Going Hunting

Florimel has a seamstress ready to tailor a dress to Celina's needs: something that is not obviously foreign and yet doesn't immobilize the wearer. Possibly this is something that had already been prepared for her. The dress also has plenty of room to conceal knives, which are supplied in both the throwing and the stabbing kinds, along with a hat that has a very deadly pin.

Celina admires the work involved and practices in front of Papillon with the pin. She uses left and right hands and seems equally deft.

Papillon is happy to help dress Celina and once that's done, they are on their way. She talks about some of the churches she's explored, and particularly the ones she knew Reid had also visited.

Celina listens closely as the substance of Paris must have puzzles unrevealed yet.

But the focus of her interest today is a church in the 18th arrondisement, near the large white church she'd visited with Reid. It's the church of St Pierre, and according to the legends, Pierre was a martyr. And in the martyr's tomb beneath the church, several ancient saints founded an Order.

Merlin, who has dressed, or been dressed, as a proper Edwardian gentleman, says, "I can see why this would be of interest. What do you think, sister?"

Celina nods. "I think the Monks like layers and undergrounds, so this story of a sainted tomb beneath may matter greatly to them. Plus it is sacred so people are unlikely to poke and prod for secret passages. We might look around." Celina asks Papillon if Florimel has directed the young woman to map out the inside where most church functions take place and how exactly the tomb is connected.

Celina also looks at Merlin, "Khela found the Pattern sword in a tomb. Not something that Corwin would know." Then she is back to asking Papillon, "How did this location first reveal of interest to Reid, Florimel, or the Monks?"

"They were already here--the Martyrium--when Reid started exploring Paris. I think he might have learned about it from the monks on the hill," Papillon says. "The Princess has asked me and mine to keep an eye on the place."

When she elaborates on that, it turns out that Papillon has something of a force of irregulars, mostly adolescents but occasionally adults and a few children, who serve her in different neighborhoods by reporting on the comings and goings of parties of interests. It's an informal set of arrangements, but she does pay them, and rewards them for particular tips of interest. The state, which is to say the Princess, provides the budget.

Celina nods. "Well I like it. Very Rebman. So let's do this. We've pulled you away from everything for a bit. Check-in with your relationships informal and get updates. You have an eye for space and volume and I have a very eccentric family with many talents. I'd like to look at or have others take a look at the connections between the public space of the Church and possible cavern or tunnels beneath the crypts. I assume the public does not get to see the tombs of the saints? Or do wealthy patrons get a little tour?"

Celina adds, "Has Avis been over here for a tour?"

Papillon smiles and touches her nose. "Exactement," she says to Celina. "Exactly that. She and some of her senior ladies were invited. I think that they are trying to somehow convince them of commonalities of faith or some such. And somehow this was part of them throwing in with the Rebman party, saving your Majesty's presence.

"I've already taken the liberty of having other agents--" Papillon touches her finger to her lips "--make as much of a map as we can hope to have." She unfolds the map, which was in one of her pockets, and hands it to Celina. "We have guards around the upper church as well. There are probably secret exits but the word is out that there will eventually be a significant reward for the brothers. That will be announced after we take the Mysterium."

"Merlin and I need some time to commit this to memory." Celina looks at Merlin, "Unless you already have?"

Celina asks Papillon, "You and my aunt have been busy; this is good. I trust you as Reid trusted you. Where would you invade, show me on the map? I think you've planned it out in your head already. Always rely on local intuition."

Unsurprisingly, Papillon has maps. Plural. A street map and a sewer map. "I think we place extra guards here and here--" Papillon shows Celina the nearest entrances into the sewers "--alert all the guards, and simply strike the Mysterium by force. We have the area surrounded, and--" she lowers her voice "--Your Highnesses have royal gifts--" and looks at Merlin and Celina, adding, "Reid explained some of the things you can do."

Celina quickly commits the maps to memory, giving herself enough time that at least the two-dimensional nature is captured. "Merlin, perhaps now is a good time to talk about Family. While I do not think Marius will ever be cajoled to work with the monks, someone is directing them. Either someone we know or someone we have yet to meet. Just how easily they latched on to these new youngers bothers me immensely. The fact they are willing to work with Moire is bothersome. The level of confidence they have in the overall plan is, well, I think there is a Family member in the upper hierarchy. I bring this up for two reasons: I need to know how you feel about it, and I don't think King Random's instructions regarding taking Family alive are particularly practical today. And then it could also be Chaosii." Her words are steady and quiet. That Papillon gets to hear them is just part of how Celina wishes to draw the lady closer to the mission.

Celina waits for Merlin to change the subject or make his views known.

"I have not spoken with our father on this subject, but I believe he agrees with King Random on this matter. Also, there is always the risk of a blood curse, and I would not assume that risk lightly. Nor should you. Having said that, though Prince Brand was offered mercy, he did not take it, and was slain."

Celina nods. Interesting.

"It is a last resort, but we will deal with it if we encounter another royal in this place. We may not. I agree with your analysis, but I do not necessarily expect to find a kinsman here. And if we do--" Merlin turns to Papillon "--your job is to retreat, and get the guards to retreat from that person. You will not be able to defeat them, most likely."

Papillon says, "Yes, Your Highness."

Celina experiences something new and wonderful: she gets choked up with admiration for her brother. He's Ordering up so fast.

Celina says, "Well let's do this. Guards at the sewer caps. Put all the watchers on alert. We particularly want the folks smart enough to run the other way. We don't want to stop for mild resistance. So anyone that won't lay down their arms for the royal guards gets no second chance. My ideal is I keep moving until I find their shadow tunnels and someone frantic to seal a door. All Klybesian prisoners get interviewed by Merlin or myself."

The guards assigned to keep the Klybesians bottled up are quick to move, but it's clear that they'll be spread thin. The distinction between Paris-on-the-surface and Paris-below is not great, and it would not be uncommon to find entrances that weren't well known, or which lead to churches or former churches that are not well known even to the clergy of Paris. But they can definitely watch the entrances and exits that Papillon has mapped out.

Celina heads for the path leading to the tombs. If a friendly guard tries to get in front of her she will tell them to step aside.

The guards are nervous, although they try not to show it. The catacombs of Paris are legendary and are not known to be friendly to the living, but no guard would show fear when the son and the daughter of the King are heading into the catacombs. And if there are enemies of the crown to be faced, they will not be too deep, and if they flee into the depths, things older than Paris will take care of them.

Or else, they just don't want to miss the excitement of a raid after so long with no action.

The tunnels are not large and there are dim lights that make the darkened shoals of Rebma seem daylit. The roof is low and there are niches on either side of the twisting corridors carved out of rock which may hold centuries of Paris' dead. It would be easy to get lost here, if one went too far from the blaze marks from past burials.

Papillon takes in all she sees and shows little of the trepidation of the guards. "Your Highness, we approach their domain. There is a locked door ahead that they go through. It seems to be opened from within by a doorman. Beyond that, we are no longer just funeral mourners in the wrong part of Paris-below."

Celina feels an inappropriate warming of her heart for Papillon's courage and steady voice. The timing is terrible. In the darkness she blushes and mutters a small slander of herself. Then she asks, "Door swings in? Do they open for passwords or is a friendly Visage seen through a peep enough? Stone frame or wood?" Those last guesses because everything so far seems to be older materials.

"Outward. We haven't gotten too close, so we don't know if there are passwords or not. Surely they do not know everyone who might come to the door."

Merlin nods. "If we were not in Paris, I could sorcerously look beyond the door, but we are too close to our Father's seat of power. We may need to rip the door from its hinges and send the guards in to silence the gatekeeper."

Papillon nods. That is a small part of what she meant when she spoke of 'royal gifts'.

Celina nods also. She looks at the rough floor in the uneven light, then runs her foot sideways across it. She gets down on a knee and examines the light beneath the stout door. "The light isn't good in here, but they have some on the other side. So probably they hope for advantage when they open the face panel or peep."

Celina thinks about the hinges. "Would take some time but you could shape hands like a prybar. Unless it opens out because they have a slide bar on the other side."

Celina moves to Papillon, "Stiff paper or leather please. Anything narrow to slide under the door."

(That Papillon is prepared!)

Celina gets to the door, sets the flat surface down, and puts a glass bead on it. She takes out a hand mirror and puts it down just so on the bead. Now the mirror tilts forward and mostly up. Celina motions to Merlin what's next.

She whispers her will into the mirror, slides it just beneath the door to capture an image and slides it back to her side quietly.

Celina looks to see if the glass captured the guard, his situation, and if the door is barred.

The bead slides under the door and comes back smoothly; mirror magic is difficult in Paris, but not impossible. The image is not as clear as she could have hoped and the bead is cracked, but there is a distorted image of several pairs of boot amid a collection of chair and table legs, perhaps 3-5 feet from the door. As she looks at different parts of the bead Celina does not see a bar.

Merlin reaches into his hair, behind his ears and pulls out two bone pins. They'd be hatpins if he was wearing a hat. They're only hairpins by proximity, since they were in his hair.

"Unless you have gleaned enough to have a better plan, I shall pick the lock and we shall have to rush them."

Celina whispers agreement. "Yes. Several men at table and chairs about five feet back from the door. It does not appear they have a secure bar. We two rush them. Save the guards for catching what we can't overwhelm with surprise."

Celina watches Merlin work this craft. She wonders if Merlin or Signy will take time to teach her this soon. It seems something a queen should know.

"Our father showed me this. I believe he wanted me to be able to open doors less permanently than I did when I first arrived. Perhaps he would teach you?"

When he has tricked the lock, she'll be ready. It is his city. She expects Merlin will give them a chance to put down their arms.

Melrin turns to the guards. "The signal is that I will open the door. Come in behind us and disable anyone who might be getting away, and take the prisoners away."

He turns to Celina. "We need to hold the door while we are within, so we can retreat without fighting our way back out."

Celina likes the tight quarters and interesting three dimensions of this catacomb. She expects to have to fight. Bare handed is her first choice and she'll move fast once the door opens.

The door opens. Merlin rushes in and slams a guard's head into the lamp on the card table, shattering glass, sending oil flying, scattering cards, money, and at least singeing the unfortunate first victim. There are more guards here, perhaps 3 or 4, and they are all scrambling back and up and reaching for weapons. The one whose hair is on fire isn't reaching for a weapon at all.

Celina rushes forward low, almost on all fours, using Merlin's movement to hide her own. Passing a chair she claims it and chucks it skipping across the floor into the legs of the furthest guard.

Then she's using the very rough and tumble texture of the wall to ascend the wall up into the curve of the vault. She flips, sails tucked just over the heads of the guards looking down and for gear. She lands near the furthest guard and spin-kicks him with intent to break bones.

The fight is exhilarating, and the guards are well trained and disciplined, but no match for two of Corwin's children. Celina takes a few minor cuts, but nothing that requires immediate medical attention. Merlin slips on the spilled oil and blood, and is injured but not out of the fight.

Most of the guards are unconscious. It's hard to tell if any of them got away.

Paris' finest are preparing a defense of the room from either direction, under the direction of Papillion.

Merlin looks up at his sister. "Shall we delve further, Sister?"

Celina sets and binds the broken thigh bone of the downed guard with the belt from his trousers. She stands up and nods to Merlin. "Oh yes. Let's see what monkish doings we uncover here." Celina pokes through the weapons these men have now lost. She hefts a compact mace, good in close quarters.

Celina examines both passages leading away from this room. She motions Merlin very close. "Not always men working for the monks but very often the majority. We need either the movement of air downward, like water, to tell us the way. You know they will have vents and another way out..." she lowers her voice, "or tell me you can shift to the nose of a dog, for my choice is the trace of any woman in one of these passages."

Celina watches Merlin for a sense that he's covering a more serious injury using her TaKhi perceptions.

"I would rather not shapeshift if I do not have to. I do not know the prejudices of Paris in this matter. I do not know the full prejudices of our father in this matter. We are far enough from Notre Dame that I might try some sorcery, though, if you prefer."

Merlin could be wary about shapeshifting for the reason he's giving, or it could be a reflection of some injury, as Celina worries. But watching his movements, Celina doesn't believe that Merlin is badly hurt.

Celina nods once. "I'll take the first spell then, you save effort for the next combat." So saying she builds and accepts a spell making her blood a compass to any nearby female family. She pokes a tiny hole in her palm and uses Necessity to let the spot draw a direction there.

The blood wells out slowly under the influence of her sorcery, pooling unnaturally into the shape of a trident atop a round shield, and pointing decidedly towards the smaller of the two corridors, and away from where she thinks the monks are likely to be massed. As she moves, the blood rearranges itself to point towards the same exit.

She feels every bit of the proximity to her father's pattern, and the increased effort it requires of spellcasting. It's not a spell she can keep up if things turn to combat.

Celina says to Merlin, "Yes, a female blood connection is near. The smaller passage. This spell won't hold if we get into a fight. Let's go. I leave it to you to decide how many guards stay here to cover our path out."

"Even a partially blooded relative will be a threat to our accompaniment but not to us. We should leave them to hold the entrance."

Merlin gives quick, precise orders to the captain of the guards. They are to hold the entrance. If repulsed, they should retreat and come back with a much stronger force. The captain has the door jammed open and all but a few of his men continue to wait outside. A few take the places of the card-players. Once the arrangements are made, Merlin turns to Celina, "We can go now."

Merlin leads the way down the corridor. She's not sure if he's reflexively shifting to a smaller form as the tunnels get more claustrophobic or if the lights just make it look that way. They come to a slightly larger opening, which probably started as the intersection of two tunnels and was widened. The niches for burials here are very old. They look as if they pre-date her Mother, when they couldn't possibly pre-date her.

There are two things Celina notices upon entering. The first is that the darkest, least-travelled tunnel is where her bloody compass points. The other is the unmistakable trail marks that indicate danger by the same tunnel.

Celina looks carefully at the other passages, noting their floor slants and general appearance of age. Celina comes back to the darkest route. She points the hazard marks out to Merlin.

"This begins to look more like a story that doesn't swing in the Klybesian theme. A rarely traveled way in an ancient city that has been twice Patterned. Perhaps we will find something older than Paris down here. Or maybe a very pissed off Sea Hag. Or both. Any of the lanterns here portable? We may need additional light."

Merlin attempts to remove one. He's not inclined, necessarily, to use finesse. Soon he has a lantern. He does something sorcerously and it's brighter and steadier.

Celina waits a beat for Merlin to check. She proceeds by compass into the darker Path. Celina recalls a Dream of hers in the early days with Khela. She mutters, "Right. Darkness and Shadows and Tentacles. Always good."

"I am reminded of Arden and the dragon thereof, who is supposedly a creature of primal chaos, stuck like a giant in quicksand, near Grandfather's pattern. Is she not rumored to have gotten children via Uncle Finndo? It may be more a case of what they are imprisoning rather than what they are hiding." He frowns. "Lance told me that the sewers are considered haunted. If we run into ghosts, we may regret that we did not bring Cousin Vere."

Celina responds with a dry laugh, "I always enjoy time with Vere. And I am reminded that while Father is rude to me quite often he thinks highly of you. If he knew there was a Chaos Dame pinned down under the Seine he would have mentioned it to you. Haunts and Wyrms we shall have to deal with keeping in mind we want no new or old enemies added to our mix. Tho' thinking on it... " Celina stops to examine another hazard brand even older than the first, this time in an older black granite.

Celina goes to one knee, a pause, "I have a card for Aunt Flora as do you. If Conner is coming in the back way it would be nice to tell him about our discovery. He may see such marks as he nears the underwater. I wish to take a minute and do that."

Celina eyes Merlin and indicates the additional mark. "Pearls. I'll lose this spell if I work the Trumps. Would you try her?"

"I can call her, but I thought they were heading to investigate the attackers at the Seinemouth. They may not have even reached their destination yet."

Merlin puts his lantern in a nearby niche and pulls out a trump. The lantern lights up a particularly old burial, where even most of the bones have turned to dust.

"What message would you want me to pass to our Aunt?"

"Describe the mark here. It may be older than the Klybastard occupation. Have her let Conner know we are hunting deepward. Mention the blood compass I'm using has a Triton shape. Inference there is indeed a Rebman female down here. That should do."

Merlin nods, and concentrates on the trump. "It is Merlin, Aunt. Yes. Yes. The Catacombs. We may have gone deeper than the Klybesians. Yes. There is a symbol here, indicating danger. A skull and a dagger and a drop of water. My sister wishes that you and Conner were aware of it, in case you come across another. It seems old. Yes. Thank you, Aunt. I will tell her."

Merlin looks up. "They are sailing downriver to confront the kidnappers. Aunt Florimel expects they will be at least one night at the mouth of the river. She seems to prefer Paris."

"All good," Celina responds. "And we are tracking female family blood. Someone is down here after all. Good luck, Flora."

"She thanks you and confirms that she prefers Paris."

Once Merlin passes that on, Celina resumes the downward explore. Celina removes her shoes and hangs them about her neck by the laces. She sniffs for salt water.

Celina uses her bare feet on the stone floor as early warning of footfalls.

The ground is hard-packed and ancient and Celina feels as if twenty generations of Parisians have trod here before her and another twenty have passed with this path having been forgotten or nearly so. The trail leads down, for the most part, with some parts leading up. The scratchings on the wall change in nature at some point; less modern somehow, or perhaps the people who carved them were less literate. It's hard to say. If not for the compass she has made, Celina might be hopelessly lost. Merlin finds himself peeking at it as well.

After some time they come to a stairwell, not unlike others they have followed. The main difference is that this one has a door at the top with light coming out from underneath it. And on the landing a few steps above, signs of a fight, recently. On the wall by the stairs is the legend "Stay Out". The compass points directly at the corridor to be stayed out of.

Celina nods once. She made a point of putting most of the glyphs and their 'personality' into a mnemonic in case the age of the work later proves some useful part of ancient Rebma/Paris lore. Now she leans against the catacomb wall and gestures to the dark corridor.

Merlin nods. "If we are here to find our kin, then we should follow that sigil. Normally I would ask the sigil what it knew. Magic is... less flavorful on this side of Ygg." He looks at the door. "I wonder whether we have circled far enough to be underneath the lair of the monks. If these are their remains, then the door above is their threshold. But that is an investigation for another time."

Celina nods and moves down into the darkness if Merlin is good with that.

It is indeed darker as they descend, and colder and wetter. Merlin stops at a wall. "I am looking with my Third Eye. They tried to ensorcel this passage to keep something back. It's been blasted away." He sniffs. "Perhaps their mage was not up to the spells they were casting."

Celina's voice has a softer husky quality here, "As we learn about the Klybastards and their failures, I am somewhat more comfortable in this darkness they fear. Let us make allies here if that is possible."

The passage smells of decay, in a way that the ancient catacombs behind her no longer smelled. It ends abruptly in a large natural cave, through which an underground tributary of the Seine once flowed. The passageway stops perhaps 15 feet above the floor of the cave, and the cave has several notable features, the most prominent of which is a low building or perhaps mausoleum in the middle of the space, lit by glowing cave fungus.

It doesn't look like it's been disturbed in a thousand years. Nor does it look like it would welcome visitors.

Celina mutters to Merlin, "That looks of another age. As if the Paris we descend from sits upon a Ruin of Paris Before." Celina looks to her palm compass. "I can leap this five meter drop if we return this way, so I say we keep going. Let's see who sulks down here and if they want rescue."

Merlin agrees. "It feels timeless, as the chambers around the Pattern do. I walked down there once, for long enough to become both disturbed and lost. In the end I trumped away." He waves to the building. "Do you think it looks like an obvious trap because it is obvious, or because it is a trap?"

Celina shakes her head in disagreement, "No, it looks this way because it has outlasted everything that wants it to look another way." Celina thinks to herself, 'like a queen'.

"I will go first," he says, and jumps down, landing with a loud crunch.

Celina is startled by the crunch. She looks (?bones of the fallen?) before she leaps. Then jumps to Merlin, landing as softly in a TaKhi stealth form. "We must be sibs. We have the same 'go first' gene."

Celina eyes the mausoleum. "At this point, I say just walk up to it. We don't want to appear to be assassins."

Merlin walks forward. The surface is weirdly uneven, like a dead reef. Celina thinks there used to be water flowing here, but it's been redirected elsewhere.

The mausoleum is large, and could easily hold a half a dozen chambers without even going downwards. The front door is barred and chained, and the decorations are exquisite. There are painted warnings on each door. It's unclear when it was last closed, but it is firmly closed.

Celina commits the art and design to memory.

Merlin looks. "The door is barred, but the roof is breached. From the inside." Celina sees what he sees, which is a hole in the tiles on the roof, which looks like it was broken out of, not into. "Tomb robbers would certainly have tried that way, but not from the inside."

Celina checks her compass, moving meters to the left of the barred entrance and then even further to the right. The vector of her spell pointing can determine if they are at their destination or still not very close.

Celina offers. "So someone or thing got tossed out of this place through the roof. Water once held sway here. It could be that there is only remaining water in the lower reserves of this mausoleum. If you had to pull water here from nearby shadow, do you think you could?"

Merlin considers. "I know how to send weather to a Pattern Place, our father told me the way of that. Could we cause flooding in nearby shadows and have that break through here? Hard to say if it would work, as this is still more real because of proximity."

He reaches for his trumps, but doesn't pull out the deck. "I could ask Uncle Bleys."

Celina shakes her head no. "If it was storms and Shadow rivers overflowing, I'd call Llewella. Though I'm sure Uncle Bleys would love to chat about it. No. I just wondered if your Status as Heir here would allow you to draw waters to the Center of Things, as a gesture of repair of this place."

"I do not think it works like that. I do not know what it is to be an heir, but that is not a thing I have considered from it. I do not know if I can be heir without stopping being Merlin, and I do not want that. I am very worried for the persona of Brennan, if he achieves his goals. Will he become Oberon? Does he want that?"

Celina deflects until later her desire to hug him and rumple his hair.

"So toss me up on the roof. Then I'll drag you up with my unBloody hand. We go in the roof break."

He makes a stirrup of his hands and bends over. "On the count of two," he says. If she steps into his hand, he will boost her up, and she lands on the roof.

Merlin jumps and climbs, using the carved decorations as handholds. He's up beside Celina quickly.

It is utterly dark below. "If we had two lanterns, we would lower one and also keep one with us," Merlin says. "I think we need to light the landing place first, even if it leaves us up here in the dark."

"Agreed," Celina feels a mood upon her and adds, "I am, despite my parents, not a creature of darkness. We could easily be jumping into a descending pool." Celina knows she has too many layers of Paris clothes on. So she bids Merlin wait a moment. She removes her dress and has Merlin slip a tiny amount of the lantern fuel on it. A cantrip spark from him will set it flaming. Celina toes it over the edge into the blackness and watches it go down.

"We jump if there is something less than 10 meters to fall." Celina pulls a dagger and prepares.

The cloth burns brightly but won't last very long. It burns on the floor, a polished marble affair. It's good that the area is lit, because a nasty fall down some stairs might also happen here.

Merlin jumps immediately after Celina, and the light bobbles a bit, but regains its equilibrium when Merlin does.

Other than the stairs, and some carvings on the wall, a sealed guest-book on a stone plinth is the only decoration.

It's been some time since anyone was here.

Celina looks at everything with the thrill of walking through a history with meaning to Old Paris. She walks to the carvings. She notes the marbles and thinks to question Corwin later for the quarries that might have produced this stone. Celina checks the stairs. They never would have worn down when this place was under water, but she looks for marks of some heavy beast now that they are dry.

This place looks as if it has not been disturbed for a thousand years, except by them. And whatever happened to the roof.

Does the Blood Compass point to the stairs?

That is where it points.

Finally she inspects the book on the plinth. "If we can open this without breaking anything..." Celina nods to Merlin. "Ah, no. On our way out would be more... Respectful."

"Respect towards family members is a good starting position," agrees Merlin, who may or may not understand what that entails. "I can hold my curiosity over who has written in the book until after we see what lies below." Still, he moves towards and examines the exterior of the book.

Celina waits for Merlin's reactions.

Merlin looks at the book. It has the words "Honored Daughter, rest peacefully" engraved on the front. The Plinth has sketchy warning sigils caved on it. They seem to be warning against going down the stairs. It's colder in here than it was outside the tomb.

Celina frowns. "So many warnings. Added after a long time? Why would raiders put warnings? Or why would the monks?" She rubs at her arms. "Not keen on the chill in here, either. Well, yes, stairs it is then."

Celina orients herself to the compass. "Here there be Family." She heads down the stairs, attentive to the thermals here now, letting her skin and concentration be compared to the compass indications.

The marble stairs are wide enough for people carrying a casket to go down them, just barely. The hall below is carved marble on all sides, and has several chambers leading off it. All those are empty, dark and echo-y. At the far end is a closed door.

Merlin looks around. "This place looks like it does not belong here. Who would put a mausoleum under catacombs?"

"Buried. Forgotten. Warned. A king would. But maybe not Corwin. Perhaps some other forgotten brother of Oberon. Fair question you asked a similar one at one point, would you lock up a wife or daughter that was in the way of your plans. I think not." Celina doesn't sound angry and there is no accusation in here tone.

"So it's a flaw under Paris from a past king or an intrusion of a guilt of the current king. What we don't want to find is something like the Dam of the Tritons. That something of Chaos is stuck down here should not draw my spell."

"I am not convinced that it was not transplanted. The marble does not seem to be from here. Nor is it like the stone in the palaces above." He pauses. "It tastes wrong."

Celina hasn't seen Merlin actually taste any stone. Today.

Celina gestures to the door. "I don't think whatever the compass is fixed on is dead. Let's see."

Celina ignores the side chambers and examines the door as she gets closer.

The door is barred from the outside. There aren't any warnings here. The bar seems newer, but could be broken by the pair of them.

Celina moves things around in her head checking priorities. She puts a palm on the door. Then repeats with the bar.

Smooth and cool, like marble and metal. The bar was added by drilling into the stone.

"So let's say, this place is dragged here. Transplanted. I don't even know what kind of people besides Family can do those things. Certainly not a Chaosi or a Sorceress. So maybe a dragon? Share your thinking as we tarry and taste the threshold. We came to free a family member, not a dragon."

"I do not know either. Paris was made by Father when he created his pattern, but at the same time the Primal Pattern was remade. I know many places had some sort of change at that time, perhaps this chunk of reality was thrown here from elsewhere and captured by the pull of the pattern. Perhaps it is flotsam."

He looks at the bar. "We will not know unless we look inside. Shall we practice physical force upon it?"

Celina nods, "We are here to make some noise and prune the Monks, so yes. We are going to find what this family blood connection is."

Since there are the two of them, Celina suggests an ocean wave approach to breaking the barrier. She calls out the rhythm of a wave and works the right side of the bar and door. Merlin counters on the off beat to the left side of the connections.

If the door can withstand this she has stronger measures in mind.

The bar snaps under the onslaught of Corwin's childrens' efforts. The door sticks, but gives under the same pressure.

Pulling the door open disturbs something; a line of chalk or salt on the floor. Inside the room has a glowing globe, like the ones in Rebma, and a tomb. It might be described as a sarcophagus. It is elaborately carved. The lid is at an angle, like a piano lid, but facing towards the door.

Celina speaks without the least sign of irony for being in a house of death, "Hail the Noble House. We come to offer aid."

Celina moves forward on guard to see what remains in the open sarcophagus.

"I'm in the back!", comes a high-pitched voice from a side door. "Whyfor have you violated my last resting place, and all that?"

Celina glances at Merlin by reflex to see if he recognizes the voice, and she relaxes quite a bit.

Merlin indicates that he isn't familiar with the voice.

She moves forward on light steps. "We heard there was a captive held by our enemies. This seemed like a strange sort of durance vile, but our instincts led us here."

Celina glances at the compass palm to see if it is still working and pointing towards the side room.

It is pointing towards the back of the area, and the side room is the most likely path towards it. "Oh, yes, come in. I'll put a kettle on."

The inside of the sarcophagus is set up as a day-bed. The linens are crisp and clean and do not look to have been laid upon.

Celina slowly moves into the side room.

"A kettle of tea would be welcome. I am Celina recently of Paris. My brother is with me. How did you come to this situation?"

The side room is set up as a small parlor. At the back, there is a small makeshift kitchen. Celina see someone poke her head around the door.

It's a young woman, apparently. She's wearing black robes, which set off her alabaster skin and pale red lips.

Her hair is dark and shimmers like water and her eyes are remarkably blue.

She's making tea at a gas stove.

"Hello Celina, I'm Cordelia. How did I come to be in this embroidered mausoleum? Like anyone else would, I suspect. I died."

She doesn't look it.

Celina openly admires the small touches of comfort about the parlor. She shakes her head in puzzlement. "I've never been anywhere where the dead were lively enough that people locked them up. You don't seem dead to me. It must have been transformative? Startling to wake here? So you are not a prisoner of the Klybesian Order?"

She looks at her. "It's complicated. I was born half-dead, on my mother's side. Dying was not permanent, for me." A fleeting emotion crosses her face, but isn't clear. "Nor has death brought me peace. At home, I was quiet, and my tomb a place of some respite. But I had my mother's appetites to drive me outward frequently enough." She smiles, showing her extended canine teeth, that could reasonably be called 'fangs'.

"Until I was brought here. To this dark underground place. With my entire mausoleum. Yes, something prevents me from leaving. Not that I have anywhere to go in this hell-shadow. I take it out on the Order, sometimes, but I can only go so far."

"We are family," Celina says with feeling. "While I don't understand who would have dragged you to this place, I should offer to help you. Did your mother say who your father was? Have the Klybesian taken any samples from you? Would you care to parlay a Family Truce? It would go badly for me if I set lose an Aunt who then went on a vendetta. Have you heard of Amber or... Rebma?"

She laughs. "So many questions. We already have a truce, do we not? You came into my home and I offered you hospitality. Other than whoever dragged me here, I don't really have any enemies. And the monks."

She drinks a quick sip of her tea, letting a moment pass in silence. "How would you help me?"

Celina sets her tea down, "You are the hostess and I'd love to answer your questions. But the answers would be full of assumptions. Such as you're tired of this very limited place. I have two or three ideas about getting you free. That is certainly why I ask so many questions."

Then she adds, "Do you require blood to be strong? Or is it just exciting?"

She looks at Celina, across the parlor. "It's traditional, but not necessary. I really don't know, since I'm far from Mother's homeland and I'm not typical by any means.

"My mother had potions and pills she took to get around it, but I don't really need them. It's useful for keeping those monks away, though. They're convinced that my blood is 'corrupted'." She looks upwards.

Merlin nods. "I do not think Ordered beings commonly consume blood. Without flesh anyhow." He frowns thoughtfully and looks at Cordelia. "Do you find that you ever take on characteristics of those whose blood you take?"

Celina nods once.

Cordelia raises an eyebrow. "Not that I've noticed, no."

Celina ignores the rest if her tea. She smiles gently. "I suggest your mother must have been broad of wit and a power in her own country. It is an honor to offer you a rescue. But you've only just met us. Likely you'll want time to think about our help. We could withdraw and further our business with the monks and return here, Cousin."

Celina sounds leisurely here. Cordelia has left many questions unanswered. That's not put Celina off the idea of lending aid. But she senses that any sense of urgency works against the offer.

Cordelia makes a noise that might be intended to be a laugh, because a snort wouldn't be ladylike. "My mother would have said that she was a witty broad, so perhaps you are correct. Do not mistake my caution for indifference to your offer, but understand that I am a woman adrift, a creature who has outlived her time and is unsure of what I would even do with freedom. What does one do when one has somehow survived the end of the world?".

Celina holds herself by force of will. She knows the slap of grief isn't a thing Cordelia has conjured at her. Celina also hopes to answer the question some day of what does one do when one has failed the world and watched her burn away.

Celina opens her mouth but the words do not come. She swallows instead.

Celina gives Cordelia a single nod. "Caution is good. Time to consider things is a blessing. Here you have a peace and perhaps a sacred meditation."

Celina realizes she does envy that. The cloying burn of grief sludges away enough to give her a deeper breath. Time for truth.

Celina speaks. "For me, it was living death. I did not want to be alive when the world I dearly wanted was dead. Rage. Evil dreams. Cold dawns and hollow meals. For a while, I was worthless to myself and everything else. So what I ended up doing was the Improbable Necessity: I promised myself to paint the world with color and love I no longer felt. I woke up each day to cherish the flames that ate my world and see that they behaved themselves better. I have a long life and a learning journey. It isn't my choosing but I won't do a whale shit job of it."

Cordelia looks like she wants to give Celina a hug. "Before me sits the Bodhisattva of Grieving. Come to teach me to accept that existence involves suffering. It's a lesson that my life and afterlife make clear, and yet I yearn for it to not be true." She laughs, sadly.

Celina has half a bent smile.

[Cordelia]
"I am a stubborn person, and a poor student in general. I can hear that I should accept that life does is an impermant, imperfect state, and that I should live in the now, but I have not had much success being a person who can do those things."

She looks at Merlin, then back at Celina. "You just decided to push through? How did you not just sleep for a hundred years?"

Celina squints at the past somewhere beyond the far wall. "I challenged an older cousin once, 'why shouldn't I just lose myself in pleasant shadows?' He pointed out that all my baggage would still be with me anywhere I went. I found his words had as much to do with him as myself. But there is the rub. A hundred years of nightmares would numb all my love beyond saving."

Celina shrugs and glances at Merlin with a small smile. "Without the full love I have left, there would be no worth to my future. I'd be a ghost."

Cordelia sets her teacup down. "I am not sure I am ready to be rescued, but I am not sure if I can become ready without some new ideas and knowledge to absorb. I have heard of the kind of love you speak of, but it is not an experience I have ever had. I am not sure my mother did either, although she was very close to my father, for a time. And she might say I am wrong, but she is not here to do so."

Merlin, who has been watching this discussion with interest, says, "I think the three of us are much alike in this way. I was raised by my mother and her allies, schooled to see my father as an enemy; but I was fortunate and learned love by accident and the contrivances of my mother's enemies. My sister has her own tale to tell, and I will not tell it for her. But she has also known that grief." He takes Celina's non-bleeding hand and squeezes it.

Cordelia pauses and blinks. "If your business is not too collegial with my enemies, would you object to my joining you as you go about it? Part of my unwillingness to leave this somewhat cozy mausoleum is that I have seen no place better. I have a creature of curiosity in my heart, but it is a slow creature to awaken."

"Rest assured, we had to kill or disable minions of the Monks to get this far. I am in no mood for parlay with Monks. I take from your earlier remarks about venting on the Klybesians that you are not nearly as bound to this place as they think? For me I welcome you joining us as we find out what rat-hole they've built down here."

Celina eyes her brother. "Objections?"

"None at all. I would be happy for the Lady Cordelia to join us," Merlin says. "And I can tell you, Lady Cordelia, there are many strange places in the universe. I do not know if they are better by your lights, but they will be different."

She sighs. "I will try to appreciate them, but I have no idea how much I have left of myself to give to appreciating differences." She stands. "I need naught but perhaps my parasol. Are you ready?"

Merlin nods.

Celina nods. "Yes." She uses the napkin on her mouth and stands.

When Cordelia goes for her accessories Celina ends the compass spell. She says, "If we retrace our steps to where the guards were left we can continue to scout forward. Assuming there is no extra difficulty passing our cousin over the barriers we broke coming in. If there is or if she seems to falter leaving her sacred plot I shall give her some of my blood."

"Is there anything we need to bring with us, to make it easier for you, Cousin?" Merlin asks Cordelia.

She smiles, wanly. "I think if I am to stop being dead, I need to leave my tomb behind. My only real possessions are my memories, and I cannot escape them. Best to get on with it."

Celina doesn't make a fuss of examining the fetched parasol but she does understand how it extends Cordelia's reach like a short spear. She lets Merlin take the lead back to the landing below the Unfortunate Monks.