

Moments pass. Edan hears the approach well before it is seen. Aramsham is moving at a gallop, speeding towards his destination. His pace slows slightly, as he comes into sight. A woman... no not just any woman... Lilly sits poised in the saddle. She quickly makes eyes contact with Edan and offers a nod. "I knew I recognized this horse," she says. Pulling the horse to a halt, she dismounts in a swift, fluid move.

"Thank you," Lilly offers to Aramsham before turning her attention fully to her relatives. "I apologize if I have offended you by borrowing him," she gestures to the stallion. "He is a fine creature and saved me a bit of a walk."

Edan, realizing his jaw has dropped, closes it with a click. Then, he grins. "Of all the people I expected to find here, you... well, you were not even on the list. It is good to see you, cousin." He takes a step or two forward to pet Aramsham on the nose.

"No wonder you took so long, you spoiled nag. You stopped for reinforcements! I hope he behaved for you, Lilly; he has a very foul temper somet- oww! Off the foot!"

Aramsham's ears go back, but he removes his foot from Edan's foot.

Clarissa, meanwhile, has moved to envelop Lilly in a perfumed hug. "Dear Lilly! So good of you to come! I didn't expect to see you here."

They are standing at the foot of the pyramid, the top of which is blown off as if it were a volcano.

Lilly somehow manges to refrain from wincing but only just. In her mind, she remembers the old women who lived near her when she was growing up. They too had a penchant for embracing. On the bright side, Clarissa, at the very least, would most likely not provide her with a running commentary about how she should eat more because men enjoyed curves and she really wanted to make sure she attracted the right kind of man... Of course, the speech always had the opposite effect of making her sick to her stomach and prompting her to eat even less but that was all beside the point.

Pulling back, Lilly attempts a social smile that promptly up-ends itself into a bit of a grimace."This destination was not exactly my choice either but fate, for whatever reason, has put me in your company."

She looks around and then returns to the question most pressing in her mind right now, "Perhaps you could tell me where I am?"

"We are at the Pyramid of the Magician in the Shadow Uxmal," Edan says. "Home of Brennan, Ambrose and Chantico. You caught us just as we were about to depart."

"Your cousin Ambrose seems to have abandoned the place and left Chantico some surprises." Clarissa gives Lilly a rather sharp-toothed smile. "We're on our way to find him now. Where were you going that your path drew you here, Lilly?"

"I was going nowhere," Lilly replies. "I was attempting to reason with Maddoc but the negotiations appear to be over." She takes a deep breath. "He either sent me here or simply out of his realm and I landed here. I realize there is quite a difference between the two. If there was nothing going on here or this was simply the middle of some distant war, I would say the latter. However, I think there is far too much coincidence involved for that. As to why he would want me here..." there is a slight shrug, "Perhaps one of you is better able to answer that?"

"I do not know." Edan is frowning. "How did he get you from there to here directly, past the Tree? I didn't think that was possible."

"It's possible he was trying to send you to me, although you must have been near or at the Tree for him to send you even this far," Clarissa says. "We're not very far in," she clarifies for Edan's benefit.

The frown lessens, vanishes. "Not a limit," Edan says, slowly. "Only very difficult. Like when I juggled Pattern and Sorcery." He glances back and forth from Clarissa to some far-off spot as the idea of it dawns on him. That, and the realization that there are probably more limits he's set in his head that need to be reviewed at some later quiet moment.

Finally, he gives both Lilly and Clarissa a weak smile. "So much for staying subtle and invisible. I certainly did my part to ruin that. Perhaps we should get going before someone with the Art zeroes in on us."

Lilly nods in acknowledgement if not in understanding. Sorcery and mysticism has their place but as of now that place remains very distant for her. "I have no objections to leaving. However, if there is danger present, can I have a quick appraisal of the situation. Otherwise, I claim the right to kill anyone that crosses my path... present company excluded, of course." There is a slight hesitation, then a smile as she realizes she should probably make it seem as if she is not quite serious.

"There's whatever drove Ambrose to abandon the place, and then his sister Chantico." Clarissa blithely dismisses the latter problem and seems none too concerned about the former.

Edan looks in the general direction of the path Ambrose took from the pyramid. "If Chantico has not been here already, which is likely, she will be tracking us as we track him. The explosion will be nothing to her. Not the best tactical situation, but it could be much worse." He turns to Lilly and bows. He looks completely serious. "And... thank you, cousin. It is ever so tedious and tiresome to come back from the dead."

"I'm sure it is," Lilly responds smoothly. "Let's move then. Staying still for too long really doesn't suit me anyway and I've wasted enough of my time on diplomacy." The last may not have anything at all to do with the situation but there is an edge to it all the same.

Once things are settled, Clarissa takes out a lock of red hair and a brazier and burns it ceremonially, and then she Parts the Veil, using a stick with the lock of burning hair to draw the rift.

She gestures to Edan and Lilly to step through first. There is darkness, as if it's night, on the other side, so it's hard to tell much else immediately. Edan will have to lead Aramsham through instead of riding.

It seems to be taking Clarissa more exertion than usual to hold open the rift.

Lilly's brow furrows as she peers through the rift. Why did it have to be dark? She is neither frightened nor apprehensive, though she probably should be. Instead, due to her current state of contempt for all that is her bloodline, she merely feels an active disdain. For once, just once, she would like to have some measure of control over the universe. Walking the pattern was supposed to deliver that. Instead, she keeps finding herself entrenched in the company of sorcerers and with seemingly less control over her environment then before. Whoever coined the phrase life isn't fair didn't know the half of it...

Realizing Clarissa may not be able to maintain the effort for more then a few moments, Lilly draws her sword. With the blade leading the way, she steps into the unknown.

In contrast, Edan looks almost relieved. "This will solve some problems," he says, and turns to look at Lilly; getting a glimpse of her expression, he presses his lips together and leads Aramsham through behind her.

Even in the darkness, Edan's hand finds Lilly's shoulder. "It is said that those of Amber do not use sorcery. They use sorcerors, instead," he says. "My father and I do not agree- we prefer to maintain our own control over dangerous things like that, rather than trust someone else. But if it is sorcery that brings that look to your face, my cousin, remember it is but a tool. A weapon, like a sword, or an extremely versatile martial art. That is all it is. You have the means to defeat it. In the meantime, why not enjoy its advantages?"

Clarissa starts to step through behind them, but the rift begins to close and she sticks her hands through to hold it open. As the burning hair comes through the rift, there's an explosion of light and heat, and Edan at least can feel a power of sorcery happening in it.

"Clever of him," Clarissa's voice says behind them, almost admiringly, "I may have taught him too well."

Then the rift closes, severing Clarissa's hands partway through the palms and fingers. They, and the wand with the lock of the burning hair, fall to the ground, the flame extinguished.

Edan and Lilly are alone in the dark.

Lilly stares into the dark void for the briefest of moments before whispering, "Now do you understand why I prefer a more direct approach?" There is a pause as she shakes her head. "I certainly hope she is OK. Fingers tend to be important but I trust she has the means to staunch any bleeding." A long sigh. "This seems to have changed the plan just a bit."

"A bit." Edan's hand leaves her shoulder. "Clarissa's going to want those back.'

There is a pause in the darkness. 'Try not to think of her as human. She doesn't have the same frailties. Have you seen her in her own demense? I have... what was with us at the pyramid, that was only the smallest fraction of her. She doesn't need fingers. She would make them as she wants them."

He reaches down to where he remembers the severed hands to be, touches them, draws the heat from them until they are frozen solid. Picking all the items up from the ground, he puts them in his robe. Then, he claps his hands together and lays a palm flat against Lilly's back.

Edan's and Lilly's eyes have already begun to adjust to the near pitch-black of their surroundings. Between the echoing vision and their own sight, they can tell that they're in a wood somewhere. The feel of the air suggests they're not too far from the sea, although they're not so close they can smell salt. It's cooler and a bit drier than it was in Uxmal, but, after all, that was a jungle.

There is sound, actual sound, off in one direction, more than can be accounted for by small creatures. The forest canopy hides any starlight, but there is no moon as far as Edan and Lilly can tell.

Maybe Ambrose planned it that way.

Lilly starts to take a step forward then hesitates, "I assume our plan is to head towards the noise and scout the situation? I realize Ambrose is probably more or less expecting to be followed or else there would have been no trap left behind. However, that fact does not change the need for action. Simply standing around awaiting an attack will not make me very happy."

"Indeed," Edan says, straightening his clothing. "But not scout as in to sneak around. We must meet him as equals, not discovered as spies. Parity. It is necessary."

"I agree it is necessary," Lilly responds as she begins to move forward. "However, I prefer to not go into battle blindly. Hence, scouting. To be equal, we must know a bit more about our surroundings and his weaponry. So by all means, look as confident as you please but walk with your eyes wide open and absorb every detail. You never know what small piece of scenery might prove to be vital later on."

"Agreed," Edan says. He pats Aramsham's neck and moves his hand before it's bitten. "Thinking about riding, or walking?"

"Seeing as there is one horse and two riders, I think the answer to that depends upon Aramsham," Lilly replies. "He may not be willing to carry us both." She smiles gently at the horse before continuing on. "Summoning another may take too long. Of course we could always walk until we find a horse I can borrow." To be fair, she thinks to herself, it really does not qualify as borrowing when the original rider is dead and there is no real intent to return the creature to anyone. But why refer to it as stealing when it hasn't happened yet?

"We can ride and then walk," Edan says. "It has been my experience that when Aramsham is walked for too long, he gets restless. He will snort, and prance, and toss his head, and let everyone know that he is a prince amongst horses. Then comes the sniffing and rooting around for a treat. Spoiled, this one is. I wonder how he got that way..."

"I can't imagine," Lilly replies coolly. "Though I will admit, he responds well enough to bribes. And I may have an apple or two left in my bag if we need it." She pats Aramsham gently then steps aside. "After you?" she says to Edan, assuming that the horse will respond better to this.

Edan nods, and mounts; once he is settled on his horse, he holds out a hand for Lilly to take.

She moves with effortless grace and is soon seated behind him.

Edan sets Aramsham forward at a walk, head turning this way and that to see what is around them. He seems to have had a lot of practice with the spell he's placed on them, or at least looks very comfortable with it. Less comfortable is his expression when he tries to decide which subject to bring up. "Were you and Martin... successful... with what you were about?" he asks, finally.

Lilly presses her lips into a thin line as she takes a moment to formulate an answer. "Our distant cousins are a difficult lot. They play with different rules. I would hardly call anything I managed to do or not do a success. Martin and I were separated. It is possible his efforts were rewarded." She breathes in deeply and looks off into the distance. "Do you ever feel like you were thrown into all of this without the proper teaching or understanding? For all of my abilities, I still constantly feel as if I have no grasp on the rules of engagement, particularly when it comes to Family."

Edan blinks, then chuckles. "You could say that, yes. I have a slightly different problem: my father taught me the old way of dealing with our Family. How the brothers and sisters would treat one another. It is one of the reasons I chose to stay in the Dar-es Salaam. No one prepared me for the cameraderie of the cousins, or the, ah, executive style of the King." He glances back to her. "How do you handle them, these rules of engagement?"

"Normally?" Lilly asks then promptly answers her own question. "Normally, I prefer to sit back, assess the situation, look for points to weakness and find ways to exploit them. That works well in battle. Sometimes it is necessary to engage ones opponent on a superficial level to truly discover their weaknesses but eventually, I can find them. Except when it comes to family." She pauses for a moment then smiles. "I suppose after living multiple lifetimes, it is easier to hide things from one with less experience. I'm just not accustomed to being so easily thwarted." Judging from tone, the last statement is obviously something she is not comfortable admitting.

"Social interaction is a completely different battlefield," Edan agrees. "I know enough to know that I don't know very much. At least I grew up as an outcast in a Byzantine court, and have seen my share of manipulation and deception. Plus I have... had... my faith to show me how to act." He shakes his head. "A pale shadow, compared to Family. I take it that you concentrated your talents in another direction, then... a more martial one."

"One could say that," Lilly responds, the slightest hint of laughter permeating her voice. "I grow up in a loving household and had the misfortune of learning how to be nice to people. Stay quiet. Help out. All those wonderful things they teach the children of normal parents. But, as you know, my father is Benedict. So picking up a sword and pointing it at men twice my size was as natural and as easy for me as breathing. No one was going to be able to keep me from it."

Edan raises an eyebrow. "Are you inferring that someone tried? In my homeland, it is almost unheard-of for women to take up the sword. They are encouraged to more... traditional... pursuits. That was before I met the women of the desert tribes, of course."

"Oh, my foster mother tried!" Lilly responds. "Over and over and over again. I think when I arrived, she envisioned tea parties, and cooking, and little pink dresses. And I tried, too. I wanted to please her. More then anything I wanted to make her happy." Sadness momentarily overtakes her forcing a pause. "I won't say I was a disappointment, just something other then what they were expecting. They were able to understand and accept that I would never be like the other young girls I grew up with. I think that made them sad not because they wanted me to be something I wasn't but because they knew the life I was chasing would be much more difficult then that of a more traditional wife and mother."

"Indeed," Edan says. "So, you took the path of a Sword Maiden, then? How did they put it in that shadow I visited... a sword-saint? A full dedication to the art?" He looks troubled. "I can applaud the decision, but I doubt I could ever pursue a goal with such... determination, Lilly. I have too many fond interests. In a way, I envy your path. Its simplicity, its purity. But... isn't it lonely, this path you have taken?"

Lilly smiles softly, "Perhaps it is but to be honest, I have no measure of the word lonely. As a child I was separated from those around me for many reasons. I was a stranger. I looked different therefore I was treated different. Not by family but by everyone else. So in many ways, I grew up alone and followed my pursuit alone. I suppose I was lonely, but I never associated that word with my feelings. And now..." she pauses as she tries to put her feelings into perspective. "Well, let's just say I am very accustomed to my solitary lifestyle and at times the idea of not being alone is more frightening. There is a certain vulnerability, I have found, to needing the company of others. I'm not sure I am comfortable with that."

Edan gets a strange look when Lilly mentions 'looking different' and 'treated different', but it goes away. "But is that not a vulnerability in itself? Are there not those among Family that would take advantage of your desire to be alone, the lack of social interaction?"

"Would or have?" Lilly asks but leaves no time for a reply. "Certainly, I would like to be more socially adept and feel comfortable in the company of family. And you're right, it has all ready proven to be a vulnerability. I guess I don't really play well with others in many circumstances." She laughs softly. "It's something I suppose I will just have to keep working on."

Edan nods. "It is a thing that I have wanted to do, too. Not overcome a lack of interaction, but rather overcome my, ah, more exotic background. I keep saying that I will find the time to do so in Shadow, but more important things keep coming up." He glances back. "Where will you go, then, after we have met up with our cousin?"

"Not sure yet," Lilly replies honestly. "I have some long-term goals in mind that involve eradicating the problem most of us know as Dara however, I am wise enough to not pursue that end alone. Besides, I know there are others with the same goal and I do not wish to deny them any joy they might get from watching." She smiles, then shakes head. "And I suppose I should check in with King Random at some point, if for no other reason then to let him know I am alive." As she speaks, the face of another enters her mind. At some point, Lilly knows she must stop avoiding him as well. He had done nothing wrong. In fact, his actions had in some ways been too right. Giving into fear, particularly the fear of developing a relationship had been foolish. But even though Lilly understood that, the idea of seeing him again still made her stomach churn. Best to not think on that right now, she decides and attempts to purge the image from her mind.

Edan nods. "Let him know that I am still out and about, would you? I have no Trumps. Though I am considering coming back soon... I have a search going for the firelillies, and the question of the Moonriders will have to wait until that first question is answered."

"You do realize that simply discussing those two particular ongoing problems is nearly enough to divert me from any other tasks I may have planned, don't you?" Lilly shakes her head. "There are simply too many things vying for my attention right now. I think if nothing else, I need to return to Xanadu so I regain my focus but first, we must obviously deal with this mess."

"Of course," Edan says. "There will be time afterwards, Lilly. I understand that now. There are no limits. Only difficulty." He smiles. "If nothing else, that is the greatest lesson I have learned from Clarissa. That there are no limits to what we can do, what we can be. We can make the time we need because Time and Space are illusion. They are Principles. We are Real. There is only the matter of our perspective, within the everpresent Now. And, of course, the interference of others." He glances back. "Did that make any sense?"

Lilly shakes her head but offers something of a grin. "Some of it does. A sense of immortality does permeate this family. Of course, being as young as I am, I think I have a minimal grasp on that. But I do understand that patience is necessary... for many things. But I still perceive shadows as being perhaps more real then I should. It's something I think I will overcome with experience. Still, it is a grand thought and almost comforting."

"It is so," Edan says, nodding once. "Patience is more than a virtue for us. Taking the longer view, planning decades in advance, it is part of our gifts. And understanding the reality of Shadow..." he waves a hand, not going into his own years of staying in one shadow or worshipping a probable shadow god. He pushes away the strange feeling he gets at such a casual waving off of his past. "I understand. But there is another thing, and if you meet the Gheneshi, you need to know of it. The Calusan dragons do this instinctively. The Elders make use of it to varying degrees; it is how Father finds the time to do... whatever it is that he does. It is how Oberon placed the arm that came to your father. The Gheneshi understand this. It is one of the properties of Tir."

He pulls a length of thread from his pocket and stretches it out between his hands, guiding Aramsham with his knees. "Observe. This is how our senses perceive time. Our lives have a beginning and an end. Time moves linearly, in one direction, moment by moment. Right now we are a point on this line; we remember the points before, and normally we cannot see ahead. Being Family, we can affect time. We can stretch out the thread. We can shorten it. If we push hard enough, we can break it." He pushes his fingers together, making a loop and touching two points on the thread. "When a sorceror is asked, 'How does one see ahead in time?', this is the analogy that is usually used. He brings another point in the thread together with his own, and observes what he can. It is the simple explanation, and true. But things are more complicated than that, Lilly. Time is not a line, even though we see it as such."

Edan wraps the thread around his finger, ties knots, and continues wrapping the thread until it is a tight little ball. "This is time. Time is a big ball of string, and it contains an infinite number of threads. Do you see? Our moment in time, it does not just touch the moments before and after. Any point on that thread, it touches many, many other points. And our actions, or inactions, they jump us from thread to thread to thread within that ball. That is probability. Suddenly, looking ahead in time, it is not so simple, is it? And this is just one Shadow. Imagine a network of string, stretching to infinity in all directions. Each ball of string with an infinite number of threads. And they are all connected, in an almost infinite number of places. Do you see? Whether we are aware of it in our one moment, there are paths all around us. The Chaosi use these paths. The Gheneshi use these paths. Not all can be traveled, but they have learned, are learning, which ones can be walked. Have you been to Tir? I have seen Tir-na Nog'th, and have walked its Pattern. I have seen these properties of time for myself. This was what I was trying to say. Time is our plaything, Lilly, though it is a dangerous plaything. You could go anywhere. You can make time as you need it. And since time and space are really the same thing, you can go anywhere, anywhen. You just need to learn how, and know the risks. Rest assured, our enemies are already doing this."

Lilly nods, "You are an excellent teacher." She takes a moment to mull over his words before continuing on. "Your words offer an excellent model for understand and for that I thank you. In answer to a few of the questions you asked... No, I have not been to Tir. Prior to the sundering, I never had the opportunity to visit Amber. I have walked the pattern in Xanadu but no other and only once. As you can no see, there are many things I have yet to learn or experience. Perhaps someday you can help me remedy some that."

Edan smiles, looking ahead. "I would be honored, cousin Lilly. Whenever circumstances permit, of course. We both will have much to experience. Assuming we get through this." The smile fades a little. "Did I explain what happened to the pyramid?"

"No. Not really." Lilly responds. "I do know it has something to do with Ambrose and that Clarissa is evidently heavily involved but little more then that. It might be beneficial to know a few more details."

"After visiting Grandmother, she offered to teach a little advanced sorcery to me, along with Ambrose," Edan says. "I accepted, and we came to Uxmal. Ambrose was supposed to be in that pyramid, the Magician's Pyramid, but it was deserted. It is, ah, something of a family symbol for Brand and his descendants. Apparently, Ambrose is fighting a war with his half-sister, Chantico, for control of this shadow. He had left, with his mother and people, and had trapped the pyramid against Chantico's entry.

"These traps eventually snared us as we moved into the pyramid... at least, I think Grandmother was letting them work as part of my education. Eventually, I was stopped... trappped... by the sorcery, my desire not to disturb the traps for Ambrose's benefit, and my desire not to injure anyone. I became frustrated. Well, actually, I became angry. I can only assume Ambrose knows what happened, though he may not know what he's just done to Grandmother. He might be angry, too. I'll have to remind him that he was willing to give up the pyramid and indeed, that whole of Uxmal, in a bid to trap his sister."

"My father decided to teach me about warfare by having me command an army. So on some level, I certainly do understand. Our family is not particularly sympathetic when it comes to teaching," Lilly replies with a smile.

"All right then," she continues on. "Except for thwarting his plans to trap his sister, do you believe Ambrose has any other reason to direct his anger at us? Or will he be looking to maintain allies?"

"I heard about the Coronation," Edan says. "I'd say he's looking for allies, if he hasn't already found one in the King. We could use that. I'm sure that will come to his mind quickly."

Lilly nods, "There is that. Still, I am interested in hearing what he might have to say, as strange as that might sound. Diplomacy may not be my forte' but I feel it would be foolish to rush in with swords flashing."

Lilly and Edan have talked so long that a brightness has managed to begin to penetrate the forest canopy. They have been walking among the trees for some time, in the general direction of the noises they heard when they arrived. Edan at least can tell more clearly that they're moving in the direction of some kind of industrial noise.

Neither of them thinks Ambrose has anything much to do with industrial technology.