Once the festivities are well underway, Edan and his troop of city defenders arrive on their horses and hand them off to waiting grooms. The applause is plentiful and seems to be enthusiastic. Lord Mayor Ash greets the Order in the name of Xanadu and the King, and officially gives them the freedom of the city. Edan is asked to give a few words.
It is later in the afternoon, and the lengthening shadows combined with the harbor breeze have sapped much of the unpleasant heat of the day. Lamps are everywhere around the square, and the dancing area is already filled with moving bodies as a dance band plays fast and lively music.
And finally, the Order of the Lamp appears. Still but a company, around forty strong, but each rider is clad in a colorful uniform of red and white and black, and the horses are energetic and glossy and beautiful. Anyone in the know could see that Michelle did an amazing job in the preparation.
Normally, Edan would be clad in the same uniform, but today he is in dancing silks of his own colors; spotless white with a wide crimson sash as a belt. His feet and head are bare, and his hair transitions from dark roots to reddish ends. Here, there is no hiding the color of his eyes, and anyone can see the molten fiery gold of the irises. His sleeves are gathered strangely, lengths of extra crimson silk at his wrists. A pair of heavily taped and weighted Avernus hook-swords are thrust into his sash.
The riders' formation is like and yet unlike to the rangers; for as the rangers operate in groups of three, these troops ride and fight in groups of six. Their horses make patterns of stars as they make their way down to the town square.
They are relaxed as they can be, with the eyes of the city upon them and the applause around them. The mounts are well behaved, showing off, really, as the company moves down to the square. Grooms are there to take the horses as the knights dismount.
Celina notes the arrival of Corwin and Silhouette in serious conversation. Dolphin's face maintains its normal pleasant mien, but her Father seems very interested in the conversation.
Really? Celina sighs to herself.
Whatever it is, they finish their conversation momentarily thereafter and Corwin makes his way toward the dais, though it's not clear if he's coming for Celina.
Signy and Brita are also looking toward the dais where the Rebman party has gathered with the Queen. In the absence of Corwin and Random, Celina may be the senior Royal on the dais.
Celina judges that her Father is the weather. You cannot say where it is going but be prepared. So she waves to Signy and points to the stand area the Rebmans are holding.
Silhouette turns from her former companion and drifts toward the Rebman 'camp' with a purposeful gait. She tries to catch Celina's eye, bowing her head reverently.
Signy gives Brita a quick grin of farewell before threading her way through the crowd, managing to time it so that she falls in besides Silhouette, easily matching her stride.
"Cousin," she says quietly. Ho are you finding the festivities? There's business to be had, if you're looking for supplies."
Her face makes a momentary pout of distaste at the need for the practical realities of operating a smithy.
Silhouette quirks a brow, "Indeed? Business is my ambrosia, as it were. We can discuss this further whenever you desire." Her smile curls up, "And soon, I should commission you for a blade."
Celina nods a welcome as they approach the stand. She makes introductions to her Archivists present for Signy. The Rebmans know Silhouette. "How nice to see you both. I think the excitement is about to start. I admit I do not know much about horse dancing."
Silhouette smiles faintly, "If I'm not mistaken, my Queen, the stallion leads - with the exception of waltzes and soft-shoe."
From near the dais there is a fanfare of trumpets. For those who know Random (or Syd, as he called himself in Texorami)'s early compositions, it's a short piece entitled "Don't Tell ME not to give you high notes".
People across the square and beyond become still and quiet, anticipating some sort of presentation or speech. Those people are not disappointed, as first Prince Corwin welcomes Edan and his knights in the name of his brother-the-King and then, following applause, Edan himself speaks, magically amplified. People seem as impressed by that as his riding, although a few seem less than thrilled to experience actual magic.
Lord Mayor Ash has several young men light additional lamps, and the floor is cleared for Edan's entertainment and demonstration of skill. Ash also has people to keep the crowd from pressing too close to the knights as they perform.
Celina spends some time examining the methods of her cousin's mastery of the sound amplification. She then nods to Silhouette. "Does the stallion always lead in Xanadu, or were you speaking for all shadows you have seen so far, Silhouette?" Celina grins to let both cousins know she is enjoying the jest. She'll find out what soft-shoe is later. Probably a kind of horse footgear thing.
Silhouette continues to smile, "Regrettably, it appears to be a widespread truism. Pity, really, as through observation, I've found mares far more kinesiologically-inclined."
She pauses to observe Edan's use of magic, cocking her head mechanically. "Intriguing. I must speak to him afterwards. His technique might benefit the work I've done for King Random." She glances between her companions, "Do the paradigms here allow magic or is this an anomaly?"
Celina responds so quietly, even Family ears must listen closely, "Xanadu is blessed with such anomaly, though I have studied it only in passing. I think many things associated with sound are easier here."
Signy briefly frowns.
Soft horse shoes doesn't seem terribly practical, but then again there was much Weyland didn't teach her.
She scans the crowd again from the new vantage point.
"Both yourself and King Corwin are here, but King Random isn't?"
Celina nods. "It is a puzzle, but King Random likes to surprise with his appearances." She looks at Signy, "Unlike many royal courts, the people seem to enjoy it."
Their conversation concluded, and on a level of amicability that surprises even Jerod (will wonders never cease), he heads over to the bar to catch up with his sister.
The presence of the Octave does not deter Jerod from his approach, though part of him thinks that if he leaves Octave alone with Valeria long enough, Jerod will have to clean up the greasy spot on the floor, and that's just too much work right now.
As for Huon, Jerod had noted the arrival of the kin-slayer very early on, but since he arrived with the Queen, that pretty much puts him off limits...at least from receiving the business end of sharp, pointing things like spears and swords. Admittedly he is somewhat depressed by this set of circumstances, but only for a moment.
Thus he will arrive at the bar in relatively good spirits, while he waits to see how long that might last.
As a good barman, the barman catches Jerod's eye as he comes up. "Can I get you something, highness?"
"Something dark, very strong and lots of it." Jerod says simply.
From near the dais there is a fanfare of trumpets. For those who know Random (or Syd, as he called himself in Texorami)'s early compositions, it's a short piece entitled "Don't Tell ME not to give you high notes".
People across the square and beyond become still and quiet, anticipating some sort of presentation or speech. Those people are not disappointed, as First Prince Corwin welcomes Edan and his knights in the name of his brother-the-King and then, following applause, Edan himself speaks, magically amplified. People seem as impressed by that as his riding, although a few seem less than thrilled to experience actual magic.
Lord Mayor Ash has several young men light additional lamps, and the floor is cleared for Edan's entertainment and demonstration of skill. Ash also has people to keep the crowd from pressing too close to the knights as they perform.
Jerod collects his drink from the barman, and the stronger the drink, the better the barman. He makes sure to pay at least moderate attention to the events that Edan has put such effort into, though regrettably his sister warrants more attention, so he will intrude upon her time at an appropriate moment.
The Barman is one of the better ones in town. His drink is strong, simple, dark, and strong. Given the southern latitude, it's probably molasses based.
Ossian seems to have headed directly to interrupt Octave and go off with Valeria.
After a short break, Edan appears at the center of the square. He looks up in the general direction of the castle, murmurs a few words, and touches the side of his throat with a smoking index finger; after that, his words carry outwards to the square as if he were standing next to each listener.
The trumpets sound, and the proclamation is read, welcoming the Knights of the Lamp to Xanadu. He waits through it, draws breath to speak...then stops. He smiles, and says, "I am not used to this. I am more used to shouting orders across a field, not giving speeches or lectures. But that is exactly what I will be doing, because our vision is that of a school. A place of learning. We will explore excellence in the martial and arcane arts. Horse and foot, sword and spell. At the same time, we pledge ourselves to the defense of the King and of Xanadu. We are deeply honored to be welcomed by you. We are proud to join the brotherhood of the Knights," and he rattles off the list of active knight orders that Michelle drew up for him. "We will strive to be worthy of this honor."
He turns and gestures to where the drums were being set up. "And...we have arranged a little entertainment, an introduction of sorts. A sword-dance of my adopted homeland. I hope that you enjoy it. I think that you will."
From near the dais there is a fanfare of trumpets. For those who know Random (or Syd, as he called himself in Texorami)'s early compositions, it's a short piece entitled "Don't Tell ME not to give you high notes".
People across the square and beyond become still and quiet, anticipating some sort of presentation or speech. Those people are not disappointed, as First Prince Corwin welcomes Edan and his knights in the name of his brother-the-King and then, following applause, Edan himself speaks, magically amplified. People seem as impressed by that as his riding, although a few seem less than thrilled to experience actual magic.
Lord Mayor Ash has several young men light additional lamps, and the floor is cleared for Edan's entertainment and demonstration of skill. Ash also has people to keep the crowd from pressing too close to the knights as they perform.
Three score of vertical drums are set up in a precise circle that dominates the central area of the square. Earlier dancers might have noticed premeasured marks on the dance floor, which are used to set the position and alignment of each drum. It was not an easy task; the drums are each about eight feet tall, and the base of each one is weighted with sand or earth. They break the plethora of torchlight and lamplight into a kaleidoscope of color and light and shadow within the ring.
Between the vertical drums and the crowd are arranged the Knights of the Lamp, each carrying a djembe for the hands or sitting at various larger drums or water drums; were this not Xanadu, one might wonder if they've claimed all the drums in the kingdom. The exception to the formation is Kyauta, who in dragonet form is flying from perch to perch around the circle. There are two openings in this drum ring; on one side, there is a low table behind which Vere sits, cross-legged. A bowl of golden coins is placed before him.
On the other side is the space where Edan enters. He is still in his dancing silks, shining white with a crimson sash tied at his waist. Lengths of crimson silk are sewn at the cuffs, long ribbons that look capable of reaching any of the drums from the center of the dance space. His feet are bare. Small bells are worked into the hair at the back of his head, such that sudden movements are accompanied by a ringing chime that can be heard through the crowd. A pair of Averni hooked swords are thrust into his sash, the swords blunted and heavily taped.
Those observers with Third Eye or other magical senses can tell that Edan has divested himself of any magical effect. For now, it's just him and a pair of swords.
Edan crosses to the center of the space. Though he was disappointed that Vialle was not here to experience this, he does not let it show. He had intended this to be partly for her enjoyment. Well, no matter. He removes another, shorter length of silk from his waist sash and ties it securely around his head and eyes, ignoring what shocked reaction he hears from the crowd. With blindfold in place, he moves from pose to pose and finally freezes, balanced on one foot, arms extended. He extends his other leg, toes pointed, and stretches it up towards the sky. He balances there, motionless, turned in Vere's direction.
Vere sits quietly as Edan makes his preparations. Once Edan is in position, holding his balanced position in perfect stillness, Vere slowly runs the fingers of his right hand through the coins in the
bowl. The clinking of metal on metal sounds unusually loud in the hushed square as the spectators watch. Vere lifts his hand from the bowl, one coin caught between two fingers, and with a sudden snap he sends the coin hurtling towards one of the vertical drums. It strikes the drum with a 'thrum' that echoes through the square and bounces off it onto the floor.
As the first coin hits the floor, Edan is moving; his leg comes down, there is a turn and then a pirouette, and his arm snaps out. The attached length of silk extends and taps the same drum that the coin had hit. Around the circle the Knights start up a quick beat. Edan uses the cadence to dance around again to the center, and eventually takes another pose. His arms are together, one knee raised, toes pointed to the floor, head down as if contemplating. His body becomes still. The drummers end their drumming all on the same beat, and silence claims the square again.
Vere waits until the Knights end their beat and Edan is once more motionless, then with a faster movement of his hand he sends a coin towards another standing drum. It hits much harder this time, and bounces across the ring to strike yet another drum before rebounding onto the floor.
Two drums. Edan throws his arms up high, and the ribbons float down to gather in his hands as only silk can do. He snaps out both arms this time. Again, the ribbons snap out to strike the two signaled drums. Again, the Knights give him a fast beat, and he uses it to move and dance back to his starting place, silk swirling around him. He is in his Knights' hands as much as they are in his. And then the beat is gone and Edan is frozen again, this time a martial pose, one arm defensive, one poised to attack some imaginary foe.
Vere allows himself a small smile as he watches Edan's mastery. Once more his fingers snap forward, and a coin flashes through the air towards a drum a third of the way around the circle. Vere had calculated the force and trajectory precisely, and the coin rebounds off the drum to fly past Edan's ear, barely missing him, before striking a drum on the opposite side of the hall, rebounding again to another drum, and then again to a fourth drum before landing, spent, upon the floor.
Four drums! This time, Edan pulls one of the Avernus hook-swords out of his sash with his right hand and throws it, even as he spins and snaps out the silk from his left. The sword spins end over end and smacks flat against one of the signaled drums as the silk snaps against another. Edan's spin turns into a short leap and a few steps; the handle of the thrown sword, having bounced off the drum, smacks back into his palm. How long had Edan spent with tape and twine and grinding wheel to weight this length of metal well enough to fly true? How many hours spent practicing the throw, the bounce, the catch? But he does so, perfectly, blind, in step and to the beat. And then he does the movements again to the other two drums, with the other sword, using the opposite arms, to show it is all practice and discipline and skill and not luck or sorcery.
And then, in another movement, the swords are back in his sash and the ribbons are back at his wrists. He hangs there in another dance pose, on one foot again, body extended much like that of a swan in flight. The beat stops again.
The moment Edan stops moving Vere is on his feet. His eyes flick once to his cousin, then down at the coins in the bowl. His hand seizes the bowl and he spins once in place, eyes fixed on the coins, calculating. As he completes his turn his hand flashes forward and the coins fly from the bowl in a golden stream, the first of them striking the drum immediately to his left and then the rest, in a glorious cacophony, striking each of the drums in turn.
Edan smiles, eyes still covered by the blindfold. Such is Vere's skill that none of the coins have touched the dancer, only the drums. All the drums. Magnificent.
After the last of the gold stops bouncing and clinking on the ground, the drummers around the ring set a fast beat. And after four measures of this, Edan dances.
Arm to the left, sword to the right, move to the left. He spins, he leaps, he turns. Edan's jumps are amazing. His footwork is perfect. His timing is godlike. He hangs in the air with each leap, making the eyes ache to follow him, to deduce all the movements he makes seemingly all at once. Here, too, showcases the skill of the Knights of the Lamp, who could only have kept up with their Sultan through months or years of repetitive practice. When he slows, they slow; when he speeds up, they do the same. They support Edan through every leap and step and turn. Bare feet, long used to shifting sand, are not affected by the coins on the floor. Indeed, the fact that there is a solid floor seems to make things even easier. Turn. Stretch. Throw. Extend. Snap. Catch. A routine that cycles through all the variations of movement, even as the drums are systematically struck. The bells in Edan's hair chime in time to the beat as he whips his head this way or that. The silk ribbons are like the flow of water around him: here a wave, there a cocoon, different shapes forming as he dances. Fractured torchlight flows and reflects along the fabric of his dancing uniform as he moves. Faster faster faster. Turnthrowcatchsnapextendturnspin. And when Edan is down to the last twenty or so drums, the best trick of all; for instead of striking drums, he throws out the ribbons to snake around the handles of the hook swords in mid-flight. The beat, and the dance, changes. The swords are an extension of him now, waving at the end of his arms of silk. He spins, he shifts direction, contortionist efforts to keep both swords in the air and moving to strike the last of the drums. His targets shiver with the weight of the strikes he makes on them, heavy metal barbs at the ends of silken whips. The drumming is as wild as Edan's dance now, keeping him aloft and moving. He and the Knights feed off each other. They are his kin, extensions of his will as the ribbons are extensions of his arm. He is their mentor, their teacher, their Sultan. He is a warrior, a rider, a sorcerer, a Knight. He is a Sword Dancer, and this is his Dance.
Vere smiles more broadly as he watches Edan's skill. And as the last of the last of the drums are struck Vere's hand flashes forward one last time, sending the bowl hurtling through the air directly at the head of his blindfolded cousin.
Even in mid dance, Edan's smile matches Vere's. One sword drops to the ground. The other, he pulls to him. The handle smacks into his palm even as he spins in a circle and brings the blunted edge of the sword down on the bowl. It shatters before him. And the final turn, the final pull of the other sword into his hand, the last movement brings Edan back to the center of the dance floor with swords in hand and a rain of delicate colored pottery to clink and bounce on the floor around him.
Edan finishes, then, with a bow towards the king's place and another bow to his partner and a third to his Knights, without any of whom this would not have been possible.
The crowd applauds, at first tentatively, then enthusiastically. It lasts perhaps longer than is needful, but people see the royals on the dias applauding and keep their applause up.
There is a flash of light, momentarily dazzling from the balcony of the Mayor's house, and the King appears, wearing his crown and the state jewelry. Next to him are the Lord Mayor and his wife Tjaden, also applauding. Prince Bleys is on the other side of the King, with his sister Fiona. "Welcome, our gallant Knights of the Lamp! Your King is proud to have you defending our land from enemies, and teaching the philosophy and arms to those who wish to learn! Long may your red light shine!"
Random steps back, then steps forward again and adds. "You may all dance until dawn, there is no curfew tonight, and tomorrow is Red Lamp Day henceforth, and an unsolemn holiday."
Then the King retreats into the mayoral manor and does not return.
Edan holds his smile for the crowd, for his brethren, and for Vere. A smile is enough for the latter; they both know they nailed it.
Something is Not Right, however. The King was polite but abrupt. The Queen was not present. And with Father and Fiona there, sorcery might be involved.
There are going to be delays. A kind word to the Knights. Family come to talk to him. At the moment, Edan doesn't espy Hannah. But when there is finally a moment, he heads towards the mayor's residence; if nothing also but to tell his father of the impending grandchild.
Edan is going to have the toughest time of anyone getting to the manor. He gets to the Mayor pretty quickly. "Very impressive. Should we organize a reception line? Everyone wants to meet you." Ash frowns. "I'd've expected Syd to organize that, at least informally."
Edan smiles, because he knows he's neatly trapped. He spares a glance towards the manor house. With Random not here, Edan can't very well disappear. Not tonight.
"Something on his mind, I suppose. Has Random, er, Syd, has he organized a reception line down here before? We could follow that setup, or I could call some of the Knights together to help."
The Lord Mayor is visibly relived. "The Knights would be excellent. People will want to meet them as well."
Michelle comes up to Ash and Edan. "Is everything in order, my Lords?"
Edan holds his smile for his seneschal. "Look all around, how well everything is organized. You did that. People will talk of this for years to come. The Lord Mayor and I were talking about an impromptu reception line, since Random has left that duty to us. I was just about to send Kyauta to round up some of our more loquacious and sociable knights."
"Thank you, my Lord," says Michelle. "If you will send your message, the Lord Mayor's men and I will arrange a reception line by the dais. It will facilitate access to any royal who wishes to be accessible."
Ash nods and turns to one of his aides, an officer named Viper, telling the man to work with Michelle.
Edan sends out through his link to Kyauta that he needs help from a specific list of knights. Women from multiple realms want to meet and compliment them. He asks Kyauta to fly and pass this message along.
Kyauta flies overhead and makes a loop, then flies towards the troops. The weeks of marching have, at least, meant that this no longer panics the horses. Or the troops.
Those singled out will head to the reviewing dais shortly.
When it's clear he's done, Ash looks at him and gestures for him to lead the way (to the dais).
And there Edan goes, with a short trail of knights behind him and Kyauta perched on his shoulder. He does bow to his men before they go, thanking them for this small sacrifice of time and effort. And a smile in the general direction of Celina's group, too, as he sees them start a dance that reminds him of the dance styles he saw in Rebma.
Brennan watches the grand entrance of the Knights of the Lamp with a critical eye, although generally a constructive one. He will, after all, be handing off a small group of his own Knights into Edan's care, the better to help turn this group of forty horse warriors into the first cadre of something more. A fresh and professional perspective never hurt anyone. Well, that may not precisely be true, Brennan corrects himself, remembering the Family stories of Corwin and Eric in particular as the King welcomes the new Knight. But Brennan and Edan are not Eric and Corwin.
And anyway, Edan has good material to work with, and more than enough heat to forge them. Interesting swords, though, he notes to himself. Haven't seen those in quite a while.
As Edan is giving his introductory speech, Brennan catches a glimpse of Ambrose and heads in his direction. "Ambrose, I'm glad you're here. It's good to see you," he says. "Come join me watch Edan's display?"
Ambrose smiles and says something that sounds like "of course" though it's hard to hear him over the crowd and the amplified speechifying. Whatever he said, he comes to join Brennan. They make their way toward the dais, where much of the royal family is gathering, while Corwin is speaking. There are opportunities to at least nod a greeting to a lot of different relatives.
Brennan does take those opportunities to nod to relatives he's not seen in a while, especially since most of his time at the pre-revel buffet was spent out on the balcony with Robin, Vere and Edan.
After Edan's display, he offers up genuine applause. After Random's abrupt appearance and retreat, the applause continues, pro-forma. There is a phrase in Uxmali whose idiomatic translation is something close to, "The universe is a sonofabitch," which, in addition to its mild vulgarity, carries a substantial weight of blasphemy when spoken by the priestly caste, much less the son of a god. This, Brennan mutters to himself as the pro-forma applause continues.
Ambrose's own response in Uxmali directly translates to something like "as the God wills it", which is a ritual response to a divine appearance and command, but given Ambrose's tone and his own godly priesthood, not to mention the arch of his eyebrows, sounds distinctly unimpressed.
"How goes the project with Signy?" he asks, once the roar has died down.
"I showed her the innards of one of the code wheels that's failing and Fiona and I taught her basic Uxmali in the direct manner. She's got the hang of speech, but not of centering her words yet. She has a prototype of the small wheel made of balsa wood but the enchantments-" Ambrose pauses and shrugs. "Our father couldn't make anything simple." The last sentence is in Uxmali and centers on the negative.
"Our father lost his own center before either of us were born," Brennan says, as though that explains it. Uncharacteristically, he does does not employ any of the Uxmali circumlocutions that would make 'center' the center of the sentence without actually saying it. Uncharacteristic of any discussion of their father, the statement is melancholy rather than bitter or angry. "I'll help her practice, if there's time before the end of Mandatory Fun. Allowing for the fact that I can't really stay beyond that, anything useful I can do?"
"If you have any observations about the wheels that you'd like to make, since you've worked with them too, that would be helpful. I can explain what I know, but even a god's perspective is necessarily limited." This Ambrose says in Thari but it's evident that he's thinking of how it would sound in Uxmali: a cross between nonsensical and deadly blasphemy in his mouth.
Brennan smiles at the blasphemy-- his own opinion on the Uxmali gods is well-known, at least to Ambrose.
"Just one: Those things are modular. Is it possible that no one, not even you and I ever saw a complete one? I have some dim memories of seeing a wheel with a hole in it, as though for some sort of fixture that I didn't have. But the memory is so old... I remember asking Tayanna about it, but not if I ever got an answer much less what it might have been. It would have been like him to focus everyone's attention on part of the apparatus while keeping something in his back pocket for his own private use."
"I hadn't tried that," Ambrose says grimly, "but you're right--and it's not like he hasn't used two wheels together to imbue a glyph series with double-meanings in the past." His mind is racing, but he quells it enough to ask, "How are your works faring, and can I offer any aid in them, given my own circumscribed ability to act at the moment?"
"Fairly well, actually. If Moire herself is not in Avalon, then her agents are, and Conner and I have narrowed down her plans to a set I think we can deal with and foil or disrupt. There is something you might be able to help Ossian with, though. Your knowledge of Uxmal is far more recent than mine-- do you know of any eye-based iconography associated with the pyramids?"
"No, not the step pyramids." Ambrose shakes his head in the negative. "I've seen the Klybesian eyes in the pyramid but it's not related to Uxmal. Our father wasn't involved with that priesthood as far as I know; they wouldn't have accepted his claim to godhood. And he'd hardly want a priesthood as dedicated to their own causes as they seem to be."
Brennan nods and scratches his chin idly. "That's about what I'd expect. I was too young when I left to trust my lack of memories of a group I know I hadn't even heard of at the time, but that's about what I'd expect. Here's why I ask: Ossian found his mother, Regenlief of Asgard. Since I expect that will be part of the more formal news exchange and strategy, I've brought her with me even though she won't be part of the closed council."
That's an open semi-invitation to introduce them-- when/if Ambrose expresses interest, he'll send for Regenlief.
Ambrose doesn.t interrupt, but his eyebrows rise and he's clearly interested.
"The monastery Ossian was found at? Klybesian. The people who stole him at birth? Klybesian. So either they had a reason to take the child of a Valkyrie, or they had a reason to take the child of an Amberite and somehow knew who or what I was." Brennan lets pass unstated which conclusion the narcissism of Amber supports. "It had crossed my mind that perhaps Brand entered into a bargain to keep tabs on me."
There are flaws in that idea, but Brennan leaves them unpicked to see what Ambrose thinks.
Ambrose has to pause and consider that for a time. "It's not out of the question. As you put it, we have insufficient data to state conclusively, and if they've got half an organizing brain, we won't have any way to get the data. But if they're as all-encompassing as they seem to be, and able to move through Shadow easily, they could have been following you on your own. So: inconclusive. But the probabilities there are the sort that could easily be manipulated." He's lapsed back into Uxmali, and the last sentence centers on 'manipulated'.
He ponders that more. "And if our father made that bargain at some time, and later ended it, do you think they'd stop watching?"
"No," Brennan says. No hesitation. It's not even a sentence, just a glyph that would lie like a negation over a whole sentence. "Not a snowball's chance."
"I'm really of two minds," Brennan says. "If they were working for him, it would explain how they knew who I was after centuries of not using my real name. And it would explain why Abford is still standing instead of razed to the ground. But it doesn't reconcile with my memories of him... or yours, apparently." 'Memories' forms a very awkward center. "Something about this nags me, aside from the personal angle. I'm beginning to think there's an actor we don't see, yet. Maybe this mysterious Turcopolier, maybe someone else."
He shakes his head and sends a page to fetch Regenlief. "One word-- no, two words of advice. She hates the Klybesians about as much as Ossian and I do, so expect to get grilled. And she's probably gotten the Brita question half a dozen times today already."
"The Brita question--oh." Ambrose is fast on his feet and works his way through that. Brennan can see when it hits him. "I'll not ask, then. And not mention my own godhead, either. Do you mean to introduce her to all of us one at a time, or will there be a mass inspection for the poor woman? I'm happy to be a relatively friendly face."
"There's nothing for it but to announce her during tomorrow's Mandatory Fun," Brennan says, "but she can't be there for that. She's met a few of us already, and Ossian and I gave her the sketch of the Family earlier today, but it seems only decent to let her put as many names to faces as possible before that." He shrugs. "She's a Valkyrie, she's looking at this like a battle, which is almost right-- it's part of a larger campaign."
He frowns. "I've got enough urgent business that has to get taken care of before tomorrow that that might not be possible. You, Brita, and Edan-- she already knows Connor-- are where I'd thought to start, and then expand out time permitting."
"I'll do what I can to assist here, but I don't know that--" and that's when Rides in the Van, one of Bleys' Altamareans, arrives in the middle of their conversation. "Ambrose, Brennan, I have a message from your uncle Bleys. All is not well. Please come to the Mayor's house as soon as possible."
Also approaching through the crowd is Regenlief.
Brennan isn't sure which will be worse: if this is connected to Vere's and Edan's tale of Cambina and Vialle, or if it's some entirely new disaster, unrelated and presumably even worse.
He shoots Ambrose a "buckle-up" glance, before taking out Bleys' Trump and giving his full and considerable attention. Hard to be faster than that in Xanadu. If Bleys answers, he holds out his hand for Ambrose to join the conversation.
Ambrose reaches out his hand to Bleys, making a firm connection to allow himself to be pulled through.
Bleys opens the connection promptly. "Ah, yes. We're having a little discussion at the Lord Mayor's. I think I hear some of your cousins downstairs. Come through?" Bleys reaches out his hand.
"We received your message from Rides in the Van," Brennan says. "It seemed best to Trump directly."
He reaches out his hand in return.
Ambrose has his other hand in Regenlief's and Bleys pulls the three of them through. Ambrose looks chagrined, Regenlief looks curious, concerned, and doing math behind her eyes.
Bleys says, "Regenlief, charmed to see you again. This is family business and I don't think your sword-arm will be needed, but it would be helpful if you took up a station at the door and kept the rabble out." Conner is already in the room and at the door, preparing to open it.
This is, at Brennan's best guess, the room that opens out onto the balcony that Random was speaking to the crowd from. Random isn't here. Neither is Fiona.
Brennan walks with Regenlief to the door, assuming that's where she's going. "I have no idea what's going on, yet," he says in a low voice-- low enough that polite non-listeners can choose to tune it out, at least, "but I have reason to expect it to be unpleasant. And I'm more pessimistic than Bleys. We may need that arm yet. Did you come over to join us with news, or to meet Ambrose?" That is not a flippant question, but quite serious-- Regenlief may not be familiar with Xanadu and its court, but she's a sharp-eyed Valkyrie, and Brennan believes in the virtue of fresh eyes.
"I was coming to meet Ambrose, but I wanted to ask you--what's going on with the King? I guess we're about to find out, or you and Ambrose are, at least." Regenlief looks less resentful about this than worried. Although she's not armed, since she's not formally a Knight in any of the orders, Brennan knows Regenlief can appropriate or scavenge a weapon as needed. He's seen her do it many times.
Regenlief knows Brennan well enough to know when he's on edge-- this is one of those times, although Brennan tends to get sharper when he senses a threat, not distracted. "I'll tell you what I can, when I can. I expect this to be... revelatory." By which Brennan clearly means unpleasant. When the stairs clear, he escorts her to them, but does not depart.
Regenlief takes up a guard position at the top of the stairs so she can keep people out.
During Edan's performance, Robin is mixed in with the crowd and wildly enthusiastic about the artistry, the joy, the playfulness and the comradery she sees. She cheers, she whistles, she applauds, she stamps her feet and claps in time and she is very, very much in love with that brilliant coin-thrower.
Her other cousin is pretty good too. Soooo much better than stilted court stuff. That's what life and living is all about!
When the King makes his appearance, Robin stops and listens. And tilts her head in bewilderment as her brows furrow in confusion. Afterward, Robin shakes her head though she can't shake the pensive expression from her face.
She moves toward the trumpets distractedly. Because while something's... off, there are also brass instruments to lick.
Ossian comes to the bar as Edan starts his speech. He nods and smiles at Octave and says to Valeria, "I have not forgotten about that dance."
Valeria smiles and finishes the drink she was working on. "Sir Octave, it's a pleasure as always--I look forward to discussing this further on the morrow." She turns her full attention on Ossian and adds a high-wattage smile. "Prince Ossian," she says, keeping the promotion that she gave him in her last conversation with her brother, who is edging his way up the bar.
Sir Octave looks like he might correct her but decides better.
She continues, "Let's find a better sightline for whatever your cousin is doing next. I do enjoy watching a man dance. Almost as much as dancing with one." She offers her arm to Ossian.
Ossian takes her arm. "Edan is a very, very good dancer. I have danced with him at one point. Forceful.
"I thought you 'princed' me to tease your brother. But he couldn't hear you now. Why?"
"Now, because it pleases me." She glances down the bar to where her brother has landed. "And perhaps because it will get back to him. But mostly because it pleases me."
After the speech, once they're up in the dais, Valeria waits for the swell of noise that rises to die down a little before saying, "You did promise me the dance. Edan is forceful, I agree, but I think I prefer you. He is fire and you are water."
Ossian smiles. "Maybe so. And dancing with someone is quite different from watching." He goes quite quiet during Edan's dance. After Random's speech he takes Valeria's arm.
"Let's see if you prefer my dancing."
The music has started so people can dance, though more people seem to be lining up near the dais in a reception line so people can meet Edan and his knights. Valeria, however, is more than content to be taken out into the open area where Edan was performing and joining Ossian in a dance to the tunes.
The music is up-tempo and drum-heavy, with only acoustic instrumentation. (Think something like swing or big band.) Ossian is in a position to lead and set the pace, as he and Valeria are the first couple from the royal family to dance and other dancers will follow their lead. Valeria will try to match Ossian and dance with him, but her ability to execute will depend on his style and the amount of effort and energy he puts into the dance.
Ossian is a gentleman and a good dancer. He will work hard to make Valeria both enjoy the dance and look good on the dance floor. Still he keeps on the very edge of her ability, while covering any mistake she makes, so that maybe even she will not notice. If she starts to get too winded he will suggest that they join the reception line after fetching drinks.
Valeria will dance with him for quite some long time. Her style is fluid, of course, though she has some reflexive tendencies to swing large that Ossian intuits come from her expectation that there will be water resistance to certain of her motions that just isn't there on sweeps. So there are plenty of minor mistakes to work with, though Valeria is aware of many of them and does her best to compensate, and makes fewer as time goes on.
She tires out more quickly than Ossian, but not too much so; she's not an Amberite but she is a Rebman royal and enough of that blood runs in her that she seems to be able to outlast most Amberites. Still, she's ready for a drink and a move toward the reception line after a while.
As they stand in the line Ossian asks: "So what brings you here? Not just Edan's new order, I guess."
"I've been in Xanadu for some long time, since before my mother abandoned Rebma and went off on her mad warfare spree against my Aunt Celina and the rest of our family, and yours." Valeria frowns a little poutily at that, but it's pretty, and Ossian suspects she knows it.
"I hope to speak to Celina tonight and return home with her when she goes back. If she's taking in your uncle who nearly destroyed the city, she can find something useful for me to do as well. I've been doing little or nothing since I arrived with the Amber refugees, and I have no use here. And neither Random nor Vialle look on me with favor, so I'll do no worse under Celina," she explains.
From someone else it might be self-pity, or seeking pity from Ossian, but she's simply being honest as far as Ossian can tell.
Before Ossian can reply to that, he can see Paige's bodyguard/babysitter Rides in the Van headed in his and Valeria's direction.
Ossian smiles. "How can we help you?"
"I am Rides in the Van of the Knights of Altamar. Prince Bleys has sent me to ask for you to join him at the Mayor's House. I can keep the lady company in your stead." He nods politely to Valeria, and adds, "Madam."
Valeria looks to Ossian to see what he's going to do.
Ossian frowns and turns to Valeria "Although I am loath to leave you, I think I will have to answer the Prince's summons. It is too uncommon to ignore. In fact I think this is the first for me." He the turns to the knight. "Keep Lady Valeria company, as long as she wishes. Neither less, nor more."
Sir Rides in the Van bows. "As your Lordship commands."
With that he kisses Valeria's hand and goes for the mayor's house.
"Good night, sweet Prince. We shall dance another time."
Rides takes her hand and the two of them swirl off to the music. He is a good dancer, but no Prince of Amber.
Last modified: 8 April 2018