When the page wakes Misao at midnight, they experience a moment of disorientation and fear. Then the events of the previous day come crashing into their consciousness, sending shudders throughout their slight frame. Taking several deep breaths, Misao focuses their mind on meditation, until they have regained control.
Rising from their futon, Misao alters their robes into a simple white kosode and hakama, tucking some clean cloths into a sleeve. They are of course wearing white tabi and simple sandals. Their hair shifts to a simple rope, bound back at the shoulder by a white band and falling to the middle of their back. Their skin shifts to a caramel color, and their eyes and their hair are completely silver.
Satisfied, Misao checks the items they have arranged, and picks them up. A white bag carrying several items goes over a shoulder. A lantern is lit and carried in one hand, and a rake and broom are grasped in the other, resting against their shoulder. They head towards the stables, trying to find an inconspicuous way out of the castle so they won't disturb any sleeping inhabitants.
Like the Castle itself, the stables are never really quiet, even at midnight. Misao is aware of the servants who are alert to their presence as they leave, but none approach unless they indicate a need for assistance.
The stables are slightly different. There's a man, middle aged and with a slightly receding hairline, tending to the horses and overseeing the stablehands. For all that he's not young, he looks strong and confident around the horses. He looks up as Misao enters. He's not surprised; it's likely he's used to traffic at all hours. "Good evening, Lady," he says, not recognizing them. "Will you be needing a horse?"
Misao bows slightly. "I am not sure. I am heading to the Grove of the Unicorn.... Is it far from here?"
The stable master shakes his head. "No, my Lady. Top of the Cliff, head for the stairs, about halfway there there's a path."
He pauses. "Do you need a guide?"
Misao thinks. "I would... but what I must do there requires privacy. If you are amenable? I am of Hikariguni, the child of Kimiko-dono. My name is Misao. We meet for the first time. I am well. Are you well?"
He seems confused, or perhaps bemused at their introduction. "I... am well, thank you, Lady Misao. I can show you the way. Do you wish to ride? We will have to walk the horses up the cliffside."
Misao bows and replies, "As you think best, Oji-san. May I ask your name?"
Misao is fairly sure that the man won't know what the name means, but hopes that their warm tone conveys affection and respect.
"My name is Donovan, Lady Misao. Stablemaster Donovan." He surveys the remaining horses and stablehands. "It's not going to be much faster walking the horses up the cliff in the dark, but it's useful if you want to ride later. I'd recommend walking if you're planning on returning."
He makes a gesture and a stableboy comes over and waits for them to decide.
Misao replies, "I am coming back, not going on. I will walk, then."
They wait for Donovan to lead the way.
Donovan gives orders for the groom to act as Stablemaster until he returns or the morning Master arrives, then he asks them to follow him.
He briefly looks at Misao's footwear and asks them if they wants to send a groom to the castle for some boots, because the slope is not easy.
Misao shakes their head. "Thank you, but I am used to climbing in zori."
Donovan leads the way, checking back frequently to assure himself that they are following. He doesn't speak unless addressed, or as necessary to give directions. He's carrying an oil lamp.
Past the waterfall, there is a path leading upwards from the side of the castle. It's tricky in the dark, but it is climbable, moreso for an Amberite. It's about a half mile, perhaps a bit less, to the top.
Misao takes their time climbing.
At the top, Misao sees a forest stretching to the west, with a rising slope leading to more distant mountains. There is a grass fringe before the clifftop, and there are signs that people have taken this route recently. Below them, to the East, is the cliffside the overlooks the castle and the parts of the town that are below the cliff. The sea stretches away and the moon is past full. It is remarkably peaceful.
They reach a small stream that goes over the edge of the cliff. It's technically a waterfall, because water is falling, but it's nothing like the mighty torrent beside the castle.
"My Lady, you can follow the stream to the grove in the forest, or further along this trail are three stone steps on the edge of the cliff. Both are landmarks for your family. I can accompany you further or leave you now, if you wish."
Misao gazes in appreciation at the scene. "It is... awe full." Donovan can clearly hear the separation between the words. "It is more than I ever imagined..." Their voice slows down and drops even further as Misao draws into themselves. "Perfect."
Then Misao gives themselves a shake as if waking from deep sleep and turns to Donovan. Thank you for your company, Donovan-oji-san. I can find my way back, I believe."
It is clearly a dismissal.
Donovan nods, and turns to climb back down the cliff.
They hear him go, and then all is quiet. They hear the soft murmur of the forest, the different rhythm of the vast sea stretching out from the beach below them, and the inevitable sounds of a town that doesn't quite stop with the darkness.
There's no vista here that doesn't look like an ideal scene for painting. They could make a half dozen trumps of this spot, just by turning around, and they'd all look different.
Misao moves to a spot away from the fountain and trees, with a good view of the eastern horizon and places their items on the ground. Selecting the rake, they clear any leaves or other debris from a circle 6 feet in diameter. Then they kneel on the ground and remove all the grass within the circle, by hand. After all the grass has been cleared, they use the broom to sweep the earth clean.
Misao removes the tanto from their sleeve and ritually raises it above their bowed head, before unsheathing it and using it to inscribe a shallow line around the circumference of the circle. They remove a compass from the bag, and using it as a reference, use the tanto to make marks around the circumference indicating the four cardinal directions. This action complete, they replace the compass. Extracting a clean white cloth from their obi, they ritually clean the tanto, before sheathing it. They place the cloth near the bag and reverently place the tanto on it.
Misao removes two bundles wrapped in cloth from the bag, which, unwrapped, prove to be ceramic containers with lids. Misao places the containers on the ground and opens them, revealing a container full of incense sticks and another full of salt. They sprinkle salt along the line drawn in the earth, then remove another cloth wrapped bundle from the bag, which, unwrapped, proves to contain four shallow bowls carefully wrapped in cloth. Misao places one at each compass point. Misao removes and unwraps two more cloth bundles. The blue cloth reveals a fist-sized piece of fine wood, while the white cloth reveals a similarly sized piece of metal. Misao places the wood in the East bowl and the metal in the West bowl. Misao next pulls out a red fabric bag, which they open to reveal a small heap of coal, which Misao places in the South bowl and lights using a spill of paper from the lantern. Finally, Misao pulls out a sealed black jar, which they open to reveal pure water, which they pour into the North bowl. The containers of incense and salt are placed inside the circle, on either side of the South bowl. The space is ready.
Misao stands and allows their robes to disappear. It can now be seen that Misao's body is completely genderless. They unbind their hair and step into the center of the circle, facing South. Kneeling gracefully into the seiza position, they clap their hands twice, then place them on their thighs, palm upwards and begin to chant:
"Tengoku no kami to chikyu no kami ga deai, Hikariguni to iu sekai no shihai ni tsuite hanashiatta. Ten no shiko no okami wa, watashi no kodomodearu Kimiko-dono ni shihai ga atae rare, Hikariguni ga korekara no sedai no tame ni heiwadeari tsudzukeru yo ni to itta...."
Misao's voice rises and falls, in a familiar, soothing, calming rhythm.
... Soshite, kono yo ni shite subete no tsumi ga ushinawa reru to, doko o sagashite mo, tsumi to yobu koto ga dekiru subete no tsumi wa kanzen ni sonzai shinaku narimasu."
Misao stands and faces East, shifting the color of their skin to blue as they settle back down to the seiza position. They sprinkle a portion of salt on the piece of wood, then take an incense stick from its container and light it using the fire. Blowing out the flame, they place the smoking stick in front of the bowl and gracefully and humbly bow. Rising back to the kneeling position, they clap their hands twice and say:
"Oh Seiryu, Spirit of the East, Spirit of Wood, cleanse me and purify me, that these stains upon me will completely cease to exist."
Misao claps their hands twice again, before standing and facing North, shifting the color of their skin to black as they settle back down to the seiza position. They sprinkle a portion of salt into the water, then take an incense stick from its container and light it using the fire. Blowing out the flame, they place the smoking stick in front of the bowl and gracefully and humbly bow. Rising back to the kneeling position, they clap their hands twice and say:
"Oh Genbu, Spirit of the North, Spirit of Water, cleanse me and purify me, that these stains upon me will completely cease to exist."
Misao claps their hands twice again, before standing and facing West, shifting the color of their skin to white as they settle back down to the seiza position. They sprinkle a portion of salt on the piece of metal, then take an incense stick from its container and light it using the fire. Blowing out the flame, they place the smoking stick in front of the bowl and gracefully and humbly bow. Rising back to the kneeling position, they clap their hands twice and say:
"Oh Byakko, Spirit of the West, Spirit of Metal, cleanse me and purify me, that these stains upon me will completely cease to exist."
Misao claps their hands twice again, before standing and facing South, shifting the color of their skin to red as they settle back down to the seiza position. They sprinkle a portion of salt on the fire, then take an incense stick from its container and light it using the fire. Blowing out the flame, they place the smoking stick in front of the bowl and gracefully and humbly bow. Rising back to the kneeling position, they clap their hands twice and say:
"Oh Suzuku, Spirit of the South, Spirit of Fire, cleanse me and purify me, that these stains upon me will completely cease to exist."
Without rising this time, Misao claps their hands twice and shifts the color of their skin to yellow. They sprinkle a portion of salt on the earth in front of them, then take an incense stick from its container and light it using the fire. Blowing out the flame, they place the smoking stick on top of the salt and gracefully and humbly bow. Rising back to the kneeling position, they clap their hands twice and say:
"Oh Kinnonami, Spirit Below, Spirit of Earth, cleanse me and purify me, that these stains upon me will completely cease to exist."
Misao claps their hands twice and shifts the color of their skin to green. They take a portion of salt and throw it into the air, then take an incense stick from its container and light it using the fire. Blowing out the flame, they hold it out in front of them using their right hand and gracefully and humbly bow. Rising back to the kneeling position, they clap their hands twice and say:
"Oh Kimiko, Spirit Above, Spirit of Air, cleanse me and purify me, that these stains upon me will completely cease to exist."
Continuing to hold the incense, Misao lowers both hands palm downward and then raises them, palm upward, as they finish the ritual:
"Oh Spirits of Heaven and Spirits of Earth, cleanse me and purify me, that these stains upon me will completely cease to exist."
As Misao completes the ritual, they can see the sun beginning to rise in the East. They gracefully stand and step out of the circle, reforming their robes as they do so. They rebind their hair as their skin tone returns to the original caramel.
The fire is extinguished using the bowl of water and the wet coals are placed in the center of the circle. The pieces of wood and metal, the bowls, and the containers are carefully wrapped and returned to Misao's bag, as is the red bag of coal and the sealed black jug of water. The broom is used to break the circle and sweep it away, working clockwise from East to East. Finally, Misao extinguishes their lantern using a sweep of the hand. Then they gather their things and return to the city.
Misao is heading back to the place she climbed up with Donovan the Stablemaster.
They've returned to the path, and sitting atop a stone there is a young man waiting. He is not dressed for the weather and should by all rights be cold on this night, atop this cliff. He shows no fear of the closeness of the cliff-edge and he hasn't spoken.
Misao is floating along in an elevated state of blissful content. Feeling completely in tune with the universe, they are inclined to accept anything that happens as something that is fated to be. With this said, they approach the young man, and, once he has noticed them, they bow deeply and address him politely.
"We meet for the first time. I am of Hikariguni, the child of Kimiko-dono. My +name is Misao. I am well. Are you well?"
"That's a lot to take in, and I thank you for that. I'm called Iron Eye. I'm a Ranger for the King. I'm well enough, but I'm always interested in why someone might drag theirselves all the way up here." He looks like he spends most of his time outdoors, and while unarmed, looks as if he's capable of fighting.
Misao looks at him squarely. "I was purifying myself. This seemed to be the best place."
They pause. "If I may ask, why did you come all the way up here?"
He doesn't look away. "The forest is vast, young, old, and mostly unknown. If you go far enough, you may not be able to find your way back, because it won't be here. The King has people who keep watch on it, rescue the occasional lost townsperson, and give him advanced warning when the forest senses trouble. Or causes it. I am one of those people. So the answer to your question is that I am up here to investigate the unknown and unexpected. It's been a week for it."
He looks over the cliff. "What brings you to Xanadu? Or more precisely to the fringe of the forest of Brocéliande? Beyond the purification, I mean."
"That is a very long story, Iron-san." Misao is not exactly hostile, but definitely wary of sharing something that is very personal with someone they don't know.
"I am," he says, "a naturally curious person. It can't be helped. My parents were of two different worlds, and one of my wives was a goddess, which made the children a handful to deal with. The child, really, but her brothers and sisters weren't easy either. I'm also several hundred years old and don't look a day over twenty.
"Which is to say that I am pretty good at long stories, but I am perfectly happy to receive a summary that helps me determine if you are a risk to the King's Peace."
He sighs. "I don't know, I could've gone the other way and passed the flask to get you to tell me the long story. But it's too early for that."
Misao doesn't even blink at the thought that this person is hundreds of years old. After a moment to consider, they approach the rocks and take a seat near Iron-san.
"I am also the child of two different worlds. In terms of this world, I am a child of a son of a daughter of Oberon. I am new here, having arrived yesterday, brought by a group of my cousins to keep me safe from a group that was preparing to exploit my heritage. Having completed a ritual of my mother's world for purifying myself, I intend next to undergo the ritual of my father's world to protect me from future harm of that sort. Tenno Heika... the King himself... has welcomed me and confirmed my place here.
"If you feel that it is your place to uphold the King's peace by denying me the King's welcome, then let us settle this here and now."
Misao's gaze is somewhat more challenging now.
He grins. "Nah, I don't need to get my butt kicked this morning. We just had an invasion, of sorts, up here, and people are naturally a bit wary. Enemies of your family were in these woods, and they prefer to know about such things in advance. That's where Rangers come in, as scouts and such. We're not really an army to stop the likes of you.
"So, Welcome to Xanadu, Misao of the line of Oberon. It is a strange place, but reminds me very much of my third wife's stories of her home in Amber." He pauses. "She didn't always get along with Amber or Oberon, but she loved them both in her own way.
"If you find yourself needing to talk to another out of place immigrant, they're all around you; Xanadu is a very young city and no one who was born here has learned to speak yet. But if you specifically want to talk to someone who is not of this place who knows a bit about your family, feel free to look me up."
Misao relaxes. They didn't really want to fight.
"I have been learning much about my family since I arrived, Iron-san. I would appreciate your point of view."
He relaxes as well, but not too much. "I expect you'll be learning about your family for a long time. I still am, and so is Lady Paige, who is my commander. She is also your cousin, if your grandfather is Oberon, the King's father.
"I have learned quite a bit, both here and in the underwater Kingdom of Rebma. Rebma was so instructive, and helped me realize how much more I had to learn. It seems so wrong to be breathing water, but if you just close your eyes, your body will do it naturally.
"But Xanadu is new to you, and the ways of Xanadhavians will be strange. Some of that is a reflection of the King, who has a close relationship with the greatest mystery of Xanadu. The people of Xanadu, like the King, are less interested in where you are from than where you are going and what you will do rather than what you have done.
"It can make it difficult if you are from a culture that values the past more than the future."
Misao's eyes soften as Iron-san mentions water. "Ahhhh... water. I love being in that element. It embraces you like no other. Umibana-chan would go swimming every chance we could get...."
They refocus and turn to look at Iron-san. "Future and past. What about present?"
"You should go to Rebma, when you can. It's a city in constant twilight, but it is a city of wonders even so. Don't tell my daughter, but I even ventured into the blue world from there and it was nearly overwhelming.
"The present is an arrow in a bow, and the future is the flight of the arrow, speeding through moment after moment. But each starting in the bow of the present. I hope that analogy isn't too strained." He shrugs. "The next generation may be different. Xanadu is new and has no past to hang traditions upon."
He gestures down at the city below, visibly stirring in the early morning light. "Do you know how old the city below is? A few years old, and already it has built so much. Perhaps it will build traditions, when it is ready."
"Your daughter?" Misao prompts.
He picks up the prompt. "Enana. She is a wise woman of our tribe, but not too wise and still very young. When last we spoke, she was near to her term and about to give birth. She worries enough for many people, as a way about not worrying about her self."
"Enana-san," repeats Misao. "I will have to meet her. Well," they sigh, looking at the sun which is well up by now, "I will have to be going back to the castle now. It was good to meet you, Iron-san. Be well until we meet again."
They bow and head back down the hill.
After departing First's company, Folly returns to her own suite. She is exhausted -- it's been a couple of days since she last properly slept, and a lot has happened since then -- but she takes time to get herself properly cleaned up and then sits at her desk to take care of a couple of things.
First she makes a bunch of little sketches of facial features for Alex to assemble into a (hopefully passable) portrait of his mother, and packages it all up with a glass frame to have delivered to him in the morning.
Then -- contemplating the sorry state of her wardrobe at the moment, since almost everything she has worn in the last few years is currently in a shadow overrun by zombies -- she makes quick sketches and notes on a few simple dresses to talk to the seamstresses about having made: empire waisted, some short enough to wear over trousers, and plain enough that they would not be horribly out-of-place in the poorer parts of town, but easy to dress up with an arty scarf or jacket. That should keep her going for a while.
Then she wearily eyes the bed. The big, empty bed, in this room just down the hall from the nursery with that (thankfully now inert) Thing still in it.
She frowns, pulls a too-big-for-her flannel shirt on over the rest of her clothes, and heads downstairs to sleep on one of the big leather couches in the studio.
There are two thermos bottles there, probably left by Ash or Soren. Or probably Ash arranged for the one with the acrid smell when he found out that Soren left cocoa. There's leather pillow and a not-leather blanket she can pull over herself.
On the far side of the room is Syd's drum kit, which Soren always said was the reason he got sent for first. It gleams across the room in the near-darkness.
Folly wakes up in the middle of the night, or probably in the middle of the night. The castle hasn't started stirring, and she thinks the town has not switched from night patterns to daytime patterns. D.S. al coda... Someone has moved the drum kit. Maybe sat at it. It's not where it was when she fell asleep.
Folly squints into the darkness, wondering whether he moved it for her sake or his own. Probably some of each. After all, she's not the only one who suddenly has a room to herself....
She stretches out again and pulls the blanket up to her chin, but she knows she won't be falling asleep again anytime soon: her mind is all a-spark, and anyway she has something to return to him.
She blows out a breath, kicks the blanket off, and makes her way back up to the royal wing.
From down the hall, she doesn't so much hear the drumming as feel it. She smiles and closes her eyes, trusting her other senses to get her where she's going while she enjoys the rhythm.
When she reaches the door she presses her palm against it for a long, long moment, letting the vibrations pulse into her core, before rapping out a counter-rhythm with her other hand by way of knocking.
The drumming incorporates the counter-rhythm, which is as close as anyone could come to a "come in" without stopping drumming.
It's loud, or it would be loud, if wasn't just vibrating at her personal frequency. She feels her sternum vibrating as the sounds wash over her. He wasn't playing any particular song before, but he switches to one -- the back-line from Walk, which came out years after he left.
She takes a deep breath as she enters the room, so that as she pulls the door closed behind her she is ready to enter on the vocal line. She sings with joy and abandon, unworried about keeping it down. This is more balm to her than another couple hours of sleep would have been; she feels the tension melting out of her shoulders.
Random is on the drum throne. His shirt is open and the window is cracked, letting the cold in, but not really stopping him from sweating.
It's weird, but also not, singing with Syd but not any of the rest of her bandmates. This was one he'd picked up two nights ago, at Scarlett's. It was and wasn't like Soren's drum track for Walk and she wasn't used to carrying the melody over the drums without at least a couple of guitars for company.
But it's not like she hasn't composed like this.
He runs through the A and B parts twice, and the changes are telegraphed flawlessly.
As the final cymbal crash fades, Random looks over at Folly. Letting her decide if they talk or keep making music. Or both.
Folly grins at him. She certainly has things to talk about, but she needs to get a little more playtime energy out of her system first.
She pulls off the flannel shirt and drops it on a chair that has been pushed into the corner to make room for the drums. She pulls out the contents of her pockets and adds them to the pile -- oh, hey, look, there's one of the things she wants to talk to him about! -- and then begins pogoing a steady four while clapping a syncopated rhythm over it. She sings:
"Workin' overtime to find our way how not to start a war
Carrying the rhyme so we can say what we're not-fighting for
Our sons and our daughters
And moonlight on the water
And love, home, and family and more."
It's a bouncy melody both literally and figuratively; it calls to mind warm sand and the smell of fruit trees on the breeze. A steel drum wouldn't be out of place.
Folly isn't sure if she is actually smelling fruit trees on the breeze or if she just feels like she is because she should be smelling fruit trees. Sometime reality makes itself.
She continues bouncing, but lets Syd's drumming take over from the clapping.
He starts with no sticks, just hand-drumming on the drum kit. It's very expressive and fits the song well. He picks up the 4/4 and finds the places where a tweak would improve it, but still keeping it catchy.
She relishes the way he changes it up, finding the unexpected off-beat that propels everything forward, like skipping down a mountain just on the verge of off-kilter.
Syd once said "I should name all my solos 'Changing the tires while careening down the side of the mountain.'" That one is 'Changing the tires while careening down the side of the mountain Number 1, Nocturne'.
"Facing the alleged enemy we're quick to lay the blame
Though what we desire, we agree, is really just the same
The foes in the mirror
Are us only clearer
Looking for love, and home of legendary name."
She fills in the space before the last verse with more than a verse's worth of improvised instrument-like vocals weaving around the drum line. It's still playful, and joyful, but there's an undercurrent of intent, as though she is instinctively weaving some kind of spell out of her Will.
"We will find a way, hand-in-hand, to see these dreams come true
Working for the day that both our lands see peace in every view
The children shall lead us
Through innocence they freed us
And love, love will finally see us through."
And then more joyful improvisation for many measures, the sort of thing that would have a festival crowd up on their feet and bobbing through the pot-haze, until she signals the last phrase and they cut off. She's sweating too, now, and she laughs.
"So, that's one of the fifteen things I've been thinking about, and it's possible I'll have a completely different take six hours from now. How are you?"
"Dunno. Still getting centered. At least that's what I tell myself I'm doing, not retreating to known states. It's not like I got back from my trip abroad and our troubles gave me a chance to catch up on the mail before descending upon us.
"And if I do make peace, assuming I can, how long will there be freelance princes or moon riders who haven't personally made peace and cause problems? Do I need to make a separate peace with each moonrider and all my brothers and sisters? I'm not sure I've got more than 1 moonrider queued up on Team Peace."
Folly nods and taps an index finger to her nose. "Back in Texorami, anytime we were agitating for cultural change of one sort or another, part of the strategy was 'Just wait for the unmovable old guys to retire and/or die, and then our obviously superior viewpoint will be what's left.' Turns out that doesn't work quite as well here." She offers up a wry smile.
He sighs. "I can do this, I'd just rather do this. How's your early morning day going?"
"Better now," Folly replies with a lopsided smile. "But I'm beginning to understand why you never sleep. I'm having breakfast with First, and I need to talk to Gerard for a few minutes before that, and I've asked Gilt if I can check in with the castle staff to make sure they're okay, and then I want to check in on some of my people in town, to see how things are going there.... And that's not even the overtly political stuff, like that song we need to write about what happened here before anyone else writes it for us, y'know?"
He nods. "Sounds like you've got a busy day ahead of you. I've got to watch Fletcher's pattern walk first thing. He's a veteran at it, but we've got all the new transfer students as well who may be itching to do some walking, too. And then there's the being King stuff, and your moonrider breakfast partner, and checking in with Gilt and Soren and Ash to see if I made any exceptionally bad decisions while under the influence and figuring out how to unwind those." He pauses. "And yeeting the nursery into the sun. I'm so glad we didn't have the word 'yeet' back in Texorami. I'd've overused it."
"It is an excellent word," Folly agrees. "And I'll rest a little easier when that thing is gone. But -- as I may have mentioned -- I'm really tempted to show it to First, first."
Syd nods. "Yeah, do that. Part of the plan is to shock her a little bit with the realities of the dirty war, as it were. I'm not sure what the rest of the plan is, yet. However...
"I’ve got Garrett lined up to go talk to people and more importantly to listen to people and see if this story will be a bad thing. Maybe I need to send him with a backing band. 'Ladies and Genitalmen, for one Knight only, please give a warm welcome to Garrett and the Not Particularly Subtle Propagandists!'"
He looks down at his hands, a bit red from hitting the skins. "I don't never sleep. That would be weird. My subconscious has a crapload of stuff it needs me to process, pretty regularly. But sometimes I don't want to have things processed, you know? Anyway, yeah, processing by songwriting is probably more our speed. What rhymes with 'It sucked?'"
"Besides the obvious?" Folly asks with a smirk.
Random interjects, but only briefly. "I once got Bastien and Ianna to record 'Shave 'em Dry' on a four-track, so I have no more mountains to climb the peaks of obscenity, except when artistically necessary or funny, which is pretty much always, if you do it right."
Folly's smirk turns into a grin of agreement. "Also I feel like we should work the phrase 'yeeting the nursery into the sun' in there somewhere, even if it's just for the semi-secret extended version. Which reminds me...." She retrieves a black leather drawstring pouch from the pile on the chair. "I still have this, and have been carrying it around until I could get it back to you, or Gerard." She offers it to him, adding, "Did I mention the Thing in the Nursery looks kind of interesting if you view it through this?"
He takes it. "Thank you. I have looked into it, at it, and for it, but I've never looked through it. I'll give that a try. I wonder how different that is from bringing up the pattern and looking at it without a red rock? I'm still shocked my brother gave it to you, by the way."
"I understand it was Bleys's idea," Folly offers. "I've never tried the trick of bringing up the Pattern because that's never been my chief talent, but... I wonder if it would be easier now."
"It's easier here. Or sorta. It's easier near here, without being here-here, because we're too close. You can't see shadows when you're staring at the sun." He pauses. "That's a lyric, for something. Or did we already write that one? I've mostly used pattern tricks to make my life easier when I wanted something. I'm not a theorist like Bleys or Fiona."
Random pulls the jewel from the pouch. It spins and glitters. It's not clear if it's reflecting light from here or from somewhere else, but it's hard to look away. "Did you know you can use this to speed up or slow down your personal time? Can you imagine the chaos Ash would make of a set if he had that kind of power?"
Folly laughs, but her tone is a bit strained as she says, "Don't tell Martin -- he might try to age Lark up straight into her teen years for her own safety." She holds up a hand like she's trying to catch flashes of light from the gem, as if they were birds or butterflies. "What else should I know about it?"
"Well, assuming Martin talks to me again before she's 18." He raises his hand. "Joke, joke! I assume it'll take him less than a decade to cool off a bit. Probably." He spins the rock, sending the glints and flashes whirling. "There's a pattern at the center of it. Dworkin says he made the pattern by transcribing that one using 'lightning, blood, and lyre'."
He pauses.
"I wonder where the Lyre of Creation is."
"The studio?" Folly says, and it doesn't sound like she's entirely joking. "It was here when we got here. Why, what did you use?"
Random looks startled, then nods. "It would be just like him to stick it in my studio. 'Ladies and Gentleman, I give you my surprise Grandfather, famous Lyrist, Lyricist, and Liar! Long may he wave...'"
He pauses. "I didn’t think to bring a musical instrument when I did it. Once you let it happen, it happens in a sort of a fever-haze. Like hour 27 of a drum circle or jam session, where you're being as musically creative as possible, but it's not something you're planning. You just flow from moment to moment, with whatever free-association impulses you have making tiny choices that lead to the final design, but within the improvisational structure of the rest of the music. It's the kind of thing where you play the tape back afterwards, and say 'huh, that's what we were playing!'."
He holds up a drumstick, having come up with the perfect description of it.
"It writes you into the music and the music into you and the music into the living rock of the land, and then it builds a chip shop on top if it."
"And invites the rest of the band to live there," Folly adds with a grin. "Part of me feels like I know what I'm doing because I can hear what the song is about. The rest of me is just trying not to muck it up too badly before we really even get started."
"I'm not sure how that's different from any show, ever." He twirls a drumstick. "And that's necessary, I think. I need, you need, we all need to be musically pushing ourselves or else it becomes... routine. Boring. Not worth doing. So that leap of faith that I'm in a web of people I love who musically are supporting me while I support them is what makes it."
He pauses, and imitates a famous radio DJ who used to interview them in Texorami. His intonation and tone sounds just like Ion Aioli. "And that concludes our Interview. Tell me Syd, where will Happenstance be playing next?"
She regards Syd, her brow furrowed, like she's trying to figure out what question to ask. She finally settles on, "Okay, I realize the real answer is that we're all kind of making this up as we go along, but what do you want me to be, here -- officially or unofficially? Because right now, I think... I might kinda be your high priestess. Or whatever you call it when you marry the land, y'know?"
"That sounds like you've been talking to Celina," Random points out. "'The Land and the King are one', or so goes the legend of the Fisher King. And honestly, Dworkin's pattern, brain, and all shadow everywhere getting damaged by Brand seems to indicate that there's something to that.
"We're people, not gods, despite what Brita or Adonis said. We do stupid people tricks and having priestesses seems like a way to have a really unhealthy relationship." He pauses. "Or not. Corvis and Gerard seem to be doing OK. Maybe I'm just prejudiced against being a god-like being.
"I mean, straight up, there are definitely ways you can worship me and perform sacrifices to my inner Syddartha nature, but there's a really high pedestal somewhere around there, and it seems like it might be drafty up there, especially if I'm not wearing pants.
"So, let me turn that around. What do you think it means, and what do you want to be?"
He lifts one eyebrow. "This is going to be an 'I asked you first' moment, isn't it?"
Folly smiles, the tip of her tongue poking out between her teeth. "It probably should be, but your not-quite-an-answer was a pretty good answer, actually. And as long as we're turning things around, I'm going to start with what it's not and then work my way backwards.
"So, you know my religion, to the extent that I have one, is basically music. So I'm not talking about the worship of gods in any traditional sense, but about... being able to hear the music of this place. Knowing where the harmonies fit. But staying responsive to it, so it doesn't stagnate. And just... like you said, supporting and pushing each other musically. Helping everyone here figure out how to play a part. Which I guess is its own form of worship, but it's more like... reverence. Creating and nurturing."
She takes a half-step toward him and looks into his eyes. "When I close my eyes and listen, I can hear it. All of it. The rocks and the wind and the ocean and the stars and the people, and the music, and your breath and your heartbeat and your footsteps and your laugh in all of it. Maybe it's still so loud because it's still so new, and it'll mellow into its own thing over time, but it's like you're in me, you're a part of me, all of the time, and that's what I mean when I say that I think I married the land." There is gooseflesh on her arms despite the warmth of the room.
"And it's amazing," she continues, "but I'm still figuring out what to do with it, and... I don't want to overstep and throw everything off-balance." She hesitates, and offers up a wry smile. "I know for you, five years is not a lot of time, but in the five years I spent in Amber I was working hard to learn how to take care of it, and how to just be, threading the needle between what I thought was right and what wouldn't cause too much grief and pain for the people I love. And... some of that, like understanding the experiences and expectations of people who grew up there, will still be useful, but some of those lessons are kind of making me second-guess myself here, even though 'there' is not here.
"Does that make sense?"
"So, there's a way in which every songwriter has a personal symbolic map between their feelings and how they express them in song, not just musically, but lyrically, and a song always means what it means to them, even if other people find and attach their own meaning.
"In that way, it makes sense because we have these intertwingled maps and you probably got more out of walking on the backbone of my soul than anyone else could've. And I say that in full knowledge that I have no soul and if I did it would have no backbone and probably be reasonably worn and raggedy."
He steps up to her, his eyes still locked on hers. Close enough to touch, like a cat, he'd always described where he wanted to be with her. "I think fundamentally I'm OK with you having a role here, and even with us working out what it is over time, but it's a messy situation. Regardless, we are who we are and we sorta promised each other last night that it was permanent. Whatever we do, we've got that bond, and we each have our bond through the pattern to Xanadu. We're a triad, I guess.
"Do you get an official position? Do you want one? Soren is basically an advisor without portfolio, and can do a shitload of stuff in my name. Ash is responsible (!) for the city, and can also do a shitload of stuff in my name, but mostly around the city.
"They have 'P', but they 100% know that we are us and have working relationships between the entire group. So do we just make you unofficial chatelaine and hostess with the mostest or do you need a title? Gilt has a title. It helps him get his job done. We can give your Mother a title. 'Dowager Duchess of Getting In Over Her Head' or something.
"We don't need to do anything yet. It's not like the ladies of the court aren't going to figure out where they think you fit on the pecking order pretty damn fast." He's not talking about the ones who will assume he's available if he doesn't remarry, or their mothers. Random quickly tries to remember if Harmony Vesper has any other daughters, hoping he hasn't already slept with one of them.
"But before we go into any of that, tell me about second guessing yourself. That I want to hear the story of."
"Yeah. Okay." Folly blows out a breath, almost a sigh. "So, there are two things from my time in Amber that are most relevant. The first is what people referred to as my 'Army of Good Works' -- me and some docksiders and others interested in the welfare of the poor, working together to help the community and also helping them help themselves. And I felt like I was in a good position to do it, because for all that I was 'of the castle', I was also kind of an outsider. So it was maybe easier to forge those connections than if I'd been, like, Bleys or Flora dazzling or intimidating them into doing what I wanted, y'know?
"But then at the same time I was taking, like, etiquette and deportment lessons with Vialle. And honestly I saw a big part of the usefulness of that as just knowing precisely who and how I would be offending if and when I chose to ignore the rules. But, like I say, I was kind of an outsider and I felt pretty okay about shaking things up that needed to be shaken."
She drops her gaze to stare at her hands. "So, last night I told Gilt I wanted to check in with the staff to make sure they were okay after everything that went down with Vialle, and he was like, sure, I'll call a meeting for you, and part of me is all, 'of course I want to do this, I've known some of these folks since not long after I came to Amber, and I care about all of them,' but then at the same time there was a voice in my head going, 'Call a meeting? Who do you think you are to presume you're in charge here?'"
She looks at Syd again. "Upon reflection, possibly that was Vialle's voice. I mean, not literally from wherever she's being un-bound from the Queen, but... still stuck in there, a little." She hesitates, frowning. "Or... or maybe it's mine, and I just want to make sure I don't turn into her."
"That, I think, is not going to happen. In part because it just isn't, and it part because you don't want it to. This is like Ash's bullshit about artists having to have both the ability to examine their own lives and blindspots in which you could run a freight train. You've got blindspots, but self-destructive needy jealousy isn't one I've seen."
Syd sits down, cross-legged. He's incredibly flexible for a 500 year old drummer. "Honestly, I'd say if you were worried about who you might become, I'd worry more about your Mother, and weirdly I think she's becoming more like you.
"I can try to help you with how to be a person at a court, but I was pretty much last on the pecking order until I was suddenly first, so I'm not convinced I have a lot of insight.
"I'm trying not to just pass the buck and say 'ask Ash, ask Gilt', but you could do that, too. The castle isn't in the center of the city, but it's the central focus of the city. Seeing the wires, visible and invisible, between the city and the castle is part of understanding how both the city and the castle work. I don't think they're separate things."
Folly nods. "All the more reason I really need to check in with some of my 'army' today, and see who else has made it here. And find out what they think needs doing, from the city perspective."
Random nods. "So, um, what did you think Gilt was going to do when you said you wanted to check in with the castle staff?"
Folly gives him a wry smile. "I dunno, his response was completely reasonable but somehow I still felt weird about it." She hesitates, adjusting the ring on her left hand absent-mindedly, then adds, "I think I'm just still a little off-balance after... everything. But it'll sort itself out. Martin asked me to look after Card while he's away, so as far as 'official' duties go, that's probably a good place to start. The brief there is literally to see to the safety and well-being of you and Xanadu, which is my instinct anyway. And then we'll see what else needs doing."
"I'm comfortable with you taking a broad approach to that brief. Card was designed to give the veterans of keeping Amber a going concern weren't turfed out by the knights from the battle, so it's a less martial remit. And Lamp is now the mostly martial group, but it has fewer Commanders and most of the members are from Edan's home shadow and not used to Xanadhavian customs, such as they are.
"Who's currently in good standing in Card? Should be Vere, Jerod, you, Martin, Paige, Conner, Brita, Solange and a some honored dead, right? Did I forget anyone? I know Jerod turned it down, and I don't remember if Martin got around to everyone.
Folly looks suddenly a bit grim. "On the day I was knighted, it was me and Solange and Cambina and Lucas. And then I left town for what was accidentally several months. So I don't really know. If it was meant to be everyone who looked after Amber during the war, it would also include Ossian, but I don't know whether that would be his thing, either."
"How are you thinking of looking after them?"
"Well, it might start with knighting others who aren't in the family but who also kept the people of Amber fed and clothed and housed during the war. And maybe eventually those supporting Xanadu with similar acts of service and good will. At the very least, trying to build up a community of people who can support that kind of work and the efforts of our knights generally. Like, I dunno, maybe we wanna start a troop of Junior Card Scouts or something." She grins and gives a little shrug. "So far I'm just making it up as I go. I never went to Knight School."
Random nods, as if he knows the stage patter this line comes from. "I slept through Knight School. But, for what it’s worth, Edan and Brennan seem to have plans to cultivate and promote their squares, I mean squires, so that's the normal route. Like Max, who is currently a page, but could be a squire and willl be a knight, someday.
"I wonder if he'd be a good Junior Card Sharp, which is my naming suggestion, by the way. Might not be perfect, since he's both Lucas' kid and Scarlett's, but he might end up being more civic minded than either of his parents."
"Possibly," Folly muses, "if given a little encouragement. And if he takes after his parents even a little bit, I'll bet he's got a knack for knowing all the gossip, which honestly could be useful." It sounds like that's something she's already thought about.
"It's a two way street, or a two way lists or something. They should be getting the title for being helpful and to help them continue to be helpful, and we're getting helped. It's a working title. Like Edan's knights get to wear spiffy red capes, but they have to stand around outside doors and march in parades."
"Well, the folks I'm thinking of that aren't related to us are mostly grassroots community organizers," Folly says, "so their marches would look a little different." She grins. "And we'd need to reward them with shiny guitar picks or something rather than spiffy capes."
Random nods. "Capes are already spoken for."
"I'd like to make sure we haven't left your cousins out of this, unless they want to be left out." Random sighs, "which has political implications.
"We're technically like an organized crime family, except not that organized. If you don't accept our honors, it looks like you're waiting for a better offer from a rival crime family. Which I hope is not forthcoming, but who knows?"
"I can at least make sure our cousins who held down the fort -- er, held up the castle -- during the war have the chance to accept the honors," Folly says. "And any of our newly-arrived cousins once they've showed their commitment to the success of the realm."
He twirls a drumstick casually. "So Consiglierà could be your role, if you wanted. Or First Consul. Not that anyone would know what either one means. Edan decided he didn't want his title to be 'Turnipcopter', which would've ruled."
Folly cocks her head and asks, "Is that anything like whirled peas?"
Random shrugs. "First we'll need to go find a shadow that has them, and then we'll know what it is. So, 'Our Lady of Whirled Peas'. Principle Pea-whirler? Princess Peas? Main Pea-slinger? The last at least gives you a rhyme with ’singer'..."
Folly grins.
Then, "Were any of your siblings knights of Amber? Like, do Corwin and Bleys technically also have knighthoods to go with their shiny shiny swords?"
"OK, so Texorami? Huge history of Kinging, Duking, Counting, and such. Grand traditions that said what things were and how they all fit together. Mostly arranged to keep the top people on top, but what’s a feudal aristocracy for if not perpetuating the feudal aristocracy?" Random takes a deep breath.
"Amber had Oberon. Dad said 'I’m knighting you for services to Onanism', and bang, you’re a knight of the Order of the Helping Hand. Gilt or his dad can tell you what it was like. Corwin knighted his bard on the battlefield at Jones Falls, and the man is a decent player, but not the best composer on the battlefield that day.
"So, lots of one-off stuff. Which means that Nestor, professional put-upon preservationist of all knowledge great and small can help us."
"Good point. I'll add him to my list." Folly taps her lower lip as she makes a mental note. Then she takes a moment to review her other mental notes and asks, "Hey, where were you earlier, when you cancelled the big family dinner? Important crime family business?" Syd can almost certainly hear her actual questions implied in the subtext: 'Anything I need to know about or you want to talk about?'
Syd sighs. "So, yeah, I had to ask Caine a question that he could deny. That was a fun one. For reasons that make entirely too much sense, it was asked if Caine might be the power behind the Klybesians. It's not wrong to ask if there is a power behind them. They've lasted a long time across a lot of shadows and such. They seem to be awfully persistent, if amateurish.
"Caine used to be Dad's troubleshooter. Something went down and he got his shiny, shiny sword pulled and given to Bleys and that something is rumored to have to do with why Dad didn't want religious groups in Amber." Random taps a quick beat on the table.
"Anyway, we checked into it and we don't think it's him, but it seemed important to take it seriously and to talk to him about it, in order to squash the rumor before we're all at each other's throats again."
"...Speaking of the history of knighthoods in Amber," Folly says with a frown. "I think I mentioned this came up when I was talking with Corwin and Florimel, and Ossian, about Caine's involvement with the knights of the old Church of the Unicorn. Flora seemed pretty quick to suspect he could be involved with the Klybesians, so if you've got evidence to the contrary and you're looking to squash rumors, maybe make sure she knows? Also, I think 'talk to Nestor' just moved several slots up my list."
"Oh, yeah. The best way for me to convince Flora of something is to say the exact opposite. 'It's definitely Caine.' 'So, it couldn't possibly be Caine...'". His Flora imitation is surprisingly accurate, if perhaps a few octaves too low.
"Flora is like anti-Gerard, and I don't mean 'Auntie Gerard', which would be hard to figure out. He's deliberate about reaching conclusions, but once he gets hold of an idea it has to actually die in his arms before he lets it go. Flora jumps to conclusions quickly and abandons them with equal speed. It can be breathtaking to watch, especially if the two of them are working on the same problem."
Folly chuckles. "Yeah, I bet."
"Anyway, nobody ever told me what he'd done, or allegedly done. Maybe Flora was involved in it, somehow. I'm gonna bet it's one of those things that didn’t get written down by Nestor and Cambina."
"No, I don't think Flora knows, either -- something about 'nobody ever talked about these things in front of the girls'," which Folly also intones with a pointed bitterness that matches Flora's, although with a hint of sympathy beneath it. "I suppose actually asking Caine about it has never been high on anyone's list...."
Folly sighs and glances out the window at the barest hints of pre-dawn lightening the sky. "Speaking of lists, I should probably go get myself properly cleaned up before I start tackling my list for the day."
She leans over and kisses his forehead tenderly. "Thanks for letting me talk through some of this stuff. It really helps."
He takes her hand and squeezes it, not speaking for a moment, just being. When he speaks, it's only obliquely about anything else they've discussed.
"Speaking of Lists, there's a jousting joke in here somewhere. I'm probably going to be Kinging most of the day, but we should really try to figure out when we can do some songwriting. I've got a bunch of parts swirling around my head and I want to get them into something before they mutate too much."
"Agreed," Folly says. "Probably late night-slash-early morning for maximum uninterrupted time." She quirks a smile and lays a hand on her belly. "This little one will just have to get used to lullabies with extra drums."
Last modified: 16 July 2022