Following Jerod's sending of the audience request to Random, he finds himself outside the door of the room where the castle staff had advised him that Martin and Folly were last noted to be staying. He makes sure he is not too early, given his knowledge of Martin's sleeping habits from during the Regency and Jerod's own inclination to get up early in relation to others.
And after listening for a moment to ensure he is not interrupting anything (because he really dislikes it when that happens to him..:), he knocks on the door.
After several moments, the door opens a crack and Folly peeks out. "Jerod!" she says warmly, and opens the door a little wider.
"Hello Folly." Jerod replies with a smile and a nod. He is dressed in a somewhat more casual version of his court outfit, one more suited to the fashions of Xanadu it would seem, though his colours remain the same. He has a dagger on his belt but beyond that he is not armed.
She's wearing a pink t-shirt and loose linen trousers with a drawstring waist to accommodate the slight bulge in her belly. She gestures into the sitting room. In addition to the usual arrangement of couches and chairs, in the corner there is a tilted drafting table with sketches clipped to it, angled to make the most of the morning light. "C'mon in, and I'll go tell Martin you're here. He got in kind of late last night, so we're both moving a bit slowly this morning. Have you eaten? I'll send down for breakfast...." She's moving toward the door to the bedroom suite as she speaks.
"Free food? How could I possibly resist?" Jerod says with a grin, moving casually into the sitting room, noting the clutter with an amused expression. Despite it, or perhaps because of it, Jerod also makes unconscious note of the sketches, the subjects and materials used - he is too well trained not to notice changes, even if they do not immediate make themselves noticeable to him.
The drawings on the drafting table are all pencil sketches of landscapes. Jerod may recognize several of them, from his explorations of the area, as views of the road leading up to the castle. There is also a sketch of a path leading from a wide beach up a sandy hill covered in sea oats.
Before Folly can open the door, though, Martin opens it from the other side. He's got a T-shirt and jeans on, but he's barefoot, and there's a damp towel wrapped around his neck. Jerod can tell from Martin's posture that he was ready for some sort of trouble and relaxed fractionally when he saw who it was. Probably he was in the shower when Jerod knocked and jumped out, dried off, and dressed while Folly answered the door.
Jerod frowns slightly but lets it pass. Even Jerod's somewhat pushy paranoia is not on the twitchy scale today so he wonders what has got Martin in the mood, so to speak.
"Morning, Jerod," Martin says by way of greeting. He steps into the room, tossing the towel back into the bedroom without looking. A few steps bring him to Folly's side and he slides an arm around her, smiling.
Folly smiles up at him and wraps her arms loosely and comfortably around his waist.
"Good morning. I've decided to come to collect that drink you owe me, remember?" Jerod says in a friendly tone, finding a comfortable spot to sit that looks more associated with guests than with either of the two current room occupants. "It also seems like a good time to offer congratulations."
Folly grins. "You know how I can tell I'm turning into a mum? 'Cos it's TOO EARLY to be DRINKING!" She scowls comically, eyes twinkling, and shakes a finger at Jerod. Her expression brightens again and she adds, "On the plus side, at least that means I'm not turning into MY mum...."
She gives Martin's waist a gentle squeeze and looks up at him again. "Hey, since I'm eating for two now -- and you always have -- I was thinking of sending down for some breakfast. Any requests?"
"Amber breakfast for me, I think," Martin says, probably to differentiate it from Rebman-style. "And it's never too early for a Bloody Clarissa."
Folly grins and releases Martin somewhat reluctantly. She goes to the door and pokes her head out into the hall, looking for a page. A few moments later both men hear the quiet discussion of enough breakfast to feed a small army. And two cats.
Jerod waits patiently for her to return.
Martin steps in closer and says quietly to Jerod, "I took care of some outstanding business in Amber yesterday. Have you heard about the spy ring of Grandmother's I broke open before I left?"
Jerod shakes his head. "No but let me guess. A brother and sister pair who shall remain obnoxious and scheming were involved? Sounds like they were taking advantage of the situation." he says, referring to Bend and Montage. "I trust that you sent a suitable message."
Then he adds, "oh...My sister wasn't involved in that message, was she?"
Martin knows Jerod well enough that beating on Bend and Montage won't bother Jerod one iota. Espionage, as with all things, goes with the territory. Amber does it to Rebma, Rebma does it to Amber, spies come and go, sometimes violently.
Family...on the other hand...
Folly returns from placing their breakfast order and slides into a seat on one end of the couch. From the suddenly thin line of her mouth, Jerod may suspect she knows the gist of what they're talking about. She picks up a sketchpad from the endtable, flips it open, and starts doodling.
"Only indirectly. She needs to learn to be careful with her toys. When you leave them in the wrong place, sometimes they get broken and have to be thrown out," Martin says in the same quiet tone.
Martin gestures to Jerod to take a chair as he joins his wife on the couch. "She'll be ill-pleased with me anyway. I haven't seen you since the Coronation Masquerade, so I haven't had a chance to tell you--she asked me to marry her then."
Jerod smiles at Martin's comment as he sits. "Oh, that's my sister." he says with a chuckle. "Never one to pass up the opportunity to obtain advancement. Unlike Loreena, I'm afraid Valeria sometimes is a bit too aggressive in trying to promote her station. I sometimes fear she might promote herself into becoming a major target."
Folly makes a face, halfway between a smirk and a grimace. She lays one hand on Martin's shoulder -- almost protectively -- while her other hand continues to sketch idly.
"So...what is it that needed taking care of?" Jerod asks. "I need to talk to your father about a proposal that I've got, and it will involve returning to Rebma. It wouldn't hurt to know how much grandmother was involved in this little incident before I head back."
Martin frowns. "I don't know who exactly is behind all the trouble we've had with Rebman spies over the last few months in Amber, and it's not my job to care. M has been rooting them out on my instructions since the ones I dealt with just before Adonis' funeral. I don't think he's gotten everything, but we have fewer assets to work with--and cover--now. Montage was a special case. He was sneaking into Red Mill." His fingers land gently on Folly's shoulder: a light touch, not enough to disturb her work.
She glances up and they exchange a look. Its meaning might not be clear to Jerod, but the whitening of Folly's knuckles as she grips her pencil a little tighter probably is.
"Ah." Jerod says quietly, nodding once. Martin's use of the word "was" confirms to Jerod which of the infamous pair will not be returning to active duty...ever.
"Grandmother's not going to think much of this marriage," Martin adds after a moment.
"Grandmother has an extremely high threshold for achieving personal satisfaction on any matter." Jerod says, leaving alone but completely intact all the vague innuendos and nasty observations that such a statement could conceivably engender.
"Here's a question for you. Do you think she actually gave the direction to undertake this endeavour, or is someone else involved in this? Moire would know that stepping across boundaries would invite retaliation. It would be almost impossible to prevent it."
Folly continues to sketch, but Jerod gets the impression that she is paying very close attention to the conversation.
Martin shrugs, which Folly feels as much as sees. "Gotta be someone at a reasonably high level. I'm not interested in chasing that down at the moment. The message was 'mess with something that's mine and you'll regret it', and I think it's been eloquently conveyed. He had a mirror, not a blade. If I'd thought he was doing anything but sniffing around, I'd be more worried."
His hand falls on Folly's leg under her sketchbook. "Odds are, Folly's carrying a daughter. So the message is very important."
Jerod turns his head to look at Folly, his expression narrowing as he studies her features, taking the time to commit genetic markers to memory. "And guess who gets to deliver the message." he says rhetorically, mostly to himself before looking back at Martin. "I'm definitely hitting up your dad for another twenty percent on hazard pay."
"Did he offer to engrave you first?" Folly asks, biting the inside of her lower lip to try to keep a straight face. Her cheeks have gone a little pink, perhaps from Jerod's scrutiny of her features.
"You said he had a mirror. I wonder who was to be on the receiving end." Jerod says. "Montage was the blunt end of the spear. Do you know where his sister can be found?"
"And, er, this mirror-spying stuff---" Folly interjects. "Is it visual only, or can you hear over it, too?"
"That would depend on the user, would it not?" Jerod asks, looking at Martin, the resident expert on mirror magic, at least from the receiving end.
Martin frowns. "I would think so. And maybe the mirror." To Jerod's questions, he replies, "Violet, I would guess. And I haven't seen Bend, and don't expect to. I imagine she took a fast transport back to Rebma, however she could get there."
"Which means dearest Grandmama is going to be somewhat put out when I arrive." Jerod says. "Well, it wouldn't be a homecoming without either potential hostility or supreme indifference. I'd have to wonder if I stumbled into the wrong shadow otherwise.
"And on the topic of hostility, we come to the next topic of conversation. You wouldn't happen to know anything about Khela, would you?"
Martin looks testy. "I do, but I thought we had a moratorium on drinking that much before breakfast." Without giving Jerod a chance to override him, he continues, "I'd like to go back to the topic of the wedding. Dad is going to make us go through with the whole shebang, looks like. I'd like you to be my best man, if that's not going to put you in too much hot water with Grandmother."
Jerod smiles. "I got my ribs busted by a Triton the last time I was there, so it's not like I can get into too much more trouble, short of dying. I'd be delighted to accept."
Martin grins. It's an expression neither Jerod nor Folly has seen in a while.
"I assume this means we do the obligatory stag night?"
Folly looks up from her sketching with an impish grin. "Yes, by all means discuss your plans for debauching my husband in front of me---" but she is stopped from further teasing -- or perhaps from offering up her own suggestions -- by a knock on the door. She drops an affectionate kiss on Martin's head as she rises, and another on Jerod's for good measure on her way to the door.
Jerod has an amused smile on his face at her comments and the display of affection on both of them, noting to himself it is unlikely Jerod could do much to increase Martin's state of debauchery any significant amount, though he's never averse to a good challenge one might recall.
"A stag party is the least of our problems." Martin smirks. "I think we're inviting Grandmother _and_ Folly's mother. The part where you have to defend us to make sure the wedding comes off or whatever? May be more than nominal."
"I was figuring as soon as the pregnant part came out that we'd be hosting an event sometime soon that would make your dad's Coronation look like a garden party. It's going to be a major target regardless of who attends.
"And speaking of attendance...since you mention Folly's mother in the same breath as our illustrious Grandmother, one can only assume there is some kind of history to warrant such a comparison." Jerod says. "Care to elaborate?"
Martin's expression hardens. He makes sure Folly is out of earshot before leaning in and saying softly but passionately, "If ever she strikes my wife again in my presence, I will not stay my hand." He adds in a more normal tone, "She's more likely to embarrass than to do actual harm, other than that."
An eyebrow goes up as Jerod listens to his friend's quite passionate statement. "Interesting..." he says.
"Tell me...assuming that Folly's mom does get the invite, how are you, or your dad, going to jive the whole royalty bit and brand new lands? Folly came from a techno environment if I'm not mistaken. Your dad's done some nice work around this place, but no one would mistake it for techno for a moment. If she's that much of an embarassment then handing her this kind of information doesn't seem too wise."
"I'm more concerned about how far she'll spread the news of Dad's--friendship--with Folly than I am with people's interest in her strange Shadow ways," Martin answers.
"Yes, that certainly would qualify for the tabloids under juicy bits." Jerod says. "You know...between you and your dad, and Folly and Vialle, I'm afraid I have not quite seen anything more complicated, though I'm still young so that could change.
"Do you see a way to neutralize it? If we assume that she starts blathering away, how do we blunt it?" he says, "Short of the idle backhand to the head manuever."
"Backhand-to-the-head maneuver? Is this some sort of stag-party tradition, then?" Folly, returning with two tomatoey-looking drinks in tall glasses, seems only to have caught that last bit. Behind her, a servant brings in a serving cart heavily laden with trays of eggs and sausages and pastries and rolls and flaked fish. The sunrise-vivid beverage with bits of fruit floating in it is probably for Folly.
"Bloody Clarissa?" she offers, holding out a glass to Jerod.
Jerod's preference for dark spirits is well known, and he accepts the glass critically, sniffing at it for a moment. Martin would know part of that comes from old habits of home, where one had to be careful with thick drinks because of what they might contain (and most strong alcoholic style drinks in Rebma would be of a thick consistency - perfect for hiding toxins, or other nasty surprises).
"What's in it?" he asks, taking a sip.
"Vodka, tomato juice, and spices," Martin answers for her as he takes his own from Folly with a smile. He waits for the servant to depart before adding, "We were just discussing how to deal with various big-mouthed relatives of ours. Unfortunately, I think there's going to have to be a no-hitting-at-the-wedding rule. I'm hoping everyone else observes it too."
"They better," Folly says with a smirk. "'Cos if one person starts, EVERYONE will want to play."
She collects her glass from the cart. "What shall we drink to?"
Jerod nods, taking another sip. "Hmm...not bad. Wonder if this will try out well underwater." he says, then raises his glass slightly. "To friends and the rare gems that they are."
Martin raises his glass and drinks deeply.
With a smile, Folly does the same.
"And yes, it would be nice if people could learn to leave each other in peace, as opposed to pieces. We'll make sure there's a protocol against the use of force during and after the ceremony.
"Speaking of ceremonies...any idea when?"
Martin shakes his head. "Has to be long enough to get this place ready for a state wedding. To get people here. I think the engagement announcement will be soon, in the next few days, maybe, but the wedding will take several months."
Jerod nods, remembering attendance at weddings in Karime, in Begma and half a dozen other places. "Even that will be a bit of a rush." he says. "I sincerely hope he's got a good secretary. The logistics for the guest list alone will be mind-numbing and they'll be coming from outside the kingdom."
He looks over at Folly. "How would that time frame square with your little one's arrival?" he asks.
Folly smirks. "Either I'll be so spherical I'll have to roll down the aisle, or the little one will get her very own dress and be part of the ceremony. 'Flower child', or something." More seriously, she adds, "I'm a little shy of halfway through, we think."
"Trust me when I say, the aisle rolling routine does not work in royal weddings." Jerod says. "I saw it done once and it was scary. Good thing Begmans are a stoic bunch."
He pauses a moment as his hind brain parses various bits of information. "Her?" he asks.
"Our daughter," Martin confirms. "That tidbit isn't for Grandmother's consumption. She can wait and find it out the hard way."
"Indeed. Such would not be good." Jerod says. "Who else knows?"
"Definitively?" Folly shrugs. "I suppose even we don't know *definitively*, even if our guess is a very informed one. I've told Soren and Ash, and Martin's brother and father. And Paige. I'm sure I used the female pronoun in each case. On the other hand, I tend to use the female pronoun to refer to all babies by default if I don't know any better, so the ones who know me well won't necessarily read anything into that." She shrugs again, but then something else occurs to her and she touches Martin's arm. "Remind me to call Gerard after breakfast, okay?"
Martin nods, once.
Jerod nods, a finger tapping absently as he thinks, and not liking where his thoughts are going.
"Folly, with regards to any gifts that you might receive over the next several years, and I emphasize that time frame, be sure to verify that it does not come from Rebma, no matter how small or innocuous it might appear. There are many ways to influence an individual and until she is old to walk the Pattern, to harden her identity against external influence, she will be vulnerable." he says.
"If you cannot confirm it, don't accept it, and don't let those gifts anywhere near your daughter. Even with ones from sources you trust, have them examined." and he looks at Martin. "Merlin's a sorcerer but he's not around much. And you might not be either. Is there someone you trust to evaluate stuff coming from outside?"
Martin frowns. "I wouldn't say I can do 20 or 30 years standing on my head, Jerod, but I'll be with them. I did this job for Merle. I can damn well do it for my own daughter. And no, there's nobody besides Merle that I really trust for that work. Dad, with the Jewel, of course. But I don't know what its capacities are, or his with it."
"Grandmother can be quite sneaky when she puts her mind to it. Not to mention her subordinates." Jerod says. "I'll be sure to keep an ear open should something unusual arise. You always hear interesting stuff in Court, and sometimes it's even true."
Martin nods, once.
He looks over at Folly. "Got a name for her? Surely there must have been a baby book pulled out recently."
"We were thinking of something unpronounceable, whose meaning can only be conveyed through interpretive dance," Folly says with a perfectly straight face. "The top contenders are 'pirouette-arabesque' and 'pogo-drop-your-drawers'. But I suppose we'll have to wait to meet her to figure out which she is."
Martin glances at Folly, as if looking for the answer to some question in her eyes. Whatever he finds seems to satisfy him.
When she sees his glance, she winks at him.
"Uh-huh..." Jerod says, grinning. "I hope you're not going to be one of those parents who curses their child with a name that everyone else secretly snickers at. Be nice to her, and make sure it's a name no more than three syllables long so Uncle Jerod can remember it when he comes to visit and spoil her rotten."
"We'll see what we can do," Folly says, and grins. "Remember, we've only known for about three days -- which is a bit quick for coming up with a name that'll have to last our little lark an eternal lifetime."
She sets her glass down. "Can I dish you boys up some breakfast before it gets cold?" she asks, and moves toward the food-laden cart.
"Let me," Martin says. "You do enough." He rises from the couch and goes to prepare his own breakfast from the cart.
Folly smiles at him as he goes.
Sometime in the morning of the second day after Martin's return, Garrett arrives at the King's office. It's a little early for his father to actually be there, but Garrett has been up for hours and happened to be in the area. He appears quite surprised when Gilt Winter says Random is available.
Garrett knocks at the office door.
"Come in!" shouts Random. The King is inside the room, sitting in the windowsill, looking out at the waterfall. He puts down a pad of paper on which there are a series of parallel lines. "Hey kiddo, what's up?"
This morning, Garrett is dressed in what has become his version of Xanadu casual - gray t-shirt, jeans and his ever-present brown leather boots. His hair is still damp on the ends from showering after his morning workout. He glances at the pad with interest, then turns his attention back to his father. "G'mornin' Father. I didn't expect you to be in so early, but I took a chance."
[Making an assumption below, but it's not too farfetched...]
He starts to speak, but a breeze from the window wafts a welcome aroma his way. His eyes light up as he smells fresh coffee, a beverage for which he's developed a fondness in recent weeks. "Is there coffee, sir?" he asks hopefully, glancing around at the room.
Random smirks. "Usually. Gilt keeps me well supplied. There are probably mugs on the sidebar, and they're probably clean. So, other than us and the sun, what else is up?"
Garrett spies the coffee and fixes a mug for himself. He glances over at his father and, if he doesn't already have a mug to hand, fixes a second and offers it to him. If Random does already have one, he simply offers to top off.
As he does this, he says, "Well, I've been thinking, sir. I've always been one to learn things by doing them. While I've been here in Xanadu, I've done a lot of reading and training and attended a few court sessions, but I don't feel like I'm truly doing anything useful. I feel like there must be something more I could be doing to help you. After all, you have two kingdoms to run. I have some ideas, but before I tell you, is there something that you'd prefer me to be doing?"
"Well, obviously I can't send you off into shadow in order to learn the ropes, so you need to learn them here. I'm mostly out of ideas, except 'be a prince'. You need to be here for the wedding, of course." Random drinks his coffee and gestures towards the castle with his mug.
"Of course," Garrett replies with a nod, his tone measured to even out his mixed feelings.
"Most of your cousins have come to me and asked if they could so some job they wanted, or just fecked off without seeing if anything needed doing. So, tell me what you've got in mind that will increase your sense of utility. Not that you have to be useful, unless you want to be. RHIP, after all."
Garrett quirks an eyebrow at the 'RHIP', but doesn't ask, prefering to work it out in private so as not to look stupid. "I do want to be, sir. Call it habit," Garrett smiles over his coffee mug.
"My thought was that maybe I should be quartered in Amber, to sort of be your royal eyes there. If I had a trump for you, I could report in on anything that came up. I could also be available for quick transport in case of emergency. One way, at least." He pauses in his explanation to see how it's going over. He wants to present a good argument, not look like a teenager trying to wheedle his way with the old man.
"Ok. Are you looking to meet up with Anna again? Because I think Donovan is moving here shortly. Caine is running the castle. We'll send you there and tell him to give you a deck." Random smiles. "Do you know Gilt's old man?"
Garrett smiles at the news that his family might arrive soon, and the smile grows wider at the mention of a trump deck of his own. His expression turns curious at the last question, however. "I know of him, sir. I've never met him personally. Why do you ask?"
"He's got the ear of the Navy, the sometime home of many a Prince of Amber. When you go to the City, ask him what needs to be done that the son of a wet-behind-the-ears king who doesn't reside in Amber can do. You'll learn some new vocabulary."
"All right. I will, sir," Garrett nods.
Random smiles. "Oh, and let Caine do most of the running of things. He's enjoying himself."
Garrett laughs. "That was my intention, sir," he says, still grinning. "He has the experience. I thought to be simply an extra set of strong hands in case things go awry. Speaking of which, you asked about my mother. To answer your question, yes, I'll probably see her at some point, but that wasn't my reason for going."
Random shakes his head. "You can't not be a prince. This is like a field exercise. You'll totally undermine yourself if you let them think you're not capable of being in charge. It's OK not to run things, but don't act like you couldn't or shouldn't. OK?"
Garrett nods. He's getting used to the drill. "So... make it seem like I'm only letting him be in charge because I want to, even if I really am letting him be in charge," he smirks.
Random smiles back. "Yes, now cultivate an enormous sense of entitlement and you'll be just like a Prince of Amber. I'm hoping, though that we can make a better model for 'Prince of Xanadu'..."
Garrett sips his coffee and narrows his eyes in thought. "There was another question I wanted to ask you, Father. My new Master-at-Arms came from some distant shadow, but he's not of the blood, as far as we know. That made me wonder. How is it that people can just show up here? I thought you had to have walked the Pattern to shift shadows without help."
Random puts his coffee down and drums on the table for a moment, collecting his thoughts. "OK, the pattern? It gives us mastery of our power over shadow. It doesn't give us the power, it's inherent. If you don't take the pattern, you can still move through shadow, but you can't control it.
"So with Pattern, you're effectively a motorboat in a river full of river rafts. Mostly people sail downstream, sometimes they jump channels by accident. And Xanadu is downstream. It's the nature of patterns. It's what the mathematicians call a strange attractor." Random smiles. "I'd say mine is stranger than others, but that just gets into a pattern-measuring contest."
Garrett snorts at that, then grows more serious as he considers this. "So when Amber's pattern worked, it acted as the attractor, like Xanadu does now," Garrett muses, thinking out loud and trying to understand the mechanics of it. "And then it was broken in the Great Storm. And people started leaving - just... walking away and not coming back. Was that because Amber was no longer an attractor... or because something else was, do you think?"
"Oh, I'm betting it was the former. Amber was a city of more than a million people with pre-gunpowder/pre-electric technologies. It was held together in the first place by magic spit and baling wire, and it lost the spit. It's probably harder to keep people there now, with Xanadu so close, and lubed up.
"If you're really hot to get an answer, you'll need to talk to Dworkin or a redhead."
Garrett chuckles. "I'll have to learn more about it just to know what to ask."
He sips his coffee, then looks at his father thoughtfully. "Father, there's something I've been wondering." He hesitates, wondering if the question is too personal, then just forces it out. "When you were a lad, did you ever have dreams about the Pattern? I mean, back before you walked it?" The tone in Garrett's voice indicates this is more than simple curiosity.
Random looks severe. "Huh? When I was your age I was dreaming about girls! What's wrong with you kids today? No disrespect all all..."
"Oh, I dream about those, too. Now." Garrett says, grinning slyly. "But back when I was younger, I used to have this nightmare sometimes about having to walk across a glowing spider web. My feet would get stuck like wading through cold molasses, and I'd be afraid the spider would come and get me. I stopped having it about the time I was thirteen, though."
Garrett chuckles. "I used to think it stopped because the girl dreams took over." He cocks his head speculatively. "But the more I hear about the Pattern, the more I wonder. I had just turned thirteen when the storm and the earthquake happened. I never had another one of those dreams after that. So I was just wondering if it was possible that the dream was some kind of...," he shrugs, "I don't know... call or something."
Random looks over at him. "Patterns are not sentient. They have no motivations, no hopes and dreams, no joy at your victories or sadness at your losses. They just are." He taps the windowframe lightly with each of the last words.
Garrett nods and sips his coffee, listening intently. As always, he soaks in like a sponge any information about the pattern that his father is willing to give.
"The pattern infuses all ordered things, it's in your blood. It's not surprising that your brain tried to make sense out of it." Random grins. "When you're older, it won't bother you so much. When I was your age, my dad hadn't told me I was able to walk the pattern, so those dreams were sorta reassuring."
Garrett looks surprised at that. "Grandfather didn't tell you? I would've thought that if you were raised as a prince, you would've known all along. That it would've been part of your training."
Random laughs. "'Training'. Son, one of my dear brothers knighted me when I was about 25. I was dubbed 'Sir Perfluous'. My father thought that the role of younger princes was to keep older princes on their toes. If there's a precedent in the house for 'training princes', it was in abeyance when I was a sprog. I kinda trained myself."
Garrett smirks and nods with understanding at that concept.
[Random] looks out the window. "Dad used to give us 'going away presents' when we wanted us to leave for a few years."
Unsure of what to say to that, Garrett looks down and sips his coffee. "I met him once. I was real little, no more than three or four," he muses, swirling the last of his coffee in the bottom of the mug. "He came down to the stables one day when Mum brought me down to see the horses." The young prince narrows his eyes thoughtfully. "He was a little frightening. Formidable, y'know?"
Random seems interested. "How so? Would you be frightened now? If so, of what?"
"Now? Prob'ly not. But then..." Garrett finishes his thought with a nod. "I was so little and he seemed... I don't know. He was just so big," Garrett remembers. "I mean... he was the King! And something about his voice just... commanded, even though he wasn't trying. Even as young as I was, I knew my place. I was just a servant's whelp. I had no business even being in the same stable with him, but he spoke to me anyway. Something simple. I don't remember rightly what it was, but Donovan does. He was there, too."
"If you find out, I'd be interested in hearing what he said sometime. Anyway, yeah, I'm not him, I don't have 'too bad you can't stay longer' gift to send you away with, just instructions to stay in touch. You should probably bring your new swordmaster. Oh, yeah, it would be sorta foolish to get you a trump deck if you can't use it. Has anyone shown you how, or have you just observed? It's about as easy as it looks, if you haven't." Random is already reaching down to open a pouch at his belt.
Garrett smiles, noting that his father doesn't remember that Garrett's trumped him before, or even the fact that he instructed him on how to close the connection. He tactfully doesn't point that out, however. "That's all right, sir. I've used them before, thank you," Garrett says, politely waving him off.
He rises and returns his now-empty mug to the sideboard. "And you've answered my next question. I was wondering if I should bring Master AbdAllah with me. I'd hate to miss out on my lessons," he says.
"Don't let him kill anyone." Random smiles. "Or more precisely, don't let him get killed messing with your cousins. He's hot-headed. When are you two leaving?"
Garrett nods at the advice. "I have a few things to do before I leave, but we should be ready by a little after midday. I understand AbdAllah travels light, and so do I," Garrett says as he moves toward the door. "Would you be handling the transport, or should I look for one of my cousins?"
Random shrugs. "I'll send you through, unless one of your cousins happens to have a castle trump on them. Once you have a deck, you won't need one for going there."
Garrett looks sheepish. "Oh, and do I bring my own horse or use the ones there?" It's clear he has no clue about standard operating procedure for trump transport.
"If you don't need it immediately, get one in Amber. They're a pain to bring through a trump and they limit where you can go. Or else they make it difficult." Random smiles. "You know how horses don't like to go down stairs? Someday, I'll tell you about why Gerard had to carry one down from his room."
Garrett laughs. "I would've liked to have seen that." He opens the door and looks back at his father. "I'll see you after lunch then. And thank you for your confidence, sir. With your leave?" he inquires, nodding respectfully.
In between his encounters with Paige and Garrett, Jerod has taken advantage of the opportunities available to do some exploring both in the castle and down in the city(??) that is assembling itself below. Having figured he might be here a few days, it would never be a bad idea to actually get an idea of what's available for one's amusement.
The castle is very large, and the back parts are inside the cliff. It's quite possible that they connect to natural passages, but it seems to get hard to navigate further back. In addition, the electric lights give out after a certain distance.
The town is a good hour's ride -- it may be less when the road is improved. The people are building furiously--houses, docks, warehouses, fishing boats are all under construction. There are two ships in the harbor and a handful of boats. People seem to be going about as far into the forest as they need to for timber and no farther. One man is talking about making a lumber mill. People are living and storing goods in caves at the moment, and it's possible that someone always will, but they're building nicer quarters higher up the cliffside, just as they did in Amber.
Is there anything in particular Jerod is looking for?
Not really. Part of the exploration is to get the sense of the place that would be required to return here by power of shadow-shifting. He could always try the old "All Roads" routine, but that can have annoying problems pop up if you're not careful. This way, like his explorations in Paris, he's got a clearer sense of what is "real" for Xanadu and therefore how to return in the future.
It's also got that thing you remember from Amber-that-was: you can't shift shadow here.
However, he is also aware of being on something of a timelines, and while seeing Random is part of that, he's not all that eager to get back into Court and work silliness so he compromises.
After penning a note to his majesty requesting an audience, he finds a page or messenger and has it delivered to the King's secretary. Given Random's perceived dislike for dealing with any kind of paperwork unless it's brutally urgent, Jerod figures it will take at least another day to get noticed and the audience arranged, thus allowing him some more time to relax and explore.
And if Random wants to ignore it for a few more days, that's even better...:)
Sometime that afternoon (R+2), a page finds Jerod and asks him to attend the King by the lake. The lad has tall boots to give to Jerod, and will, if questioned about them, say that the King sent them.
Jerod has been a participant in many different kinds of social outings...even ones as mundane as fly fishing...:) (yes, dad prepared him for practically anything). Are they hip-waders?
Yes. In any event, he takes the boots and heads down to the lake.
The king is easily found, sitting on a rock very close to the upper falls, reading. He has no boots or other fly fishing gear. The falls, which produces no more than a pleasant background rumble in the Castle, is very loud here. "Jerod! Thank you for coming! I have a little job I'd like you to do for me!"
"Certainly, your majesty." Jerod says, putting the boots down and waiting patiently. "What would that be?"
"I need a messenger. For a a very special message to Rebma. If it's done right, it would take tact, diplomacy, and skill and requires someone of high standing to impart the gravitas of the situation.
He stands, and Jerod notes the King is barefoot. "Here's the poop. Martin and Folly are married, but we need a wedding, which will nicely act as a "Royal Event" for Xanadu. Everyone will need to come, or else snub the kingdom, which will drive the top tiers of Amber here, accelerating our plans for the two kingdoms. However, The Queen of Rebma is also the King's Son's Grandmother and can't be snubbed or assassinated with impunity, because if we did, she'd be a real prick about it.
"So, someone needs to invite her, personally like. You're the obvious candidate. And today I am His Royal Obviousness, Random, Rex A-to-X.
"Also, a note to our embassy telling them to start singalongs and buy approving editorials in local newspapers should be dropped with whatshisface, Llewella's friend the Ambassador. Droop? No, Droit.
"So, you're the man for the job, is the job the job for you?"
"Tact...diplomacy...skill." Jerod says after a moment. "Well, with those qualifications I'm probably screwed from the get-go."
Then he smiles. "I'll take it...on one condition."
Random also smiles. "I didn't say I necessarily wanted it done right, just that I wanted you to do it. What is your one condition, oh Person-who-probably-should-stop-digging-soon?"
"Just a proposal." Jerod says. "I'm not looking for you to approve it, just a listen is all.
"And I'm curious...what exactly am I supposed to be digging for?"
"I have no idea what you're digging for, but I'm not convinced the sides of your hole are well buttressed. Anyway, I'll hear you out, I'll be fascinated to hear what conditions you think you should be demanding I mean 'proposing'. Oh, and if I turn you down, who do you think I should ask instead?" Random looks up at the waterfall above. "Rainbow soon." A moment later, the sun hits the cascading water and a double half-ring appears across the harbor.
"Neat." Jerod says. "That would definitely come in handy for the wedding."
Random nods. "It happens back here when the sun's up. It's one of the fringe benefits. I'm hoping it'll come in more handy than red lightning."
"As for my proposal, if it's not to your liking, then you can always decline. Regardless of your decision, you get your messenger."
"OK, I accept your unconditional condition, and I'll listen." He lies down on a particularly large rock. "Shoot."
Assuming there is nothing to divert the conversation, Jerod explains the proposal he put forward to Corwin and his general reasoning for why it would be useful. From time to time his attention might wander back to the rainbow (he does find it quite interesting - it appeals to the Rebman side of him that would never have seen such things underwater) but it returns firmly back to the proposal.
"So, let me get this straight. You're looking to be a sort of one-man-band diplomatic corps, with special credentials from everyone, because you can help smooth over all our differences.
"I have two questions. Uno: Why should I want a diplomat who isn't loyal to me? Two-o: How does taking oaths for foreign powers who had yours truly under sentence of death since before you were born count as not breaking your oath to Amber and her king, yours truly?"
"Actually, I wasn't figuring I'd be smoothing over the differences." Jerod says. "That's what professional diplomats are for. It was more along the lines that if things start getting really unpleasant, I'm one of the few who might not get killed delivering the message because I've got a vested interest in all three places and possible friends who can help keep me alive. I'd rather see them all nice and peaceful and getting along. Or at the very least not trying to kill each other. If, however, I do get killed, well, we're in a war at that point, or worse.
"As for the taking of oaths, I haven't taken one with Corwin. He asked and I declined. He gave me an open ambassadorship that let me into Gateway to lay a path which I was itching to do. Turned out to be a lot of fun. There was nothing more to it. In response to his request for allegiance, I offered him trust, meaning that I wouldn't deliberately screw him around. Now, if you as king were to give me an order to do just that, well, then I'd be able to justify it by saying that you ordered it. I wouldn't like doing it, but Dad gave me lots of orders I didn't like. All of those orders were also obeyed."
"I also have not given an oath to my grandmother, nor am I likely to at any time in the near or even distant future. She has nothing that can tempt me to provide it either and she knows it. So I must regrettably disagree with his majesty in his assessment concerning the possible breaking of oaths.
"I'm looking to be involved in trying to keep things from blowing up. This bit with the wedding is so not going to be fun. Martin and his little side show dealing with that idiotic Rebman spy ring is another. I make an offer to his majesty because I believe it to be of value. That is the responsibility of every subject of the kingdom, to do what is best. You as the king get the unpleasant job of figuring out whether these offers are worth anything. If you do not believe the offer to be of any value to you, then I accept that. I would then look forward to a discussion of the dispatch you wish me to deliver."
Random sighs. "I'll think on it, Jerod, although I'm inclined to do this on an ad hoc basis, with the best person for the job. In the meantime, I could use your advice on something. It's a political matter and not a trivial one, although it's one that I've been able to put off for a bit.
Jerod nods. As he said, it is the King's unpleasant duty to make the decisions. He will accept whatever he chooses."
"So, your cousin Reid decided at my coronation that he'd rather give his own version of the Oath of Allegiance rather than the official one. He wasn't the only one; so did Folly, so it's not that per se. The problem is that he swore his oath to the rightful King of Amber or some such dodge. Where that fails is that he's the son of Osric, Dad's oldest son that we know of who had any kids that we know of. Now in some families, including some royal families which don't use cornutogeniture to pick a monarch, that would make him the 'rightful King of Amber.'
Random stretches. "He doesn't have to do anything or even mean to have set himself up as an alternative to my rule to be a problem, of course, because he failed to say the oath in front of the assembled nobles and genty and diplomats in Amber.
"So here I am, stuck between tolerating a rebellious nephew who I can't trust and cracking the whip, which I'd rather only use lightly between consenting adults. It's quite a conundrum, which is not the kind of drum I like to play."
He looks up at Jerod. "What do you think your father would do?"
Jerod frowns, part of him curious that he would ask him of his father's possible actions, another part uncomfortable to remember old memories still not fully healed.
"If Dad had thought Reid was a problem, he'd have dealt with him summarily. That Reid is Family would not have stopped him. I know personally that Dad was bothered by what happened to Uncle Corwin. He didn't show it often, but you could see it, if you knew what to look for.
"But that did not stop him. Given the limited choices between killing Corwin and tossing him crippled into the dungeon...well, we know where that went. Dad always believed in acting decisively. If you screw up, you can always try to fix it afterwards. With Reid, Dad would have determined whether Reid was a real threat, then taken steps to neutralize the threat.
"The step that comes up first though is the determination of what constitutes the threat." he says, unconsciously re-living old lessons drilled into him by his father. "No two are the same and not all require the same response. We would need to determine if the situation with Reid was an unconscious versus conscious choice. He is quite old after all. He grew up in a time when Amber was young and political responses to threats to the royal person were...well, somewhat more direct, shall we say. He could be impatient at times during the Regency when we were making decisions. I think that he preferred more aggressive responses in keeping with the time in which he was raised.
"If it was an unconscious choice, a matter of...a different way of thinking, then it might be possible to adjust that thinking to bring it into line with more modern circumstances. If it is a conscious choice, and Reid is angling for more than a good seat at the theater..." and Jerod pauses.
"The next step after that is choosing the method of neutralization."
Random nods. "Yeah, that's what I thought your father would have said." He picks up a stone and throws it into the waterfall, where it disappears silently from view. "Thanks. Now, when can you leave?"
"As soon as you need." Jerod replies. "I would simply need technical details concerning the manner of delivery, whether public or private, specific court insinuations you might wish to make, or to avoid, that sort of thing."
Jerod waits a moment before asking. "Do you believe that Reid is a risk, your majesty? Or just a possible rallying point for others who might not be disposed towards your ascension?"
"Do y'know why I'm King, Jerod?" Random answers his own question. "I'm King because enough people decided that there was a good enough reason for it to be me that they were going to defend my right to it. Benedict could've nullified it, easily, by not accepting it. Hell, Gerard could've drowned me in my bath when I arrived back, but he didn't.
"See, there's no magic to being King. Um, technically, there is, but it's not the key; that's people. Sure, I could take the Jewel and cleanse the mountainside and rebuild Xanadu with new people, but that's beside the point. The point is, I'm King because people expect it. And they expect my brothers and sisters and nephews and nieces to support me as King. Actual wording of the oath doesn't matter, except that it does.
"What we've got here is the expectation that Reid will be a Prince and I will be King, and he will be more-or-less loyal and I will be more-or-less Kingly. If he were to raise an army and attack, it would be treason. People in Amber aren't going to buy into a lawyerly 'I fudged my oath' excuse. They'll buy 'I have the crown, by the Lord Harry, and I'll gut any whoreson bastard what tries to take it from me.' Power comes from the barrel of a gun, as they say in Flora's shadow."
Random picks up another stone, but doesn't throw it, yet. "But the way it matters is that I don't trust him, because he's told me he's not to be trusted. And people who try to protect me won't trust him, and some of them believe that the phrase 'push comes to shove' involves cement and harbors. Also those who'd try to harm me, they surely noticed.
"To a certain extent, it's not bad to have a public but ineffectual enemy when you're King. It gives other disaffected elements something to ineffectual attach themselves to. However, I'm not your grandmother, and I don't want to run Xanadu like that. I'd rather give Reid the opportunity to get right with the King."
Random pauses. "I wouldn't start trusting him right away, but it would be a start."
Jerod smiles, reminded of his father a bit. "Then should I run into Reid, I might be so inclined as to...nudge him...in the direction of getting right with the King. With your approval of course, your majesty."
Random smiles and throws the stone at the surface of the water, where is skips once into the falls. "That would be swell, Jerod. I can have that message for you by midday, if you'll be ready then."
"Of course. It will allow me sufficient time to advise Paige that her sketch will have to wait." Jerod says, waiting for the appropriate cue before he departs.
"Right, then I won't detain you any further. Stop by my office for the message, which I'll have to compose now." His eyes loose focus and he doesn't seem to be addressing Jerod anymore. "Let's see, what rhymes with 'watery bint'..."
Unless something interrupts, Paige spends the time between her reunion with Folly and Brennan's expected return working on settling the children into a routine...
o Wake
o Basic arms training by herself, Vans and Mace
o Breakfast
o History
o Lunch
o Playtime
o Math and Arts
o Dinner
o Lierature
o Bed
She'll look in on Grant to see how things are going in setting up her household and also on Blythe offer to set her up in her own shop here in Xanadu.
All good...
She'll also attempt to get work done on several Sketches in between and keep working until she hears from Brennan or something else interrupts...
A full day on the Gates of Xanadu location that Folly indicated
A watch on a Folly Sketch, whether she can sit for Paige or not
Half a day on a Lilly Sketch
Once those three are completed, if they can be, she'll begin on a new Trump of herself.
She'll send a note around to the Lord Mayor to see if there are any concerns that she might help with, being well versed in the law that will probably hold most of the precendents for the law here.
He's having some legal problems. He has some people who say that they are under their own tribal law, and as long as they do not break the peace, they should be left to themselves, with the King's man only dealing with their tribal elders. Ash wants to break that up, but wants to do so all legal-like, with precedents. He wants Paige's advice.
Her instinctive response is that if they choose to reside within the defined limits of the Kingdom of Xanadu, then they can be granted the rights of a citizen and deal directly with the King's man or through an appropriate intermediary. Unless Random's granting the tribes soverign rights, which she sincerely doubts, if they wish to continue to live under those auspices then they need to remove themselves from the Kingdom's borders. Since that can't happen easily without royal intervention, they're trapped. Not exactly a nice way to begin relations, but hey, under Kind Random, they're all equal... equally screwed as much as equally blessed.
"Right. And if you could find out what the defined limits of the Kingdom are, that'd help, too. I think some people are feeling crowded and might start moving up or down the coast. I've even got one crazy guy who wants to go live in the forest. Says he used to be a Ranger, but he's a complete putz." Ash shakes his head.
"Anyway, I sorta hinted that that was the way it was gonna be and they got all 'oh, the insult to our ancestors' and 'only our elders can tell us what is right behavior' and such. Thing is, there are people who think that a family is a unit like that, so it's not such a big leap. That's why I need something either good or official or decisive."
Paige chuckles, "Right. Good, official, or decisive. Pick only two. I'll try to get something Good and Official and settle for Good and Decisive. Probably easier to ask your drummer for forgiveness than permission."
"Do you know the supposed Ranger's name?" she asks, a hint of concern in her voice.
"You know, I know my name sorta seems like one of your Amber names, but it isn't. How do you people not run out of ordinary stuff to name yourselves after? Anyway, this guy is named Stick. Only other guy I ever met called that was a drummer, and he had an attitude problem." Ash pauses for a beat. "That's a good thing in a drummer," he adds.
"I use Sommers in those sort of places and was born LeVeaux," Paige nods. "Was it Stick or Sticks?" she asks, not knowing herself if there's a difference. She remembers a Sticks and is pretty sure that he remembers her.
He snaps his fingers. "That's it. Sticks." He shakes his head. "Someday, I'll tell you the 'Old Man Bucket' joke, it reminds me of you guys. Anyway, what is your royal-like advice on that one?"
"No one is settling above the castle until the King grants title to the land or some such. If Sticks wants to talk about the possibility, have him come see me," she answers with an evil smile.
"Gotcha. 'I said no. If you want to hear the King's Niece say no, ask her. If you want to hear the King say no, ask him. It's just a question of how much longer you want to piss into the wind.'"
"Well, there is some hope. Eventually we need to put someone up top, but it's too soon at the moment. I'll see if we have plans for that, too."
She's going to have to research a little more before giving him something concrete to stand on.
Grant and Bond will be directed to ensure that her Amber Law Library, even limited as it was, be some of the first boxes unpacked and directed to the Castle ASAP. Beyond that, it's notes to the King along the Liam-Gilt Express, unless he's got time that she can pick his brain.
Uncle,
Issues of tribal sovereignty in the new city need to be nipped in the bud. As the land was /terra nullus/ when you established the Kingdom of Xanadu, they have no true claim to any right of occupancy. The question then becomes do you plan on extending such rights? Ash and I are in agreement that it would be a morass that no one wishes to wade through. The problem begins with how to prove your right to rule without some quasi-religios practice springing up around it. I understand that this isn't Amber, but my grandfather had reasons for much of his actions and you don't exactly seem the divine monarch sort anyway.
The next idea is that if they wish to continue such practices that they would have to do so outside the Kingdom. So where exactly do those borders lie? Are there any areas of the new Kingdom that you wish to be excluded from settlement? A former Ranger has asked to take up residence in the wood, but I think settlement in the great wood atop the cliff is a bad idea for several reasons, not the least that if war were to come to Xanadu, forfeiting the high ground seems foolish.
I'm available at your convenience,
Paige
He does have time for you, at least according to the return note.
Paige,
I am a King of Little Brain and this one seems tough. Come by and tell me what the right answer is, and I'll agree with you.
--R
Paige makes her way to Random's office in short order and knocks on the door, expecting that if she doesn't find him there, that she'll have to look in the studio.
Receiving no answer in the office, Paige heads down to the studio, where the King is about 20 feet up a scaffolding, apparently hanging thick velvet curtains.
"'Lo, Paige. How's it going?" he yells down. "Explain to me what they want, again?"
Paige chuckles, "I assume this the Xanadahavian equivilent of acoustic tile?"
Random nods.
"In a nutshell?" she asks rhetorically. "As long as they 'do no harm', they want to be able to keep internal tribal affairs... well... internal, and not have to answer to the 'King's Man'. Which in my estimation will set up an awkward prescedent and lead to numerous vagueries in any new civil law that will in the end just create headaches for all of us.
"Beyond that, they're looking for space. How do you plan on establishing the borders? Do you own all the land and lease it to the populace as your father did? How do you feel about settlement in the wood above on the cliff?" She rattles off and then sits on a stool looking up at the royal ass.
"You can't get to anywhere that's not mine from here, unless you go as far from here as you'd have to go from Amber. I consider myself absolute sovereign and will enforce that, if necessary. What do they want to give me in exchange for little plots of my soul?" He hits a nail with a hammer, once, then again. He seems to be listening to the noise rather than placing it in the wall.
"I'd assume rent and taxes and being responsible for upkeep and such. What are you willing to sell your soul for?" she chuckles.
"It's on manager's clearance now, but it's slightly foxed. It's a floor demo unit."
"So, nothing out of the ordinary. Got it."
"I think I want that forest explored by someone of Julian's caliber before I start renting it out for condos. What if it's all Dragony?"
"My instinct exactly when I heard of a 'former ranger' having interest settling up there. Edan and I have rode to its edge, and I think I could find the grove again from proto-Xanadu days, but so much has changed," Paige shrugs, a simple and quiet smile on her face. "And short of Julian, who I assume is occupied elsewhere, who would you suggest? Last I checked, your brothers are most all knee deep in other things. Solange and Brita are abroad. I'm not anything like a Ranger, nor is Garrett. What are we left with in residence? Martin, Jerod and Folly? I suppose she could get the band together and saddle up as wandering minstrals."
Random shrugs. "Anyone with pattern, a trump deck, and a sword will do to start. Oh, and 'not preggers' may help in the 'domestic harmony' front. Solange, Brita, Robin would be good, of course. It's likely to be a place you could fall into and not fall back out of, like Arden. Garrett's probably out. Too young to have the toolset to solve problems and too old and responsible not to try. He needs to do more Cocky Young Princing before he does Cocky Adult Princing."
"I guess that means that I qualify, if playing with less than a full deck doesn't rule me out," Paige admits. "I had plans to work on some Sketches until Brennan and hare off into Shadow, but I could be diverted. The twins are falling into a schedule, somewhat. Enough that like your subjects, they can't get away for the moment.
"Do I need to make it a priority?" Her tone suggests that it is, just for paranoia's sake.
"You'd rather be dealing with eager ex-rangers? Or tribal idiots. 'Our grandfather left the thinking to the shaman, and what's good enough for him is good enough for me. Mind you, he's dead, but it's a good dead.' Consider it a pleasant duty." Random flips over on the scaffolding and smiles down at her.
"Right, nice gentle ride up a cliff face and then wandering off into the probably-not-but-who-really-knows-if-its-dragony-woods. The cliff's easier by hand, but I'll never cover half the forest by foot." Paige shakes her head, but it's tempered by an apparently genuine smile. "For a monarch of little brain, you seem to have the delegation bit down.
"Point of order, oh creator of Xanadu. Is the bunny gun going to work up in the woods if I need it to?"
"Huh? No gun should work here. Do you have a gun that actually fires bunnies? Doesn't that upset your kids? Because I know that the idea disturbs me." He finishes nailing up whatever it is he's nailing up and does what looks like a twenty-foot gymnast's dismount, landing on his feet near Paige. He holds up a finger for quiet and when he gets it, he claps, once, and listens to the echoes. Then he looks at her again.
"No, I have one carved with bunnies on it that was probably humorous to someone at the time," she explains. "And if I did have one that fired them, my growing wolf cubs would find it a lovely game, I'm sure."
"Yeah, that's just the replacement image I need. Have you considered a career as a Rococo consultant?" He grins at her.
Paige takes the grin as a compliment with a gracious nod of her head.
"Alright. Should problems occur, my deck is limited in the help I can call or the places I can run. Is there one of the library decks available for loan while I go exploring?"
"Only in Amber. I haven't moved the Library yet. I'm sorta hoping Cambina comes back soon so she can whip that dishrag of hers into line. Plus it gives me something to have her do instead of her mooning around about Tir Na n'Ogth."
Paige's own grin spreads as the King's puns, intended or not, are appreciated. "Alright, then over the cliff and through the woods and not to grandmother's I go, hopefully. With your leave?
Random nods.
"For what it's worth, last I knew she was in Paris with her boyfriend," she adds before she leaves.
"Let me know what you find."
If nothing else is pressing, Paige makes her way to her rooms and briefs her limited staff on the plans. The men have the charge of the childrens' safety, the women of their schedules. Unless Couth objects or offers his own services in the bargain, she'll send someone to find Sticks and let him know that he's been drafted back into service. Paige has gone off trailbalzing into shadow before, but this is Reality and thus she'll not be able to make do with Pattern as she might've, so the provisioning is well planned.
Last modified: 18 September 2006